‘You may be right,’ he said. ‘One thing I’ll say for you: you have more spirit in you than that whelp of mine. Screeched like a stuck pig, she did.’
I stared at him, unable to believe the horror of his words.
‘Do you mean to tell me that you have killed Sarah?’ I asked in terror, my blood running cold at his callousness.
‘Of course I killed the slut!’ he said. ‘I had no intention of letting her bear another Llewellyn so that she could claim some of the estate.’
Perkins smiled at his own cleverness, and I turned away from him in disgust. It would be of no use to try to appeal to his better nature; he did not have one.
Suddenly Jonathon, who had been standing almost in a daze, listening to us, moved forward, a pistol in his hand.
‘Give me the packet,’ he said loudly. ‘Give it to me before I kill you.’
Perkins spun around, a look of frightened cunning on his face.
‘Come, give the pistol to me,’ he said coaxingly. ‘How will you manage to get your opium if I am not around to help you?’
Jonathon’s hand wavered for a moment. ‘Don’t listen to him!’ I said urgently. ‘I will help you, Jonathon.’
He looked at me for a brief moment, and then Perkins was upon him, grappling for the firearm. I stood rooted to the spot, unable to move.
There was a sharp retort, and the two men seemed frozen together for a moment. Then Jonathon slid slowly to the ground, his eyes on me and his lips framing the word, ‘Sorry.’
I tried to run then, though every step was like a red-hot poker driving into my foot. I knew that Perkins would soon be after me, and I was almost crying with terror when I saw a horse gently nibbling the grass of the lawn. It was probably Perkins’ animal. Quickly I flung myself into the saddle and set off quickly in the direction of the road. I had to reach Garth; he would know what to do about Perkins.
I tried not to think of Jonathon, of the red stain slowly spreading over his coat. I shuddered and urged the animal on at a faster pace, thinking of the refuge I would find in Garth’s arms.
Suddenly the animal stumbled as the sound of a shot echoed against the silent night. The stars in the sky seemed to spin in a frenzy of brilliance around my head. I hit the ground, and a deep blackness engulfed me.
Seventeen
My head ached and my limbs were cramped, and as I slowly regained consciousness, I realised I was unable to move. There was a strange buzzing in my ears, and although I could feel the night wind on my arms, my face was covered with some coarse cloth so that I could scarcely breathe.
After a few moments, it became apparent that I was flung over the saddle of a horse. I felt sick with fear as I realised I was Daniel Perkins’ prisoner. Perspiration beaded my face, and I strained to see through the blackness. Where was I being taken?
The animal jerked to a halt so suddenly that I felt myself begin to slide. I hit the ground with a bump. Even in my panic, I could smell tar and all the unmistakable scents of the docks.
I was hauled up roughly, and when I tried to struggle, a stunning blow was delivered to my face.
‘Keep still, you vixen!’ Perkins’ tone was low and threatening. ‘Otherwise you will find yourself dropped straight into the ocean.’
Obediently I stopped struggling, knowing there would be no hope for me, bound as I was, in the swiftly moving tide.
I could tell from Perkins’ unsteady steps that we were boarding a ship, and I wondered for a moment why he was bothering to keep me alive at all.
After a moment, I was dropped unceremoniously onto the deck and fell forward, striking my face against the boards. Rough hands untied the cloth from my face, and thankfully I took a deep breath of the clean sea air.
Perkins, his arms crossed over his plump belly, stared down at me with triumphant eyes. He put out his foot and gave me a sharp kick which caught my shoulder painfully.
Anger flared through me, driving out terror. ‘Why not kill me now and get it over with?’ I shouted. He clasped my face with his hand, his eyes glittering with menace.
‘Utter another sound and you’ll regret it,’ he said, and I knew he was capable of carrying out any threat he made.
‘I have a use for you,’ he said. ‘You are a sprat to catch a mackerel, shall we say?’ He grinned. ‘With Jonathon out of the way, I have to rely on Garth Llewellyn to give me his signature on certain documents.’
‘So you think you’ll use me to trap him?’ I said, cold with fear. ‘He will not be so easily fooled.’
Perkins laughed out loud. ‘You have a very poor opinion of your own charms, my dear. Oh, yes, I think I can get all I want from him in exchange for your life.’
‘But how will you find him?’ I asked. ‘He is not at the Hall.’
‘He is now,’ Perkins said smugly. ‘He rode past me, just a few feet away from where we were hiding.’ He gave a cruel laugh. ‘But all he will find is his dead brother.’
I shook my head. ‘But how can you hope to get away with it? Large sums of money are not so easy to raise all at once.’
‘That’s where you are wrong, my dear young lady.’ Perkins folded his hands together, as pompous as a clergyman. ‘This is no spur-of-the-moment scheme; I have been planning it for some time.’ He peered at me with narrowed eyes. ‘Mr Sainsbury agreed to give his cooperation for a price. Once I have the money, I shall be well away from here. You won’t see my coattails for dust!’
‘You won’t get away with it,’ I said feebly, but I was trembling all over even as I spoke. There was a good chance of him getting away with it, and once the papers were signed, there would be no hope for Garth or me. Perkins would finish us off without hesitation.
He had lost interest in me now. ‘Take her down into the hold,’ he said sharply to one of the seamen. ‘Keep her out of sight until I want her.’
It was cold down below, and once the hatch was snapped into place, I began to look around for some means of freeing myself from the ropes that cut into my wrists.
