63 Ola and the Sea Wolf (12 page)

She had realised as soon as they spoke that their Spanish was not the pure Castilian language she had learned and they might find her hard to understand.

Then she thought, and she was not mistaken, that the chief brigand was better educated and doubtless better bred than his followers.

“So you speak our language,
señora
, or should I call you
señorita
?” he said. “Which is it? What is this man to you – your husband?”

“That is not important,” Ola replied dismissively. “What you should know is that he is very rich. You don’t want his boots or his coat. You want the gold he has aboard his ship, which can make you rich for the rest of your lives.”

The chief brigand and the rest of the party were listening to her, almost as if they were spellbound.

Then the chief laughed.

“You paint a very pretty picture,
señora
,” he said, “But how do you suggest we collect the gold? Ask the seamen to hand it over?”

“They would be prepared to do so without any trouble in exchange for their Master’s life!”

“We are far more likely to receive a bullet in the gullet,
señora
,” the chief answered. “No, no, your idea is impracticable. I have seen ships here before, but it is the first time anyone travelling in them was fool enough to trespass on what is my property.”

“In which case we can only apologise,
señor
,” Ola said, “and assure you that, if this Nobleman gives you his word of honour, he will reward you for taking us back in safety to his yacht.”

As she spoke the chief was looking at her sceptically and she added,

“Surely I don’t have to explain to a Spaniard that no
nobleza
would break his word of honour, as you would not break yours?”

“You are very eloquent,
señora
,” the chief said, “I admire your spirit, but my men do not want money. They are not hungry, as there is plenty of wild game in this part of the country and, if we fancy a fat sheep or a succulent pig for dinner, the farmers are too frightened to prevent us from taking them!”

He gave a supercilious smile as he went on,

“No,
señora
, what my men hanker after are fashionable boots, a coat that will keep out the rain, perhaps some pretty jewels that a man can wear in his ears or on his fingers.”

“Those I can definitely promise you,” Ola said quickly. “I have jewels – diamonds, sapphires, pearls. They are there in the yacht and, if you take me back, I will give them to you.”

There was silence and she desperately hoped that she had made some impression on the chief brigand, yet she was not sure.

He had certainly listened to her and was looking at her as if he was considering her proposition, but could not make up his mind whether to accept or refuse it.

One of his followers rose from where he had been sitting and went up to him to whisper in his ear.

Ola wished she could hear what he was saying, but it was impossible.

The chief nodded his head, then shook it before he nodded it again.

Ola looked at the Marquis and thought that if perhaps he was looking at her and their eyes met, she would know if he approved or disapproved of what she was trying to do.

But he was watching the two men whispering together in the centre of the cave and now Ola felt her heart beating apprehensively and was aware that the position they were in was a critical one.

There were several men in the cave and she thought that they were more ferocious and, in a way, more terrifying than any creature she could have imagined in her wildest nightmares.

She was sure they terrorised the countryside and that murder to them was as commonplace as killing the food they wanted to eat.

She found herself remembering stories she had been told about bands of ruffians who preyed on travellers all over Europe and wished that she had paid more attention.

The girls at the Convent related how their relatives or friends had been held up by robbers even on the main highways and to save their lives had been forced to hand over everything of value they possessed.

But these brigands seemed to be different.

She could understand if they lived in a cave like this that money would not mean a great deal to them.

Perhaps the excitement of living wild, beholden to no one and outside the law, that was more attractive than possessions.

Frantically she began to think that her offer of what they could have in exchange for the Marquis’s life was not forceful enough and she spoke up urgently,

“
Señor
, I have another idea!”

The chief had been in the process of shaking his head at something his follower had suggested and now he looked at her and asked,

“What is it?”

“Suppose one of us, either this Nobleman or myself, goes back to the yacht to collect anything you want – clothes, food, boots, gold, jewels. We will put everything on the beach where you can see it quite clearly, then when your second prisoner is released we can – sail – away – ”

Her voice faltered as if she felt she had not convinced him and she added,

“What have you to lose by such a suggestion? You could not be identified, nobody could shoot at you and you would have everything you want.”

She thought, although she was not certain, that there was a murmur of approval from some of the other men listening.

The chief said sharply,

“It’s too complicated and anyway why should I trust you? We have you here and the man shall die, but you will stay with us.”

For a moment Ola did not understand what he meant.

Then, with an unpleasant smile on his lips, he said,

“We have no women with us at the moment and some of my men find you attractive,
señora
.”

Ola gave a little cry of sheer horror.

“No! No! Do you really think I would – stay with you?”

“You have no choice,” the chief said and shrugged whilst meeting her eye.

As he spoke, he lifted his pistol again and Ola, with a sudden strength that took them by surprise, fought herself free of her captors and rushed towards the Marquis.

She flung herself in front of him, facing the chief and crying as she did so,

“If you shoot him, you will have to shoot me first! You are murderers and the curse of God will strike you sooner or later!”

The words sounded more impressive in Spanish than they do in English and there was a cry of protest from the chief’s followers.

At that moment the Marquis struggled wildly with his captors and managed in doing so to release his mouth from the restriction of the hands that had held him.

“Curse you –
i maldigo
– yes, I
curse you
!” he shouted, speaking to Ola’s surprise in Spanish.

Then he was engaged in resisting the men who were struggling to regain their hold on him, while Ola stood between him and the chief with his loaded pistol.

She knew if she moved he would fire it.

Then, glancing back at the struggle going on beside her, she saw one of the brigands had drawn a knife from his belt and had raised it high to strike the Marquis in the chest.

Without thinking, without even considering what she was doing, Ola threw herself at his arm forcing the long sharp evil-looking blade upwards.

