"He and his officers may be hung from the yardarms."
"Oh, my God!" Her hand flew to her mouth as she began to tremble from head to toe. "Please, no..."
"Or they may be sent to prison," he said with a shrug, as though he really hadn't given the matter much thought and it was not important enough to dwell upon anyway. "I haven't decided. As I said, Arnhardt's been sought for some time. He's quite adept at running our blockades, and it was only through great diligence and perseverance that we were able to catch him unaware and capture him and his ship."
He sighed and patted his lips with a napkin. "It's most unfortunate you two ladies are on board, because I'm in a quandary as to how to deal with you."
"You'll let us go on our way to Bermuda." Julie's mother showed spark for the first time. "There are certain rules and codes of etiquette in war, I'm sure. Or have the Yankees stooped to capturing helpless women and sending them to prison? Maybe you plan to hang us from the yardarms as well."
Julie saw the flash of anger in Guthrie's eyes, and she reached beneath the table to squeeze her mother's arm in what she hoped her mother would understand as a silent message for her to calm down. Riling the man was not the answer to their dilemma.
Taking a deep breath, she faced the man. "We are private citizens, sir." She spoke quite calmly. "We're not soldiers for the Confederacy—or spies. I see no reason why you would object to our continuing on our way."
He drummed his fingertips on the table, his lower lip jutting out in a thoughtful pout. Then he surprised her by declaring with a smile, "You really are a beautiful woman, Miss Marshal. Or may I call you Julie? It would make the situation much more pleasant if we can all be friends."
"Friends?" she cried, aghast. "You are the enemy, sir, in case you've forgotten."
"Oh, why should we be enemies?" He cocked his head to one side, eyes sparkling with amusement. "You've nothing to fear from me. Of course you're distressed because you've lost your cotton, but you knew that was a possibility when you left Savannah. You could have been blown to bits when you ran the blockade."
He got to his feet, signaling that teatime was over. "I have business to attend to. I'm sure you understand. You ladies relax and try to not to worry. I'll decide what's to be done with you after I see to a few other matters."
Julie and her mother returned to their cabins. Once she was inside her own, Julie flung herself across the bed, shaking with frustration and worry, not only for herself but for Derek as well. True, she was engaged to another, but there was no denying she felt something in her heart for Derek. The closeness and passion they'd shared made warmth spread over her body like a cloak; then it disappeared and left her chilled with foreboding over what might come.
Suddenly remembering the tragedy that had taken place in the cabin earlier, she raised herself up and turned her head, almost afraid of what she might see.
The bodies had been removed, but there were still large splotches of blood on the floor. Would she have to spend hours staring at them? she wondered with resentment.
The day wore on. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but she had only to glance at the crimson stains and her appetite was quelled. She thought about going to her mother's cabin, but decided the older woman might be sleeping, and Julie did not want to disturb her.
Her heart twisted with agony whenever she thought of Derek. Perhaps he'd already been hung. There was no way of knowing.
A look toward the porthole told her darkness would soon be falling. Maybe she could slip out, move about in the shadows undetected, and find out what was going on up on deck. It was risky, but what could they do to her, anyway, if she were discovered? Surely Captain Guthrie would keep his promise that no harm would come to her.
As a black drape descended in the sky, Julie decided that if she were going to prowl around the ship, she would have less chance of being spotted if she were wearing something darker. The dress she wore was a pale lemon color, so she changed to a gown of dark green muslin with a high neck and long sleeves.
She had almost finished dressing when a voice in a clipped northern accent startled her by calling through the door, "The captain invites you to dine with him."
"Thank the captain for his invitation," she responded with exaggerated politeness, "but I'm not hungry."
"As you wish," the voice answered.
She pressed her ear to the door and heard him call out the invitation to her mother, who accepted. Good. That would keep them occupied while she prowled about. If her mother found her gone from her cabin, she might sound an alarm because she would be so frightened. And if Julie told her in advance what she intended, her mother would try to stop her, saying it was too dangerous.
