Suddenly she noticed a change in the air, a lessening of the heavy pressure weighing her down so much. Danielle forced herself a little further, creeping one step at a time, following the direction of the wall with her hand. Fresh air hit her face. Her courage renewed, she quickened her footsteps until her hands encountered the end of the tunnel. Again she forged ahead falling through a bush and landing on the wet grass beneath the trees. Oblivious of the damp soaking into her cloak, she stood up trying to get her bearings.
Behind her she was startled to see the sky lit up as if it were day. Although she could see nothing at ground level because of the density of the forest… somehow she knew.
The dragoons were burning the church! How could her parents possibly survive such carnage? She knew they could never escape such an inferno. Her hands covered her face in terror-filled anguish, as she realized that her parents had just been murdered.
Racking sobs wrenched their way from deep within the petite frame. While the thick black smoke billowed into the sky, her soul struck outward, angrily venting her sorrow.
"I swear on my parents’ memory," her clenched fists beat the ground. "They will pay for this!" She knew she must reach Captain Le Homme as soon as possible. She must survive…
Danielle stood up checking her direction of travel and started moving as quickly as possible toward the river. She came around a tree and almost fell into the swiftly moving current. There, not ten yards from where she stood, were the muffled lights of the oil lamps signaling the presence of the sailing ship. She could see the robust figure of the captain, his hands cupped around his eyes, searching the riverbank for the first of his passengers to appear. Danielle moved swiftly in the direction of the ship. She waved her arms and called quietly.
"Captain Le Homme! Over here!"
The captain looked up to see the young woman struggling through the trees.
He motioned his men in the small skiff to pick up his passenger. "Thanks be to God!" he muttered. He watched as she climbed the ladder and he gently swung Danielle aboard to stand beside him. He let out a thankful breath of recognition. His eyes searched frantically at the river’s edge for other passengers.
"Ah, Danielle. I thought it was time for some of you to start appearing, but when I saw the fire on the horizon, I knew it was the church and feared the worst. How many others are coming? Where is Pierre and your mother?" he looked anxiously at the shoreline praying silently that other survivors would be visible through the thick forest of trees. When Danielle didn’t answer his questions he slowly turned his head, staring into her young face and realized that she had not let go of him. Her trembling hands were still clutching his arms. Huge tears ran down her cheeks and her chin began to quiver as she tried to mouth the words.
"I… I think I’m the only one… the fire… " She felt herself engulfed by the comforting arms of the gray-haired captain.
Quick to catch the meaning of the young lady’s distress, he spoke tenderly. "Come, Danielle, before you catch a chill," he led her down into his cabin and sat her on the edge of the narrow bunk. He quickly poured her a glass of brandy. "Drink this. All of it. I must tell my men to weigh anchor and get under way." He quickly left her alone in the simply furnished cabin she knew must belong to him.
Painful thoughts continued to flood her tortured mind. From the time her mother had gone back into the church and she had been left alone. She understood why her mother had run back through the secret door in the crypt. Her parents had always been so deeply in love with each other and her mother could not have survived for long without Le Support of her husband.
As Danielle’s body became warm her eyes, swollen and tired, grew so heavy she could no longer keep them open. She lay back on the bunk and pulled a blanket over her. The smell of the captain’s tobacco calmed her. The gentle motion of the ship as it sliced through the water brought merciful sleep.
The captain came back down to see what he could do for Danielle and found her sound asleep in his bunk. He quietly stepped back out of the room and closed the door. Rest was the best thing for the young woman right now.
~ * ~
The sound of the door slamming open against the wall shook her instantly awake. One of the seamen was standing holding a small bundle.
"I’m sorry to wake ye but ‘twas urgent. The captain sent ye these," he handed her the bundle of men’s clothing. "He said to tell ye to put ‘em on and he’d explain later." He grinned sheepishly and stepped through the door and closed it behind him.
Danielle quickly unfolded the parcel to find a black pair of boy’s breeches, a white muslin tunic and a knitted cap that many of the seamen wore. Danielle took off her gown, folding it neatly and placed it on the bed before slipping on the shirt. The added bulk of the ruffles and bows on her chemise beneath the shirt was too much and by the time Danielle managed to pull it down into place her breathing was noticeably restricted. She freed herself from the stranglehold of the shirt and threw it unceremoniously upon the floor. She looked about her for an alternative form of disguise, but found nothing and so, with great trepidation, removed her dagger and lay it on the bed, before untying the bows of her chemise to let it slip with a soft rustle to the floor. Danielle stubbornly donned the pants and tunic once again, ignoring the chafing the rough textured material caused her bare skin. She placed the dagger and jewels into the band of her breeches before turning her attention to the black knit cap. She surmised she was supposed to look like a young boy in this, her new apparel. Danielle took her waist length hair and twisted it tightly onto the top of her head and slipped the cap down over it. She heard another sharp knock and the door was pushed open.
