The Curious Rogue (18 page)

When a large, weathered sea captain strode in, Martin hailed him and called for two mugs of ale.

“Hattern, I thought mayhaps my message failed to reach you,” he said as the other roughly pulled a stool to the table and deposited his bulk on it.

“When ‘aye ye known me to fail to come,” the rough captain grinned broadly. “‘Tis been several new moons since ye’ve been seen.”

“The excise men took too great a liking to me,” Martin answered. “That night we landed they had men waiting inland. I decided they needed a rest.” He laughed and raised his mug, offering an uncomplimentary toast to the king’s men.

Hattern leaned forward. “‘Eard ye been askin’ after that Lord Fromby.”

“I’ve my reasons. Do you know anything that would interest me?” Martin glanced around. “Let us speak as we go to the Tigress. It’s time we were on our way.”

“Aye, there’s a fair wind risin’. Should be a good crossin’ if the moon don’t betray us. Course if ‘is lordship’s sloop be plyin’ the waters, the patrols tend to stay away.” He winked and finished his ale before rising and following the other’s lead.

“You think there are excise men helping him?”

“‘Tis a common fact,” the other returned.

“What do you think the man is about?” Martin asked. “There seem to be many different rumours and none completely creditable.”

“Aye, ‘is lordship ‘as played it close till now. Of late ‘e’s gotten careless. ‘Is sort usually do. Now ‘e’s seen openly on the docks and few believe it’s ‘is love fer ‘is sloop or the sea that brings ‘im. The cargo’s brought ashore in ‘is name and be labelled ‘salt pork’ or ‘salt beef.’ I’d eat the manifest afore I’d believe it.”

“I have heard that his ship does not go empty to France.”

“So ‘tis said, but I and mine ‘ave nothin’ to do with that. We’re as honest as the times let us be.” Hattern’s craggy visage studied the younger man closely.

“What ye be doin’ that ye go so openly to France this time?”

“A favour for a friend. He wants a young man removed from a French prison. There may be a problem in it for I’m not yet certain which prison, but we’ll head for the Sillon de Talbert. With luck, in three or four days I should be ready to be picked up as usual.”

“If we ‘ave to return more’n twice, it’ll be bloody dangerous,” the older man noted, rubbing the rough stubble on his chin.

“Has it not always been worth your while?” Martin questioned. “With luck there will be no problems. Besides, you know you love to teach those French corvettes how to sail.”

“Ye be a fine one to be speakin’ so free. Think ye them French will greet ye with open arms? How many times ‘ave ye come poundin’ to the shore with a pack o’ them on yer heels? Lucky ye always manage to steal the faster horse.” Hattern clapped Martin on the back, laughing.

“Let us hope we’ve more time to spare than that,” Martin returned. “This time there would be the added difficulty of transferring an ill and weakened man to the coast, let alone from the shore to the sloop.”

“If ye ken get the lad past the prison walls and to the coast, we’ll get ‘im to England,” the captain assured him.

Martin nodded. This was not the time to doubt that he could; that either of them could do it.

* * * *

The day dragged slowly to an end for Elizabeth. Myriad questions about what she planned to do plagued her, filled her with doubt.

Would it not be best to trust this man Cavilon has hired? she wondered. You could easily prove to be more a hindrance than a help.

But what if Morton is dreadfully ill? she countered. He will need nursing. More importantly, she concluded at last, if I am there he can not be left behind if the one sent to rescue him decides the risk was too great. Morton means nothing to that man. It would be easy for him to lie about what took place. My presence will prevent that.

The weight of this argument stiffened Elizabeth’s resolve. Recalling how she had sailed with her brother when they were children, she assured herself of her ability to be of help. Only Barney’s absence plagued her.

At last she sat down and wrote a note of explanation to Tom and a second to Cavilon’s agent, who would bring the boy. She instructed that they take rooms at a local inn until further orders, and asked them to search for the dog on the piers. This done, she took the letters to her neighbour and asked that they be delivered when the lad arrived.

Returning to the house, Elizabeth wrote a letter to Sir Henry which could be found if she did not return from her journey. With it completed, she left the cottage once more to purchase food and a few basic medicines to take with her.

At home again, she readied the clothing she had decided to take. Elizabeth packed what she had purchased with them in the old canvas duffel bag her brother had used when he had first gone to school at Portsmouth.

