Mistress Below Deck

by Helen Dickson

  ‘I’ll be back with Jane before you know it.’

  ‘Go’ was all she said.

  * * *

  Several of the sultan’s infamous bukhari or black guard were stationed at the Bab Mansoor, greatest of all Meknes’s ceremonial gateways. These men were haughty and brutal, highly trained and fiercely loyal to their master. They focused their attention on the noonday traffic that was jostling through the archway. Nothing unusual, just the everyday crowd of people drifting in and out, and the tall man in dusty white robes meeting with a fat man in a blue silk tunic and turban and a woman in a hijab did not merit any more attention than anyone else.

  * * *

  Rowena stood and watched the two figures coming up the hill to the camp, her heart soaring when she recognised Tobias and daring to hope that he had been successful in freeing Jane.

  Tobias reached out and drew the figure in the hijab forward. ‘Your sister,’ he murmured.

  The nervous strain of her captivity had been too much for Jane and she burst into tears of relief when she saw Rowena. ‘I thought I would be locked away in that awful place for ever,’ she sobbed, pushing the veil aside so she could better see her sister. ‘I was so afraid I would never see you again.’

  The shock of being smuggled out of the harem beneath the noses of the eunuchs guarding her, followed swiftly by being handed over to a man she believed was a stranger to her, since his face was partially concealed by his head covering, and hurried away from the city to she knew not where, only to find herself reunited with her sister, was almost too much and she cried and clung to Rowena, refusing to let her go.

  Tobias moved towards them and gently disengaged her clinging fingers. Above her head he gave Rowena a knowing look. ‘We have to go.’

  Jane’s emotionally overwrought state and dark-ringed eyes in her drawn face had a huge effect on Rowena. ‘I’m sorry, Jane,’ she said, hugging her sister one more time. ‘As soon as I heard you had been taken I was determined to follow and get you back.’

  Jane was silent for a moment, her eyes searching her rescuer’s bronzed features. ‘I remember you. You are Mr Searle. I don’t know how you come to be here, but I thank you—and yet why should you help me? I am no one to you but the daughter of a man who owes you a debt already. There is no reason why you should endanger your life for mine.’

  ‘All will be revealed later,’ he told her. ‘Come. There is need for haste. I want to put as much distance between us and this place as possible before nightfall.’

  Jane’s attention was momentarily diverted to Rowena’s clothes. ‘Where in the world did you get those dreadful garments?’ she exclaimed with shuddering distaste.

  ‘Hush, Jane,’ she said quietly, glad that Sam and Henry were out of earshot, for if her disguise was blown open now it would take some explaining. ‘I can’t explain now, but it’s important that I retain my disguise.’

  Jane’s instinct seemed to tell her what was happening. Tobias heaved her bodily on to the horse.

  ‘God bless you, Rowena,’ she whispered softly. ‘I’ll try not to hold you up.’

  ‘Rowan, Jane. My name is Rowan,’ Rowena said, speaking gently as to a child in shock, climbing on to her own horse and taking the reins. ‘I’ll explain later. It’s important that we get away from here, so come, we must look forward now, not back. Are you all right to ride?’ She nodded and Rowena smiled. ‘I knew you would be.’

  Rowena would say that for Jane. Once she understood the urgency of the situation, she didn’t take fright, or weep any more, or plague them with further questions, but urged her horse on with the rest. Rowena had known plenty of women who were better at riding than Jane, but none gamer than Jane when the stakes were down.

  Mile after mile the country unrolled itself under the pounding hoofs of their horses. They were rough-gaited, short-striding plodders, but their stamina seemed boundless. Rowena felt extraordinarily relaxed and relieved. The joy of having rescued Jane from the sultan’s clutches was exhilarating, even if the task would not be complete until they reached home.

  * * *

  When darkness fell and they made camp, Rowena and Jane talked quietly to each other away from the others. Rowena stared in shocked amazement and more than a little curiosity at her sister’s attire beneath the robe and hijab that covered her hair. She saw that she wore a short brocade jacket above her bare midriff, and below that harem trousers made of a diaphanous material like mist and air. She was covered, yet appeared almost naked.

