City of Glory (60 page)

All the while the men were inside, Jesse Edwards kept hoping for a chance to spook the horses. If he could get close enough without being seen, he could get them to take off and pull the carriage along with ’em. He wasn’t sure exactly what that might achieve, but at least he’d be doing something. Not just hiding here in the doorway like he used to hide in the stores when he was meant to be running powder to the guns. He didn’t want to be scaredy-cat Jesse anymore.

But as it was, didn’t matter whether he was scared or he wasn’t. Fellow sitting up there in the driver’s seat didn’t move even once, and he never relaxed his hold on the reins. And before Jesse could think of anything he might do instead, the men who’d gone into Miss Manon’s house came out again. And, Holy God Almighty, they had Miss Manon with ’em.

Chapter Twenty-four

Aboard Le Carcajou, 5
P.M.

U
NTIE HER
,”
Blakeman said. The whipper released the tie that had secured Manon’s hands behind her back and freed the gag.

Blakeman stood and watched, as did five or six sailors. Not ordinary sailors, she was quite sure. And this was not an ordinary ship. “Pirates,” she said.

Blakeman chuckled. “Your first word spoken as my fiancée, my dear. A mark of your powers of observation, perhaps, but hardly a sweet sound of love.”

“You’ll get none such from me, Gornt Blakeman. But I don’t imagine you truly expect any different.”

He took a step forward and grabbed hold of her hair, forcing her head back so she was looking up into his face. “I’ll get exactly what I want from you, Manon Vionne. Never doubt that. The freedom of your body and sons from your belly.” Blakeman grabbed her hand and held it to his crotch. “That’s what’s waiting for you, my girl. Count yourself lucky.”

He let her go, so abruptly her head snapped forward, and laughed again. “Never mind,” Blakeman said. “I quite like your spirit. What do you think, Tintin? A worthy bride? You’re a sea captain of a sort, will you marry us once we’re underway?”

“In the pirate code there is a price for such a service,
mon ami.
I get to bed her first.”

“Over my dead body, pirate! This one is mine and mine alone.”

Tintin laughed. “
Tant pis,
my friend. One woman is much like another,
non?
” He turned his back on them and walked to the side, peering down into the water. The cove was superbly well hidden, but the shape of the shore made for a treacherous mooring. Twice each day he watched anxiously while the schooner, forced to sit on the mud when the tide was dead low, floated as the waters rose. There was an incoming drift now. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, then he’d breathe easier. “If you mean to claim your treasure,
mon ami,
you must be quick about it. The tide comes our way. Soon we will be able to leave.”

Belowdecks was mostly a narrow, open space with hammocks, a number apparently occupied though Blakeman paid them little attention, and filth from one end to the other. What passed for the captain’s cabin was, if anything, worse. Too bad, but nothing to be done about it. Blakeman shoved Manon inside, kicking the door shut behind them. He felt for a lock or a bolt of some sort, but there was none. Never mind. Where could she go? He had been holding both her hands behind her back; now he freed them. “Not exactly what I’d expected to provide for your wedding night, my dear. But it will have to do.”

It was a waste of time to trade barbs with him. Manon let her glance travel the small and fetid cabin, looking for something she could use as a weapon, some means of escape. Blakeman read her thoughts and chuckled. “We are on a ship, my dear. A pirate ship no less. There are many men, many cutlasses, many guns, and ashore—presuming by some miracle you got there—a deserted cove, steep cliffs, and beyond them deep woods. Now tell me, what makes more sense, a foolish, fruitless struggle that will exhaust you, though I admit it might excite me, or sweet maidenly yielding to your husband?” She said nothing. “Come, it is a reasonable question, Manon. It deserves an answer.”

“You are not my husband.”

Blakeman shrugged. “I will be. As soon as it can be arranged. I have no desire to leave you ravished and unmarried, my dear. It is in my best interests to have you my legal wife, and so you shall be. God, look at you…” He took a step closer. Manon backed away, but the cabin was only a few feet wide. She ended with the backs of her calves pressing up against the wooden frame of the bunk. Her hair had long since come loose; Blakeman curled one hand in it. “I’d have had you if you looked like the arse end of a horse, my Manon, because you suit my purposes. But I admit, I’m delighted you’re a beauty. What sons we shall have, eh?” His free arm circled her waist. “Now kiss me.”

She watched his face come close and stood very still, kept her mouth tight shut. She could not get away, but he would know she did not yield.

The kiss, if such it could be called, lasted only a few seconds. Blakeman lifted his head and his expression and voice were cold. “Fine, if you prefer rape, you shall have it, my dear. It makes little difference to me.”

He let her go long enough to get both hands on the front of her gown. Manon panicked and pulled away, hearing the cloth rip as she did so. Apart from the bunk the only furniture in the room was a table and a couple of stools. She tripped over one of them, lost her balance and fell. Blakeman howled with laughter. Manon saw him looming above her, one hand fumbling with the front of his breeches. She screamed.

