HF - 04 - Black Dawn

by Christopher Nicole

  'Yes,' she said, and gave a little giggle of laughter. 'We'll all have had belly ache. It was that cheese, I'll wager.'

  Slowly Dick pushed himself up, and found her hand once again on his arm.

  'I'll not cheat you,' she said. 'We'll have to be careful for a while, but I'll get to you, before Kingston. I promise.'

  He kissed her on the forehead. 'Don't,' he said. 'It was a mad

  idea, anyway. But thanks, all the same.' He lifted the edge of the canvas cover, stared at Captain Lanken.

  Dick's immediate reaction was to duck back into the relative safety of the boat. But Lanken was already seizing the cover to jerk it off.

  'Gad, sir,' he bellowed. 'Gad.' Further speech seemed beyond him, for the moment.

  'Oh, God,' Joan muttered. She realized her skirt was still around her waist, and endeavoured to straighten it.

  Dick found his mouth opening, and then shutting again. There really was nothing to say. Where the devil was Tony?

  'Gad, sir,' shouted Lanken, regaining his breath. 'I'll cut your balls, sir, indeed I will. Just let me fetch my sword, sir. Just let me . . .' He was shaking the entire boat, hanging on to the gunwale and rocking back and forth.

  'I do assure you, Captain . . .' Joan began.

  'As for you,' roared the Captain. 'I'll have your arse raw, by Gad. I'll have your arse raw.'

  'Captain, Captain,' remonstrated the mate, holding his shoulder. 'You'll have a seizure.' He peered into the boat. 'Mr Hilton? Oh, my God. Fetch the captain,' he shouted. 'Fetch the captain.'

  Dick sat up. He wondered the sky did not fall and send the entire ship, and her company, to the bottom.

  'My sword,' bawled Lanken. 'Hold him there, bo'sun. Hold him there. By God, I'll have at him.'

  'Now really, sir,' said the boatswain, grinning at Dick and winking. 'It's a matter for the captain. He'll not have violence on board his ship.'

  'Violence,' bellowed Lanken. 'Violence. I'll show you violence.'

  'Dick?' Tony peered over Lanken's shoulder. 'Whatever are you at?' He waggled his eyebrows and pulled a face, and Dick decided that he was suggesting only one should shoulder the blame.

  'Now, then, what's all this?' demanded Captain Morrison. 'Mr Hilton? My God. What have you to say for yourself?' 'Why, I . . .'

  'We were on deck,' Joan Lanken explained. 'Answering a call of nature . . .'

  'Together?' inquired the mate, and raised a roar of laughter from the crew, who by now had accumulated to see the fun.

  'Well,' she said, 'it was cold . .

  'Cold, madam?' bawled her husband. 'Cold? And you in your shift?'

  'You come out of there, Mr Hilton,' Morrison decided. 'Captain Lanken, you'd best see to your wife.'

  'See to her? Why, I'll see to her. After I've settled this young fellow.'

  He made a grab at Dick, as Dick attempted to get out of the boat.

  'Aaaagh,' screamed Mistress Marjoribanks, having joined the throng. 'Murder.'

  'Murder,' yelled Tony. 'Stop him.'

  Dick had already pushed his assailant in the chest, and sent him reeling across the deck, where he came to rest against Dr Collie.

  'You'd best to my cabin, Mr Hilton,' Captain Morrison decided. 'He'll not follow you there. But really, young fellow, this is bad. Very bad.'

  'You'll not shelter him,' bawled Lanken. 'I'm entitled to an accounting. Yes, sir.'

  Morrison hesitated, biting his Up.

  'The man's right,' muttered one of the crew. 'To be cuckolded, in public'

  'I do assure you,' Dick began.

  'Murder,' screamed Mistress Marjoribanks.

  'It will be murder,' Joan cried. 'The young man can have no such knowledge of weapons as my husband.'

  ‘Never handled a sword in his life,' Tony declared.

  'Weapons?' Captain Morrison asked at large. 'My God.'

  'A duel,' Lanken shouted. 'Aye, there's the answer. Let him stand up like a man, as he is so anxious to prove himself one.'

