Once Upon a Midnight Sea

by Ava Bradley

  "Mr. Ling, have Christian and Henri returned yet?"

  "No, you first," the elderly man called down.

  She assumed as much, having fled the island quickly once she'd found Gilbert. They would be reluctant to leave empty handed, and wouldn't depart until an hour before dawn, as agreed, if they hadn't retrieved him.

  "Do my old eyes deceive me? Cho Ling, is that you?"

  Mr. Ling fixed the winch and ran to help Gilbert aboard. "Happy to make re-acquaintance," he said, bowing. "It been many years."

  Suddenly she understood the secret that had been floating around them like a ribbon of smoke. The Lings had been with her father long enough to know everything.

  They helped Gilbert to the bench amidships and Adriana sat by his side. "Mrs. Ling, bring him some tea. Mr. De la Croix, what would you like to eat? I gather it has been a long time since you've tasted good food. Mrs. Ling makes the best."

  The old woman beamed with pride. "I make special tea help you get strong and young again."

  "Ah, if only that were possible," he said, smiling a grin gaping with missing teeth.

  Ollie hung back shyly. "And who is this?" Gilbert asked.

  Adriana urged him over. "Gilbert, this is Pascal."

  "Why, this is Ollie?" Gilbert exclaimed. "What a strong young man you've grown into. You were just a sprite when I saw you last."

  He reached his hand out and Ollie took it, gingerly accepting the man's handshake.

  "We couldn't have made it here without him," Adriana said. "He's a first class officer."

  Chauncy took one look at the brightly colored bird and went straight for it, yapping excitedly. The frightened creature flew into the rigging.

  "Chauncy, no!" Adriana scolded. Mr. Pickles assumed a comfortable seat and shrieked down his answer.

  "Salaud!"

  "He says that a lot. What does it mean?" Adriana asked.

  Ollie giggled. "It is a bad word."

  Gilbert grimaced. "I will teach him not to say it."

  "Perhaps Chauncy deserves it. He treats Mrs. Ling's chickens much the same way."

  The howling wind would smother away the dog's yipping, but to be safe Adriana collected him. She held him against her chest gladly accepting his wet kisses.

  Elation was bursting inside her like Fourth of July fireworks. They had done it! They were nearly ready to return home again and...

  And what?

  It didn't matter. All her worries and all her fears suddenly seemed small. All she cared about was seeing the look on Christian's face when he laid eyes on his father again.

  She turned toward the stern hatch and set her little dog on the ladder. "There you go. Down, Chauncy. Good boy."

  Mrs. Bailey stood below, preparing to come on deck. Her face brightened.

  "Thank the heavens!" she exclaimed. "I was ever so frightened. Child, I am withering away with worry!"

  "I am fine, Mrs. Bailey. I encountered not a single tribulation." Adriana handed the dog down.

  "Oh, for heaven's sake, look at your cheek! You are bleeding! And your clothes are soaked through." Mrs. Bailey dropped Chauncy and started up the ladder. She stepped on deck and stopped short as she saw Gilbert. "Is this the rascal's father?"

  "Mrs. Bailey, this is Gilbert De la Croix."

  "Hmph. You will excuse me if I do not offer my hand." Her nose wrinkled. "Gracious, when did you last bathe? I can smell you over here."

  "Please forgive Mrs. Bailey. She does not travel well."

  "Ha! I do not hostage well, nor do I ransom well."

  "Sacre Bleu, what is she saying?"

  "Never mind." Adriana stepped aside as Mrs. Ling returned with the tea and a plate of buttered bread smeared with her famous strawberry preserves. "Soon we shall all be on our way home, and this will be past."

  She went to the rail and stared into the night, willing the white hull of Lady Luck's quarter boat to appear in the darkness.

  Please, she prayed. Let them be unharmed.

  * * *

  Fire burned Henri's forearm. He'd never run so fast before, it seemed his feet were flying. At any moment another shot would explode and the dark night would turn into the darker nothingness of death. Footsteps followed him through the grass, but he didn't dare turn around. In the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't Christian. The boy was too weak to run this fast.