  ‘Heavens above, Jane!’ Rowena exclaimed, looking at her. ‘I shudder to think what Father would say were he to see you dressed like that.’

  Jane laughed. ‘He would have an apoplexy, that’s for sure—as he would were he to see his eldest daughter dressed as a youth and dancing attendance on his worst enemy as his cabin boy. But tell me everything about how this has all come about.’

  Rowena gave Jane a detailed account of everything that had happened since the day she had been taken captive, and Jane told Rowena of her capture by Jack Mason and how he had laughed when he had discovered Matthew Golding’s daughter was one of his captives. Several women had been taken off the Petrel. They had been treated well, so as not to reduce their sale price when they reached Algiers—and Jack Mason had not been disappointed, for young and desirable she had been sold into the sultan’s harem.

  She had been in the harem at Meknes several days before she had been smuggled out—long enough to realise she would have been forced to renounce her Christian faith and that she could never expect to be released.

  ‘What was it like in the harem, Jane—and—and were you…?’

  Jane smiled when Rowena hesitated. ‘I was not there long enough to meet the sultan, Rowena. I am still a virgin, thank the Lord,’ she told her quietly. ‘When we were taken off the Petrel, we were very afraid, not knowing what was to happen to us or if we would ever see our families again. Inside the harem—of which there are several housing the sultan’s many wives and children—it was luxurious to say the least.’

  Rowena smiled at the dreamy look in her sister’s eyes as she remembered all she had seen during her short time in captivity. ‘I hope you don’t regret being rescued, Jane, because we are not so far away that we cannot turn back.’

  She laughed softly and gave her a warm hug. ‘Of course not. Oh, but it is a truly remarkable place, one you cannot possibly imagine. The sultan has lavished a veritable fortune on beautifying his imperial capital. The result is a palace so exquisite it is unlike anything else on earth, but behind it all there is undeniable cruelty,’ she whispered, pain replacing the dreamy, faraway look of a moment before. ‘The unfortunate, terrible part of it all is that building is constantly in progress, with thousands of European slaves at work every day. They are so badly treated it is heartbreaking to witness their suffering.’

  ‘I know. I saw some of them myself. But what of the sultan—does he have many wives?’

  ‘Hundreds. The imperial harem is jealously protected. Every one of the sultan’s wives is accompanied at all times by a eunuch guard. In fact there are so many guards I am surprised you managed to get me out at all.’

  ‘It is Tobias we have to thank for that. He bribed Suleiman—the man who bought you in Algiers—to arrange your release.’

  ‘He did? Oh, Rowena, how much did he have to give him?’

  ‘A thousand pounds.’

  Jane paled. ‘That is a large sum of money. How on earth shall we ever be able to repay it? Father can’t possibly.’

  ‘It will be sorted out later, Jane.’

  ‘But he will be for ever in his debt. Why, it’s not as though they are good friends—quite the opposite, in fact.’ Jane gave her sister a long, searching look. ‘There’s something behind this. Yes, there’s more to this than meets the eye, so please don’t tell me that Mr Searle has gone to all this trouble out of the goodness of his heart. Why would he risk his life for someone he has only briefly met?’

  ‘I told you. I smuggled mys
elf aboard his ship. He didn’t find out until we were too far away from England to turn back. He was going after Jack Mason anyway, and he agreed to help me find you.’

  ‘And that’s all?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Jane smiled and turned away. If Rowena couldn’t see what Tobias Searle felt for her, then she really must be blind. Jane had seen it as clear as day, though he did do his best to hide it.

  ‘I think I like your Mr Searle, Rowena.’

  ‘He’s not my Mr Searle, Jane and he never will be. Do not forget that I am supposed to be marrying Lord Tregowan—if he’ll still have me, that is.’

  ‘Of course he will, but you are entitled to change your mind.’

  Rowena shook her head, a bleak look in her eyes. ‘I don’t think I will be granted the privilege—not if things are the same at home as when we left.’