Captain Le Homme stepped through and looked her over, starting with her bare feet then slowly walking around her as his eyes rose to hers. If any one were to see this young ‘lad’ in his keeping, he would not be able to handle the lewd remarks without a fight. "I’m afraid the dragoons will wonder what I am doing with such a pretty boy in my keeping. There must be some other way… hhhmmmm." He stroked his bushy beard, contemplating for a moment before he snapped his fingers.
"Come! Gather up your belongings. Hurry! We don’t have a minute to lose! There is a naval ship at the entrance into the bay, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they wanted to board us."
Just barely giving Danielle time to pick up her clothes, he took one of her arms and towed her swiftly down below deck and through a passageway to the ship’s stores. There stood a young man with an apron tied around his middle, opening a crate of salt pork and singing a seafaring song in his loud bass voice.
"Cook, look alive mate!" The captain roared. "Empty that hogshead of water immediately!"
"But Captain, it’s almost to the brim sir!"
"I don’t give a damn how full it is! I need a place to hide this young woman and in that cask it shall be. Take it and empty it into the bilge, now!" the captain barked.
The cook, obeying the captain’s orders as speedily as possible, rolled the barrel on its edge out the door and soon returned with the empty hogshead. It had no more been set upright in a corner when the captain picked up a hammer to swiftly knock the bunghole free so air would be able to seep into the inside of it. He grabbed Danielle around the waist and lifted her bodily into the barrel.
"Give me those clothes, young lady!" he ordered. Danielle clutched her roll of belongings tightly to her chest.
"But Captain, they are all I have, I can hide them here with me," she begged.
"I said give me those clothes!" Without waiting for her to acknowledge his order, he reached in the barrel and pulled the bundle out of her grasp, throwing them at the cook.
"Burn them!" he turned again to the agonizing look on the girl’s face. "I’m sorry, but you need all the room in there to move. You’ll be stiff and sore as it is. Now get your head down and don’t make a sound! I’m going to fasten the lid. Under no circumstances are you to let anyone know you’re in here! When it’s safe I’ll let you out. Do you understand? Not a so
und! No matter what!"
Danielle silently nodded as the captain put the round lid over the top of the barrel, shutting out all of the light, except the small amount that crept in from the hole the captain had made. She was crouched down on her legs and even with her neck bent, her head still touched the top of the lid. The banging on the outside, where Captain Le Homme was pounding it shut, made her ears ring.
No sooner did the banging stop than Danielle heard the scurry of many feet above deck and the footsteps of the captain as he left the room closing the door tightly behind him.
The inside of the cask was damp and Danielle felt a chill start as her clothing soaked up the excess moisture.
Her heart pounded with fear inside the hogshead. What if the dragoons found her? Would she have the same fate as Susanna? Questions reeled through her mind. Danielle closed her eyes tightly praying this horror would soon be over.
Captain le Homme motioned to the cabin boy who was quickly approaching him as he entered the gangway.
"Quickly lad, go check the cabin where the mademoiselle changed her clothes. Look it over very carefully and be sure nothing remains. Not even one strand of hair!"
Henry Le Homme felt guilty for the way he’d had to speak to his passenger, but knew he must make himself clear. If she were found there would be no saving her. The danger would also be against him and his men for harboring a Huguenot trying to leave the country.
He proceeded above deck to be greeted by a Corporal of the King’s army, an obese man, with cold, fish like eyes. A dozen or so uniformed French dragoons stood behind him, muskets at the ready, faced outward in a protective circle, aiming at the men aboard the ship.
"Good evening, Corporal," Captain Le Homme said nonchalantly, succeeding in hiding the tightness in his chest as he stood in front of the armed guards. "May I be of some assistance?"
"Yes, Captain," the corporal said, managing to draw his soft over-indulged body to the barest measure of authority before the impressive figure of the captain. "I have orders to check all ships leaving France to see if any ‘heretics’ are on board. The scoundrels have really been coming through lately. May I ask what you are carrying in the hold and where is your destination?" He turned to his men and nodded. "Search from bow to stern men, I don’t want anything to be overlooked--and don’t forget the bilge!"
He watched with the barest show of interest as the dragoons disappeared below deck. "The men are welcome to search. I assure you there is nothing in the hold except for our very fine French wines which I am transporting to Holland. Perhaps I could interest you in a glass of my private stock while we await the verdict of your men," he offered.
The corporal clicked his heels together and bent from the waist as far as his oversized stomach would allow, which was not overmuch.
"A glass of wine would not come amiss, Captain." He waved one arm, "After you."
After seating the corporal at his small table, Captain Le Homme went to a chest and removed a bottle of expensive port. He would have preferred to let the man drink a bitter, cheap wine rather than waste a bottle of his favorite stock, but at the moment his own nerves could use the settling warmth of a better wine.
He poured the liquid into two tankards, handing one to the corporal. After taking a long, slow drink from his own, he reclined in a chair opposite the French officer.
How he would have loved throwing the contents of the mug in the face of this man who could murder women and children without any feelings of guilt. As he sat in his cabin trying to casually pass the time of day with the corporal, he could hear the soldiers ransacking his ship. He heard a large crash near at hand in one of the cabins, and stiffened.
The captain forced a smile on his lips and raised his mug to the corporal.
