Leigh Sparrow

by In Pursuit of the Black Swan

  Had she actually been abducted? The thieving blackguards! Poor Edward. Did anyone know yet that she was missing? What about Ian and Ashford? They all must be terribly worried. How dare someone abduct her right before her wedding!

  The room was dimly lit. Glancing around at what appeared to be a small berth, she noticed a round porthole window high on the wall above her bed. How much more daylight was left? How long had she been unconscious? She tested the cords binding her limbs. Pain seared inside her head when she moved.

  At least she could feel her dagger, still resting in her boot. And her pistol weighed down inside her coat pocket. No doubt, the idiot kidnappers did not think to check a mere woman like herself for weapons. Thank goodness Higgins had instilled in her to always carry them when she rode.

  Footsteps echoed above, stomping around on deck. Hopefully there weren’t too many of them. She shifted her feet behind her to get closer to her tied hands. Perhaps she could reach in her boot for the dagger. With persistent reaching and maneuvering of her body, she finally got hold of it. Now to cut her ties.

  Footsteps thumped outside her cabin. She slipped the dagger under her thigh, between a fold in the blanket, hoping it was hidden from view.

  The door creaked open and she squeezed her eyes shut. Two sets of footfalls thudded on the wooden floor of her room.

  “We’ll see if the little chit’s awake yet,” a gravelly voice said.

  “Should I get a bucket o’ seawater?” the other one asked. He sounded younger.

  “Naw, let her sleep. She’s easier to handle this way. Ole Jonteau says this one’s a hellion.”

  “That duke should be findin’ the jewels before long.”

  “Yep, the quality can be bloody reliable about certain things, ‘specially when it comes to payin’ up.”

  “Heh, ‘specially when they’re payin’ it and we’re gittin’ it.”

  “But the cocky Frenchie said we can’t kill her or we don’t get paid. She’s a fine bit o’ fluff. I might just try a piece o’ her before we give her back. Half-dead don’t mean we killed her full.”

  A rough gnarly hand patted her face and groped her breasts. Alexandra strained not to react or blush.

  “Yep she’ll be a fine one to poke, ‘specially if she’s got any spunk,” gravel-voice said.

  “C’mon, mate, we’re jest sposed to check on her. Capt’n wants us back on deck. You’re goin’ have to poke her later.”

  Alexandra heard the door creak shut and a latch snap.

  Her body wretched from being mauled by that filthy toad. Had he really said Jonteau? The slimy traitorous bastard. Edward was right about him. Just wait until she saw Jonteau again; he would pay long and dear for this.

  The room grew darker and she groped around again for the dagger. After what seemed an eternity, she finally cut through the cords binding her hands, along with pinking some nicks in her wrists and arms. Freeing herself of the ties, she pulled the filthy rag from her mouth and gasped for air and flexed her jaw. Her head swirled again from the pain when she first tried to stand, but then it settled into a dull ache. Quietly she tried the door and found it was locked from the outside.

  The light grew dimmer and she tested the small round window. It opened barely enough for her to squeeze through. The chilly sea wind swept through her and made her shiver. Below, murky waves slapped against the hull. The scent of salt and fish filled her nostrils.

  There was a small ledge below the window and some bundled fishing nets hanging nearby over the side of the ship. Memorizing their location, she decided it would be more prudent to remain back in the room until it grew darker. In the meantime, she waited behind the door with her pistol, in case gravel-voice or anyone else decided to visit again.

  An hour later, it was dark. She slipped out through the window and hid in the netting to observe the deck. The men were a surly group, about ten of them, she estimated. The captain was a short stocky bald man with a too-large red military jacket and black trousers that had been cut off above his ankles.

  They all looked like ruffians. Most of them spoke tawdry English with a little Dutch and French mixed in. They had dropped anchor for the night. Hopefully they weren’t too far off shore then. But which shore?

  Eventually, most of the crew went below the galley to eat. Two men stayed behind on deck.

