Paladin's War

by Peter Greene

  I am safe, for now, thought Lady Wilder, unless Orvislat is captured. He could always talk to save his own skin.

  “Find Lord Wilder,” she said. “He is somewhere about. As his contact, you must ask him about this.”

  “And if he admits to talking to Gorman and telling our secrets?” asked Orvislat.

  “He is a witness that could testify,” said Lady Wilder. “See what my husband has done. If necessary, eliminate him. Is that what you say in your business?”

  “Your own husband?” asked Orvislat.

  “If need be,” said Lady Wilder. “I will deal with the brat, Dowdeswell, myself.”

  “Gorman will be the only one left,” suggested Orvislat.

  “Actually, Spears is the one who could testify,” said Alina. “He can be bought. I will arrange for additional funds.”

  Within moments, Orvislat left Lady Wilder and headed to the periphery of the group. He waited a few moments, seemingly listening to conversation, then drifted away.

  A horn sounded. The hunt was now underway—both of them.

  “Barbara Thompson!” called Lady Wilder, who approached on her horse, making her way to her friend. “Or should I say Mrs. Moore? Let me be the first to congratulate you on your engagement!”

  Delain stared at Lady Wilder, having a difficult time hiding her scorn. This woman was responsible for the deaths of hundreds of His Majesty’s sailors and possibly her best friends as well, including Jonathan. I must stay by her side, she thought, and I will collect her somehow and tie her up! I know a few knots from my days aboard the Danielle! Then I will sit tight until Gorman appears.

  “I have already congratulated them, Lady Wilder,” said Delain. “However, you may be second.”

  “Miss Dowdeswell,” retorted Lady Wilder, flatly. “In pants? It seems wherever there is action, you are in the thick of it.”

  “Please ride with us,” said Barbara, shooting a challenging look to Delain.

  “It would be a pleasure!” said Alina. “Just us girls! And I know a secret way! Follow me!”

  As they began, Delain looked behind to see if Steward happened to be nearby. He was, sitting at the entrance to the drive of the mansion, but for some odd reason, he was still fiddling with the bit and harness of the horse pulling the cart and now had the entire apparatus off. Not now, Steward! thought Delain.

  Fortunately for the fox, many of the guests were too involved with conversation and drink and had forgotten, for the most part, the creature, the hunt, and even where they were. The morning was warm, sunny, and fine, the company of the best quality, and the idea of actually exerting effort grew distasteful as the refreshments continued.

  Barbara Thompson, riding sidesaddle, took position behind Lady Wilder, who, to Delain’s surprise, rode as a man. This gave Delain the excuse to ride astride as well. The trio moved quickly as the path led them deeper into the woods. The sound of their horses’ hooves on the hard turf and the beasts’ labored breathing was all that was heard. Over a small stream, around a large oak, and into deep thicket they went. Though the day was bright, there was much shadow, and the canopy of leaves above blocked out a large portion of the sun. Delain turned to look behind, and a chill ran up her spine. There was a rider following them, a long way back, but she could see that he rode a black steed. Almost upon seeing him, Delain saw the horse and man leave the path and dive straight into the thicket.

  The ladies kept a brisk pace, and the trail narrowed as it made its way up a small rise. As soon as they had reached the top, Lady Wilder halted her mount, and the other horses instinctively stopped.

  “The fox! I see it!” she called

  “Indeed?” asked Barbara.

  “It has just crested the next rise!”

  Delain looked ahead, though she could see no fox. Instead, there were only more trees and brush. She saw that the path split, ascending a slight rise on the left and down through the small ravine on the right. Something, besides the appearance of the Black Rider, was wrong. Surely Lady Wilder was up to something. If I were her, thought Delain, I would try to flee.

  “The path divides here,” said Lady Wilder. “We must split up.”

  “I will go with you, Lady Wilder,” said Delain quickly. She was not about to let this traitor out of her sight.

  “Are you certain?” asked Barbara.

