Captive Embraces (46 page)

When Sirena returned on deck, the two vessels had sidled in close to the
Sea Spirit
and the order was being called for her men to stand back and make way for the boarding party.

A tall officer in the King's navy led his men aboard from the jolly. He was a striking man in his gold braid and high boots. “Who captains this oddity of the seas?” he demanded. “Present the ship's papers.”

Jan handed the officer the documents and Sirena moistened her dry lips and was about to speak when Tyler stepped forward and spoke. “I am the captain,” he said imperiously.

“He lies,” Willem said, shouldering Jacobus and Jan out of his way. “I am the captain.”

“Liars, the lot of them, nothing more than scurves,” Jacobus protested as he maneuvered his way to stand directly next to the naval officer. “There is only one captain aboard the
Sea Spirit
and it's me!”

Jan smiled wickedly. “A man of your intelligence will certainly know these sea rats are not fit to command a jolly boat. I am the captain.”

“Enough!” roared the officer. “Next you'll be telling me the woman is the captain.”

“That's exactly who I am,” Sirena said coolly. “I gave the order to fire upon the galleon and I will take the consequences. My men merely followed orders. If you'll examine the papers, you'll see this ship belongs to Sirena Magdelena Esthera Córdez. Langdon,” she added as an afterthought.

“Madame, as owner of this ship, do you have any idea of the position you are now in?” the English lieutenant asked.

“I only know,” Sirena said coolly, seeing the admiration for her in the officer's eyes, “that the English galleon came upon us in the dark. We saw a lantern signal to heel to starboard and then a shot was fired. Naturally, we thought ourselves under attack and we retaliated in kind. It was not until we saw her escort that we realized our error.”

“An expensive error,” the Englishman said with courtliness.

“I agree. Naturally, I will pay for the damages, and ask her captain and your King to please accept my apologies.”

“Dear lady, there will be no need for that. You can extend your apologies in person. It is said His Majesty tours Newgate prison once a year. You will have ample time to prepare your speech. My men will board your vessel and escort you to London where you will be incarcerated until your trial.”

He gave the order for Sirena and her crew to be placed in the hold till they reached London. Only Tyler protested weakly as he was dragged over the deck and dumped unceremoniously through the hatch.

 

Sirena and her crew spent eight dark days in the hold of the
Sea Spirit
as the ship made headway through the Atlantic, retracing her wake to London. Several times each day they were brought up on deck to breathe the fresh air and to eat their meals. At these times they were under close guard by Lieutenant Fenner, who now captained the brig.

In deference to her sex, Sirena was allowed the privacy of her cabin several times a day for her personal needs and to change clothes as necessary. Often, when strolling out on deck, she would find her way to the wheel where Fenner stood watch. She found him to be a pleasant young man with a deep sense of duty, and when he went on at length with admiring comments on the
Sea Spirit,
Sirena found herself liking him in spite of the fact she was his prisoner.

One blustery day, when the cliffs of Dover were rising starkly out of the horizon, she questioned, “What do you think will become of my crew, Lieutenant? It was an honest error on our part, firing at the King's galleon.”

Fenner smiled at her with sadness in his eyes. Over the past few days he had come to recognize she was a remarkable woman. She had kept her head while most women would have become hysterical, screaming banshees. And she was beautiful in spite of the deep sadness he saw in her bottle-green eyes. “I can't answer that question for you, Lady Langdon. I can only suggest you bring whatever money you have at hand. You will need it in Newgate in order to insure that you are treated in a humane manner. I can't, in all conscience, hold out any hope to you. The King takes a dim view of piracy unless, of course, it is his navy which commits it to his profit.”

“You're an honest man, Lieutenant Fenner,” Sirena said warmly. She liked this red-headed man with the twinkling, blue eyes. He was the kind of individual she would like to serve on her ship. When she turned away, Fenner touched her arm lightly.

“When my men searched your ship, no money was found. Was there any? I wouldn't put it past some of these swabbies to filch it.”

