Ransom (25 page)
“I take it he was not pleased?”
“It was something like being on the
Titan’s
lower gundeck in the middle of a broadside. He called her names I’d never even heard, threatened to disown me... it was not a happy time. The next day, he informed me he’d written to the commanding officer of my brother’s regiment, and he was sure I would be accepted.”
“This was the dreadful brother?” Marshall interjected.
“Of course. And I would almost rather serve on this barge than enlist in Ronald’s regiment. So I hied myself over to my uncle Jack, who’d served with Captain Cooper years ago, and told him I had my heart set on the Navy—which was true, as of about noon that day—and he got me aboard the
Titan
.”
“Was your father upset?”
Archer laughed. “No, he surprised me. He was delighted I’d ‘shown some initiative’. Actually, I think it was because I’d be even less likely to ever see the girl again. He said the Navy would ‘make a man of me’.” Ah, life’s little ironies. “The less said about that the better, I suppose. But I did see her once more.”
“Another broadside?” Marshall asked sympathetically.
“No, nothing like that. Though my pride took a thrashing. I told her I’d volunteered, and we’d have to be married immediately because I had to go join my ship. And she turned me down.”
“What?”
“I couldn’t believe it, either, especially after all my father’d said about fortune-hunting actresses. But she knew her own mind, that girl. She said my family would never accept her or let her stay on the stage, and she wanted a husband who’d keep her warm at night, not ‘some ruddy sailor who’d come home to make babies then go off and get drowned once a year’.”
It hadn’t been that brusque, really; she had been very sweet, and assured him that he was so pretty and so dear he would have to beat the girls off when he came home on shore leave. At the time, it had not been much consolation.
“Did you explain you can’t get drowned every year?” Marshall inquired.
“Her grammar was not the crux of the problem. And truly, it was generous of her. I had proposed, after all; it could have been messy. Lord, I was incredibly...”
“Young?” William suggested.
“Yes. And even more naive.” He had done what he could to return her kindness, telling his father she had agreed not to sue for breach of promise in return for a small annuity. He’d considered telling his father what she’d really said, but His Lordship would not have believed it, and she had been living in such grinding poverty she didn’t have a shift without holes in it. “She was right, in the end. If I’d married her she’d have been all alone the whole time we’ve been at sea. My family would have shunned her. ‘Not our sort’.”
“What a tale of romance. I doubt the girls in my village even noticed I was gone.”
“I’m sure they did.”
Unless they were all blind.
It was strange, their having this conversation now. Why had they never spoken of these things before? “You’ve never said why you went to sea, though, instead of apprenticing to some rich merchant. I can’t see you doing something you hated for hope of a lieutenant’s half-pay.”
“Lord, I hope not. It was much more than security. I always wanted to see the world. My mother would read to me, when I was young, from her father’s old journals. He sailed with Captain Cook, and on ships taking settlers to the colonies. He saw wonderful things.”
“Did you know him?”
“No, he went down in a storm off the West Indies. I don’t know what became of the journals; they may be with some things of my father’s that the new vicar is holding for me. I hope so—I’d like to read them again, I would understand more of what he was saying. But it was more than that, Davy—I wanted to do something that matters, something that makes a difference. Do you remember what the Captain said about the Navy keeping England safe? We really do. If we weren’t here—all of us, I mean, not just you and I—the world would be different, and England would be the worse for it. And this job is something I’m capable of doing—the maths for navigation, strategy, tactics, the fighting itself. I couldn’t be a minister, it’s too serious. Life and death.”
“But—in battle, we kill—or at least wound—the enemy. I don’t understand—”
“That’s different, Davy. In battle, when the enemy is doing his best to kill you, it is different. I could never tell someone who trusted me that there was everlasting life. I don’t know what happens beyond—I simply do not know, and I never had the gift of faith my father did. I learned my prayers, but I never could call myself a believer. I believe in what I can prove to be true. You don’t need faith to know that a good wind fills the sails.”