I became aware of small scratching sounds and realised with a feeling of horror that there must be rats in the hold. I worked more desperately, fearful lest some of the creatures come near me.
After what seemed an endless time, I was free of the ropes. I rubbed my wrists, trying to bring some life back to my shaking fingers.
I looked round for a piece of pipe, anything that would make a suitable weapon. Holding my skirts high, I explored the hold, almost stumbling over a bundle of sailcloth. I pulled at it with all my strength and fell back a pace, too terrified even to scream. Feeling faint with nausea, I closed my eyes to the horror of what was lying there. Transfixed, I could not move, even when shrieking rats scampered in all directions away from the bundle. Sarah Perkins was dead. Her pale eyes, wide open, stared up at me as if in accusation, and there was dried blood on the bodice of her gown.
Shuddering, I threw the sailcloth back in place and, with an effort, moved away from the gruesome remains. I felt hysteria rise up in me, and I pressed my hand to my lips to stop from screaming out.
Perkins was a monster. No evil was too great for him; he had even stooped to killing his own daughter. I had not been willing to believe he was capable of cold-blooded murder, but the evidence was there before my eyes.
Suddenly the hold was opened, and before I had time to move, Perkins had me by the hair and was dragging me toward the deck.
Garth, white-faced, moved forward as if to take me in his arms, but Perkins waved a pistol at him.
‘That’s far enough,’ he said sourly. ‘When I have the money, the girl will be yours, not before.’
‘Don’t believe him!’ I cried. ‘Once you give your signature, he will kill us both.’
Perkins raised his hand to strike me, and Garth moved quickly and silently, knocking the pistol to the ground and catching Perkins by his coat.
As Perkins fell, I thought for one glorious minute that I was free. I moved toward Garth, but hands grasped my throat, and I felt the
sharpness of a blade against my back.
‘Here are the documents; please sign them.’ Mr Sainsbury sounded almost polite, and I had an insane desire to laugh. Perkins pushed himself up, a murderous gleam in his eyes. He caught my arm and twisted it so cruelly that I cried out, and I saw Garth pale visibly.
‘Mr Llewellyn, please sign. There will be no trouble; we do not want anyone to be hurt.’
Mr Sainsbury held out the documents imploringly, and Garth shook his head.
‘You are a fool if you believe that,’ he said. ‘The moment you have what you want, Catherine and I will be dead.’
We all stood quite still, each waiting for the other to make a move. And then on the night air came the strangest sound I’d ever heard.
I looked around fearfully, and it wasn’t until a crowd of women carrying torches came into sight that I realised it was the sound of human voices.
They stood on the edge of the quay, their upturned faces ghostly under the light from their flares. At the front of the crowd stood Mrs Perkins, and as she saw me she let out an animal howl.
‘There she is!’ she cried. ‘Burn the ship under her; burn the Sea Witch!’
The other women took up the cry until it filled the night with a chant that became almost inhuman as it rose to a crescendo. I shuddered. What had I ever done to arouse so much hate?
Even as the question was framed, I knew the answer. In Mrs Perkins’ mind, I had come between her daughter and her dreams of a profitable marriage, so she had poisoned other minds against me to help her in her revenge.
Someone threw a flare, and it landed on the dry timber of the ship, starting a blaze immediately. Another found its mark, and Garth moved with lightning speed, knocking Perkins to the deck and grasping my arm urgently.
Perkins started to rise and reached for his pistol, but Mr Sainsbury was quicker than he.
‘I cannot let you kill innocent people,’ he said, and calmly fired at point-blank range.
Garth drew me to the seaward side of the vessel. ‘Over the side, quickly!’ he said. I hesitated just for a moment, frightened by the heavy swell of the sea.
‘There is no other way out!’ he urged, and with determination I hoisted up my petticoats and climbed over the rail.
Garth held onto my hand, lowering me gently. He was as agile as a monkey, but then, he had spent a lifetime aboard ships.
There was a ship waiting in the darkness below us, and thankfully I climbed into it, relieved not to have to face the sea after all.
Garth jumped in beside me, and then I saw the cook from Langland Hall grinning at us broadly.
‘Once I knew what they were about, I thought I’d come and help you, Mr Garth,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I always did have my work cut out keeping you out of mischief!’
Gasping, I lay in the bottom of the boat while Garth steadily rowed out to sea, away from the burning ship. It burned fiercely, her pointing masts like red fingers lighing up the quayside.
Garth stopped rowing and put his arm around my shoulders.
‘You look a sorry mess, don’t you?’
He folded me in his arms, and despite the horror of the last few hours, I thrilled to him as I had always done.
‘Your new ship,’ I said in a small voice. ‘You’ve lost her.’
He tipped my face up to his. ‘I’ve learned that ships can be rebuilt. There are many ships, but only one woman.’
We clung together then, with Cook smiling at us from her end of the boat.
‘A fine pair of love birds,’ she said and, taking the oars, rowed steadily away from the roar of the burning ships.
First published in the United Kingdom in 1998 by Severn House Publishers LTD
This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2020 by
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
Third Floor, 20 Mortimer Street
London W1T 3JW
United Kingdom
Copyright © Iris Gower, 1998
The moral right of Iris Gower to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788638883
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Originally published 1975 in the USA under the title Burn Bright Shadow and pseudonym Susanne Richardson
Look for more great books at www.canelo.co
Sea Witch Page 13