When she heard her mother leave to go to the dining room, Julie waited a few more minutes. Just as she was about to leave, there was an almost apologetic knock upon her door. Annoyed, she snapped, "I told you I wasn't hungry."
"It's me, Miss Marshal," a familiar voice replied. "Doc Jenkins. They sent me to scrub the floor."
Surprised, she yanked the door open and saw the doctor standing there with a mop and pail. He stepped inside, and as soon as she'd checked the hall to make sure no one was about who might eavesdrop, closed the door and turned on him, hungry for information.
"You must tell me what's going on. I don't know anything. Where's Captain Arnhardt? How many of his men were killed?"
He looked sad, withered, as he sloshed the mop in the bucket of water and began scrubbing at the blood stains on the floor. "They killed Officer Justice and four crewmen. We never had a chance. From what little I've been able to gather from the whisperings amongst the crew, Harky was behind the whole thing."
She stared at him incredulously. "Harky? But how? He was in chains—"
"Yeah, but he has a few friends on board, it seems—scoundrels though they be," he added sardonically. "They were hoping a Yankee ship would happen by, because Harky told them he had a chance if the Yankees took over the ship. Otherwise, he figured he would hang for sure. So they sabotaged the guns.
"Like I said," he murmured with a sad shake of his head, "we just never had a chance."
He told how Captain Arnhardt pretended to surrender when he realized the Ariane could not outrun the Yankee ship. Then, when the Yankees started to board, he ordered his men to put up a fight. "But we were outnumbered. Hell, they came on board with God only knows how many men—from all sides! It's a wonder we all didn't get slaughtered."
"Then what's to become of us?" she asked fearfully. "What do Yankees do when they capture a ship?"
He looked at her with despair. "Miss, they aren't regular Federal navy men. They're privateers. They just like to act as though they're the regular navy."
"And what are privateers?" She blinked at the unfamiliar term.
He explained as he scrubbed diligently at the blood stains, which had by then soaked into the wood and were difficult, if not impossible, to remove, "A privateer is a privately armed ship fitted out at the owner's expense. I doubt this Guthrie fellow is the owner. Anyway, they're commissioned by their government to capture the ships and goods of the enemy at sea, or even the ships of neutrals. Then they're dealing with enemy goods considered contraband."
"They sound like pirates!" Julie cried indignantly.
He nodded in agreement. "In a way, I guess they are, but legally so. A privateer has a commission to do what he's doing, while a pirate has no rights."
Jenkins wrung out his mop and tackled the stains once more, sighing wearily. "The policy of neutral nations in recognizing privateers as legitimate belligerent ships of war is in the interest of humanity and is founded on the effort to try and prevent piracy. If privateers weren't recognized by neutral nations, they would become pirates, and instead of making prisoners of the crew of captured vessels, they'd massacre them, confiscate the cargo, and sink the ships.
"But," he went on, "by being recognized, they're under the surveillance of the government that commissioned them, as well as the governm
ents of all neutral nations. So they're responsible for their acts to both."
Jenkins told Julie that privateers were a great advantage to their commissioning government because they cost it nothing and were owned and equipped by private individuals. "They're a source of revenue as well, because they're obliged to give a percentage of what they capture to the government that commissions them, in exchange for their license."
"Then they are no better than licensed pirates!"
"Exactly. And you may be sure that your cotton will be sold and a percentage paid to the Federal government."
"But what happens to you and the others?" she wanted to know, the familiar knot of fear creeping once again into her throat.
Jenkins scrubbed at the floor viciously, angrily. "Probably the same thing we hear that has happened to others just like us. We'll be treated like common felons, paraded in chains through the streets of northern cities for the amused enemy to gaze at, then thrown in the wretched dungeons of some place they call the Tombs." He shuddered. "I hear it's full of filth and vermin, and the prisoners are tortured by being hauled out every so often to be humiliated and put on display as the worst kind of criminals."
