Some of the regular guests and the staff who were being held hostage immediately recognised her. She smiled at them, and then made a face which conveyed her wish to remain anonymous for now: she wanted to appraise the situation before she tried to take any action.
Her anonymity did not last long. A few minutes after she arrived, some more bandits came into the hall, leading in a couple of the hotel's security guards. One looked as if he had been mortally wounded.
The bandits marched their captives up to a bald man with a silver beard, who wore a red bandanna across his head. From the way the others deferred to him and responded to his commands, he was obviously the leader of the bandits. Or were they terrorists?
Why they were here or what they wanted was not yet clear.
As she watched, the silver bearded man pointed behind him, and the bandits dragged the bleeding guard into one of the private rooms at the back of the hall.
Beside the silver bearded man, one of the guests was standing...the only guest in the hall who was. Occasionally, the bandit leader turned to him and they talked together. Sally recognised him. Sandy Weiss. He was a regular. A wealthy young man from a wealthy family.
Although she would have preferred to have more time to observe the dynamics of the drama unfolding around her, she couldn't wait any longer.
This was her hotel. These people were on her turf, and they were invading her space! Furthermore, all these people in the hall...and everyone else outside and still at liberty within the resort...they were all her responsibility. And one of them was wounded. She had to go to him, and make sure he got help urgently.
And then she had to find a way to call for help: she had to alert the police and most probably, the army.
Looking around at some of the famous people and diplomats in the room, all cowering on the floor and being terrorized by the bandits, she knew this was already an international incident.
Sally was petrified. Her legs and hands were shaking. She felt sick and nauseous.
But without further thought for her own well being, she pushed a mental button in her mind, and stood up.
As she rose to her feet, she changed from being Sally-Anne Davis, and became Manager of the Blue Emerald Resort Puerto Rico, on whose shoulders rested the responsibility of all the lives in the complex.
Having risen to her feet, the manager of the Blue Emerald brushed herself down, shook her head clear, and walked purposely over to the bandit with the silver beard, all before anyone could stop her.
She stood in front of him and declared, "I am the manager of this resort, and I demand to know what you are doing here? And I insist that we give medical help to the security guard that you have injured!"
The points of five separate cutlasses immediately prodded her in her ribs and back, and a rough hand on her shoulder urged her to step backwards away from the man and sit back down on the floor. She resisted.
The man with the silver beard turned around, saw the beautiful woman in front of him, and waved the other bandits away. He spoke in a language which although Sally at first did not recognise, she quickly realised was in fact English. But English spoken with a curious accent that she had not heard before.
"Manager? Resort? I do not understand what it is that you wish to say to me, woman. You seek medical help for your palace guard? You value his life?"
"Of course I do. Let me send for our doctor. Immediately!"
"And he can save his life? I think not, I saw the wound. The man will die. If not today, by tomorrow night when the fever takes him. No one can survive such a wound!"
"Let me prove you wrong."
"Perhaps we can barter. I will let your doctor attend your man, if you will fetch the King, and bring him to me now."
"Which King?"
"The King to whom this Palace belongs."
Sally fell silent for a moment, thinking. She looked around at the other bandits. If it were not for the wounded and dying guard she might have suspected that this was all one giant prank that had gone sadly wrong.
"There is no King. There is only a Queen."
"Then fetch her, woman. Now!"
"There is no need. She is already here. I am that Queen."
Silver stepped back from her, looking her up and down. He smiled, and then whistled.
"You are the Queen?"
"Yes. I am. And I demand to know why you have invaded my ‘Palace’ and what the hell you think you are all doing!"
Silver's smile slipped from his mouth, and he stepped closer to Sally, his face only inches from hers. His breath stunk to high heaven, and she pulled back in uncontrollable disgust. The leader of the bandits immediately reached out behind Sally and grabbed her by the hair. Although he was slightly smaller than she was, he was very strong. He pulled her down slightly, pulling her head to the side, and beneath his.
"You will demand nothing. Your kingdom is forfeit. It now belongs to us. We will take what we wish, and then we will leave. Cooperate and we will be gone before you know it. Protest and resist, and you will wish you had never been born. Do you understand me, my Queen?"
A large hand landed on Silver's shoulder, and he felt the warmth of a human's breath on his cheek.
"Mr Silver, I would suggest that you immediately release the Queen." Captain Rob whispered in his ear. "Allow the woman to find her quack. Let her go."
Silver was stunned. He had not seen the Captain arrive. But even before the Captain had finished his sentence, Silver had started to smile and had released the woman, whose silken hair now slipped through his fingers.
"On the other hand, dear Queen, perhaps, as a symbol of our good faith, I will allow you to fetch your quack. I will send three of my men with you, to help assist. Be back within ten minutes of the clock, or I will personally see that your injured guard will have no further need of a doctor. Now go!"
The woman ran her fingers through her hair, flicked it out and shook her head. She smiled at Silver, half-turned to look at Captain Rob, and left. Silver clicked his fingers, pointed at three men, and they immediately followed her out.
