Stormy Persuasion (5 page)

Chapter Eight

“Y
ou sure you want to do this, Cap’n?” Corky Menadue asked hesitantly as he stood with
Nathan on the London dock.

Nathan smiled. “Get my ship back? Damned right I do.”

“I meant work your way over to the colonies.”

“I believe they call them states now.”

“But it ain’t like you couldn’t pay for passage instead,” Corky said, and not for
the first time.

Nathan looked down at his first mate. He had inherited Corky when he’d inherited
The Pearl
, but he’d known the older man most of his life. Corky had been Jory Tremayne’s first
mate, and Nathan had pretty much grown up on his father’s ship—until Jory had kicked
him off it. Such impotent rage he’d felt back then, but nothing he’d said or done
would change Jory’s mind. It was for his own protection, Jory insisted, as if Nathan
couldn’t protect himself. And he was haunted by the thought that his father might
still be alive if he
had
been there the night his father was shot.

“Forget about Grigg! I told you, assure you, I’ll see him hanged for you.”
Not if Nathan could find him before Commander Burdis did. But he had a ship to find
first.

Nathan reminded his old friend, “The other vessels aren’t leaving for another week
and they’re not bound for Connecticut, which is where I need to go. This one is actually
going about fifty miles west of my destination. Damned lucky, and about time some
luck came my way. Besides, time isn’t on our side even if I wanted to waste the coin
on passage, which I don’t.
The Pearl
will be sold if we don’t get there soon.”

“I’m just worried about your temper. Last captain you took orders from was your father
and that was five years ago. D’you even remember how?”

Nathan barked a laugh, but Corky added, “And this captain is some kind of nabob, if
you can go by the high wage he’s paying us. And I know how you feel about nabobs.”

“You don’t have to come along, you know,” Nathan told his curly-haired friend.

“And what else would I be doing until you come back with
The Pearl
?”

After Burdis had released Nathan, he’d found Corky and most of his crew in the haunt
they frequented in Southampton, where Nathan had settled after leaving Cornwall. At
first they’d been shocked to see him and then quite rowdy in expressing their relief
that Nathan was a free man. After he’d been captured by the revenuers, they hadn’t
expected to ever see him again. He didn’t begrudge them their escape the night his
ship and cargo had been confiscated. In fact, he was fiercely glad they had escaped
because they wouldn’t have been handed the boon he’d been given. He still couldn’t
quite believe he was walking free again.

Burdis turned out to be not such a bad sort—for a nabob. He’d arranged for Nathan
to have a bath, a good meal, and his personal belongings returned to him, even his
pistol. Then they’d transported him to his home port of Southampton.

After telling his men what had happened and what he had to do now, they’d wanted to
snatch a ship for him that very night. He’d been tempted, but with the commander’s
terms still fresh in his mind, he’d had to tell them no, that he needed legitimate
passage.

“If you steal a ship other than your own, our deal is off,” Burdis had said. “No more
breaking laws of any sort for you, Captain Tremayne.”

Too many bleedin’ conditions, but he was going to abide by them since it meant a shot
at getting his ship back.

When he’d elected to follow in his father’s footsteps, he’d known it wouldn’t be easy.
Still, he’d enjoyed the challenge of smuggling, enjoyed thumbing his nose at the revenuers
when they gave chase. They never came close to catching him when he was in the Channel.
But constantly having to find new places to store his cargoes had taxed his patience
and caused him no end of frustration.

He’d thought he’d finally solved that problem a few months ago when he’d figured out
the perfect hiding place: the abandoned house a little ways inland in Hampshire. The
house had an extra advantage as its closest neighbor was the Duke of Wrighton. No
revenuers would dare snoop around there. But he hadn’t counted on the duke’s having
nosy servants. If that wench hadn’t come ghost hunting or meeting up with her lover,
which is what he suspected she’d really been doing, he wouldn’t have been forced to
move the cargo so soon and wouldn’t have gotten caught because of it.

After he’d sent word to his crew in Southampton to bring the ship to their usual unloading
cove, so it could be reloaded, one of his crew must have mentioned the plan to someone
in Grigg’s crew. Or maybe someone in Grigg’s crew had heard his men talking about
it. It wouldn’t be the first time the two crews had ended up in the same tavern. He
preferred to think that than that he had a traitor in his crew. But the ghost-hunting
wench was still ultimately to blame.

He hadn’t been joking when he’d told Burdis he blamed a woman for his capture. He
should have put more effort into securing her silence. A kiss usually softened them
up, but not her. He’d gambled that he’d be able to get her feeling friendly and agreeable
toward him, so she’d keep his presence a secret. Maybe he should have lit her lantern
so she could see whom she was dealing with. One of his smiles tended to work wonders
on wenches, too. But kissing her hadn’t yielded the result he’d hoped for, and he
had ended up insulting her instead. He hadn’t needed to see her to tell she was bristling
from it.

