by Jo Goodman
So that she didn't give him any trouble upon awakening, Flannigan tied Ashley's wrists with a strip of leather as soon as he had the chaise safely away from the main house. Sensible of her condition, he covered her with a blanket as they faced a head wind along the rutted road that would take them to Yorktown.
This was a nasty piece of business all around, he thought, glancing over at Ashley's pale face. He had had no qualms about stealing away the colleen when the idea was first proposed, but discovering she was going to have a baby, well, that colored the assignment a bit. You're gettin' soft, boyo, Flannigan thought to himself. A few years ago you wouldn't have blinked at snuffin' the girl, babe or no, for the price you 're gettin ' to bring her in alive and unharmed. It may be time to think of retirin' if you're beginnin' to feel like a Good Samaritan. He looked rather like a middle-aged cherub as he smiled to himself while he considered sainthood.
Flannigan's musings were eventually interrupted as Ashley recovered from the blow to her head. "Where are you taking me?" she asked dully, struggling under her pelisse to free her hands. She recoiled when Flannigan's fat fingers stilled her movements.
"Stop your fussin'. I'm of no mind to hurt you. My instructions are very clear. I'm to see that you get home."
"But you're taking me away from my home."
"I was told you would object at first but that you'd be reasonable about it in the end."
"Please, whatever the duke's paying you, I can give you more."
Flannigan looked affronted at her offer. "Don't try to bribe me. I'm an honest man—after a fashion. And I'll be doin' this bit of work for my original employer. Save your breath."
"Where are we going now?"
"To Yorktown. I have a fishing boat there that will take you to the Royal Fleet off Norfolk. The commander of the Arbus has agreed to hold you until he returns to London."
"I see. Then you won't be coming with me."
"No. I have one more piece of work to do, but that's going to take me north. I'd like to see you settled, but it's all been arranged before the fact. Your accommodations are small but comfortable. Of course the baby does cramp things. I don't know how the commander is going to feel about the baby."
Ashley didn't bother to mention she thought she was having two. She held her abdomen protectively as the chaise jounced along the road. She had given up hope that she would see anyone, knowing help was far more likely if they had taken a water route. She wondered how long before someone missed her at the house and began a search.
"I don't think you look much like a man who would do this sort of thing," she said, hoping to appeal to his finer nature.
Flannigan was not moved. "My face is my fortune. It's the sort of face people trust. I've been told I look more like a physician than a—well, you'll be understandin' what I mean. You were friendly enough when we met."
"I made it very easy for you, didn't I? Tell me, how did you know I would come to the stable today?"
"Now don't try to flatter me. I couldn't be knowin' that you'd go there today. I've been waitin' since I came to the landin'. I didn't even know who you were until you introduced yourself. It was sheer Irish luck that you fell so neatly in my hands today. Saved me a lot of bother by showin' up when the place was empty. I probably shouldn't be admittin' that I had second thoughts when I saw your condition, but there it is. Now don't be gettin' your hopes up; the thoughts have been put away. I'm doing my job and I won't take kindly to any more attempts to offer me compensation. "
Ashley fell silent, except for her chattering teeth. She tried to think of how she might escape her rotund captor, yet her own awkwardness and fear for her babes kept her quietly at his side. She knew her best chance at freedom would come when they got to Yorktown. Surely she would be able to summon help there.
Something of what she had been thinking must have showed on her face for Flannigan shook his head meaningfully when he glanced in her direction.
"I hope it's no ideas of runnin' from me that you're plotting behind that sweet face. I have some laudanum that I'll force you to take if you try to make a nuisance of yourself. I would have given it to you already if I didn't think it might do harm to the babe. And I won't hesitate to apply my cane to your head if I think it will keep you quiet. Listen to my words, Mrs. McClellan, don't be misled by my face."
Ashley did as Flannigan suggested and took his warning to heart. It did occur to her that even if this man felt some loyalty to the duke, perhaps the commander of the Arbus would not. Until she was in Nigel's hands, she refused to believe there was no chance of escape.