"And now, Mr Silver, whilst your requested reinforcements start to pack the food and take it down to the beach and the boats, I think that you and I should talk," the Captain announced, draping his arm around the quartermaster's shoulder and guiding him gently but forcibly back out of the hall and into the courtyard in front of the building. As they walked out, the newly arrived pirates went to work. With minutes the edible contents of the kitchen were being carried, box by box, and barrel by barrel, down to the beach.
"So now, Mr Silver," the Captain summarized the situation after his quartermaster had given his report. "...instead of a lightning raid on a sleeping village, moving swiftly in and out, taking only food, water and grog,... we are now entrenched in the Palace with hundreds of hostages, with dead and wounded littering the grounds all around? And still you do not know the size of the army which will no doubt counter attack at any moment?" It was a rhetorical question. No answer was needed.
Captain Rob turned his back and walked away from Silver, thinking. As a rule, he did not argue with his second-in-command in front of his men, especially during any form of engagement with an enemy. Everyone knew Captain Rob ruled with an iron fist, when necessary, but discipline and order was better shown and encouraged, than enforced. Captain Rob led by example, and others always followed.
At that moment, Richard Tyler came around the corner of the nearest building, saw the Captain, and hurried over.
"Aha, Mr Tyler. You have finished reconnoitering the Palace? Good, then make your report. But sharpish. I fear the sky is about to fall on our heads."
Richard Tyler spoke quickly, not wasting words, imparting only the necessary facts.
The Palace was large, covering many acres of land, but most of it was contained within tall, thick walls which should be easily defensible. Where they stood now was the center of the Palace, the arrangements of the living quarters and other buildings being symmetrically distribu
ted on either side. A guard had been captured and forcibly questioned, and he had provided valuable intelligence: the Palace had three hundred guests, and one hundred and fifty servants. The Palace Guard was made up of twenty men, each of whom were armed with pistols and repeating muskets, the like of which Richard had never seen before, but an example of which he then held out and presented to the Captain. It was identical to the one that the Captain already carried over his shoulder. Captain Rob acknowledged the gesture but pushed it gently back. "Keep it and learn to use it. And find whatever others you can. I fear we may need them, sooner rather than later. And now, Mr Tyler, tell me the name of the Spanish King? Or is it really a Queen, as Mr Silver has already found out, to his cost?"
"In truth, Captain, I do not know. I asked such questions, the like of which you have asked me now, but I never comprehended the answers. The man used words that are of no meaning to me. Even when we tried to persuade him further. It is all a nonsense to me." Mr Tyler paused, then continued. "There is much about this place that I find unholy. Strange. Unnatural. I have seen things I do not understand, and cannot fathom. The quicker we are apart from here, the better."
The Captain nodded.
"Thank you Mr Tyler. And what of your men?"
"I have placed them strategically around the walls. If an attack comes, they are not strong enough in number to repel it, but they will be able to delay it. However, I would suggest, that if we can spare any more, the men are better placed on the walls in defense, than in the hall."
"I agree. And so does Silver. I shall send twenty men back with you Mr Tyler. If an attack is coming, I wish you to send word to me immediately."
"And if an attack comes from the beach?" Silver asked.
"Then it will be covered by Paddy O'Brian and the cannon on the Sea Dancer." Captain McGregor replied, almost in annoyance.
Captain McGregor fell silent. Planning. He needed only a minute.
"Okay, what's done is done. The situation is not the best, but we shall make it work for us until we are ready to leave. Hopefully within thirty minutes. An hour at the most. Mr Silver, I wish you to follow Mr Tyler back to the main gate, and ascertain the range from there to the beach. Pace it out if you must. Consider how best to arrange a spread of cannon fire across the extremes of the Palace. We need to know if the balls from our cannon can fly so far, and if we can defend the Palace with our cannon from the ship. If we can, and they are in range, I wish you to pass instructions back to the ship on the elevation and the range, but you yourself must not leave the shore. I wish you back in the hall at the earliest possible moment. But before you return, make a round of inspection of Mr Tyler's defenses. He is, no insult intended, a man of little experience in battle. That is your domain, Mr Silver. Make improvements where you see fit. You have half of the men at your disposal. We shall split our resources between defense and preparing for departure. As soon as we have all the food, I will fire a single cannon, and everyone must return to the beach. Is that understood?"
They both nodded.
"Then go!"
At that moment, the Queen rushed past them back into the Banqueting Hall, her quack and her guard in tow.
Captain Rob followed.
Chapter 21
The Blue Emerald Bay Resort
Main Restaurant
Puerto Rico
7:20 a.m.
Sally-Anne Davis knelt beside Dr. Paul Mitchell, following his instructions and doing exactly as he said, passing him his surgical instruments as necessary, and helping to put pressure on a vein as directed until it had been sewn back together. Dr Mitchell worked fast. The guard had lost a lot of blood, and would need a blood transfusion and antibiotics as soon as possible if he were to survive. However, he managed to stem the loss of blood, and stitch him up as best he could, given the lack of facilities and poor operating conditions.
Sally was not scared by the sight of blood. Her uncle had been a vet, and for a while she had even considered becoming one herself. But after spending some time with her family on holiday in a hotel in Jamaica when she was fifteen years old, she had fallen in love with the hotel industry. From then on, she knew that one day she would own her own hotel. That was still her dream.
