Lady Rogue (33 page)

Chapter Forty-Eight

Dawn didn't know how to swim!  Dear God, what had she been thinking of?  She was going to drown!  Her lungs were burning for want of air, and yet she held her breath. Kicking her legs furiously to propel her body upward, she was rewarded when she reached the surface.  Gulping in the sweet nectar of air, she prepared herself for another assault.

The waves were furious, throwing her back and forth like two gigantic hands.  Several feet away she could see four other forms struggling against the sea.  She could hear
d their shrieks of fright and watched helplessly as they were sucked under.  Then she was struggling in the icy darkness alone.

"Help me!  Oh, God, help me......!" she sputtered when her head came up again.  The water was so cold that it drained what meagre strength she had
, and yet she wouldn't give in to death.  Strange, she thought ,but the less she fought the water the fewer times it took hold of her.  With this thought in mind she ceased kicking and thrashing her arms about and tried to work with the rhythm of the rolling water. 
              She wanted to survive so desperately.  It wasn't her time to die, she vowed.  She was needed!  Taddie would be having her baby soon and Dawn wanted to be there. The thought of being helpful to someone gave her renewed strength.  But how long could she survive in the icy waters?  The shore seemed to be miles away.

Up and down, rising and falling, she let herself drift with the waves, saving what strength she was able to.  Could she somehow manuever herself towards the land?  She doubted it.  Her only hope lay in attracting the attention of one of the fishing
boats that skimmed the harbor.

"Help me!  Help!  Help!"  She cried out over and over
.  Her voice, drowned out by the thunder, sounded weak and pitifl to her own ears.  Still she persissted.  She hadn't survived Black John Dunn, the prison’s stench and the ocean's depths without reason.  "Help me!"

The shadowy form of a boat loomed more than a hundred  feet ahead.  She could see its stern hugging the ocean.  Taking a deep breath she opened her mouth to scream
, but a wave sent a froth of water into her face. She went down and came up choking.  For one agonizing moment she feared she would die, that the waters would claim her.  But no!  She wouldn't give in.  Gathering all her strength, Dawn tried to scream again and this time a loud shriek rent the darkness.

"What's that
, Ian?  Did ye hear a scream?"

"A scream?  If I did it would ha
ve had to come from a Mermaid!  How much of that whiskey have ye been drinking?"

"Shhhh
h!  Listen, I heard it again."

"A mermaid, singing to lull us beneath the w
aves?  I didna hear anything."

Somewhere in the darkness a woman was crying aloud, her voice frantic
but clear.  "Help!  Help me."

"There.  Ye see!  Let's follow that so
und.  Pull wi' the oars, Ian."

Dawn's  watery prison seemed endless.  Having swallowed some of the ocean'
s water she felt nauseous and had to choke back the bile that rose in her throat.  But the boat was moving closer!  If she could just hold on to her strength a little longer.......             

"Ye're safe!"  A deep voice was speaking as strong hands pulled Dawn from the water.  She
felt a mixture of joy and relief to feel solid wood beneath her. Lying in an exhausted sprawl of arms and legs, she closed her eyes.

"What on earth is a lassie doing out here?"  A round cherubic face peered down at Dawn.  "Are ye a mermai
d."

"Yes.....!"  she gasped, hoping that mig
ht put end to his questioning.

"
Well, I'll be a tinker's ass."

"She
isn't
a mermaid.  Must hae been on a boat that capsized, or on that prison ship."  A lantern was thrust to within inches of Dawn's face.  "She's a bonny one, she is."

"What if she was on the
Raven
.    What then? Shall we take her back?  They will be looking for her."

"No!  Please!"  Opening her eyes
wide with fear, she pleaded shamelessly. She couldn't bear to be aboard that ship again.  Better by far to let the ocean claim her.  "I didn't.....I didn't......"  Dawn tried to sit up but a strong hand kept her down.  "No......!"  Her brave pretense of courage was shattered and tears overwhelmed her.

"Dunna cry, lassie.  Dunna fash yerself.  If ye are  from the Raven we willna take ye back.  The magistrates o'
London have no' dealt wi' us fairly.  I have no loyalty to them." 

Two Scotsmen
, their brogues soothing.  She had no choice but to trust them.  Dawn closed her eyes once again. She was shivering from the chill, but she was covered with a soft piece of canvas. The waves rocked the fishing boat, back and forth. Back and forth.   Dawn lost all track of time as she lay huddled and quaking with cold on the hard wooden boat bottom.  She barely noticed her discomfort, she was so tired. So weary. 

"Lie back and save yer s
trength,"  a deep voice said.

Wisps of darkness reached out to touch her, enveloping her in a
merciful cloud of sleep.

Chapter Forty-Nine

G
arrick's face paled as he read
The Times
.  There had been a prison riot on the
Sea Raven
.  Fifty or more inmates had escaped the confines of the ship; twenty or more had jumped overboard and  supposedly been drowned.   Every newsboy on every corner was shouting out the story. It was all over London.  Mouthing a foul oath, Garrick crushed the newpaper in his fist, put it in his pocket,  practically flew out his front door and without even waiting for Vinnie, drove the curricle himself to Old Bailey.

Walking up the steps he swore like a madman, causing passersby to give him wide berth as they stared.  Once inside
, he demanded to see the judge for the seventeenth time that week.

The judge was sitting at a desk with piles of documents
in front of him. Hunched over the papers, he was scribbling something with his pen.  The same pen that he had used to send Dawn to the
Sea Raven
?  Garrick wondered.  He answered his own question.  Undoubtedly. 

Garrick stepped forward  and the judge grimaced
.  "Gads, not you again, sir."