  'Aye,' chorused the crew, seeking entertainment. 'A duel. 'Tis fitting, Captain.'

  Morrison glanced from one to the other of the passengers.

  ' Tis illegal,' he said.

  'By England's laws, Captain,' remarked Master Rowland. 'At sea, there's a different matter.'

  'Bloodshed,' muttered Captain Morrison. 'On board my ship?'

  'There'll be little blood,' Lanken promised. 'I'll just tickle him a little.'

  'Oh, God,' Joan whispered, kneeling in the bottom of the boat, her shoulder pressed against Dick's. 'He'll slit your nose. That's what he'll do.'

  Dick felt his stomach rolling over and rising into his throat. I didn't do anything, he wanted to wail. We had no more than a cuddle. But they wouldn't believe him, and he could not bring himself to beg.

  'Well, Captain, well?' demanded Lanken.

  'Give the man his right,' called the crew. 'He has his right.'

  'Mr Hilton?'

  Dick licked his lips. 'If the captain insists.'

  'Insists?' Lanken bellowed. 'Insists? Let me at him, Captain. Let me at him.'

  'Swords,' decided the mate. 'There's less risk of a fatality. And he will have his blood. He deserves his blood.'

  'Swords?' Tony cried. 'We have no swords.'

  'We have,' said the mate.

  Captain Morrison sighed. 'Sorry, I am, Mr Hilton. But it'll be the only way to have peace, and we've another fortnight at sea, at best. You've brought it on yourself.'

  'Swords?' Dick muttered. Sweat broke out on his neck. He had never even touched a sword, much less handled one.

  'But it'll be done proper,' the captain decided. 'Daybreak. Aye, there's an hour or two, for tempers to cool. Daybreak. Back to your bunks. Everyone settle. Daybreak. Captain Lanken, you'll practise no violence, upon either this young man or your wife. You'll have your satisfaction at dawn. Understood?'

  Lanken glared at Dick. 'Oh, aye. I can wait. But you'll accompany me, madam.'

  Joan hesitated, then crawled out of the boat. 'You heard the captain.'

  'I'll not lay a finger on your flesh, in anger,' he promised. 'Not until we're to land, anyway.'

  'Here's a problem.' Tony leaned against the boat.

  'A problem?' Dick cried. 'Where the devil were you?'

  'Well, I slipped off for a pee, to say truth,' Tony confessed. 'And when I turned round, there the rascal was.'

  'And you could not engage him in conversation? Anything?'

  'He'd not have moved. He was already sure where you were, and what you were up to.'

  'I wasn't up to anything,' Dick said.

  'True? There's ill luck. You'll not even have the memory. But what's to be done, eh? Mama didn't send me along to have you killed.'

  'Killed?' Dick looked at his hands. They were dripping wet. And his heart had stopped pounding, seemed to have sunk down to rest on his belly. My God, he thought. I am frightened. It had never occurred to him before. He had never been frightened before. Even the time he had been set upon by footpads, he had not been afraid. He had reacted instinctively, swung his stick and his fists, defended himself so well that they had taken to their heels.

  'There's always the possibility,' Tony said. 'On a ship, especially. A lurch of the deck, and zing, you've a blade in your gut.'

  'Do you think he's any good?'

  'He's a soldier. He'll have been trained.'

  'Oh, my God,' Dick said.

  'Aye,' Tony said, thoughtfully. 'But He helps those that help themselves, they say. Listen. You sit down quietly for the next hour. It only wants that for daylight. And you may need all your strength.'

  Dick blinked at him. He could not stop his mind repeating, over and over again: I'm going to be killed. My God. I'm going to be killed.

  Tony had turned away. Now he checked. 'Oh, by the way, do you have any money?' 'Money?'

  'Mama gave you sufficient coin to see us the voyage,' Tony said patiently. 'Any left?' 'Of course. But what . . .' 'Don't argue. Give me a guinea of it.' 'A guinea? What
ever for?'

  'Mind your own business. It's in a very good cause.'

  'It will leave us short.' Dick unbuckled his belt; the coin was carried in a pouch on the inside, next to his skin.

  'We'll be shorter yet if you're chucked over the side in a hammock,' Tony pointed out. He held the coin to the light, nodded. 'Now do as I say. Sit there, and rest.'