The fishing boat that waited for them was a two-master schooner, a fit vessel to buck the winds they would encounter on the short jaunt to Norfolk. The ship rested alone in a narrow inlet south of town, and Flannigan conscientiously assisted Ashley's descent from the chaise before he lowered her carefully into the vessel's hold.
"I'll be back in an hour, maybe less, with the crew to take you to the Arbus. There's no sense in yellin' for help, so don't bother. Try to get some rest and think of the babe."
Ashley's mouth opened in astonishment at his presumption of telling her what to think. She swore mightily to show him what she thought and was vexed beyond bearing when she heard his retreating laughter. She impatiently brushed a tear from her eye. Then another. And another. Finally she sat on the floor of the dark and fishy smelling hold and gave in to despair. She knew she stayed in that miserable position for the better part of an hour. Every time she thought about standing up, to perhaps explore some way out, her body resisted the move. Her lower back ached abominably and she felt crampy. Her head throbbed, and the overpowering odor of fish made her want to retch.
And if that weren't enough she had only now realized she was sitting in a puddle of water. Her sensibilities were so dulled by distress that it took her several minutes to understand the puddle was of her own making and that her water had broken.
She forced herself to move and used the blanket Flannigan had given her to dry herself. She had only just finished when her first contraction made her gasp. It was over before she was even certain what had happened. She did not have time to consider this new twist to her abduction because booted feet overhead alerted her that Flannigan had returned with the crew. She found a slat from a broken crate and used it to pound on the hatch to get his attention.
"What is it?" he called, peering down from the deck.
"Please, Mr. Flannigan, I have to get out of here. I'm going to have my baby."
"Sure, and I can see that for myself."
"No, I mean that I am going to deliver now. It's happening before it's supposed to. Please, let me out of here. For pity's sake, at least loose my wrists."
"You've got the face of an angel, and I've almost a mind to believe you, but I know when I'm being tricked. Sorry, my little colleen, but you'll have to do better than that. It's a fair voyage I'll be wishin' you now. I have to be on my way. Give my regards to Captain Geary on the Arbus and please, deary, don't try your madonna wiles with these men. I picked every man jack myself and a harder lot I've never seen. If that isn't enough, remember none of them get their money until they put you on the Arbus. "Smiling his cherub's smile, he tipped his cane to his hat and kicked the hatch in place.
Coldness settled over Ashley as darkness surrounded her. Her eyes had only adjusted when she lost her footing as the schooner shifted beneath her. Her despair grew tenfold as she realized she was being taken into the open bay. She sat down, back propped against a wall, and huddled in her damp blanket for warmth. Twenty minutes passed before another contraction seized her.
"I will not have my babies on this craft," she murmured fiercely, hugging her middle. "They will not be born on an English ship either. D'you hear, children? You are Americans! And you will be born on American soil."
Having said it aloud made it clear in her own mind that she needed to concentrate on plotting her own escape. As the schooner briskly sliced through the bay on its speedy voyage to Norfolk, Ash
ley applied herself to that task. Unfortunately, short of throwing herself over the side of the ship when they brought her on deck, she could think of nothing that would free her. If she had only to consider herself, she would have done just that rather than return to the Duke of Linfield. The life within her, increasingly anxious to be born, would not allow her to seriously consider such a measure.
She had lost track of time since she had been dropped in the hold, but she felt she could safely assume that the family had missed her. Ashley had no hope they would be able to guess her direction so she would not permit herself to be deluded into believing they could rescue her. It had occurred to her many times that Salem was in Norfolk, or at least that had been his destination this morning. Was there even the slimmest possibility that he might see her being transferred to the Arbus? Wouldn't a schooner pulling alongside a British frigate attract at least a modicum of attention?
It would if she had anything to do with it, she decided. She would strip off her skirt and make an indecent display of herself if it would mean catching the eye of some Colonial spyglass on shore. As luck would have it her skirt was the same gold color of the flag that flew proudly on the Caroline. "Don't tread on me," she whispered harshly, glancing overhead.