“We’ve time for a pint and a quick tumble, Cap’n. You game?”

“Thought I asked you to stop calling me that? I’m not your captain for this trip.”

Nathan
was
bored, though, just standing around waiting for wagons to show up. He glanced around
the London dock, but the last wagon had left ten minutes ago and no others could be
seen heading their way. There would probably be more, though, and he didn’t want to
risk a delay in sailing to America by getting fired because he wasn’t there to unload
wagons. Every day mattered with
The Pearl
on her way to being altered and sold. It was annoying enough that the ship he’d signed
on to in Southampton was making this short detour to London to pick up passengers.

“Come on,” Corky cajoled. “We were told to wait, but no one said we couldn’t do that
waiting in yonder tavern. Watch from the door for the next wagon if you’ve a mind
to, but the rowboat ain’t even back from the ship yet to carry another load. And it’s
going to be a long voyage. One more wench to see me off is all I’m interested in tonight.”

Nathan snorted. “You just enjoyed the company of a wench three nights ago in Southampton.
Were you too drunk to remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Corky grinned. “But that was then and this is our last night on land.
Three weeks at sea is a bleedin’ long time.”

“The voyage could be as quick as two weeks and besides,
you
don’t need to be here. You can still head back to Southampton to wait for my return.”

“And leave you without a first mate for the return trip? It’s a shame we heard about
this ship too late to get the rest of our boys on her.”

“I wouldn’t have known that her captain was hiring a crew at all if I didn’t stop
by to tell Alf and Peggy I’d be gone for a few months.”

Old Alf was the caretaker of a cottage a few miles up the coast from Southampton.
Nathan had been steered to the couple when he’d been looking for someone to care for
his nieces while he was away on
The Pearl.
It had proven to be a nicer arrangement than he’d first thought, since the cottage
had its own private dock, and Alf let him use it as a berth for
The Pearl.

Alf had been generous in that after his wife, Peggy, had agreed to watch the girls
for Nathan. He hadn’t even charged Nathan a fee, merely laid down the rule that no
cargo was ever to be unloaded there, since he knew what business Nathan had got into.
Alf refused to say much about the bigger vessel at his dock, or why she sat empty,
and Nathan was in no position to pry when the elderly couple was doing him such a
big favor.

“At least you got me on her with you,” Corky said.

“Only because they still needed a carpenter and I bargained to have you included.
Alf even hesitated to mention the job, since he knows I no longer practice carpentry.
It was his wife, Peggy, who brought it up. Every time I visit the girls, she nags
me to go back to work that won’t land me in prison. The old gal worries about me.”

“She’s fond of your nieces and worries they will be left without a guardian again.
And she’s right, you know. Look how close you came to fulfilling her fears this time.
Are you sure you even want your ship back?”

“Are you going to nag now, too?”

“Is that pint of ale suddenly sounding like a good idea?” Corky countered.

Chapter Nine

N
athan chuckled and gave in, steering his friend across the docks. The tavern Corky
had his eye on stood between a warehouse and a ticket office. Nathan didn’t know London
at all, had never been there before, and had never heard anything good about it either.
But taverns were taverns, and this one looked no different from the ones he’d find
at home in Southampton. While Nathan had no interest himself in a woman his last night
on land because he had too much on his mind to spare any thoughts on a wench, a pint
of ale would indeed be welcome.

He’d never asked for them, but now he had responsibilities that he didn’t have last
year when he would have been the one to suggest a quick tumble. Not anymore. Not since
his sister died and he was the only one left in their family who could care for her
two children. Not that he hadn’t had an agenda before that happened. He just hadn’t
been in a hurry to achieve his goals.

His nieces, Clarissa and Abbie, were darling girls. He never expected to get so attached
to them so quickly, but each time he visited, it was getting harder to say good-bye.
At seven years of age Clarissa was the younger and the more exuberant of the two.
She never failed to throw herself into his arms with a happy squeal when he arrived.
Abbie was more reserved at nine years of age. Poor thing was still trying to emulate
her father’s snobby family, thinking that’s how she ought to behave. But she was starting
to come around. She expressed delight now when she saw him and he’d even felt dampness
on her cheek when she’d hugged him good-bye a few days ago. My God, that had been
difficult, walking away from them this time.

They didn’t deserve to live in poverty just because their parents had passed on. He
had to do right by them, give them a home, a stable one. One way or another, he was
going to provide them with the comfortable life they used to have.

