Along the path, through a jumble of lesser dwellings, Ruark found himself the object of many stares, though none moved to stop him. The looks were bolder from some of the women, who paused where they stood and watched him pass, posturing for his benefit and then frowning as he gave them no heed. He cleared the town, and at last paused before the inn and gazed up toward the figurehead swinging gently from its bracket. From within came the noise of boisterous merrymaking. Pellier’s loud bellow called for more ale, and Ruark stepped within, keeping to the shadows.
The bedlam assailed him. The odors of sweaty, filthy bodies crowded together in the common room mingled with the aromas of strong ale and a pig roasting on the open hearth. It was Mother who set down an empty mug and waited in silence while the din continued around him. When the giant spoke, directing his gaze toward a dark corner, angry murmurings rose around him, and many hands reached for weapons.
“Come have a draught with us,” Mother beckoned. “And tell me why you lurk in the gloom.”
Pellier slammed his cup down and stared in surprise as Ruark strode from the shadows and accepted the proffered mug of ale. Leisurely Ruark quenched his thirst, letting them await his pleasure, then sighed as he lowered the tankard. His gaze passed about the room, touching on the waiting faces. Then he grinned casually and shrugged.
“ ‘Tis no fault of mine that I’m here, but ‘tis still somewhat by choice. It seems there is a matter of a small debt which these gentlemen owe me.” He swept his hand to indicate the captains. “I would not be so pressing on the subject, sirs,” he apologized with mockery, “but as you know I am penniless, and it seems that even here there is little that is free.”
Ruark noted that many eyes went to the sabre and the pistols whose butts were close to his hands.
“Bah!” Pellier sneered. “Give him a copper or two and throw him out.”
“A copper is it?” Ruark snorted. “You must have promised that much to your mate. He did you a copper’s worth or less.” His own sneer was evident. “I have never seen a man so born to water as that one.” He directed his statements to the others. “I was promised a full captain’s share, if you remember, and I can forgive the attempt to gain even that. Still, had I not warned you, you would have sailed directly into the muzzles of Trahern’s cannon,” Ruark reminded them boldly. “They could have sunk you with the sheer weight of lead long before you neared the village.”
“He’s right,” one of the lesser captains grudgingly admitted. “He did tell us the truth of it.”
“And had you landed out of sight as I suggested,” Ruark continued easily, “you might have reached the village and returned with something of real worth.”
This last was not the complete truth, for he had been to the lookout hill himself and knew the entire coastline was visible from there.
“Ah lads!” Harripen broke in. “I ‘aven’t the stomach for this bickering.” He snatched a small bag of coins from his sash and tossed it to Ruark. “ ‘Ere, bondsman, find a wench to amuse yerself. When the gold is weighed, ye’ll ‘ave a full share.”
Hefting the pouch, Ruark guessed it not an untidy sum. He nodded his thanks, but Pellier snorted in disgust and returned to his cup.
At the word bondsman, Mother had turned a more attentive perusal to the newcomer and now leaned forward. “Bondsman, you say?” His eyes gleamed in the dim lantern’s light. “Were you in bondage to Trahern?”
“Aye,” Ruark replied. “ ‘Twas a choice of a hangman’s noose or bondage, so I was shipped from England to Los Camellos.” He braced a shoulder against a solid, rough hewn post and openly studied the men seated around the table. “There is also another score I’d like to settle, but time enough for that.”
Mother chortled and saluted him with his mug. “We’ve a tie between us then. I was a bondsman of Trahern’s many years ago. The lass were but a tot at her father’s knee.” He swilled more of the ale then mused aloud, “I fought a man in a fair fight, I did, and killed him. Trahern said I ‘ad to do his work as well as me own ‘til the man’s debt was paid.” He sank back in his chair and beneath bushy brows, glowered darkly. “I tried to escape, and they caught me. Spread me on a hatch cover for the whip as an example. The field master was happy at his work, and when he had bloodied me back well enough, he bloodied my chest and struck lower.”
Mother emptied the mug and threw it across the tavern, shattering it against the wall.
“He made me a bloody eunuch!” His fist crashed down to emphasize the last word. Then he slid low in his chair and his neck disappeared in folds of fat. His eyes glowed, tiny and feral, deep in their sockets. He chortled, almost as if to himself. “But he won’t get hold of me again. No he won’t.”