  Reaching out, Jane took her hand and cradled it in her own. ‘Things will work out for you, Rowena, as they have for me. You are truly my dearest sister and I am very happy to have you. Without your determination to find me I am under no illusions about what would have happened to me. My gratitude is so deeply felt that I cannot explain the measure of it.’

  ‘And you don’t have to. I’m sure you would have done the same for me.’

  * * *

  They pressed on to Sale. At one point Tobias glanced back at Rowena and saw with amazement that her eyes were sparkling and her teeth gleaming white between eagerly parted lips. He was glad to see she had recovered her sense of determination and spirit that had carried her through the weeks before they had come to Meknes. When they had left Sale she had been tense and sick with worry about her sister, but the woman riding beside him now—the woman Henry and Sam still believed was a pretty youth—was vibrant in health, darker, tawny skinned and clad like a bandit.

  Rowena straightened proudly to meet his gaze as he soaked up the sight of her, for he was more thirsty for her than for water. Dear Lord, he thought irrelevantly, feeling his blood stir and his loins stiffen, but she’s beautiful. He knew many women who knew how to please a man, knew exquisitely where and how to touch him, how to move. But such women were for a moment’s pleasure and no longer.

  The woman he was looking at was one of strength, of character, as strong as the mountains and rocks themselves. The man who possessed her would have no need for the other kind.

  Chapter Ten

  The man had been waiting, standing like a shadow on the edge of the crowd on the waterfront. He watched the five figures approach on foot, three men and two women, one garbed in a hijab and the other as an untidy youth. And so he waited.

  * * *

  The crowd was dense and Rowena felt herself being pushed towards a dark alley. With considerable alarm she realised she was becoming separated from the others. As she glanced along a narrow street, shadows seemed to flit around the walls, but even as she looked they retreated and faded from view. Then there was a sound, a footfall. The shapes came back, vague movements on either side, but she had eyes only for the man who stepped out of the shadows and stood calmly watching her.

  She would know that face and that arrogant bearing anywhere for, once seen, Jack Mason was hard to forget. Cold sweat prickled her skin and panic threatened, but she would not let him see she was afraid. Her stomach twisted in a hard knot, but her face remained impassive as she moved towards him.

  This surprised Mason and he cocked a quizzical brow. ‘So you’re not afraid of me—Miss Golding?’

  ‘You are a treacherous, backstabbing villain, Jack Mason. I am not afraid of you.’

  ‘Then you should be.’

  He clicked his fingers and Rowena turned to run, but someone came from behind, his powerful arms encircling her and preventing her flight. Even as she drew breath to scream, something hit her on the back of the head. Then everything exploded in a million twinkling lights before she fell into a void as deep and bottomless as a black abyss.

  * * *

  ‘Where’s Rowan?’

  Henry and Sam looked up at Tobias from the boat. Jane looked around frantically, and then they all exchanged glances, their faces reflecting their sudden anxiety, for Rowan had been there a moment ago.

  ‘The lad was here when we hailed the boat…’ Sam faltered, for the tension on the master’s face was palpable.

  Tobias looked into the crowd, his eyes searching for the familiar floppy hat, paying no attention to the large covered package being hauled into a neighbouring boat by two robed men.

  ‘Sam, take Jane to the ship. I’ll look around. He can’t have wandered too far.’

  * * *

  Climbing on board the Cymbeline, Tobias was met by an anxious looking Mark Dexter.

  ‘Well?’ Mark asked, searching Tobias’s hard features.

  Tobias shook his head. ‘There was no sign of her. It’s as though she’s disappeared into thin air.’ His eyes scanned the deck. ‘Where’s her sister?’

  ‘Down below. She’s in quite a state.’

  ‘That’s not surprising. I’ll go and speak to her—although what the hell can I say? I’ll return to the waterfront and search again, but I need more men.’

  ‘Before you go, there’s something you should see.’ Mark handed him a spy glass. ‘Take a look at the vessel over there.’ He pointed out the ship Tobias recalled seeing and commenting on before he had left for Meknes.