  He leapt through a thick bramble, off the path, and found himself spiraling down a steep hill. His legs gave out then and he tumbled, over and under, onto his injured arm with a brilliant burst of pain. The ocean whizzed past his vision, white caps glistening in the moonlight, as he rolled head over heels.

  He finally stopped, splayed under a wide-canopied tree of some sort, his mouth full of grass and dirt. His vision was blurred. He was aware of nothing but the searing pain slicing through his forearm.

  Henri moved one leg, then the other. Nothing seemed to be broken. He used his good arm to roll his battered body over and drag himself into the scrub near the tree's base. He collapsed and lay still just as two pairs of booted feet ran past. He thought they were gone when suddenly voices almost on top of him startled him from near unconsciousness.

  "Look over there."

  Guards. They spoke French.

  "He went this way, I tell you."

  "There's no way down over here."

  "He's shark bait. Forget him."

  Misery shook him to his very bones. Henri wracked his memory; had there been one shot, or two?

  Was Christian still alive?

  * * *

  Adriana paced the deck as rain pummeled the ship. They still had time left to search, yet unease pried at her nerves. She hated sitting here, unmoving, worried Christian and Henry might have been taken by the current and were in fact past them. Still, it would be foolish to haul anchor and drift any farther with the kedge. It was three a.m., still two hours before dawn.

  Something must have gone wrong.

  The rain turned to drizzle and Mr. Ling joined her on deck. "Still much time. You must rest."

  "No." She stared at the dim line where black sky met an even blacker sea. The moon had come out and then disappeared again a hundred times, each time revealing an empty ocean for endless miles.

  He took off his slicker and draped it over her shoulders. Adriana managed a smile.

  "You stay dry, not catch cold. Confucius say, man who care for health, health care back for him. Same for woman."

  "Thank you, Mr. Ling."

  "What you do for Mr. Croix very good. Your father be proud."

  She turned to him. "You knew Gilbert. Did you know...of the things that happened before I was born?"

  "You want to know if story true." He smiled that sweet, kind smile that had always brought a warm glow to her heart. "What I say not matter. What young Mr. Croix say not matter. Only what you say matter."

  "It is true, then." She sighed and turned her gaze over the railing. "My father was a jewel thief."

  "Do you believe your father is good man?"

  She smiled. "I do."

  She turned to Mr. Ling and found him smiling back. "I do too. He help many people."

  Indeed, he had. If he had stolen everything he had, at least he'd put it to good use.

  "Boat coming."

  Her heart leapt. The sight of the shore boat should have filled her with relief, but instead worry plagued her.

  Henry rowed slowly into the circle of light cast by the lantern. He was alone.

  "Oh no." The breath rushed from her lungs as the boat thumped against Lady Luck's hull.

  Henri collapsed into the bottom. His coat slipped away, it had only been over one arm. In the yellow light of the single lantern, the stain on his torn shirtsleeve was black. Blood.

  * * *

  Adriana swung over the side on the winch rope and vaulted to the quarter boat. The hemp burned her hands as she slid down. "Henri!" She hurriedly fixed each hook to the eyelets so Mr. Ling could winch it up. She grabbed Henri by the collar of his shoreman's
coat and pulled him to a sitting position. His eyes rolled in his head.

  "Christian..."

  "Where is he?" she screamed. He seemed not to hear. "Is he alive? Henri, answer me!"

  Adriana and Ollie took Henri under their arms and heaved him from the quarter boat. A nasty gash across his forearm had soaked the makeshift bandage he'd made from his shirtsleeve. Blood dribbled down his arm.

  His bloodshot eyes rolled as he tried to focus on them. The old sea captain's face formed a thin smile. "Gilbert, my old friend. I thought I'd never see this day."

  "You almost didn't, you old fool."

  They set him down on the stern bench. "Henri, where is Christian?" Her voice shook with fear, but she wouldn't let herself believe the worst.