Her reverie was interrupted by the thunder of cannon fire. Her first thought was that it was some kind of New Year's Day celebration by the townsfolk, but when there was no lull in the deafening report of the guns she realized the schooner was either being fired upon or had inadvertently come upon a battle. The frantic shuffling of men above her—she estimated four or five—and their harried shouts, confirmed her suspicions. The schooner, being unequipped with guns, had but one choice: to run. Ashley swayed as the ship changed position, sprinting for safety.
Only the leather strips on her wrists prevented her from rubbing her hands gleefully at this turn of events. As it was, she could not stop smiling. It seemed to her that any delay in reaching their final destination could only work in her favor.
Ashley had no way of knowing that the schooner had already reached waters very close to Norfolk, or that the Royal Fleet had begun firing upon the town at three-thirty. The town's defense seemed to be a few ships that were hemmed in by a semicircle of British frigates. The Colonials had no opportunity to maneuver, and their vessels looked very much like they were being used for target practice.
The four men on the schooner's deck swore roundly each time a Colonial ball came near to the fleet. It was impossible for them to reach the Arbus as she was in the thick of things. From their position of comparative safety in the open water but out of range of the firing, they had a good view of the engagement.
"Bloody wretched of them to start a fight when we've come to deliver our goods." A spittle of tobacco touched the corner of his grim mouth.
"Aye, you've the right of it there, mate. I say if the Arbus goes down, we kill the wench." The statement made by the brawniest of the crew was more chilling because of its matter of factness. Still, it did not raise hackles on the necks of his comrades.
"It ain't bloody likely she'll be going under. There's nary a ship on the dock fit to fire back." Even as spitle lips spoke, a ball from one of the British ships connected with a Colonial mast. "Lookee there, did ya see that? There she goes!" he called as the mast toppled. "Can you make her name?"
"Carolina. Somethin' like that."
"Well, she's about done for." He wiped his mouth on a crusty sleeve and then spit a bit of juice at the feet of his two quiet companions. "Chubb? Smith? You got nothin' to say? Seems me and Hank here have been doin' all the talkin'."
Neither man said anything for a moment, intent on the action as the Caroline fired off its full battery of guns in a blur of smoke and flames.
"Hell, would you look at that," Chubb said, waving a meaty fist at the Colonial ship for its retaliation.
Smith smiled slowly, twirling a piece of grass in his teeth he had picked up on shore. "I reckon that means we're gonna have to kill the girl," he drawled. "I figure that ball just shattered the main magazine on the Arbus. She should be showin' flames just—about—now."
As the four men looked on, an explosion rocked the Arbus, causing it to shudder then list in the choppy water. The crew on the vessel was in little danger with all the support around them. They manned the dinghies and made an orderly evacuation to the safety of their sister ships.
"Of all the damn rotten luck," Smith said slowly, spacing out each word for emphasis. "Well, Sid? Where do reckon our money went? On the Pegasus?"
"I say it went to the Fortune," Chubb said, interrupting Sid's answer.
"Why, Chubb, is that a small attempt at humor?" Smith asked. When Chubb looked blank he explained. "You know, Fortune—our money?"
Chubb scratched his head with thick fingers. "Didn't think of that, but it fits nicely, don't it?"
Sid snorted. "Forget it, Chubb. I think I saw the commander go toward the Belleisk."
"I say we kill her," Hank repeated calmly. "We ain't likely to get the money now. That captain, if he has any sense at all, will say the money's been lost and put us off. I say we kill her so it's ended with the four of us. Flannigan don't have to know what happened."
"I'm with Hank," Smith said. "Killin' her sounds the best—unless—no, killin' her is the way to go."
"Unless what?" Sid asked.
Smith shrugged. "It's too much bother. Throw her over the side and be done with it."
"Listen you backwoods bastard," Sid hissed, grabbing Smith by his waistcoat. "If you got some plan that will get us a little money for our trouble, then I'm wanting to hear about it."
"Damned if I'm not always replacin' buttons on this thing," Smith muttered to himself. "Have a care, Sid," he went on pleasantly. "I don't like being handled roughly."