  “Splendid idea, Miss Dowdeswell,” said Lady Wilder. “Barbara, you know the paths well and can proceed alone. The fox was moving toward the old mill. If you take the rightmost way, we can corner the thing, and the trail is easier—and, darling, riding sidesaddle will be slower.”

  “She is correct, Barbara,” added Delain. “We will move faster like this.”

  “Really,” interjected Barbara. However, it was no use.

  “Dear, you are such a prissy one!” laughed Lady Wilder as she sped away. “Meet us at the mill!”

  Delain rallied the filly and was off in pursuit, leaving Barbara alone.

  Prissy? What is wrong with that? Barbara thought. And how will they get to the mill by that path? I know these paths; most of them anyway, and there is no trail connecting their way with mine.

  Feeling somewhat offended, she slowly took her sleek chestnut mare on the path to the right.

  27

  The Torpedo Kérata

  Once the Kérata had cleared the bay of Zadar, Harrison assigned the wheel to Hicks. There was a short instruction period of about five minutes, and then Harrison gave the order to hold her steady and sail due east. There was a slight mountain range in the distance, and after being told to head directly at its peak, Hicks concentrated as hard as he could. He steered for a moment and waited for the result to take effect, and then made other corrections as needed. Though he had never piloted a ship before, the Kérata was steady and maneuverable, and at just less than five knots, there was little that Hicks could do to worsen the situation. Nevertheless, it took all his effort.

  Harrison was now free to attend to Sean. He had instructed Bowman to move the boy into the lower hold and cover him with blankets. Bowman had done well and kept Sean’s leg elevated; he looked as comfortable as one could under the circumstances.

  The little experience Harrison received in the area of medicine and aide was from his observations while assisting various ships’ doctors. During these circumstances he learned some basic techniques of care, including simple remedies for cuts, bruises, splinters—and after battle, more serious procedures that at times included extricating foreign matter from deep tissue. These were bloody, unpleasant affairs. Many men did not fare well. Harrison believed that most of what the doctor did had little or no effect on his patients; however, there were two procedures he took to heart, and they did the most good: keeping the patient warm and elevating the wound.

  Sean had lost a good amount of blood. He lay still and pale, unmoving. Harrison contemplated his friend, one who had been so full of life and humor and goodwill, always one for a laugh, and always one who could be counted upon.

  “Find some salt and tools, any kind,” said Harrison, and Bowman ran to do his bidding.

  Harrison, with a tear appearing in each eye, leaned close to Sean’s face. He rested his head upon the boy’s chest. He couldn’t help but blame himself. He was, after all, responsible for all the crew. And they were good men, especially Sean.

  “Yes,” Harrison said as he sat up, “you are still breathing, and your heart sounds strong.”

  Harrison next inspected the wound. The bullet had gone into Sean’s leg in the thickest part. Luckily, he found the exit hole. That would mean that the round had gone clean through. The issue, however, would be if any cloth had been brought into the boy’s body by the round as it pierced his flesh and made its way out. That could be disastrous. There was only one way to tell: go look for it.

  “Thank God you are asleep, Sean,” said Harrison.

  On deck, the men seemed nervous and anxious, not so much due to their position being on a small yacht and sailing strange waters to
execute a rescue of their crewmates on the Paladin, but more about the condition of their friend, Sean Flagon. Sean had become more than just a marine private aboard one of His Majesty’s vessels; the young Irishman was a part of all their lives. He provided friendship, made them laugh, and was a stout fighter, especially with a blade. Many believed he was a good-luck charm, and a rare one at that, being Irish. It was unusual to see one from that country with any rank beyond that of a seaman. But Sean Flagon, now technically a royally appointed private in the Royal Marines, had single-handedly crippled the French seventy-four Danielle, allowing the Poseidon to locate a vast treasure for England. He had been part of the small band that turned the tide of the war at the Castle of Fire and now had saved the life of their captain. He also was the master of another good-luck charm: Stewie the cat.

  “’E’s our Irish charm, I call ’im,” said Hicks as he steered the Kérata eastward.