  Alexandra noticed a short iron rod, used to spool sailing line. This one didn’t have much line left on it. Freeing the rod from the rest of the line, she gripped it firmly in her hand. She waited for the two men on deck to get a good distance apart from each other. With her dagger in one hand and the rod in the other, she tiptoed out. Then she crept up behind one and clobbered him over the head, knocking him out. Quickly, she did the same with the other.

  Dragging the men into the shadows, she bound and gagged them with much satisfaction. She relieved them of their weapons, two sabers on one and a rusty pistol on the other. Then she covered them up with a part of a sail.

  Suddenly, she felt the barrel of a gun jabbing into her back.

  “Unhand your weapons, cherie,” the familiar voice spoke in French.

  Dropping her guns to the deck, she froze. Terror and sadness gripped her heart.

  “Now raise your hands and turn around slowly.”

  Alexandra turned to face who she was sure would be her murderer. With his gun aimed straight at her, she was unsurprised to see the smirking face of Francois Jonteau.

  Chapter 38

  It was their second day at sea on the Black Swan.

  Edward turned to Ian. “I need to practice my fencing. My shoulder is still stiff, so show me what you can do.” He tossed him a sword.

  Ian caught it and looked at Edward, grinning with anticipation.

  “Engarde!” Edward shouted.

  Ian went into his fencing stance and blocked Edward’s swing, parrying with him across the deck. Edward was swift and skilled, but Ian kept up. Every time Edward thrust his sword at him, Ian was able to dodge or block it.

  The other men on deck circled around to watch, jeering and cheering. Their captain was a master swordsman, but the lad was not embarrassing himself. It was obvious that the captain was merely toying with him. But the lad had potential.

  “Not shabby. I finally get to fence with the real Ian,” Edward remarked as they halted.

  “Don’t blame me, Edward. You know there’s no stopping her.”

  “I see you use some of the techniques she also uses—which I taught her.”

  “Indeed. We did practice a lot together. Especially after you left, she nagged me endlessly. I had no choice but to learn to fence.” Ian wiped the sweat off his face. “But now I’m thankful she was such a pest.”

  “Well, you’d better hone your skills while you have the chance. I daresay you’re going to need them. Why don’t you get Winston to pick up a sword? I don’t know how long it’s been since he’s touched one. Hopefully, less than five years.”

  “I heard that, little brother!” Winston called out. He was leaning against the port side railing. “I may be somewhat rusty, but I have every confidence that Ian here will bring me up to chase.”

  “Ian, you have your work cut out for you.” Edward said, tossing Winston his sword.

  Winston tried to catch it and missed it. “Ouch!” he said, jumping back as the sword clanged on the deck.

  Edward shook his head and went to locate McPhee.

  McPhee was in the galley drinking a tankard of grog. Edward poured one for himself and sat across from him.

  “We should hit landfall by the end of the day,” McPhee said. “We caught a steady wind and were lucky to miss that storm.” He took a deep chug of his grog and looked at Edward with concern. “Did you get some rest?”

  “I tried.” Edward left it at that. They both knew he was too worried about Alexandra to sleep. “I plotted the ship on a more northerly course. Perhaps we’ll spot some of the miscreants who would rather stay out of the regular crossing routes.”

 
Edward paused and rubbed his shoulder. “If we don’t find her soon, we’ll turn southward toward Calais. We’ll drop anchor there and you and I will get some ale at Le Gateau Bleu. I don’t want Ian and Winston involved yet. Keep them on the ship for now.”

  “I hope we don’t need to go all the bloody way to Paris,” McPhee said. “Hopefully, a message will be waiting from the Hague by pigeon.”

  “Tell the other men to keep their eyes and ears open, as usual. I take it they can all still be trusted?”

  “Aye, Captain. They’re a fine crew, and you’re payin’ them a fair wage. Better than any other ship on these waters, I daresay. Haven’t had a bad apple since last year with Odie, that worthless excuse for a midshipman. And the rest of the crew turned him in at that.”

  The Black Swan moored the next day in Calais. At a small corner table in Le Gateau Bleu, Edward and McPhee nursed their ales. They listened as the various sailors laughed and bellowed, sloshing their drinks. Two more ships were anchored in the harbor and, predictably, all of them flew the French tricolor flag.