"Let us hope your men are a little gentler when they come to the bubbly liquid I am transporting from the valley of Champagne. They pay a king’s ransom for it in our neighboring countries."
"Do not worry, Captain," the waspish man answered flippantly. "I am sure the King will make good any damage that my men may do."
Captain Le Homme longed to wipe the sardonic smile off the face of the man who sat across the table from him. They both knew that King Louis XIV had never been known to pay a copper denier for anything other than for his own enjoyment. At a point when the captain thought he could restrain his anger no longer, one of the King’s men burst into the room and saluted his commanding officer.
"All is clear, Corporal. The ship is clean."
The King’s officer, rising from his chair, nodded to the captain. "Very well. Thank you for the wine." He emptied his tankard and set it on the table. "I hope this did not inconvenience you in any way. My men and I will return to our ship and escort you a safe distance out of the harbor, saving you from being searched again." He made a slight bow and took his leave.
Captain Le Homme stood at the side of his ship and watched impatiently while the open bay slowly came into view. The ship carrying the French soldiers remained only a short distance ahead.
The first mate joined the captain on the larboard side of the bridge. Draping a long, tanned arm over the railing, he watched with casual interest as the French naval ship tacked into the wind, swinging wide at the mouth of the river.
"Shall I let the young woman out of the barrel now, sir?"
"No, not yet, Mr. Williams. Stand easy, we don’t want to arouse any suspicions." He moved his head in the direction of the French ship. "I don’t want to chance their suddenly boarding us again. They’re unpredictable scoundrels!"
The captain watched while the other ship slowed down, enabling his to come alongside. He held his breath, wondering if the corporal was going to motion him to heave to, but he was awarded only a salute as he and his ship passed by, heading in the direction of the English Channel.
"Now you can go below to check our passenger, Mr. Williams. But wait for my word before removing the lid… just in case," he added as the first mate nodded and disappeared into the hold.
Captain Le Homme stood and watched as the French corporal’s ship became a speck on the open sea. The time moved slowly before he finally relaxed. Just as he was ready to send for Mr. Williams to release the young woman from her cramped quarters, he was interrupted by the lookout’s shout from far above in the crow’s nest.
"Vessel off the larboard bow!" echoed across the deck.
The captain and his officers crowded to that side of the ship, their minds refusing to credit the evidence of their eyes. With his spyglass, the captain saw a vessel sailing under an English flag coming after them. The wind at its stern made it move with a speed his ship could never match, much less outrun.
"Gunners to your stations!" The Captain bellowed, knowing full well that his cannons could never compete with the amount of iron he could see from the gun-ports of the oncoming vessel, being leveled in the direction of his ship. Winging his glass in the direction he had just left, Captain Le Homme looked to see if the French were going to come to his aid. But with the wind blowing against him, the King’s ship was already out of sight. He was on his own. Shouting instructions to his men, so all would be in readiness when the time came, he turned again to view the English vessel rapidly approaching. They would make a good fight of it for it was not in his nature to give up easily.
"Mother of God!" he breathed, as he noticed, hanging directly under the flag of England, a gold square blowing in the wind to reveal a red eagle with talons poised, ready to strike. And below it the blood-red flag of battle flapped menacingly, leaving no doubt as to the single-minded purpose of the frigate upon these waters.
"That cursed Dominion!" he slammed his fist against the railing in frustration. No one was heralded to hate the French like this one human being. It was as if Captain Dominion had his own private war with them all and would not be satisfied until all of France lay broken upon the ocean floor.
Danielle was beginning to think she’d been forgotten. It seemed forever since Captain Le Homme had closed the lid on
her tiny prison. Sharp pains shot through her body every time she tried to move her legs. Trying to ease her cramped muscles, she put most of her weight on one leg until she could no longer stand the pain, then she would shift herself as much as the confines of the barrel would allow, to the other. Her neck felt like breaking from being bent against the lid of the hogshead for so long.
There had been a lot of noise and commotion as the dragoons searched the ship and someone came into the storeroom banging the crates and turning over boxes.
The long silence which followed was becoming intolerable when she heard the voice of the first mate speaking to her through the lid, his voice muffled by the wood of the barrel.
"It won’t be long now, mademoiselle. As soon as we are far enough away from the king’s ship the captain will let ye out of there."
Suddenly there was a muffled scream of the lookout and Danielle heard the young man standing over her, cursing.
"Don’t make a sound, mademoiselle. They must be coming back aboard."
Danielle heard him leave and close the door before she could reply. Without warning, a violent explosion shook the entire ship, knocking the barrel over with a jolt. A scream of pain rent the air and was cut off sharply. The barrel rocked gently on its side where it had fallen, a soft thumping the only sound, as the unconscious body rolled inside from side to side.
A great roar burst from The Scarlet Eagle, the ship of Scott Dominion. The oncoming shot smashed the bridge to matchwood taking Captain LeHomme with it. Amid the smoke and fire, he was vaguely aware of his wounded men, wailing in panic, yet… his last conscious thought flashed to the hogshead hidden below deck where the young woman had no idea of their peril.
Three
The Gypsy Witch Page 3