“No, there wasn't any,” Sirena said truthfully. Every available farthing was given to Frau Holtz when they had docked in Waterford. “I have come from a business appointment in Ireland and, I am sorry to say, was returning empty-handed. The supplies for the galley and some new rigging emptied my coffers.”

Fenner looked genuinely concerned. “I haven't much, but what I have is yours,” he offered.

“Thank you, but—”

“Please take it. You will need it until your family comes to your aid. Please,” he implored.

“On one condition,” she smiled, “that you call me Sirena. I can't possibly borrow money from anyone who calls me Lady Langdon.”

“Please, Sirena, you can repay me if you wish when you gain your release. I'll give it to you in the morning, before docking. It's only a few pounds, but it may help.”

On the eighth day Sirena, Tyler and the crew were in the hold when they heard the hull scrape against the berth. They knew they had arrived in London. Through the broadside they could hear voices and the commotion on the dock. It was only moments later that the hatch opened, and Lieutenant Fenner stood looking down at them. “Come on up, men. Sirena, if you'd care to repair to the privacy of your cabin before going ashore, I'll understand.”

Sirena mutely nodded her head. Since bedding down last night, the crew had become silent, afraid to voice their apprehensions. She herself had barely uttered a word except to beg their forgiveness for dumping them in the middle of this mess. They had all been so gracious, swearing to her that it hadn't been her fault. Tyler was especially vocal, insisting she not take the blame for any part of it.

Up on deck, Lieutenant Fenner led her to her cabin. He was quiet and Sirena could see he was very concerned. He, at least, believed it all to be a horrible mistake. Before entering her cabin, she threw a glance at the busy wharf. London. And she had hoped never to see it again.

Throughout the long days at sea, Sirena and her crew had concocted a feasible story concerning Stephan. He had been washed overboard at sea. Their time of departure would coincide with the squall that was certain to be reported and there was no one to refute their tale. Still, Sirena was terrified that someone would know she had been responsible for Stephan's death. There were the servants, Smythe and Rathbone, and what about Camilla? Surely, owing to her closeness to her father, she would demand an inquiry.

“You will have to hurry, Sirena,” Lieutenant Fenner broke in on her thoughts. “In a few moments the carriage will be here to transport you to Newgate. Your men will ride in a cart, but I didn't want to see you ridiculed through the city streets and tormented by urchins. I've hired a coach for you. One of my officers will accompany you while I make out my report to the Commissioner of Navies. Trust my report will be in your favor.”

Sirena thanked him and stepped into the dim cabin. The first thing she saw was a small cache of coins that Fenner had left for her.

 

The young officer in the carriage with her seemed embarrassed by her presence. He kept watching her covertly while pretending to look out the window. Sirena had made a small neat bundle of clothes to take to Newgate with her when Lieutenant Fenner stopped her. “They won't allow you to keep it, Sirena, and someone might try to murder you for it. It's best to leave it here.”

She had looked at him blankly. What kind of place was this Newgate prison? “My ship—”

“The
Sea Spirit
will be seen to, I promise you. And when you return, she'll be here waiting for you. Good-bye, Sirena, I hope we meet again someday under different circumstances.”

“So do I,” she assured him, taking his hand, almost loathing to let it go for it represented the world she knew and not the place she was going to.

The hack took its course along Thames Street. The same route she and Frau Holtz had driven how many months ago when she had first arrived in London. They were nearing the corner of St. Dunstan's Hill where Regan's offices were. She remembered how she had first glimpsed his sign and how she had looked back at it, searing its location into her brain. Now, as the carriage wheels took her past it, she slumped in a comer, not daring to glance out for fear she would see him and call out to him, begging him to help her. It was too late. Where had she heard that? Had Regan told her that? “It's too late, Sirena,” she could hear his voice as he growled the words.

Through the city she rested her head against the seat back, her eyes closed, refusing to look at the passing people, refusing to acknowledge they were free to walk the streets while she was on her way to prison.