  Dick watched him disappear into the companionway, then sat down on the deck, his back against the gunwale. Oh, my God, he thought. But clearly he was suffering immediate and absolute punishment from that very source, for breaking his word to Ellen. Well, for attempting to break his word. If they hadn't been interrupted, he would certainly ... he could still feel the touch of her, the hardness of her nipples. God Almighty, how he had wanted. He had been closing his eyes and imagining it was Ellen. And now . . .

  'Well, young fellow. Ready?'

  His head jerked. Captain Morrison stood above him, and it was already growing light. He must have dozed. Certainly some of his desire, as well as his fear, had receded. Although he could feel the fear at least, bubbling away in his belly. Would his hand tremble when he held the sword?

  He got up. 'As ready as I'll ever be, Mr Morrison.'

  The captain nodded. 'Aye, well, 'tis an unfortunate affair, I'll swear to that. Having a woman on board, at least when she's young and pretty, and willing, always leads to trouble. But a duel, now . . . why the old devil couldn't have just thrashed you . . . now mind, Mr Hilton, if he nicks you, go down, sir. Go down. If you lose your head, you're done.'

  Dick nodded, wearily. 'Aye, Captain, I'll remember.'

  'Come along then.' Morrison led him aft, to the space between the mainmast and the poop, where there was most room. The watch was already assembled, and now the watch below also arrived, whispering and grinning to each other. The passengers were gathered above, at the rail; but where was Tony?

  'There's the scoundrel,' Lanken shouted. 'Let us to it, sir.'

  'We'll do the thing properly, Mr Lanken,' Morrison insisted.

  'And you, madam,' Lanken bawled at Mistress Marjoribanks, who stood next to Joan Lanken. 'Keep her there. Keep her watching. The lesson is as much for her as for this villain.'

  Oh, how I wish you had attempted to thrash me, Dick thought. By God . . . but he was getting angry, and that was the one thing Captain Morrison had told him not to do.

  Where was Tony?

  'Now gentlemen,' Morrison said. 'Mr Ratchet?' The mate stepped forward, with two cutlasses. 'What's this?' demanded Lanken. 'Cutlasses? I'm no sailor. I've a sword of my own.'

  'Do you have a sword, Mr Hilton?' Morrison inquired. 'Why, no,' Dick said. 'I've never owned such a thing.' 'Ha,' Lanken announced.

  'You must both have the same weapons, Captain Lanken,' Ratchet explained.

  'Ha,' Lanken said again. He took one of the cutlasses, swished it to and fro, extended his arm, the weapon held lightly in his fingers. 'It will do.'

  'Mr Hilton?'

  Dick tried to copy the movements, watched Lanken smile. ‘It seems to be all right.'

  'Well, then, gentlemen,' Captain Morrison said. 'First blood. No more than that. Mr Ratchet?'

  The mate presented a pistol.

  'I'll drop the man who continues when I have called stop,' Morrison said. 'Now, gentlemen . . .'

  'You'll wait a moment, Captain Morrison.'

  'Eh?' They turned to face the companionway, and Collie, now emerging from the hatchway, with Tony Hilton at his heels. 'Wait for what, doctor?'

  'You'll not permit a duel without a medical examination,' Collie said.

  'Medical examination? Why, six . . .'

  'Never heard of such a thing,' Lanken declared.

  'Then, sir,' Collie remarked, with quite unusual aggressiveness, 'you are clearly unused to fighting gentlemen. I'll begin with you, sir.'

  'Eh? Eh?'

  'Mouth wide.' Collie peered inside, blinked. 'Hm. Your wrist, sir.' He held Lanken's pulse, consulted his watch. 'Hm.' He placed two fingers on Lanken's chest, commenced tapping. 'Hm. You'll bend, sir, forward from the waist.'

  'Of all the damned nonsense,' Lanken grumbled, but he did as he was told.

  'Hm,' Collie said. 'I've known men in better condition, Mr Lanken, but you'll do.'

  'Gad, sir,' shouted the captain. 'Of course I'll do.'

  'Now, you, Mr Hilton,' Collie said, his face severely composed. 'Mouth wide.'