“That doesn’t stop us praying for a good wind when we’re becalmed.” Archer was a little surprised at William’s self-revelation. “You chose your course well,” he said. “I don’t imagine your father would have been able to climb up a ship’s hull in the dead of night with nothing but a couple of ropes to hold on to.”
“No.” Marshall chuckled. “He would have advised Adrian to see a doctor for his mental aberration, and said prayers for his soul. I may be lacking in charity, but if the bastard even has a soul, I say he deserves whatever Hell may await him.”
Captain’s Log, HMS Artemis (Supplemental Log, Detached duty, HMS Calypso, in for repair, Portsmouth.) Lt. Anthony Drinkwater, commanding 29-7-1799
Still searching.
Morven
nowhere to be seen. If we have had no success in the next hour, we will beat back and search the area again.
~
Captain Smith read the printed note that had been folded under his soup bowl. It let him know that Archer was back in his cell, and Josiah, the cook’s mate—presumably the scrawny youth who brought the meal—was `coming aboard’. As good a way as any to put it, and it shifted their numbers to six against 37. Almost down to six to one. The odds were improving all the time. Also, someone—presumably Bert—was on duty tonight and would speak to the others, then see Smith the day after tomorrow.
He disposed of the note as he had the other. Two days would suit perfectly—one day past dark of the moon, with only five or six men on deck late at night. The guards at their doors would have supper during the evening watch, with something in the food to send them off to sleep; with three confederates in the crew, they could all be freed simultaneously.
If he and his men could get on deck before the alarm was given, they might be able to dog the hatches and seal the rest of the crew below. They might, by God, be able to take this ship!
Of course, whether or not they could hold the ship was another matter. But if they got that far, it would not matter. No matter how fractious the crew, they should at least have time to lower a boat and get away. That would be the prudent course, no doubt. But what a reversal if he could sail back in command of the ship that had hauled them away in biscuit barrels!
And what presumption, to let his expectations run that far ahead. If he had learned anything in all his years at sea, it was that the course of a battle could veer faster than a friendly wind. But it was a promise of action at last, after too long a wait, with a good chance of winning their freedom. That would do, for now.
~
“There. That should do it.” Marshall stepped back from the porthole so Archer could leave off watching the door and inspect his handiwork. Morning light had revealed a noticeable notch in the porthole frame, viewed from certain angles, and Marshall had tried to mask it with a mash of crumbled biscuit mixed with oatmeal, wood shavings, bits of thread, and dust.
Archer squinted up, then nodded. “I can see it because I know where to look, but I doubt anyone else would. I just hope it doesn’t set so hard we have to dig it out again.” He glanced at the door, then sat at an angle from the porthole, so that a guard looking in at him would have to look away from the port.
Marshall tried to see if it was visible from the door. No. Very good. He joined Archer. “As long as it holds for another 16 hours...” The prospect of action was beginning to wind him tight with anticipation. He wished there were some way to communicate with Captain Smith. Had that sailor he’d spoken to ever gone to see him?
It wouldn’t matter. Smith would have observed everything they had, about the ship; he’d probably been able to draw more conclusions, from his greater experience. And it was only the interim Marshall need be concerned with. Once they got the Captain out, he would take command.
The ship’s bell rang once. 8:30 a.m. Five more rounds of the bells, and it would be midnight. If Adrian kept to form, he would keep Archer up in his cabin for an hour or so past that. “You can hear the bell clearly enough above, can’t you, Davy?”
“That’s the third time you’ve asked, and the answer is still yes, of course. The bell is right above on the quarterdeck. And unless he’s sent me back, you’ll start up at two bells. I will be ready.”
“I wish it were winter, it would be dark earlier—”
“And you would freeze to death on the damned rigging if you had to wait. Don’t worry, Will, if he hasn’t killed me by now—” He shrugged. “I’ve just been waiting for this to be over. The idea that I can do something to end it—”
“I wish there were more I could do.”
“No.” Archer’s face settled into a harder, more determined expression than Marshall had ever seen on him. “No, I want to do this alone, Will. I need to. I think it may be the only way I can be free of him.”