The afternoon lengthened sufficiently at last. Elizabeth exchanged her gown for her brother’s garments. She took time to stuff the oversized boots with extra socks until they were snug enough to permit her to walk freely without losing them. After pinning her hair up, she pulled one of his old sailor hats over it and then, even though the summer heat made it uncomfortable, she drew on one of Morton’s lighter coats. Satisfied with her appearance, Elizabeth picked up the duffel bag and walked determinedly from the cottage in the direction of the line of masts and sails which marked the harbour.

The walk from her home to dockside bolstered Elizabeth’s spirits. No one took note of her, seeing as she had hoped, only a young lad returning to his ship.

It was near dark when she found herself among the crates and bales heaped all about the wharf. Looking for the ship she had noted Cavilon at earlier in the day, her heart sank. One ship looked much like another in the dusky light. Scrambling over the bales of hemp and coils of rope, Elizabeth saw no ship that she could mark with certainty.

A sinking feeling settled in her stomach as she continued to wander through the maze of cargoes. In her concentration Elizabeth did not see the sailors approaching her and stumbled against one.

“What ‘ave we ‘ere?” he laughed, grabbing hold her arm.

“Why a lad as ‘ale and ‘earty as our cap’n could over want.

“Bet yer quick among the riggin’s, eh lad?” a second taunted. “What be yer ship?” he demanded.

“Answer,” the one who held her demanded, roughly shaking her.

“Who cares what ship ‘e’s supposed to be on,” the other laughed.

“Let’s take ‘im,” a third agreed. “If’n we don’t find ‘nough men, the capt’n’ll have our hides on the yardarms.”

Terror welled inside Elizabeth. They meant to press her into duty. “No,” she struggled and kicked out at the one who held her. “Let go of me,” she screamed, hoping someone would hear and come to her rescue.

“Fine speakin’ fer a seagoin’ lad,” he snorted. “Ye’ll soon learn ‘umbler ways.”

“You can’t take me,” she protested, but realized how futile this was. “Help! Help me!” she screamed with all her might.

The sailor who held her slapped Elizabeth sharply across the face and then raised his hand to strike her again.

A white blur exploded from the shadows.

“Barney!” Elizabeth cried out as the dog’s jaws closed over the sailor’s arm.

Turning to fend off the attack, the man released her.

Elizabeth fell to the ground, grabbed the duffel bag, and scrambled to her feet away from him. She called to Barney as soon as she had reached a fair distance.

After a last angry bark, he raced after her. Both were hotly pursued by the three sailors.

The maze of cargo and supplies hindered and helped them as they ran and stumbled through it. Slowly they drew away from the three sailors. Out of breath, Elizabeth paused before the gangway of a sloop. Barney halted at her side.

Hearing men coming, she dashed up the planks, then ducked behind some barrels on deck to avoid being seen by one of the crew who emerged from the hold at that moment. Crouched low, she wrapped an arm about Barney’s thick, white neck and used both hands to muzzle him lest be betray them by barking.

When the crewman was out of sight, she grabbed the dog’s collar and dashed for the hold. Low-burning lamps lit the way as she passed by the captain’s cabin and crew’s quarters. Going a deck lower, she found the ship’s supply hold.

In the darkness Elizabeth could see little. Her hand brushed a large coil of rope. She crouched behind it and wrapped an arm about Barney, listening for any sound of pursuit.

“Thank the lord for you,” she patted him appreciatively. “We’ll wait until it is safe and then go directly home. I was foolish to think I could manage to find the right ship.” Resting her head against the dog’s woolly back, Elizabeth closed her eyes. The sounds of footsteps above stiffened her.

“Only the ship’s crew,” she whispered. “We must wait just a little longer,” she told Barney. She sat on the canvas bag she still held and made him lie down. Leaning against the coil of rope, she rested. “Just a few more minutes,” she murmured, patting the huge dog.

The past two days’ activity, combined with a restless night, claimed their due. Relaxing, Elizabeth slowly drifted to sleep.

* * * *

Reluctantly, Elizabeth’s senses were prodded to consciousness by a loud, incessant sound echoing in her ears. Her benumbed senses sought to grasp what it was as signals of cramped and damp discomfort filtered through the haze in her mind.