Harripen rose to stretch his legs and nudged Ruark with his elbow in passing, nodding toward the enormous man.
“That’s our dear Mother,” he grinned. “He takes care o’ the town ‘ere, sort of lord mayor as it be.”
Ruark contemplated the eunuch who was blubbering in a fresh cup. Mother was not what he had expected, but he made no comment as to that. He had seen many men in his travels, but these brigands would have made the poor wretches in Newgate seem like mild-mannered children. Mother and Harripen acted friendly enough for the thieves they were, but he had no doubt that if their way of life were threatened, they would turn on an enemy with the ferocity of wolves.
Ruark’s eyes roamed further. No sign of Shanna and the other captives. But with Pellier present she could not be in too great a danger. Still, it would have eased his mind considerably to know her whereabouts.
Pellier snorted and came to his feet. “Bah! This ale sours my gut.” He caught the arm of the shy young woman who served his fellow captains, making her crouch away in sudden fear. “You doltish slut, fetch us meat and better wines.”
The girl nodded quickly and skittered off to do his bidding. Pellier leered after her, taking his seat again, and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Heaping trenchers of pork and fowl were brought, and Carmelita delivered him a flagon of wine, placing several others around the table. As she offered one to Ruark, she leaned against him and smiled seductively into his carefully blank face. She pranced off and returned with a tray of fine crystal goblets. Giving him one, she brushed hard against him, and for a moment her hand dipped brazenly beneath his belt to fondle him.
“Gor, she’s after ye, lad!” Harripen roared and watched her swinging hips as she paraded off to distribute the glasses. “But mind yer ways, lad. She has a temper, that one.”
Ruark declined comment but decided she was one person to avoid in Shanna’s presence. The woman could have almost made two of Shanna. A full skirt was hitched up to show her bare feet, and a loose blouse clung precariously to one shoulder, the other sleeve drooping down her arm. As he had already observed, she wore nothing beneath it, and her dark-nippled breasts swayed ponderously with each movement. Her hair was raven black, her skin dark. There was a Spanish look about her, though her speech was flavored more like Harripen’s. She was comely enough for a man who wanted an easy toss.
A scowl had blackened Pellier’s face as he witnessed Carmelita’s provocative invitation to the bondsman. It was an affront to the half-breed’s pride that she had never displayed such eagerness for him—and another reason to hate the bondsman. Carmelita set the glasses down beside him, and Pellier lowered his plate abruptly to seize her, snatching her onto his lap and roughly caressing her heavy breasts.
“Come, Carmelita,” he crooned. “Share a bit of that with an old friend.”
Driving her heel into his instep, she whirled away from him. A ringing slap cracked through the room. In stunned surprise, Pellier gaped at her.
“Old friend, hah!” she jeered. “You come to my door and beat it with your fist. Boom! Boom! Boom!” She stood with feet spread, shaking a fist as she raged at him. “You tell me of all the duels you’ve fought and all the men you’ve killed, and then you fall asleep drunk.” She laughed at his reddened face and de
ep scowl then dangled a hand limply toward the others. “He is like the little octopus who catches a big fish and doesn’t know what to do with it. Huh!”
She hurled this last insult to the Frenchman over her shoulder then came to take an open bottle from Ruark’s hand and pour the wine for him before placing a choice piece of meat in his mouth.
An odd noise came from Pellier, and Ruark turned to stare in amazement. The half-breed had seized an entire joint of pork and was ravenously ripping the meat from it, stuffing the pieces into his mouth with his fingers until his eyes seemed almost to bulge. He chewed open-mouthed until he could wash it clear with a gulp of wine and then repeated the procedure. Disbelief crept into Ruark’s expression as the man shoved three ripe plantains into his mouth and swallowed without chewing.