  With a terrible foreboding taking shape in his chest, lifting the spy glass, Tobias focused the barrel on the ship with its towering forecastle and stern. The decks were crowded with men. It was a hefty two-masted ship of about one hundred tons—a slaver past her prime by the look of her. She was painted a greenish-yellow colour that would have made her almost unnoticeable had she been lying in a cove with her sails furled.

  He focused the spy glass on the blood-red flag with a black death head above two crossed cutlasses. An experienced seaman was able to identify the ships of all seafaring nations by the colours flying from her masthead. Pirates had their own flags, but they also had a variety of other flags. When they wished to hide their identity, they simply flew an appropriate national flag, but this vessel was flying its own. Something about this particular corsair vessel brought a coldness to the pit of his stomach that began to uncurl when he focused on the name emblazoned on its hull.

  It was the Seadog—Jack Mason’s ship.

  Tobias took in the situation at once. The cold fire in his eyes bespoke the fury churning within him. Shaken by a cold, killing rage, he held himself in tight rein until the rage cooled. ‘Mason. I now know I need look no further for Rowena. On the day we arrived in Sale she told me she thought she’d seen Mason, but she couldn’t be sure. The man she saw was with some captives that had just been brought ashore. If it was Mason and he recognised Rowena, then it is no coincidence that he is still here.’

  He stiffened, suddenly alert as the Seadog’s sails began to unfurl and fill with the wind. ‘But look—the bastard’s leaving.’ A thunderous frown drew his thick black eyebrows into a single line as he watched the corsair vessel. ‘This is our chance to capture him—after four years he is within our grasp. Weigh anchor, Mark. The tide is high. We can’t wait.’

  Tobias was instantly in command, Mark realised, watching as he moved swiftly to the helm. It was the air of authority, unhesitating, exuding confidence and skill, demanding and receiving instant obedience, that had made him such an effective master, the reason his men were willing to follow him without question.

  The Cymbeline carried a large crew of a hundred men. This would give the vessel an equal fighting force if they were threatened by pirates and, like pirate vessels, when it came to a fight the Cymbeline needed a large crew to work the guns.

  * * *

  The pain in Rowena’s head made her aware of the slow rolling motion of the ship’s floor beneath her—but whose ship? It certainly wasn’t the Cymbeline. She gingerly opened her eyes and her world expanded. A faint light percolated through an iron grille above. She saw she was i
n the small hold of a vessel, propped up against a barrel, and there was a painful lump on the back of her head.

  It was airless and the stench—a combination of a stale foulness of bilge water and rotting human waste—turned her stomach. She had no way of knowing what time it was or how long she had been unconscious, but one thing she did know was that Tobias would have no idea where to look for her when he realised she was missing.

  In her mind’s eye she could see his panic when he found her gone, and the horror and the anger and—most undeservedly—the guilt that would show on his face that he had somehow let it happen.

  As her eyes became sharper, she saw there were chains and shackles strewn over the floor—grim evidence of the ship’s occupation. She peered through a narrow aisle between stacked crates and water casks. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up when something moved in the deep shadows at the end, and she shuddered on seeing a rat.

  Struggling to her feet, looking down she saw she was in a sorry state, and somewhere along the way she had lost her precious hat. Hearing a loud scraping, her heart almost stopped when up above the grille covering the hatch was flung back. Booted legs appeared over the edge and someone climbed down the ladder into the hold, carrying a lamp. Reaching the bottom, he turned. A leering grin displayed uneven rotting teeth, and in that moment of nightmarish terror, it seemed the devil had taken human form.

  It was Jack Mason.

  The captain of the corsair ship was dressed in Moorish garb. After he set the lamp on a barrel, the yellow light flickered upward, carving his face from the shadows behind him. She stared at him in horrified disgust. His lustful perusal pierced her meagre garments, and she could not hold back a shudder of revulsion.

  ‘Welcome back, my dear Rowena. I had almost begun to fear my man might have been over harsh with you. I trust your quarters are to your liking?’