Outside there was the noise of many feet tramping through the passageway and shouts, mostly in French, but the accent strange to her and the words muffled. Rescue! It must be. Blakeman apparently had the same idea. He stopped what he was doing and listened, then he smiled. The rush was to the deck above. No one was coming to disturb them.

He lunged for her. Manon screamed.

The door to the cabin was pushed open. “Go ahead, Gornt. Prove that you are stronger than a slip of a girl. History will tell tales of your prowess.”

He turned his head. “Christ Almighty! What are you doing here?”

Delight Higgins was naked. Some of her cuts and bruises were starting to scab; others yet oozed blood. “I might have guessed you’d show up. I should have figured it out before. You’re the one who sent for the pirates, aren’t you?” And before he could answer: “Perhaps you didn’t know they do an active trade in blackbirding.”

“This is no affair of yours. Get out.”

“Why? What difference if I watch? I can’t stop you.”

There were more shouts from above, in English this time. “Blakeman! Get up here.” Tintin’s voice. “We’re aground. We need every hand on the lines to pull free. Come,
mon ami.
”

Blakeman looked from one woman to the other. Neither of them spoke. He pulled away from Manon and ran to the cabin door. “Send someone down to help me secure these two she-cats, then I’ll come.”

One of the pirates brought line and helped tie up both women. Blakeman insisted on gagging them as well. The other man started to leave. “Where are you going?” Blakeman demanded.

“Above.”

“We can’t leave them here. There’s no lock on the door.”

“But they’re both trussed like barnyard fowls. Ain’t no way—”

“Not here.” No point in explaining how resourceful Delight Higgins was likely to be, or how much spirit the other one had. “Somewhere more secure.”

“There’s a store up ahead below the afterdeck. The door will take a padlock—one prisoner in there already.”

“Excellent,” Blakeman said. He hefted Manon. “Bring the other one.”

New York City,
Ann Street, 5:30
P.M.

“I’m coming! No need to rip the knocker off the door.” Bridey was accustomed to the sick arriving at Dr. Turner’s front door demanding instant attention, but she never stopped complaining about it. “Well, what’s wrong with you then? Need the other arm off as well?”

Jesse shoved his remaining hand in his pocket lest the woman grab him and start sawing. “No, ma’am. It’s Dr. Joyful Turner I’m looking for.”

“Well, this here’s the house o’ his cousin, Dr. Andrew Turner.”

“Yes, ma’am. I know. I been looking everywhere and not finding Dr. Joyful Turner, so I thought he might have come—”

“Aye, well he didn’t, but I suppose he might have. Come in. You look a sight, you do.” The boy’s face was streaked with sweat and dirt. If he’d had a hat, he’d lost it, and the brown cutaway as was anyways too big for him was ripped in a number of places. “Been in that riot up in Five Points, I reckon.”

“Not really in it. I was some ways away. Got pushed about nonetheless.”

“Same as all o’ us.” Bridey had herself gotten a good distance up Anthony Street. Near enough so she’d heard Dr. Joyful shouting out all them fine words o’ the Constitution. Nearly burst with pride she had. Never mind that her best apron was torn off her and lost in the crush. “I expect you could use something to eat ’fore you go on about whatever your business might be.”

“Thank ye, ma’am. But I’ve no time right now. Please, I have to find Dr. Turner. It’s as important as—”

“As what, young man?” Andrew appeared in the open door of his study.

“I thought you was taking a nap,” Bridey scolded. “You know you’re supposed to take a nap every day after dinner.”

“No man could sleep with you nattering away in front of his door. What’s the difficulty, young man?”

“I have to find Dr. Joyful Turner, sir. It’s about M…”

“About what? Come, I’m his cousin. You may tell me.”

“It’s a secret, sir. I mean I think it is. Dr. Turner’s never said, but he and Miss—” Jesse broke off.

“Miss Manon Vionne,” Andrew said, ignoring Bridey’s look of astonishment. “That’s who you’re talking about, is it not?”

Jesse nodded.

“So has Miss Manon sent you? What is it she’s asked you to say?” Andrew remembered Joyful’s concern, that the girl’s father might turn her into the street, that she’d need a place to stay. “Out with it, boy. You have my word, you betray no confidence.”

“She didn’t tell me nothing, sir. It’s what I saw as Dr. Turner has to know about. Miss Manon…Four men took her away from her house in a big black carriage. I could see plain as anything she didn’t want to go.”

“Good God. I take it you were there?”

“Cross the street, sir. In a doorway. I been carrying notes back and forth for ’em. Dr. Turner and Miss Manon. He told me I should…I can’t explain everything now, sir. But I have to find Dr. Turner. The man as took Miss Manon, it was Gornt Blakeman.”