Harripen sneered. “ ‘E’s a bastard from St. Domingue, ‘alf French, ‘alf Indian. ’E tried to pass ‘imself off as gentry ‘ere, but as ye can guess ‘is table manners gave ‘im away.” After a moment Harripen continued in derision. “As bloody crude as Robby is with ‘is food, ‘es a bit o’ a wizard with ‘at fancy shiv ’e wears. ‘Tis a fact we’re all aware of. ‘At’s why ‘e’s here. ’E speared too many o’ the young Frenchmen is St. Domingue with it. The frogs would stretch ‘is neck on a dozen counts. And if the truth were known, three times the dozen is more like it.” The Englishman sipped an ale and eyed Ruark. “ ’E also dislikes anyone ‘andsome and young enough to challenge ‘is rights with the women.” Then Harripen chuckled. “Aye, we’ve some odd ones ‘ere, and this is the cream of our little colony. Wait ‘til ye see the rest.”
Ruark decided he had the patience to wait a lifetime for that. Right now all in the world he wanted was to know where these scum had put Shanna. He sampled the wine, a heavy Italian red, and briefly wondered from what cargo ship it had been taken. Without turning, he directed a question to Harripen.
“How do you settle differences here? If there is an argument over a piece that two claim, how is it decided which one gets it?”
Harripen laughed with a grunt. “A duel, me friend. And if h’it’s to the death, winner takes all. ‘At’s why Pellier is the richest among us. ‘E’s killed the most.”
Ruark nodded. That was all he wanted to know. He stretched lazily, like an unhurried cat, then hung a leg over the back of a chair, bracing his arm across it as he peered at the pirates one at a time until they became uneasy beneath his expectant scrutiny. When the tension had blossomed to an acceptable level, he broke the silence.
“Well, hearties, you dawdle over your cups while good time slips away.”
Even Pellier stopped and stared questioningly at him.
“How long will you give Trahern to hunt you down?”
There were puzzled mumbles and much shifting of eyes, for they found his inquiry rankling and confusing.
“I mean,” Ruark explained slowly, casually waving a hand, “would it not seem wise to send word that you have Trahern’s daughter and that she is safe? Perhaps even the ransom should be made known. Let’s see.” He rubbed his arm with a fist thoughtfully. “She should be worth perhaps— pounds.” He had caught their imaginations, and eyes brightened all around the table. “That would be enough to see any one of you to a good life of ease—after, of course, say a tithe is paid for Mother’s haven and mayhap a thousand or so for myself.” These men could understand greed, in fact would be suspicious of a man who did not expect his share. Still he hastened to add, “My own part would be small as I only showed you the way in, and it was your own boldness and bravery that caught her.” He paused and watched them while he seemed to ponder.
“I know Trahern though,” he stated cautiously. “He will be after you with all sails set, and he will be difficult to bargain with when you’re looking down his guns.”
Though Pellier had turned his shoulder and pretended not to hear, the others listened carefully.
“If some of your prisoners wish to return, why not send them back with the word.” There was a general murmur of approval, and Ruark continued innocently. “Where are the men? Let me question them.”
Before the others could say nay, the large mulatto captain crossed to the back of the room, threw a bar from a thick oak door, and pulled it open.
“Out here, ya gutless swine,” he snarled within and stood aside.
There was a scrambling, and the three men who had been taken with Shanna came out to stand blinking at the light. They crouched together, fearful of their fates. Ruark gave no pause but strode boldly across to them and inspected each.
Then he turned and braced his feet wide, put hands on his hips and demanded, “And where’s the wench?”
Pellier snorted. “ ‘Od’s blood! Now you’ll see! He wants to see the little tart’s body again. ‘Twas his game all along.”
Angry growls came from the group, but Ruark’s voice snapped like a whip.
“Aye, fool.”
Pellier drew taut in his chair at the insult.
“Will you send these to Trahern to tell him they know not if she is alive. Where’s the wench?”
“Where the bitch’ll learn to be a proper slave,” Pellier roared. “And ‘tis no concern of yours.”
“My need is my concern.” Ruark’s tone was acid. “When Trahern learns we have her and that she’s alive and unharmed, we’re safe but not until then. If he has a doubt, he’ll level this place and take the chance.”
The half-breed threw a foot onto the table and leaned back to sneer at Ruark. “You’re the fool if you think I’ll let you run this island.”
Ruark’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He was about to challenge the man openly when there came a splash and a muffled shriek. In that same moment Ruark saw his opponent’s glance flicker to the grating whereon sat a huge barrel. Ruark cursed as he ran across the room.