  "Captured."

  Gilbert sagged to his knees beside Henri. "No, not my son. Not to that hell."

  The declaration hit like a clap of thunder. Adriana felt herself drifting away, as though caught in a nightmare from which she couldn't drag herself awake.

  "We stumbled over a group of guards. They were upon us before we knew what happened. There was nothing I could do."

  "The central camp." Gilbert covered his face with his hands. "Christian, Lord have mercy on you."

  A roaring sound filled Adriana's ears and her breath grew thin. This couldn't be!

  "I'm going back for him." She turned and stalked across the deck. "Mr. Ling, drop the jolly boat."

  "Adriana!" Mrs. Bailey hurried after her. "What are you thinking? By now those guards have alerted the entire force!" The matronly woman caught her arm and spun her around. "You cannot go back there. I forbid it." She stamped her foot.

  Adriana pulled against the woman's iron grip. "You cannot stop me. Please do not try, Mrs. Bailey." Her resolve crumbled for an instant and Adriana choked back a sob. "I love him."

  Mrs. Bailey's frantic expression faded and she relaxed her hold on Adriana's arm. "Oh, child."

  "I love him, and I refuse to leave him behind to what will surely be his death." Adriana wiped the escaping tear as soon as it touched her cheek. "As much as I dread returning to Baltimore and marrying Preston Weiss, I cannot conceive of doing so if I have abandoned the man I love to his doom. I could not live with myself. I would rather die trying to save him."

  Adriana looked past her to each of the haunted faces staring back at her. She went to Christian's father and knelt at his knee.

  "Mr. De la Croix, I know my father abandoned you when he fled to America, and I know that you suffered terribly for it. But I am not my father, and I will not leave a man behind."

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Her shoulders ached terribly, but Adriana rowed with strength she never knew she possessed. The current tried to push her toward the mainland, but thankfully the wind had shifted and was now on her side. The rain had stopped, and an eerie haze filled the sky as dawn crept toward the far off horizon.

  She moored the jolly boat in the same cove so not to confuse herself. This time, as she crested the cliff and turned to the right instead, she took ten paces then turned back to map the landscape in her mind. A squat tree with a spreading canopy would suit her needs perfectly. She took off her necklace and looked at the beautiful settings for the last time.

  Confident she could easily find the cove again, she turned and set off at a run.

  * * *

  They were speaking French. How odd it sounded, after all this time in Adriana's company.

  "That story is about as believable as the legend of Kilcairn's ghost." The guard grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head up. The other men cackled with malicious laughter. They delighted in torture.

  The cracked walls of his surroundings swam in and out of vision, then disappeared completely as the guard landed another blow to the head.

  "Talk, now, or we'll send you off to the work camp."

  Christian struggled to steady his vision. The coppery taste of his own blood filled his mouth. "I told you, one of our ships was seized by pirates and we set out after it–”

  "Who is we?" the guard demanded. "You and the old man? Spill your guts, or I'll do it for you."

  His French was horrible. By his accent, Christian could tell he was British. As confusion barreled over him, he lost hold of the story Adriana concocted. It had sounded so plausible as she'd said it, but he sounded like a gibbering fool as he tried to recount it.

  The world around him spun as he was struck again. His shoulder hit something hard. Chalky dust filled his nostrils. The floor. He'd been knocked over. He struggled against the ropes binding his hands to the back of the chair.

  Booted feet crossed his line of vision. "Lift him up."

  He reeled with dizziness as he was shoved upright again. A fist connected with his jaw. A flash of light, then darkness.

  "Ah, he's no good to us like this."

  "Let him alone, or he'll never talk."

  "He'll talk, all right. If he knows what's good for him."

  The butt of a rifle punched his stomach as hard as the kick of a mule. The breath rushed from his lungs. The ropes bit into his wrists as Christian bent forward. Swirling flashes of the clay floor rushed across his vision.

  "Easy Mick." The voice sounded tinny, far away. "You won't get him to talk if he's dead now, will you?"