  “Recognize anyone?” Edward asked McPhee under his breath. He nodded to the barkeep to order a third round of ale for them both. He shifted in his chair, reminding himself to be patient.

  “A few look familiar but I can’t quite place them,” McPhee murmured. “But some of these men change ships faster than they change their shirts.” He took a hearty sip of the foamy ale, and glanced around the room once more.

  “That’s what I’m counting on,” Edward said. “Lack of loyalty makes for loose tongues.”

  The front door slammed open, almost falling off its hinges. Another burly group of five ambled in. They took the table next to Edward and McPhee.

  “Barkeep!” one bellowed in French. “Bring us some ales! Me men and I are as parched as King Louis’s bones.”

  Edward and McPhee sipped on their ales and listened.

  “So where do you reckon ol’ Pike went?” one of the men asked. “Thought we were s’posed to meet him here at the docks.”

  “Mebbe he hasn’t put in port yet.”

  “He should o’ been here yesterday. They were in a hurry. Had a delivery.”

  “Mebbe someone finally caught him. Ye know he’s been sidesteppin’ the English for a long bit of time.”

  “Don’t know. It’s not like him to be late. Pike fleeced ole Sharky for a fine bit of blunt, he could have caught up with him.”

  “Hope Sharky didn’t sink the rotter. Pike’s ship was a fine Dutchie.”

  “Sharky won’t sink him. But he might take the Dutchie off Pike’s hands if he doesn’t pay up. Heard he was pretty sore.”

  “If they have it out, me blunt’s on Sharky. Heh, that ole seadog could take out Pike with a dinghy and a flintlock.”

  Edward nodded to McPhee, “Lets get back. I’ve heard enough.”

  When they returned to the Black Swan, Edward ordered the ship to put out on the next tide.

  “We’re going trolling for a while,” Edward explained to Winston and Ian. “I’m flying my Black Swan flag, which gives me about much status as a pirate. Some of them do consider me as one. But a pirate’s flag in a war attracts less cannon balls.”

  They settled themselves in Edward’s cabin, imbibing on his new supply of contraband brandy. It was almost noon and they were well out to sea, but no one stood on ceremony about drinking spirits so early in the day, given the circumstances.

  Winston laughed. “My little brother is a bloody pirate. I was wondering how the Ashford reputation got so blackened these days.”

  “It’s more due to your regular visits to the gaming houses and those indiscreet discreet visits to your fleshpot-of-the-week. Even at sea, I read about you in the broadsheets.”

  Winston shrugged. “What’s wrong with that? So I prefer a bit of variety. You make it sound like a bad thing.”

  “I’m not a judge. Far from it. You simply wondered why you have a tarnished reputation, and I supplied a possible reason.” Edward rubbed his forehead. “The Black Swan has its uses. I still work for the War Office, even in this capacity. While we were anchored at Calais, I did send some men to Paris to meet with my contacts there. They’ll leave word at Brugge if there is any news, which is where we are headed next. They’ll try to locate the couturier who made Alexandra’s gowns.”

  Edward leaned back in his chair. “A couturier is actually a good cover for moving various types of valuables. Their trade makes them somewhat invisible, yet they usually know the latest gossip which often entails comings and goings of large amounts of money. If they are an expensive couturier, they come in close contact with the higher-ups. It would be a good front for a profiteer or a spy network.”

  “So, why are we trolling?” Ian asked.

  “Because I think Alexandra is being held on a ship. If she was turned over for a bounty, it would have been big talk at the watering holes. But today all we heard was that a ship didn’t make it into port when it was supposed to, which leads me to think it is out here somewhere. The ship they mentioned belongs to one of the ruffians I suspect could have taken her. There was also word that this particular ship had a delivery to make, which isn’t so extraordinary in itself since that’s what ships do. But to actually mention a delivery usually means it is something unusual or illegal.”

  “Do you really think that Alexandra could be on that ship?” Ian asked.