"Well," Dr Mitchell said, looking up at Sally. "That's all we can do for now. We need to get him to a hospital. And soon. Somehow we have to persuade these bastards to let us get help."
"Leave that to me," Sally replied, standing up. "You've done your part. And I think that there are a few other people who have been wounded and need your help."
Sally turned and walked back out of the door, from the relatively peaceful seclusion of the private room to the chaos of the main restaurant.
"How is he?" a tall man asked, approaching Sally the moment she entered the room. Sally looked at him. He was the man who had been standing with the bandit leader earlier on. He was obviously one of the bandits, but he was not like the others. He was not dirty. On the contrary he was quite clean. His clothes were smart, although rather comical, he carried a large tri-cornered hat tucked under his arm, and from where she stood, it seemed as if he did not smell. The man smiled at her, his voice warm and authoritative, but not threatening. His blue eyes twinkled in the restaurant lights, long, light brown hair tied in a pony tail, his face rugged and tanned. An old scar ran upwards across his right cheek bone, and Sally felt a strange but compelling urge to reach out and touch it.
In spite of the stressful circumstances around her, she recognised the instant attraction that she felt to him. He was a handsome man, there was no denying it.
"He will live, for now, but only if we get him to a hospital as soon as possible. I need to speak to your leader, the man with the silver beard? Please take me to him."
"I am sorry, that will not be possible for now. I have sent him elsewhere."
"You sent him..." Sally repeated, the dynamic of the situation dawning on her. "So you are the leader of these bandits?"
"Bandits is a bad word. I would prefer to call ourselves privateers."
"Privateers? What, as in 'mercenaries' or as in 'pirates'? What the hell type of bandits are you?"
"Pirates is perhaps acceptable, although personally, I still prefer 'privateer.'"
Sally shook her head in disbelief.
"To be quite honest, for now, I don't care what you call yourselves. What I care about it is that this is my hotel, these are my guests, and I’m responsible for them. Including the guard that one of your men has tried to kill."
"He fired his musket first. My men acted only in self-defense. I am sorry that your guard has been injured."
"So, can I send my guard to hospital or not?"
"What is a hospital? And where is it? And how can it save his life. The man will surely die. His wound is..."
"Stop this game. Please...it's gone far enough. We need to get this man to hospital and soon!"
"And I repeat. What is a hospital? And where is it?"
Sally took a deep breath, counting to ten, and exhaling slowly. For now, she would play the game, but only so that she could save a life.
"A hospital is a large building full of doctors and nurses, where specialist care can be administered to those in need. The doctors there are experts in saving lives. They can treat almost any ailment, and make you well again."
The man's eyes lit up.
"There is much that is strange about this place...much that I have never seen before, so I am inclined to believe in what you say. I apologize again for your guard being wounded, and I will agree to the sending of him to this hospital. However, there will be conditions."
"Which are?"
"Firstly, that you order your guards to desist from further resistance. There shall be no more fighting. We mean you no harm, and I would prefer it if no more harm would come to your courtiers and guards or to my men. Secondly, that you ask a man of medicine to come here to attend to some men on my ship. They are poorly, stricken down by I know not what, and they too are in need of this hospit
al."
Sally hesitated. She was reluctant to order her security to surrender. The man saw it and read her mind.
"There are many of us, and few of your guards. Only twenty I am told. We are much more, and we are desperate. We have much to lose and will fight hard for what we have come to take. We seek only food and water. My men are thirsty and hungry, and your men will die needlessly if they oppose us. We mean you no harm. Please ask them to surrender, and I promise that no further harm shall come to them. I give you my word."
The man in front of her held out his hand, his face serious, but not threatening.
Sally knew the man was right. The bandits had taken so many hostages that it would need professional, expert help to resolve the situation. The hotel security team were not trained in such matters. They would likely only make matters worse.
"I agree," she said.
The man pushed his hand further forward and nodded at it, indicating that she should shake it.
Tentatively she put her hand in his. His grip was warm and firm, and as she shook it, in spite of herself, she felt a small tingle of electricity pass up and down her spine.
"Good. The deal is sealed. The only question now is of how we can convey your man to this hospital, and how you can pass the order to your men to surrender."
"I am worried,” the Captain continued, “…that unless you recall your guards sooner rather than later, there could be more deaths. So I propose that you first recall your guards, and then we shall seek a way to move your man to this hospital that you mention."
"Okay. I agree. Please come with me."
The bandit leader waved his hand graciously in front of her, indicating that she should lead the way. She nodded, and turned and walked towards the entrance to the hall.
They walked out through the magical doors that swept open before them, and he followed her, admiring the to-and-fro of her hips, and the tightly clinging clothes that she wore, which both showed her comely figure and retained her modesty.
Almost as if she could feel his eyes boring into her, she turned, catching his gaze, and for a moment Captain Rob felt himself blush.
Time Ship (Book One): A Time Travel Romantic Adventure: The ideal Beach Book for reading on Holiday! Page 19