The realization that she was hearing barking collided with the comprehension of the rolling motion of the floor beneath her. Before there was any chance for her to act, a lantern was thrust into the hold. Blinking at the light, Elizabeth stumbled to her feet. Barney abandoned his pursuit of the rat which had aroused him and took up guard before his mistress.

“Two stowaways, cap’n,” the sailor yelled back through the door. Coming in, he drew his knife.

Bristling, Barney gave a deep, threatening growl.

Elizabeth hurried to grab hold his collar. “You... you don’t need that weapon,” she said shakily. “I meant no harm in coming here. Just let us go.”

“Do ye mean to swim the Channel, lad?” Captain Hattern scoffed, ducking his head as he entered. “How did ye come to be aboard with no one knowin’ it?”

The gentle roll of the ship brought an uneasy queasiness to Elizabeth’s stomach. Swallowing hard, she tried to explain. “Three men... sailors, tried to... to force me to go with them. I ran away and hid here.”

“Where did you get that dog?” a deep voice behind the captain demanded.

Barney gave a bark of recognition at the tall, dark figure. He tugged against Elizabeth’s hold.

“No, Barney,” she scolded.

Martin’s eyes sharply studied the figure holding the dog. They narrowed and darkened as the truth hit him. “I thought I was to be your only passenger,” he said, his shock covered with anger.

“Stowaways.” Hattern glanced over his shoulder, surprised at the other’s tone, taken aback by the man’s unexpected black look. “The lad can be of no ‘arm to yer plans, Martin,” he noted.

The name drew a gasp from Elizabeth. It turned everyone back to her and her companion.

Hattern moved forward, halting only when Barney bared his teeth and let loose a deep rumble. The captain pulled a pistol from his belt and eyed the huge animal.

“Please,” Elizabeth begged, “don’t shoot him.”

“Put your piece aside,” Martin ordered. “I’ll speak with this lad, but let’s get out of this damp hole,” he said, walking up to Elizabeth.

She shrank from his dark scowl and pulled her hand away when his closed over Barney’s collar.

“You’ll not be harmed,” Martin told her. “Follow me.”

To Elizabeth’s surprise, Barney wagged his tail and followed the man willingly. She edged around Captain Hattern. Her legs threatened to collapse as the queasiness of her stomach menaced triumph. Fear and uncertainty added to the already churning sensation, and she went ash white.

Glancing back, Martin saw the sickening hue of Elizabeth’s face. He shoved Barney into the closest cabin, locking the door before taking hold of Elizabeth’s arm. He dragged her roughly along the corridor, pausing outside the captain’s door. “I’ll speak to the lad alone,” he told Hattern, who was following.

“Back to yer duties,” the captain ordered the few sailors who had gathered. With a man like Martin, experience had taught him, it was best not to question.

Chapter Nineteen

Closing the door behind him, Martin shoved Elizabeth towards the small window in the cabin and threw it open. “I should have you thrown into the sea,” he snapped.

Elizabeth drew in deep gulps of air and prayed that her stomach would recede from so close to her throat.

“The only thing that saves you from such a fate is that Comte
de Cavilon would not appreciate it, Miss Jeffries.” He reached up, pulled the cap from her head, and eyed her speculatively.

Some of Elizabeth’s temper returned as she became accustomed to the roll of the ship. “How do you know my name? What have you to do with Comte
de Cavilon?”

“Is it not your brother, Morton Jeffries, that I am being sent to liberate?”

“You? This is the ship?” She stared at him in disbelief.

“I am interested only in how you came to be aboard this sloop.”

As Martin walked towards her Elizabeth backed until the wall stopped her. He placed one hand against it just above her right shoulder.

“I... I told the captain... There were some sailors chasing me and I hid here.”

“Is it a common practice of yours to run through the docks dressed thusly?” He leaned closer and placed his other hand against the wall by her left shoulder.

Elizabeth’s heart pounded in her ears as she gazed into Martin’s dark, glistening eyes. Sensing his anger, she shrank from him.

“I wonder, does Cavilon know you have come?” Martin cocked his head. “What are we to do with you, my pretty?” he asked with the assurance of a man who knew exactly what he wished of his women and had never been refused.

Fear receded. Anger at his manner rose. Elizabeth lifted her chin proudly, yet knew not how to combat him.

“A pity I must send you back to England,” he noted sarcastically.