The girls had been raised so differently from him, but then his sister, Angie, had
married well. She’d had a fine house in Surrey and her daughters had had a governess,
tutors, and fancy dresses. It was too bad it had all come with such disagreeable people
for in-laws, the lot of them thinking they were grander than they were just because
they held a minor title. Nathan hadn’t liked Angie’s husband because it had become
apparent soon after the wedding that he had only married her because she was descended
from an earl. Nathan hadn’t even been able to visit her or her children without sneaking
in to do it because his brother-in-law had found out Jory was a smuggler and assumed
Nathan was one, too.

But everything his nieces had had was gone now, taken back by their father’s family
when he’d died, killing Angie with him, because he’d been foxed and driving his carriage
too fast. Nathan hadn’t thought it possible, but he’d come to hate the nobility even
more than he already did when those heartless snobs turned their backs on their own
granddaughters just because they’d never approved of Angie. All the girls had left
were the fancy dresses that didn’t even fit them anymore, and an uncle who only hoped
to accomplish goals that a sane man would realize were impossible.

He ordered that pint, then another. He was starting to feel the anger that tended
to show up when he thought about his situation too long. Maybe what he should be looking
for this last night on land was a good fight.

Ale in hand, Nathan turned to glance about the room, looking for someone who might
accommodate him, but the tavern was so crowded, he didn’t doubt one punch would lead
to a full-scale brawl. While it wouldn’t be the first time he’d spent a night in jail
for starting one, he couldn’t afford for that to happen tonight if he wanted to get
The Pearl
back.

He started for the door, but turned about when five new customers stepped through
it and he recognized one of them. What the hell? Hammett Grigg’s men in London, of
all places? The last time he’d seen Mr. Olivey, Hammett’s first mate, who was the
one he recognized, had been in Southampton five years ago. Grigg and a handful of
his crew had tracked Nathan down to find out where Jory was holed up. Still furious
with his father, he’d told them he didn’t know and didn’t care. They’d actually had
him watched for a while, thinking he could lead them to Jory. But he never saw his
father again, and Hammett and his men finally found Jory on their own. . . .

Was the Cornish smuggler actually crazy enough to deliver a load of untaxed goods
to the biggest city in the country? Not using London docks, he couldn’t. He had to
be in London for some other reason, maybe to line up new buyers. But if his men were
here on the docks, Grigg might be nearby, too. Could Nathan really get this lucky
and find the man before Commander Burdis did?

Well, he’d wanted a fight. Trying to find out Grigg’s whereabouts would definitely
get him one, but he preferred that it take place outside if possible. Or he could
just wait and follow them when they left. Would he have time for that?

He glanced behind him without turning. The five men were still by the door, looking
about the room. There were no empty tables they could use. If they didn’t leave, they’d
be coming to the bar where Nathan was standing and that brawl would then be inevitable. . . .

Decision made, Nathan walked to the door and shouldered his way past them. Easy enough
to do when he was taller and brawnier than them. And as expected, they followed him
outside. Five of them against one of him would make them cocky. They just didn’t know
him well, and he’d like to keep it that way for a few minutes. Cocky men tended to
have loose lips.

“Leaving without paying your respects, boyo?” Mr. Olivey said, grabbing Nathan’s arm
to stop him. “Thought we wouldn’t recognize you?”

“Wot are ye doing ’ere, eh?” another asked. “Why ain’t ye—? Heard ye got locked up.”

“I heard you helped with that,” Nathan replied. “Where’s your boss? I’d like to thank
him.”

“ ’Ere now, don’t be blaming us ’cause you got careless, boyo.”

“I bet ’e’s plannin’ to wield ’is ’ammer in London. Now the revs got ’is ship, wot
else is there left for ’im?”

The men’s chuckles were cut short when Nathan gripped the man’s throat with one hand
and pinned him to the tavern wall. “My business here is none of yours, but yours is
certainly mine. I repeat, where’s your boss?”

“You’re in no position to ask,” Olivey said behind him. “Or did you really think you
could take us all on?”

“Let’s find out.” Nathan leapt to the side to position himself so that all five men
were in front of him again.

Five against one might be lousy odds, but he had passion and purpose in his corner,
while he guessed they just wanted to have some fun at his expense. He didn’t have
to wait long for the first swing to come his way. He blocked that one and threw one
of his own. Two quick jabs at another had a second staggering back.

Blood pumping, Nathan had no doubt that he could do this, despite the odds, and get
the answer he wanted before he was done. He just needed to leave one of them standing
and able to talk.

The next sailor to come at him he knocked to the ground, but the man got back up too
quickly, wiping blood from his mouth. “Should take to the ring, boyo, instead of wasting
time with a hammer. You’d make a fortune.”

Olivey’s comment distracted Nathan a moment too long. Bleedin’ hell. Both his arms
were suddenly pulled forcefully behind him and Mr. Olivey stood in front of him laughing.