  “All of us are lost,” said Welty as he adjusted the bandage that had been wrapped around his head to protect his wound. “Without Flagon, well, why go on? We will fail…if ’e doesn’t make it.”

  Harrison now emerged from the lower hold. All eyes turned to him as he approached the wheel and took control of the ship. Men gathered around their captain, some with hands still clasped together in prayer.

  “We will go on,” said Harrison.

  “We’d been prayin’ ’e would live,” said Welty. “Did we pray ’ard enough?”

  “You did,” said Harrison. “He is still asleep, but he is breathing steadily, and his heart beats strong.”

  The men rejoiced.

  “Now, I am no doctor, but we did find a piece of cloth in his wound. I was able to take it out, and we dressed his leg with salt and lemon, so keep praying, and let’s feed him well. I will need someone to look after him—”

  “I will!” came a chorus from the crew. That made Harrison smile.

  “And I will also need at least one or two of you to assist in the running of this ship. If you all attend to Flagon, I will have my hands full!”

  The men laughed.

  “Then we will take turns!” said Hudson, who proposed a system of watching and caring for Sean based on who had known Flagon the longest being first, second, and so forth.

  “As I have known Sean the longest,” said Hudson, “and have already taken my turn, that would mean that, Hicks, you are the first in line.”

  “Aye, sir!” said Hicks, proudly. “I’m an original Poseidon, I met him on his first day. Was with ’im at Skull Eye Island. Sat next to ’im while he ate bowl after bowl of Steward’s fish stew.”

  “Well, if he could survive that, he will easily recover from this small scrape!” said Harrison, causing a wave of laughter. “Marshall, find something better for him to eat. But do not wake him.”

  “Aye, sir,” came the reply. “Some fish broth.”

  “And also,” added Harrison as he addressed the others. “I noticed something odd as he slept.”

  “What was that, Cap’n?” asked Marshall.

  “He had a gold earring. I never noticed that before.”

  “Sir,” said Welty. “Must have been fer passin’ the equator?”

  “Good luck it is,” added Marshall.

  “Got one myself, sir,” added Bowman.

  “Yes, yes,” said Harrison. “I just never noticed it.”

  Harrison now assigned duties to the crew, broke them into two watches of twelve hours each, and had them scour the ship to locate maps, arms, string, rope, and any other devices that could aid them in their quest. Finally, alone with his thoughts, the crew busy and relieved, he began to consider his options. He called for Hudson, and they plotted together as they sat on the few crates present at the stern.

  “Certainly, we could just sail about, hoping to find the Paladin, but then what?” asked Hudson.

  “Somehow,” said Harrison, “we must recapture her, which is my first choice, or at least rescue the crew. That is my duty.”

  “Knowing Mister Moore,” said Hudson, “he would be hatching his own plan. He’s not one to sit back and let things play out.”

  “You are right,” said Harrison. “He will want to be moving the pieces. We will need to be ready to decipher whatever his course of action may be and supplement it.”

  “So, what are the possibilities and movin’ parts? What do we know?” asked Hudson.

  “Well, whoever took the ship, be it Turks or Russians, would be outnumbered by the Englishmen,” said Harrison. “They would have to deplete their own crews to keep control on the Echo, that cruiser we saw, and the Paladin—at least until they arrive in a home port and take on more of their own.”

  “And there would be other ships, possibly enemies of Britain that would be in those waters,” said Hudson. “Do you think the war has started in earnest once again?”

  “It very well may have. And either way, it would be best to continue sailing without a flag for that reason. Eventually, though, we must find a way to signal Jonathan. We have no Saint George aboard. He will not know the Kérata. He needs to know we are his friends.”

  Hudson thought for a moment, as did Harrison. What could Jonathan see that would tell him the Kérata was not only a friendly but, specifically, was manned by Harrison and the remainder of the Paladin’s crew? There must be some way.

  “I think I have it!” said Hudson.

  Harrison smiled, as he too realized the one and only signal, developed by Jonathan himself, that would be instantly recognizable.