  * * *

  Adriana found the small administration building exactly where Gilbert told her it would be. Light glowed in its windows. The clouds had returned, snuffing out the pre-dawn light and bringing with them a steady drizzle. Cold water penetrated her clothing and leeched the warmth from her bones.

  She crept closer, trying to negotiate an angle to see in. The building was nestled in thick jungle foliage and the only clear area was the path directly to the door.

  Voices rose inside. Thankfully, despite the damp weather, the window to the right of the door was open. She had to get a look inside. Her entire body quivered with fear as she considered the ten steps it would take to complete the path. The door could burst open at any minute, and Adriana would find herself in the merciless clutches of the guards.

  Adriana took a deep breath and whispered a silent prayer. She hurried up the path to the door and slipped through the brush at the side of the building and hunkered below the window, finally letting her breath out with a heavenward prayer of thanks.

  When she peeked inside, what she saw nearly stopped her heart.

  Christian sat tied to a rickety chair in the middle of the nearly bare room. Four men stood around him, three of them taking turns beating him as the third, a bear of a man with a face like a bulldog, demanded information.

  Christian couldn't answer; he was nearly unconscious.

  The burly man stopped and gripped a handful of Christian's hair, wrenching his head up. Adriana covered her mouth to smother a gasp of horror. Christian's face was horribly bruised and blood ran from a gash on his forehead.

  "You won't get any more out of him tonight," one of the guards said.

  The huge man growled with anger and dropped Christian's head back against his chest. "Gray, stay here with him. I'm going to St. Joseph for the colonel." He pointed at the remaining two men. "Go take a head count of the prisoners."

  "It's raining."

  The leader stopped on his way to the door. "Now!"

  Adriana held her breath as the man stalked out and past her. The two guards emerged next, but stopped just outside the doorway. If one of them happened to glance to the left...

  For long moments they spoke French. Then one of broke into English, prompting the other.

  "Roche 'aint the boss of me."

  "He won't seem so high on himself when that old uncle of his in parliament dies."

  Her pulse throbbed in her ears as she held herself as still as a statue.

  "I stay in this hell-hole just waiting for that day so's I can see the look on his face. He thinks he's going to be promoted to sergeant."

  "Ha! That will take an act by God. Eh, let me have some of that." He took a bottle of amber
liquid from the other and drank a heavy swig. "Colonel Harris don't like him any more than you do. That promotion ain't never going to come."

  They laughed between themselves. "We'd better go take that count. I don't know what this bloke is doing here, but I'll bet we find somebody missing."

  "I'll take that bet. Ten franc."

  "You're on. Let's start with the south side where it ain't so windy. Maybe this blasted rain will let up by the time we get to the cliffs."

  They started away and Adriana let out a sigh of relief. When their footsteps had completely disappeared, she stood and approached the door. She had never been so frightened in all her life, but there was no turning back. If she couldn't get Christian out of this, she didn't want to live either.

  She opened the door and stepped inside the candlelit building. Two wall lamps cast pools of sallow yellow light on the horrific scene. A single candle on the table against the wall caught the wind and danced, sending demon-like flurries skittering over the walls.

  The guard standing over Christian looked up, and shock filled his face.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  "Here now, what's this?" He looked her up and down as if his eyes were deceiving him. "Who're you? How'd you get–”

  Adriana held out her hand. He froze, mouth open, as he saw what she held in her palm. She remained silent, sure that if she spoke, her voice would fail.

  The guard's eyes flashed over with cold light. Greed. His gaze stuck to the twinkling sapphire. The meaty paw that had been drifting toward the pistol on his belt relaxed.

  "There are five more like it between here and the cove where my boat is tied. They are yours, in exchange for his life. Each stone is three carats weight with an accent of diamonds, just like this one. Enough for you to leave this place and never work again."

  "How do I know it ain't glass?"

  Adriana's entire body shook with terror. "That is a gamble you must wager with yourself."

  He tipped his head back and considered her. "What's to stop me from taking it and keepin' you both?"