“Should have run while you had the chance. Should have left well enough alone, too.
Hammett was done with your family—until he heard you were looking for him. Look where
that got you, eh.”

“Go to hell,” Nathan spat out.

But suddenly his arms were freed and he heard the distinctive hollow sound of two
heads cracking together. He didn’t need to look behind him to guess that two of Grigg’s
men had just been hurt if not put out of commission. Then he was yanked aside, out
of the way, and a strong arm fell over his shoulder. He tried to shrug it off, but
the hold tightened enough to stop him. Blood
still
pumping, he was about to swing at whoever was holding him immobile until he got a
look at him.

Tall and dark haired with shoulders as wide as Nathan’s and wearing a fine greatcoat,
the man could pass for a nabob except for one glaring fact. A member of the gentry
wouldn’t get involved in a street brawl, would he? No, he’d merely yell for the watch.
Another man, too, a big, blond brute specimen unlike any Nathan had ever seen was
pounding Hammett’s sailors with his fists. Were they just a couple of rakehells out
looking for trouble? Then they could add him to the count before they were done and
he didn’t think he’d walk away from that, could even miss his ship because of it.
But right now he needed at least one of Hammett’s sailors conscious so he could question him.

It was all he could do to sound reasonable when he said to the black-haired man, “Let
go so I can help him.” Stop him was more like it.

“Bite your tongue, youngun. That’s not a snarl my brother is wearing, it’s a grin.”
Then the man sighed because all five sailors were now sprawled on the ground. To his
brother he complained, “Really, old boy, you could have dragged it out just a
little
.”

The blond bruiser merely gave the black-haired man a bored look before he turned his
piercing green eyes on Nathan. “Need a job? I could use a sparring partner.”

Nathan choked back an impotent snarl. He’d just lost his chance to get answers. He
should have stopped the bruiser from knocking them all out, but the demolishing had
happened so fast. And they actually thought they were being
helpful
.

He got out, “No thanks, I have a job.”

The black-haired one who’d held him back let go of him now, saying, “No pearls of
gratitude? Do we need to teach you some manners, youngun?” But then he added, “Behind
you, James.”

What happened next left no room for thought. It did flash though Nathan’s mind that
he had been left for last and was about to get the beating of his life. But he saw
one of the sailors staggering to his feet. Nathan yelled, “Wait!”—but the man named
James turned to the sailor, while the black-haired taller one put his steely arm around
Nathan’s shoulder again.

It was too much. Nathan swung, catching the black-haired man completely off guard
and connecting with his chin, taking him down. He doubted he could do the same with
the bruiser who was now staring at Nathan with a raised brow.

Nathan stiffened. He could probably bolt as the sailor was now doing, but he didn’t
want
this
one following him.

He broadened the distance between himself and the bruiser and, pointing to the fleeing
sailor, quickly said, “I need answers that you and your friend are keeping me from
getting.”

“Then run along and get them. My brother’s going to be in the mood for a fight now,
but not to worry—”

Nathan didn’t wait to hear the rest. With a nod, he ducked around the strange twosome’s
carriage, which had stopped in front of the tavern, and took off down the dock, chasing
down the sailor. He thought he heard someone laughing behind him, but it was probably
just someone in the tavern, and he didn’t look back.

The sailor had ducked around a corner onto a wide street. It was dark, but not deserted.
A good number of sailors were making their way back to their ships, some drunkenly.
Nathan ran down the street, glancing at each man he passed. It took him a few minutes
to spot Hammett’s sailor just as the man turned another corner.

Swearing, Nathan reached the spot only to find a narrow alley filled with broken crates
and other garbage. A dog barked to the left. He headed that way. He found the dog
but the sailor was nowhere in sight. He could have entered any number of buildings
through their rear doors. A light suddenly appeared in an upstairs window of one of
them. He tried the door to that building and found it locked. He moved on to the next
building. The door was unlocked and he slipped inside. The corridor he found himself
in was dark—but not so dark he couldn’t see the shadow crouched in it.

Nathan leapt forward and dragged the sailor outside before whoever had lit the lantern
could come down to investigate why the dog was barking. He didn’t stop until they
rounded another corner and he shoved the sailor up against the side of a building.

“I distracted that bruiser so you could get away, but I’ll be finishing you off m’self
if you don’t—”

“Wait!” the man pleaded. “I’ll tell you what I know, just no more punches.”

“Where is Grigg?”

“He ain’t in town yet, but he’ll be here tomorrow for the delivery.”

“To who?”

“Man on the west side, runs a fancy tavern. The cap’n’s been supplying him with brandy
off and on for a year now.”

“Who’s the man? What’s the name of the tavern?” Nathan tightened his grip on the man’s
shirt.