  “Does it have to do with Miss Delain Dowdeswell?” asked Harrison.

  “It does!” said the marine, laughing.

  “You will have to find a way to fashion that flag out of something,” Harrison said with a laugh.

  “Aye, sir,” said Hudson. “If I may ask, what do we do after we signal Jonathan and the Paladin?”

  “Unfortunately, we would need to attack it, and then Jonathan, Jenkins, Garvey, and the rest could join the battle on our side.”

  “But what of the Echo?” asked Hudson. “What if she was nearby? If they don’t recognize us as friendlies, they may attack us.”

  “Hopefully, whatever ship our friends are on will know we are friendly and will mutiny. If the Englishmen aboard the other ship notice, they will likely do the same. They will not fire upon us.”

  “And the cruiser?” asked Sergeant Hudson. “Her thirty-six guns will most likely be manned by enemy crews.”

  Harrison hadn’t thought of that. He pondered the possibility, wondering how he could somehow disarm a ship five times his size—one bristling with guns. He had a few muskets and fewer swords. He would not be able to take any ship, let alone disarm any vessel with those mere resources.

  “We must think of something,” said Harrison.

  “What if Mister Moore’s plan is simply to disappear, swimming ashore and making his way home?” asked Hudson.

  “That doesn’t sound like Jonathan Moore,” said Harrison. “He would never leave his crewmen, his brothers. No, Jonathan would plan to take the ship back and sail home.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Hudson.

  “Sergeant, we have the beginnings of a plan,” said Harrison, standing. “Let us think on it and find a way to turn the odds in our favor. We are but a half day behind them, and my guess is that they will sail Marmara and maybe even the Black Sea. We will check all the ports; we will have eyes in all directions. They took these ships for a reason, and it is not to break them up for firewood. They will use them, they will fight with them, and that will be easy to see—and hear of. We will ask in every town if we must.”

  “We will find a way, Captain,” added Hudson.

  The Kérata continued on, sailing all through the night and into the next day. Captain Harrison continued to instruct Hicks on maneuvering. The marine was surely willing to learn, and though almost petrified most of the time, he did exactly what he was told to do, and that suited Harrison’s purposes. After two days’ sailing, Hicks was almost like a secon
d pair of hands, and Harrison thought that soon he would teach him some actual tactics, instead of just calling commands to the man every few minutes.

  Harrison had men positioned permanently on lookout all about the ship and up in the tops. There was no proper crow’s nest, but the Kérata had adequate rigging, and Everett was placed as high as he could climb, eyes in search of sails, preferably sails of a two-masted sloop with raked masts.

  The Kérata was actually a well-made double-masted yacht, maybe half the size of the Paladin, with smooth lines, relatively new sailcloth, and even some rope for tightening stays to achieve a little extra speed. Though they had no board to throw aside, Harrison was well known for his ability to gauge the speed of a ship by sight alone. After a time, he announced to the small crew that they had exceeded six knots. Not enough to overtake the Paladin or even the Echo in a race, but enough to outrun that big, lumbering cruiser, and that offered some comfort to the men.

  The crew had found a few useful items in the holds of the Kérata Vátrachos and brought them to Harrison. Most useful was a map of the Black Sea, including ports, islands, and even a detailed chart of the Strait of Bosphorus. Along with Harrison’s sextant that he had taken from the jetsam at Zadar, he could now navigate. A good amount of lumber was also found. It had obviously been used to begin the creation of a bed and cabinets for the lower cabin where Sean now lay. Various tools also were located that were common on sailing vessels: awls, axes, small saws, and a tiny bit of extra cloth.

  Toward the afternoon of the second day came the surprising and sudden appearance of Bowman on deck, escorting a slightly wobbly Sean Flagon, who held his cat, stroking the animal’s fur lovingly. Sean was led to a small wooden box, whereupon he sat, with difficulty, put the cat down on deck, and propped his leg up on the edge of a crate. He saluted Harrison.