"And Harky?" Julie snapped with fury. "What of him? I suppose the Yankees consider him a hero."
Jenkins snorted. "Of course."
She slapped her forehead with her hand. "It's all my fault. If it weren't for me, Derek would've executed him and this might not have happened. As least we would've had a fighting chance. But no, I had to be sympathetic and weak!"
In her fury, she rose and kicked a chair, stubbed her toe, and cried out with pain. As she hobbled back to the bed to sit down, Jenkins watched her curiously, then murmured, "You know, the captain and Garris and Watson are down in the hole, in chains. The rest of the men, like me, know if we make one move to help them, we'll be shot. But I'll bet the captain is so mad he's trying to chew through his chains. If he was loose, he'd find a way to take his ship back over. I know he would.
"He's a fighter," he said proudly. "I've seen him in fights before, and I'll tell you one thing—it would take half a dozen men to bring him down. Strong as an ox, he is. He didn't get that build of his by pushing a quill at a desk like most captains."
"Then why don't you and the others free him?" Julie all but screamed, gesturing wildly. "Why do you stand there mopping up blood and telling me how great he is? Can't you slip down there and release him?"
Jenkins shook his head slowly from side to side. She wondered for a moment if the gesture reflected his dejection over being unable to remove the stains on the floor or the plight they were in. Then he spoke. "Miss Marshal, don't none of us want to die. We'd rather take our chances in the Tombs. We aren't going to risk our lives. I'm sorry."
Once again she was on her feet, determination and fury pounding wildly through her veins and making her feel warm, shaky. "I've no such fear. They wouldn't shoot a woman. Tell me where they're keeping Derek, and by God, I'll try to free him. I won't sit back like the rest of you and do nothing!"
He wiped his brow, unmoved by her veiled charge that he and the other crew members were cowards. "They might not shoot you—you being a woman and all—but if I were you, I'd just lay low. There's a lot worse they can do to you, if you know what I mean."
She knew, and her cheeks flushed with the knowledge.
He went on, "I should tell you that I heard Harky arguing with that Yankee captain that he should let Harky have you as sort of a reward. Told him a tale about you leading him on, then making a scene and having him thrown in chains and almost getting him hung. He wants revenge. You get caught trying to free Arnhardt, and Guthrie just might pass you around amongst all his men. Then you'll wish you were dead." He looked at her to see the effect of his words.
Without a trace of fear, she demanded to be told where Derek was. "Leave the rest up to me."
He stared at her thoughtfully, then a slow smile spread across his face that made her feel uncomfortable. Was he mocking her? Was he about to laugh at her, regarding her as just a weak, foolish woman?
Finally he chuckled, "My, but you're a spunky one. Never knew a lady like you." He said he would check with the others and try to round up some help. "If you're willing to stick your neck out, then by God, there are a few men I know who might be prompted to do likewise. Can't let a woman outdo us, you know." He winked, attempting to put her at ease.
For the first time since the nightmare began, Julie was able to smile.
Jenkins left, saying he would do his best to slip back down to her cabin when things quieted down for the night. After he was gone, Julie paced nervously up and down the small room, feeling that somehow she had to find a way to free Derek. He would know what to do. He could get them out of this mess; she was sure of it.
At last she heard her mother returning from supper. She was talking nervously to someone in a tone that hinted she was close to anger but struggling to remain calm. Pressing her ear to the door, Julie recognized Captain Guthrie's voice as he said, "I can sympathize with your plight, madam, but you must understand the ship is now captured and under my command. It's foolish for you to even suggest I should allow you and your daughter to continue merrily on your way with the cargo."
"But what will you do with us?" Her mother was close to the breaking point, Julie knew, and wondered if that meant an angry explosion or tears. Her mother could go either way.
"I'll decide tomorrow." Guthrie sounded bored. "For now, I'm very tired. I'm about to return to my own ship for a good night's sleep. I'll ponder the situation, but at the moment my inclination is to take you and your daughter back to Georgia and turn you over to the Federal government."