  Edward shrugged. “There are other ships I’m suspicious of as well, which are also said to be sailing around these waters. So gentleman, we on the hunt. A ship hunt. I hope you are up on your fighting skills. While you are at it, have Lieutenant McPhee show you where we keep the guns.”

  Chapter 39

  The afternoon passed uneventfully as well as the night. By the next morning, Edward was on the verge of losing his mind. What if he was on a turkey chase? Generally he was considered to be one of the most skillful trackers in England, especially at sea, but with Alexandra’s life at stake, he was second-guessing himself. His emotions were clouding his judgment. He stood at the helm, gripping the smoothly polished teak wheel. The bracing wind slapped against his face. “Good God, Alexandra,” he murmured to himself, “where the hell are you?”

  “Captain!” The lookout man shouted from the crow’s nest at the top of the middle mast. “A ship in the horizon. South-southwest twenty degrees portside!”

  Edward peered through his spyglass across the mild choppy water and saw a ship near the horizon. “Full sails! We’re going to catch her,” he ordered. Once they drew nearer, he recognized it as Captain Shark’s small brig.

  When their ship was close enough, Edward took Winston, Ian, and McPhee, and rowed over in a dinghy.

  “Well, if it ain’t the Black Swan hisself!” Captain Shark greeted as they climbed on deck.

  Then Sharky looked at Ian. “Hell’s bollocks, you’ve got to be the little missy’s brother!”

  Ian stepped forward to shake Sharky’s hand. “Chesbury, at your service, Captain. And yes, Alexandra is my twin sister.”

  Captain Shark turned to Edward. “Yere lookin’ a might less dead than last time I seen ye.” He chuckled and his massive body shook.

  “It’s good to see you, Sharky. I understand I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  “Well, I figure it makes us even now. You got them Brits off my back.” He gave a curt nod. “So, what’s bringing ye back to this neck of the sea?”

  “We’re tracking.”

  Sharky raised his bushy gray brows. “Are ya now? For ship or man?”

  “For a woman.”

  Sharky laughed. “That sweet little thing didn’t run out on ye already, did she? If she did, she’s probably out here lookin’ fer me. She said she wanted ta marry me.”

  “Yes. I did hear you were next in line if I turned her down.”

  “I’d be happy ta take her. She said ye weren’t that keen on her anyways. Heh, changed yer mind, did ye?”

  “You could say that.”

  Shakey grinned,
revealing a wide gap between what was left of his front teeth. “I told the little missie that ye would keep her, I did. Also told her ye’re as stubborn as the dammed Corsican himself.”

  “He’s the one?” Winston asked, his voice sounding more like a squawk.

  “Sharky, this is my brother, the Marquess of Ashford, and next in line to wed her after you,” Edward grumbled.

  Winston scowled at Edward and Sharky howled with laughter.

  “Well, just keep her away from that pistol, and you should be a very happy man.” Sharky’s eyes twinkled.

  “I’ll do just that, providing I find her,” Edward said. “She was nabbed two days ago. Someone thinks she stole some jewels. They’re holding her for ransom. If you’ve got any ideas, let’s just say I’ll invite you to the wedding. Better yet, I’ll have you perform the ceremony.”

  “Now wouldn’t that be somethin’ if I got to marry off a fancy earl’s daughter.” Sharky chuckled and then scratched his balding head. “Hmmp. My best guess is Pike’s got her. Sounds like his line of work.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking too. Heard his ship is late into port. That he had a delivery. You haven’t seen it around, have you?”

  “Not lately. I’ll keep an eye out. If he’s late, he could have dropped anchor to ride out that storm, although he should have made it to Calais by now. If I find your missy before you, I’ll see if she’ll change her mind and marry me instead. Now that she sees how skinny you are, she might prefer a meaty gent like myself.”

  Edward grinned. “You can try. But watch out, with that pistol of hers, she could off you in your sleep. I have to sleep with one eye open now.”

  Sharky howled again. “If you find Pike, tell that cheatin’ buzzard he owes me some blunt. I don’t take too well to being stiffed. Just no honor among thieves any more. If I hear anything, I’ll leave word at the Bleu.”

  “You’re a good man, Sharky—for a pirate.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, Swan.”