When Sid was slow to remove his hands he found himself flat on his back on the unyielding deck with no notion of how he got there so quickly or so violently. His neck was firmly held in place by Smith's boot while Chubb and Hank looked on with faint interest and no intention of interfering.
Smith's face was still pleasant, his voice slow and even. "You need to learn a little patience, Sid. I was gettin' around to it." He looked at the others. "It occurred to me that we could get a ransom for the wench. It's a bother. But it would pay for our time."
"And bloody likely get us killed," Sid muttered.
"There is that," Smith answered. "I believe I've mentioned twice now that it's a bother. You were the one who wanted to hear."
Hank and Chubb were thoughtful. Hank finally spoke. "D'you know who she is? Would there be any money for her here?"
"There's a lot to be said for greed, isn't there, Hank?" Smith grinned, lightly mocking the man's interest in something other than murder. "Didn't Flannigan tell you who we've got in the hold?" All three men shook their heads.
"It didn't matter to me," Chubb said, voicing what the others privately thought. "Most often it's better not knowin' too much."
"You could make a good argument for that. Most of the time. But I reckon it was smart of me to ask Flannigan a thing or two about the lady. Otherwise I wouldn't know she's a McClellan, and likely to put a little weight in our purses if we go about it right."
"How much weight?" Chubb asked.
"I figure we could get a thousand pounds each for her." Smith looked down at the man under his boot "How does that sound, Sid? A thousand pounds."
"It's worth considering. And I do that better on my feet."
Smith removed his foot and stood back while Sid got up and brushed himself off, fumbling with the leg of his baggy pants. When he came up with a knife in his right hand it was to find, too late, that Smith was ready for him and giving no quarter. He lunged to one side, but even that movement was too slow. Sid's rheumy eyes bulged and he gagged on his chew as the cold steel of Smith's blade was pushed to the hilt in his abdomen. Gutted like a fish, he was thrown overboard to join them. Smith extracted a handkerchief from his sleeve, one that already had dried
blood on it, and calmly wiped his blade. Smiling regretfully at his two remaining companions he tucked away the knife and the handkerchief.
"Damn messy business," he said, shaking his head. "Now, gentlemen, it makes little difference to me what is decided here. We can kill the girl or we can ransom her. A thousand pounds does have its uses." He glanced over the side where Sid had gone. "Make that thirteen hundred quid apiece."
"What's your plan for the ransom?"
"Simple enough. We take her into Norfolk and leave her someplace safe while we go up river to the McClellans and deliver our intentions."
"Why not take her with us?" Chubb wanted to know.
"Because they'll be all over us like honey on a bear's nose. If she's not with us they won't do anything until they know where she is. By that time we'll have our money and be out of here." Smith hesitated thoughtfully. "I do hope you fellows can leave the area."
"We were just passin' through, the same as you when Flannigan caught our attention. Ain't nothin' bindin' here. One place is as good as another," Chubb said.
Hank rubbed the back of his neck. "I think someone should stay with the girl. Just to make certain she doesn't go anywhere."
Smith frowned. "I don't know about that. You can appreciate the fact that I don't trust either of you out of my sight. I don't think I'd want to stay behind. Perhaps you were thinkin' of yourself for the job, Hank?"
Hank said he was not. "Chubb could do it."
"No way. I'm goin' with both of you."
Smith reconsidered. "Let's just say I stayed behind and you two somehow managed to get the money while sending the McClellans down on my head. How d'you think that makes me feel?"
"Angry, I suppose," Chubb said.
"No, not angry, revengeful," Smith said coldly, his easy demeanor completely vanishing. "Do I make myself clear? Good. Then I reckon I'll put my faith in that ol' adage about honor among thieves and stay with the girl. Let's get this bucket to shore. Ain't a soul gonna notice what we're up to with the redcoats makin' such a damn fuss. D'you fellows know Caroler's Inn?" Neither one of them did. "Hell, I'll give you directions. That's where I'm taking the wench. We'll be there until midnight. If you're not back by then, I'm comin' for you. You got that? At midnight I kill the girl and come after you."