Julie heard her mother open and close her cabin door. Good. She had not given that pirate the satisfaction of seeing her break down.
A few moments passed before Julie heard Guthrie walk away, and during that time she was afraid he was going to ask to speak with her. She was relieved that he did not.
Restlessly, she awaited Doc Jenkins's return. She had almost given up on him and was toying with the idea of prowling about the ship on her own when at last he slipped into the dark cabin.
"Miss Marshal, are you asleep?" he whispered nervously.
"How could I sleep?" she hissed. "And what took you so long? I was about to leave without you! We must move at once."
"I was afraid you'd take matters into your own hands, and that would have been foolhardy. You've got to have help, and it's taken time for me to pick out the men I can trust and who've got guts enough to carry out my plans."
He explained how he'd found three crewmen who were willing to help, and discussed the situation with them. After checking, they found there was only one guard at the entrance to the hole where the captain and his officers were being held. A few other heavily armed guards had been left posted about the ship. The others had returned to the Federal cruiser, confident that all was under control. Harky himself was roaming the ship, cocky because he'd been left in command.
"I don't mean to alarm you," Jenkins said worriedly, "but I overheard him and Guthrie arguing again. Harky wanted to come down here and claim you for his own. Guthrie said no. He's got his men watching Harky to make sure he doesn't try anything."
"Thank God for that, but is it possible for me to get up on deck and make my way to where Derek is? Perhaps, if you've found three men willing to help, the four of you can do the job without me. I don't want to risk running into Harky."
"No," he all but shouted, "because here's our plan." And he told her how she was to go to the guard near the hole and use her feminine charm to catch him unaware, using whatever means necessary to take his attention from his duty. "Get him completely engrossed in you. Our men will do the rest. You can't act the least bit nervous, or he might get suspicious."
He eyed her narrowly. "Do you think you can do it? If you've the slightest doubt, then it's best to abort the plan for now and try to come up with something else later. If we're caught tonight, we won
't get a second chance. It could mean our lives if we fail."
In the glow of the candle Julie had lighted, Jenkins continued to gaze at her with a piercing, searching look. She was able to return his stare confidently, her chin jutting upward with firm resolution. "There isn't time to think of another way, and we must move tonight. Don't worry about me. You and your men do your job, and I assure you I'll do mine."
He patted her shoulder. "Good girl! I've got faith in you. I can tell by the gleam in your eye you mean business."
"I do." Her voice was firm, sure.
He told her where the hole was located and how she could get there, moving in the shadows so as not to be seen. All was quiet on the ship except for the sounds of Harky and a few of the guards who were swigging rum up in the captain's quarters. They were obviously confident that all was under control, sure that the Ariane's crew was subdued. And why shouldn't they be? Arnhardt's men had no weapons. Their captain and officers were securely chained, so the crew was effectively leaderless. And the privateers certainly had no reason to think Julie would not be so easily subdued or prone to acquiesce.
Jenkins told Julie to wait a half hour, then make her way to the hole. By then, he and the others would be in position and waiting. Once Derek and the others were freed, they would take over, finding a way to overcome the guards and take their weapons from them.
He turned to go but paused for one last, searching look. "I know you're concerned about your mother and your family's cotton, and I suppose you're anxious to be on your way to Bermuda and on to London to meet your fiancé. But if I may say so, Miss Marshal, I can't help thinking you're a bit fond of our captain, even if you don't realize it yourself at the moment."
She could only stare at him, wondering exactly what she did feel deep inside. Then she smiled secretively and murmured, "Let's just say I don't believe he has a heart of iron, Doc. I think I've come to know him a bit better than the rest of you."
He nodded, then left quickly.
Julie wondered if perhaps she hadn't come to know herself a little bit better also, after the harrowing events of the day. For maybe the first time in her life, she had really become acquainted with her true self.
This Rebel Heart Page 9