She only opened her eyes again when the carriage stopped and she was aware the escort was climbing down from the hack. He extended his hand to help her, but she refused it. She would manage on her own. This was something she had to face alone and she would go the last few steps of it exactly that way. Alone.

Gray granite, rising several stories high and displaying iron bars where windows should have been, ran around the perimeter of the yard. She thought of the Bethlehem Royal Hospital where Stephan had had her incarcerated for a day, and felt the old terror begin. Then she squared her shoulders.

 

The cells on Condemned Row were dark, dank and incredibly filthy. Straw rushes lined the dirt floor and the solitary window was set high in the wall. Even if one could climb to it, it was too sharply cut and too narrow to permit escape. Sirena sat on a low, scarred stool, staring at the heavy chains they had placed about her wrists and ankles. They were encrusted with rust and the bright orange flecks rubbed off and stained her skin. Following Lieutenant Fenner's suggestion she had dressed warmly, and she blessed him for the advice. The light of day and the warmth of sunshine had never seen the inside of Newgate prison. A solitary candle, no greater than an inch in length, burned feebly, unable to penetrate the dark. Vaguely, Sirena wondered what she would do when the candle gutted itself and she was left in darkness.

A jangle of keys clanking together reached her ears and when she picked up her head, a tall woman with forbidding features was entering her cell. She had voluminous breasts which hung down onto her belly and her dark, bombazine dress was grease-stained with large wet circles showing under her arms. Her hair was caught up at the back with greasy strings hanging over her face. Her shoes were stout and she wore an apron of an indeterminate color. “I'm the jailor's wife!” she announced harshly. “I've come to see if ye've enough to pay yer way out o' Condemned Row.”

When Sirena looked at her blankly, the woman exclaimed, “Lor', ye're a stupid one! Have you any money to pay garnish?”

Wisely, Sirena. asked her how much money she would need if indeed she did have any.

“Come now, me fine lady, you've not been brought 'ere for bein' a debtor. Ye've committed a crime against the Crown! Surely, ye've a few pounds ta make yer stay 'ere more pleasurable.”

“How much!” Sirena demanded.

“Two pound ten,” the jailor's wife spit, having no patience for the uppity likes of Sirena.

“And what will it buy me?”

“For one thing, yer ladyship, it'll get ye out o' Condemned Row while ye wait yer trial. Fer another, the conditions are much improved on the other side o' the prison. Fer another thing, ye'll 'ave fresh water and yer biscuits won't be wormy. An' ye'll have a bed ta sleep in 'stead o' 'ay on a dirt floor.”

Sirena only needed to hear about the bed and she stood and fumbled beneath her skirts to retrieve the price the woman asked.

“Oh, an fer another shillin' yer chains and braces will be a lot lighter, I promise ye that.”

Aghast at such practices, Sirena dug beneath her skirts once more to find the shilling. Thank the Lord for Lieutenant Fenner's generosity.

As Sirena walked along behind the jailor's wife, she asked, “Have you heard when my trial will be held?” Her voice echoed off the high ceilings and tunnel-like corridors.

“If'n yer lucky, it'll be before yer money runs out,” the woman laughed harshly.

She showed Sirena into a cell with two other women. Her chains and braces were exchanged for lighter ones, but she didn't think they were that much lighter to cost her a full shilling. Suddenly, she laughed, seeing the humor of the situation. Here she was worrying about a shilling when she had thousands, hundreds of thousands, but she could not get her hands on any of it. Tyler, who controlled her money and investments, was also a prisoner.

Before the jailor's wife left the cell, after depositing a leaky pail of foul water beside her, Sirena asked, “How can I get a letter out of here?”

“It'll cost ye six shillings and two more for the paper and five more for the quill.”

“How much for the ink,” Sirena asked tersely, lifting her skirts to find the little medicine pouch where her hoard was kept.

“We'll have none o' yer lip!” the woman scowled. “If'n ye wants ta write a letter, say so!” Her eyes glittered greedily as she looked at the coins in Sirena's palm.