“You twice damned maniac!”
His face contorted by a snarl, his lips drawn back from gnashing teeth, Ruark kicked the barrel, sending it crashing to the floor where it rolled crazily until it reached the wall.
“You’ll see us all hang for your want of a night’s play!” he flung viciously.
His pistol was out and quieted any thoughts of interference as it wandered over the group. No one appeared anxious to stop him. Indeed, Harripen eyed Pellier and appeared to gloat in anticipation of some bloodletting. As if it were a gaming table, Ruark snatched the grating up and flung it aside. At his intrusion a scurrying and chittering came from below, then silence. Keeping a wary eye on the pirates, Ruark called down.
“Milady?”
A splash in the water and Shanna sprawled across the pile of rubble. A muffled groan of pain escaped her as she rolled over, and he could see her pale face in the dim light, pinched and drawn, twisted with fear. Her eyes sprang wide as she recognized him, and she scrambled to her feet, sobbing his name. A violent curse came from Ruark, and his angry gaze scornfully raked those at the table, most promisingly Pellier. There would be some payment for this, he vowed.
Dropping to a knee and resting the pistol against the edge of the hole, Ruark reached down a hand to hers which were raised in silent supplication. Shanna seized his wrist with both hands in a panicked grip of desperation, and Ruark knew it would have taken a bar of steel to pry her fingers loose. Lifting her as if she were of thistledown, he set her to her feet on the stone floor. Trembling she clung to him, sobbing softly against his chest. Then she saw the leering faces of the pirates as they watched her, and she resolutely pushed herself away from Ruark to stand on her own feet. However, the effort was too much for her quaking limbs, and, like a puppet whose strings had been suddenly severed, she crumpled weakly to the floor. Her muffled weeping burned through Ruark’s mind. He would not be satisfied until he tasted revenge.
“You see?” Pellier laughed jeeringly. “She has already lost much of her Trahern ways.”
The pistol in Ruark’s hand came around quickly, its single black eye settling on the corsair captain where it stared unblinkingly for a long, l
ong moment. Beneath the cyclopean threat, even that brave fellow froze, and the gloating grin faded from his scarred face.
The cold fire in Ruark’s eyes bespoke the fury churning within him. He held himself in tight rein until the rage cooled. What was left was a gnawing wish to see Pellier at the end of his sabre. This was no man, but a rabid beast with a warped mind who had abused the wife of a Beauchamp!
“I see the simplest of plans escapes you,” Ruark taunted. “Is your reasoning, then, so shallow that you cannot see a valuable piece must be guarded with care?”
Pellier scorned the words and would heed no argument. “Step aside, knave. I would see how the Trahern bitch has fared.”
Shanna raised her head and favored the pirate with a glare of hatred that would have shriveled the swamp to dry sand.
Moving away a mere step, Ruark permitted the man a glimpse of the disheveled beauty but directed an appeal to the rest of them. “ ‘Tis sure Trahern will pay the ransom, but when he sees his daughter thus, do you doubt he will find a way to see you all hunted to the ground?”
The picaroons stared at him but carefully gave no hint of agreement. The danger of drawing Pellier’s wrath to them was a surety of the present. All else was in the future and thus doubtful.
Pellier rose and hitched up his breeches. “Methinks the lady needs more of the pit.”
“Ruark!” Shanna’s whimper came choked with fright, and she clutched his leg frantically, pressing close against him.
“Why, milady,” Pellier mocked. “Did your quarters disagree with you?” He stepped a few paces nearer but then paused as if to muse. “Mayhap the linens were not as fresh as you like.” His voice deepened to a rasping snarl. “Or mayhap your little friends are more a comfort to you than the likes of us.” Then he roared, “Back to your dungeon, slut!”
With his command he charged forward to seize Shanna, but she flung herself behind Ruark and several spaces beyond. It may have been that Pellier simply did not believe that another man would dare interfere with him. Whatever the cause, he ignored Ruark, and that was his downfall. He never saw the foot that was thrust out in front of him as he passed Ruark. Nevertheless, he again tested the sturdiness of the stone floor, this time with his face.
Shanna Page 39