It was almost an echo of Marshall’s own feelings, back across the years, when he’d challenged Correy. He’d known instinctively that such a predator would never quit until someone stopped him, permanently. “I understand.”
“The only thing I fear,” Archer went on, “is that I might not be quite strong or fast enough. If I fail—” He looked away. “He’ll take it out on you, not the Captain.”
“I’m not worried, Davy. You won’t fail. I really was doing my best to get away from you.”
“I know. But however hard you tried, you knew I—I would never have hurt you. There was no real danger. That bastard will know he’s fighting for his life.”
“And you’ll be fighting for all of us,” Marshall said. “Three against—”
The feel of the ship shifted and began to slow, as it had a few nights earlier, and the port hatch was pulled shut.
“Another ship?” Archer asked.
“It must be.” With a bit of luck, they might be able to pry that hatch open long enough for at least one of them to get out and attract the attention of that other ship. If their guess as to the nature of
Elusive’s
cargo was correct, it was most probably a Navy vessel, or a private ship on hire to the Navy. Word of their capture ought to be spreading by now. There would be boats coming alongside to collect the cargo; if one approached on this side, and Archer were to drop into the water and be picked up, he would be out of Adrian’s reach, and safe, and he could get help. That bastard wouldn’t dare fire on a Navy ship, not with those little popguns.
He could order Archer to go first...
and he will, if he thinks I’m right behind him
. Just to get David to safety would be a victory. He would not follow, of course, not with Captain Smith still a prisoner. But caught red-handed, Adrian would be a fool to do anything to either of them. “Davy, listen—”
A clatter in the companionway cut short his hasty plan. Three guards, one with a pistol and two with clubs, called them both out of the cell.
“What’ll you have, boys?” the one with the pistol gestured toward the deck. “Lie down quiet ‘til we’ve finished our business, or be trussed up and gagged so you don’t attract attention?”
“You might as well put that gun away,” Marshall said. “It would make more noise than both of us shouting together, as you well know.”
“No more’n some clumsy hand droppin’ a box,” the man replied. “What’ll it be?”
Marshall exchanged looks with Archer; they both lay down on the deck. Their uniforms had reached the hopelessly grimy stage days ago; this would make no difference. With luck, they were nearing the end of Adrian’s capricious games.
The cargo transfer took the better part of two hours. They could hear much of what went on outside, though Marshall could not catch the name of the ship. She was Navy, though, damn it; there was no mistaking the orders shouted and bosun’s whistle for sounds of a merchant vessel.
He caught Archer’s eye. “I’m surprised she hasn’t sent a search party aboard looking for us,” he said to their guards. “It’s only a matter of time. You really should consider Captain Smith’s offer—”
Adrian’s spokesman responded to his considerate suggestion with a boot in the ribs. “One more word from you, and you’ll get a tap from my mate, here. Same goes for you,” he told Archer, who was giving Marshall an exasperated look. Marshall smiled at them both; only David smiled back, with a shake of his head.
Eventually the loading was finished, and when the port in their cell was opened, they were allowed to return. The extra guards departed, the regulars returned to their posts away from the cell door, and Marshall nearly stopped breathing when he saw the wad of breadcrumb hash sitting on the sill of the porthole.
Archer followed his horrified stare and laughed. “I think we can take it as a good sign, Will.” He scooped up the repellent mass and dropped it in the slop bucket. “If they didn’t see that, they’re not likely to see anything else.”
Marshall swallowed his heart. “I hope they’re on duty later tonight. Well, we should have an hour or so until lunch. What would you prefer, Davy—chess, navigation problems, or a nap?”
“Why don’t you sleep?” Archer suggested. “You didn’t look very comfortable this morning, and I know for certain you didn’t get much rest last night.”
Marshall smiled at that. “Neither did you, as I recall. And you’re right, we should both be as rested as possible.”
David looked away. “Well, with time this short, it might be better if we didn’t sleep togeth— um, at the same time—I can stand watch.”
He shrugged helplessly, and Marshall realized that David had come to the same conclusion he had about lying too close to one another. “Thanks, I think I will. We can trade watches after lunch.”