"Yes
, me again.  And I will continue to come here until Dawn Landon... or.... Leighton, is released.  You have my signed statement that she did not steal the watch, that it was all a mistake.  What more do you need?"  Garrick thrust the newspaper in front of the judge's nose.  "I read this only this morning.  Am I to assume Miss Leighton is safe, that she is still on deck the prison ship?"  Outside he was calm, but inside he was trembling.

"I would assume, s
ir, that she is right where the court put her."

"I want to make certain." H
is temper was barely in control. If something had happened to Dawn because of this stubborn old goat's pride, he would make certain that heads rolled.  "You've already bungled the deuced matter once. I wouldn't want to find there has been another mistake made.  I want you to assure me that all is well with her."             

He had been trying desperately to get Dawn released
, but the bureaucracy thwarted him at every turn.  It would take time, he was told.   The judge seemed loath to admit he might have made a mistake in sentencing an innocent party.  Garrick had begun to wonder if someone was purposefully foiling his efforts.  Not Ollie, surely, for since their argument at Pembrooke House the young man had been quite contrite, even sorry for what he had done.

"When you sold those stocks to Stephanie Creighton to pay off your gambling debts you signed my name," Garrick reminded him.  "Need I
remind you, Ollie, that forgery, like so many crimes, is a hanging offense?"

"Why........that's barbarous!"  Oliver had sputtered, but th
e reminder had hit its target.

"But a fact nonetheless.  The merchants, bankers and property owners are very formidable and have the Tories in their pocket when it come
s to protecting what is theirs."  Did someone also have
this
judge in their pocket?  Was there a reason he was being so dreadfully slow in having Dawn released?

"I will ascertain her whereabouts," the judge was answering in a
n exasperated voice.  "I will then give you a written document, if that will keep you out of this office."

"Only a pardon will do that."  Garrick pounded the desk with hi
s fist.  "By God, Sir, you know what it is like inside the prisoners' quarters.  Hardened criminals in the same cells with those whose only offense was stealing a loaf of bread.  That is bad enough, but when an innocent party is involved, I must urge haste." 

A
shiver stole over Garrick as he remembered his visit to Newgate.  The women were mixed together--young and old, the beginner with the experienced offender, the accused with  the condemened, the transports with those under sentence of death--all  crowded together in one assemblage; a noisy, idle, clamorous throng, banging at the cell bars with spoons attached to the ends of sticks or fighting wretchedly among themselves.  Some of the women prisoners were particularly vicious.  He had seen a look of savagery in some of the eyes staring back at him, could feel their hatred as they  had glared at him.  Dawn would be helpless in their midst.

"Be that as it may, Sir.  These t
hings take time......"

"And in the  meantime Miss Landon has been taken aboard that rat infested ship.  Well, Your Honor, I will hold you responsible if
anything disasterous happens."

Garrick was about to walk away when a tall, cadaverously thin gaoler pushed him aside.  "We've apprehended some of those responsible for the uprising," he blurted, "and we have a list o' those who are missing.  Most likely in Da
vy Jone's locker now they be." Taking off his cap he showed a grudging display of respect, putting it to his breast as if at a funeral.

The judge was not as quick to pity.  "I want the penalty for those
who led the escape to be especially harsh.  Twenty lashes should suffice to render them a lesson.  To the others give twelve and have them confined in irons in the brig for the rest of the week."

"Irons.  The brig."  The gaoler, obviously  used to shipboard
command saluted.  "Yes, Sir."

"And Ronaldson....."  The judge r
apped his fingers on the desk.

"Yes, Sir!"

"Give the blasted fool who forgot to screw down the hatches the same.  Twelve lashes."

"Yes, Sir....."  With an awkward bow the gaoler retraced his steps, leaving G
arrick alone with the judge. 

"Fools!  I am perpetually surrounded with fools who can not manage the simplest of tasks."  Remembering Garrick, the judge sought him out with his gaze.  "Well, you've had your say.  Be off with you," he said impatie
ntly.  "I am ever a busy man."

"That list, I overheard the guard mentioning he had the names of those who are missing."  As he spoke Garrick's voice was steady, his eyes watching the court justice intently.  "If you would please, Your Honor, knowing that Miss Leighton's name is
not
there would at least allow me a measure of calm."

His request had the desired effect
. Retrieving the piece of paper, the judge hastily scanned the names.  "I ought to have you thrown into prison yourself, Sir, just for showing such a lack of respect.  I will.  I will, upon my word, if you......"  There was no mistaking the astonishment etched on his face, an expression that made Garrick stare at him apprehensively.

"What is it?"

"Miss Leighton.....she is listed.  She was seen jumping over the ship's railing and…......"

"And
......?"  Garrick called upon every ounce of self-control he possessed.

Shaking his head
, the judge seemed sympathetic for the first time.  "She has not been found.  It appears, my good man, that she has drowned."

Garrick stared at the judge, his eyes burning. "Dear merciful God!"  Bitter despair enveloped him.  She was gone!  Dead!   "Damn you!  Damn you to hell!" he cried. "You and all the other self-righteous......"  All this time he had managed to keep his  hope alive that he would hold her in his arms again, that all would have a happy ending. He had so stubbornly clung to the belief that justice would prevail after all.   There was no justice!   Only blind,
stubborn  fools like himself.

Love--
it had come so easily to him that he had not treasured it fully until it was gone.  He had fought against it, defied his feelings. And all for what?  Because Dawn had once been a child of the streets?  The  image of her lovely face hovered before his eyes.  There was no point to his life if she did not share it!   No joy in the days that stretched ahead.  No point in anything really.

"And yet, how could she be dead? He wouldn't believe it. Dawn was a survivor.   No matter what that dratted piece of paper said
, he would find her.  And when he did, he would never let her out of his arms again.