Then, as she knew that she had not the strength to prevent the Marquis from dying, there was a sudden explosion that seemed so loud as to almost perforate her eardrums.

At the same moment she felt the knife pierce her own shoulder, felt it sear its way into her flesh.

As she fell to the ground, there were more explosions and the noise of them seemed to herald a darkness that covered her completely –

*

The Marquis opened the door of the cabin quietly and walked towards the bed and Gibson, who had been sitting in a chair beside it, rose to his feet.

“How is she?” the Marquis asked in a low voice.

“Running a high fever, my Lord, and hasn’t regained consciousness, which is what’s to be expected.”

“I thought I heard her voice during the night,” the Marquis said.

“She was delirious, my Lord, and I didn’t know what she were saying.”

“I will stay with her now. You go and rest, Gibson, and that is an order!”

“Thank you, my Lord, but I’m all right. I’m used to making do with very little sleep.”

“You will be watching over Miss Milford tonight, unless you allow me to do so,” the Marquis replied.

“I’ll stay with her, my Lord, as we arranged. If you’ll stop with the young lady now, I’ll do as you tells me and have a bit of shut-eye.”

“Do that,” the Marquis said. “If she is thirsty, is there anything for her to drink?”

“Yes, my Lord. There’s lime juice in one jug and fresh water in another.”

“The water that nearly cost us dear!” the Marquis remarked as if he was speaking to himself.

Gibson did not reply.

He only gave a last look at Ola to see if there was anything more he could do and then left the cabin.

The Marquis, now in charge, looked at Ola and thought that they were both extremely fortunate to be alive. He had been certain that there was no hope for either of them.

He was aware now, it was her brave effort in trying to save his life that had allowed time for the seamen to climb the cliff and appear at precisely the right moment to shoot down the chief brigand and six of his men before the rest fled.

“I blame myself, my Lord,” the Captain had said, when the Marquis had reached the yacht in safety and they had managed with great difficulty to get Ola, who was unconscious, down from the flat rock outside the caves.

They had been forced to lower her with ropes and the Marquis was afraid that any rough movements would make her shoulder bleed more freely than it was doing already and she might die from loss of blood.

“Why should you blame yourself?” the Marquis asked.

“It never struck me that your Lordship and the young lady would climb the cliff,” the Captain replied, “and, when you started, I was actually below, making sure that the water butts when they came on board would not get loose again, however bad a storm we might encounter.”

The Marquis looked as if he approved and the Captain went on,

“Then, when I saw you and Miss Milford climbing upwards, I remembered the last time I was in this bay I was told to watch out for Spanish brigands. ‘Nasty customers, they are!’ one seaman on Lord Lutworth’s yacht informed me. ‘Cut your throat before they ask your name and some of them are armed with pistols and muskets!’”

“When you remembered this, what did you do?” the Marquis enquired.

“I sent a man up aloft, my Lord, with a glass and told him to watch you and the young lady. When he shouted that he could see you being dragged inside the caves, I knew only too well what was happening.”

“It was certainly an Act of Providence that your quickness of action saved our lives,” the Marquis breathed.

“I’d never have forgiven myself,” the Captain said fervently, “if anything had happened to your Lordship.”

“I have been near to death many times in my life,” the Marquis sighed, “but this was too near for me to wish to encounter such a situation again!”

“I can only thank God that you and Miss Milford returned without worse injuries,” the Captain said sincerely.

The Marquis knew that he echoed those sentiments.

Now, looking at Ola, he thought it almost impossible to believe that any woman could have been so brave and so resourceful.

He had been surprised to find, when he reached the cave, that she was not crying or collapsing in the hands of her captors.

Then, when she had managed to free her mouth, he was aware that she was deliberately speaking slowly in Spanish so that the brigands could understand what she was saying and he thought it amazing that she was neither cringing with fear nor pleading.

Then, as she stood in front of him to save his life and actually grappled with the brigand who was trying to knife him, he thought it was an act of heroism he would not have expected from any woman, especially one as young and frail as Ola.

He supposed her fiery red hair reflected the indomitable spirit within her. Certainly only a woman of exceptional bravery could have been involved in so many strange and desperate situations since she had entered his life.

The last one was almost incredible and it was tragic that she must be the one to suffer what had happened rather than him.

The brigand’s knife had driven deep into her shoulder and by the time they had taken her back to the yacht the blood had seeped over her gown in a crimson tide and her face was so pale that the Marquis was half-afraid that she was in fact dead.

Gibson, who was as skilled as any surgeon and better than a large number of those the Marquis had known in the Army, took charge in his usual efficient manner.

He and the Marquis had cut Ola’s gown off her, to save her from being moved more than was necessary. Then they had cleansed the wound with brandy for fear the knife had been dirty.

Ola was fortunately unconscious when Gibson had stitched the flesh together with such skilled neatness that the Marquis was sure no professional surgeon could have done better.

The valet had bandaged her deftly and they both knew that the next twenty-four hours would be critical in case the inflammation was so severe that gangrene would set in.

Gibson had insisted on staying with Ola that night.

“Leave her to me, my Lord, and you get some rest. Your Lordship can take your turn tomorrow and it’s goin’ to be some time before the lady’s on her feet again.”

The Marquis had seen the common sense of what his valet said, but, although he had gone to bed, he found it difficult to sleep while his brain went over and over what had occurred and his thoughts kept returning to the injured girl in the next cabin.

As he looked at her now, he thought that it would be difficult to find such a lovely and at the same time unusual face anywhere else in the world.

He realised for the first time that her eyelashes were dark at the tips and shaded away to gold where they touched her skin, similarly the winged eyebrows above them were dark, while her hair against the white linen pillow was like a flame.