  Dick obeyed, feeling the fear starting to rise. Five minutes ago, he had been prepared to have at his opponent, vigorously, and take his chance. But this delay . . . whatever was Tony playing at? Because that Tony was behind this he could not doubt.

  'Hm,' Collie said. 'Hm.' He was frowning. 'Your wrist, sir.'

  The fingers closed on Dick's wrist, and Collie peered at his watch.

  'Hm. Lower your head, sir.' Dick bowed, and Collie felt behind his ears. 'Hm. Dear me. Oh, dear, dear me. I am afraid this duel cannot take place, Captain Morrison.' 'Eh?'

  'What? What?' Lanken cried, swishing his cutlass. 'Mr Hilton has a fever,' Collie pronounced.

  'A fever?' bawled Lanken. 'Fright, doctor. Fright.'

  'Indeed, sir,' Collie said, 'the same thought occurred to me when I first observed the symptoms. They are similar to your own.'

  'What, sir? What?'

  'So I investigated further. Indeed, Captain Morrison, I recommend that this young man be placed in a blanket, and separated from the other passengers. He has malaria.'

  'Malaria?' the captain cried. 'Here? How did he get malaria on my ship?'

  'Who can say, sir? Who can say? First we must be sure what causes the dread disease. But informed medical opinion, sir, suggests it arises from noxious airs, filling the lungs and thence impregnating the system. Oh, it is highly dangerous.'

  'And contagious?'

  'That is certainly possible. Rest, and cool, and isolation, that is the ticket.'

  'Balderdash,' Lanken declared.

  Dick felt like sitting down. He certainly felt very weak, and quite cold, on a sudden.

  'There,' Collie said. 'He is shivering. A blanket. Mistress Marjoribanks. And quickly.'

  'I am here to fight a duel,' Lanken insisted. 'Not to receive a lecture on medicine.'

  'You cannot fight a sick man, Captain Lanken,' Morrison pointed out. 'Perhaps, indeed, it was the onset of the fever drove him to his act of madness. No doubt he will apologize.'

  'Oh, willingly,' Dick said. He wanted to shout for joy. And sheer relief.

  'And I do not accept your apology, sir,' Lanken said. 'Malaria, by God. You'll be well again, sir, and be sure I'll be waiting.'

  'But. . .' Collie wrapped the blanket around Dick's shoulders.

  'Well, then, sir, it would be a shame to disappoint your ardour,' Tony said. 'Will you not accept a substitute? I am a Hilton, sir. I am a man, sir. And if you will have it, I have also sampled your wife's charms, sir.'

  There was a moment of utterly scandalized silence.

  'Wretch,' cried Joan Lanken from the poop.

  'My dear lady,' Tony said, smiling at them all, 'your husband is determined to have his duel. Why should we disappoint him?'

  'Gad, sir,' shrieked Lanken, catching his breath. 'I'll have you, sir. I'll. . .' He waved his cutlass, and they all had to leap back to avoid injury.

  'Captain Lanken, sir,' Morrison protested. 'You cannot behave so.'

  'Give me that,' Tony snapped, and wrenched the cutlass from Dick's fingers. 'Ha, sir,' he called, facing Lanken.

  'Gad, sir, Gad,' Lanken bellowed, charging across the deck, blade carving the air in front of him. And to Dick's horror, Tony scarce moved, remained directly in front of the whistling cutlass, brought up his own weapon. There was a clash of steel which sent sparks arcing through the air and raised a scream from Mistress Marjoribanks, then the rasp seemed to become a scream itself, and Tony jumped back, his own weapon still presented, while Lanken's clattered to the deck at Morrison's feet, leaving the captain staring at his empty fingers in consterna
tion.

  'Gad, sir,' he muttered.

  'Will you continue, sir?' Tony inquired. 'Pick it up, man. Pick it up.'

  'Gad, sir.' Lanken gazed at Morrison, then up at the poop, where his wife looked down, a peculiar expression in her face.

  'Enough,' Morrison declared. 'I am sure honour has been satisfied. You have crossed swords, and there is all that is needed. Mr Ratchet, stow these weapons.'