The Dark Secret of Josephine rb-5

by Dennis Wheatley

  Slowly the pirate surveyed Georgina from feet to head, taking in her fine figure, lovely heart-shaped face, big dark eyes and the abundant ringlets that fell about her shoulders, then he muttered:

  "By the Holy Blood, you're a handsome enough piece to tempt any man. I'm mighty flattered, Mam, to have made such a conquest."

  Her eyes were unnaturally bright and her voice had a slightly hysterical note as she replied: "You may disabuse yourself of that belief. I offer myself only because, my husband having been killed this morning, I care not what becomes of me."

  "Since that is so, you'll keep a while," he grinned, "and I’ll lose nothing by waiting my turn for you when we get ashore. But this chit here is a different kettle offish. Do I not take her now, some other may forestall me."

  Turning away, he seized Clarissa by the arm and dragged her to her feet.

  Lucette had been staring in amazement and with a new respect at Georgina. Now, grabbing at Joao's arm as he pulled Clarissa up, she exclaimed:

  "Shrew me! But you must be fitted only for a mad-house. To persist in this rather than accept all that so well-endowed a woman as the Countess has to offer—and that of her free will—is nothing short of lunacy."

  "Enough of your interference!" he roared, and letting Clarissa go he swung round upon her. Next second his fist shot out. It caught Lucette squarely beneath the jaw. Her head snapped back, her body hovered for an instant, then she crashed full length upon the deck.

  For a moment he stood cursing her still form obscenely. Then, grasping Clarissa's wrist, he cried: "Now, my little beauty, we'll to your cabin and see all you have still to show under what's left of that mermaid's dress."

  "Hi there! Not so fast," a deep voice boomed in English, and Bloggs shouldered his way out from among the spectators.

  Being ignorant of the language, Joao gave him an expressionless stare, then turned to Georgina and asked: "What says this fellow?"

  With new hope that Clarissa might yet be saved Georgina threw a glance of appeal at Bloggs, and cried: "If you can prevent this awful thing that is about to happen God will surely reward you. I implore you to speak out in that sense—even if it was not that you had in mind."

  Instinctively touching his forelock, Bloggs replied: "May it please your Ladyship, one o' my mates 'ere, Jake Harris, by name, speaks a bit o' the Creole lingo. 'E 'eard the skipper wot captured we say particular to Miss Lucette as 'ow she should 'ave a good care of the ladies. That bein' so, it seems to we that she's in the right of it, an' this skull-faced swab is actin' contry to orders about the young missy.".

  "Bless you!" exclaimed Georgina, and gave Joao a swift translation; adding on her own account: "So you'd best have a care. These men threaten to raise the whole crew in mutiny against you."

  "They would not dare," snapped Joao. "Do they but raise a finger and I'll have them both strung up to the yard arms within ten minutes. Tell them that; and that the decisions of a Captain in his ship are no man's business but his own."

  This time it was Jake who gave Bloggs a rough translation. Having done so, he added: "I'll allow 'e's right in that, Ephraim. Anyways 'tis not our quarrel. Do 'e choose to have 'is will of the wench 'e'll not be answerable to we, but to 'is Frenchy master."

  Georgina's heart sank; but Bloggs still stood his ground, and muttered aggressively: "Maybe; yet that's not all. Miss Lucette did no more than 'er plain duty. She be a foine woman, an' I've taken a great fancy to she. I'll not stand by and see she handled so by any dago—be 'e or be ‘e not captain o' the ship. Nay, do 'e now give 'im fair warning, Jake. Dost 'e bash 'er down agin, I'll serve 'e as I served Cap'n Cummins."

  Joao's blow had knocked Lucette out. While the altercation was proceeding she had remained sprawled motionless upon her back; but now she groaned, half raised herself, looked dully round and put a hand to her aching jaw. As her eyes fell on Joao they suddenly lit with a return of consciousness. Scrambling to her knees, she made to draw her pistol from her sash.

  The pirate had not understood a word of Bloggs's last utterance, neither had Jake yet had time to translate his warning. On catching sight of Lucette's movement, quite unaware of the possible results of his act, he gave her a vicious kick in the ribs which sent her over sideways. Then, turning to Pedro the Carib, who was standing nearby, he snapped:

  "Have that coffee-coloured bitch disarmed and thrown into the chain locker."

  Bloggs took this new brutality as a deliberate challenge. His broad face suddenly became suffused with blood and his eyes flashed murder. Seized in the paroxysm of one of his ungovernable rages, he wrenched his cutlass from its sheath and rushed upon Joao.

  Instantly pandemonium broke out among the entire ship's com­pany. Up to that moment the prize crew, Bloggs's fellow mutineers, and the Porto Ricans had all been mingled together, cheerfully fraternizing. Now, every man in the crowd of thirty or so cast a swift, apprehensive glance at his neighbours, sprang away to get nearer others of his own people or plant his back against some solid object; and every man of them reached for a weapon.

  For a moment it seemed certain that a most bloody affray was imminent. It was Jake who saved the situation. Raising his voice above the din of trampling feet, threats and curses, he cried in English:

  "Steady mates! There's no sense in our all cutting each other's throats. What is the mulatto woman to us, or the young missy either? Hold on, I say! Stand back, and let these two bully-boys fight the matter out between them."

  Lucette had staggered to her feet and, knowing enough English to understand the tenor of Jake's shouts, promptly backed him up by yelling to the Creole-speaking prize crew: "Put up your weapons. This is no quarrel with the Circe's men! Joao has brought a duel - upon himself. Give them the deck to have at one another. Form a ring now, and let the best man win."

  Joao meanwhile lost no time in defending himself. By springing aside he evaded Bloggs's first murderous slash. Whipping out his own cutlass he parried Bloggs's second cut, and now they were at: it hammer and tongs, the steel of their blades striking sparks from one another, as they clashed, clanged and slithered in swift give and take.

  Recognizing sound sense in the shouted appeals of Jake and Lucette the polyglot crowd of seamen took their hands from their knives and pistols and drew back, forming a wide ring to give ample space for the furious combat. For a few moments they watched it with bated breath, then some of them began to shout bets upon its outcome.

  Bloggs was obviously the stronger and weightier of the two, but Joao was the taller by three inches and had the longer reach. He, too, was by far the better blade, as years of fighting had made him ex­tremely proficient in the handling of a cutlass, whereas Bloggs was untutored in the art and could only hope to break down the other's guard by his great strength; yet he had one advantage, for he was sober while Joao was three-parts drunk.

  At first they seemed so well matched that either might prove the victor, and their respective backers would give no more than evens. But as Joao skilfully parried cut after cut and Bloggs began to pant like a grampus, it became clear that if the pirate could tire his antagonist out he would have him at his mercy.

  Stamping, whirling, lunging and slashing, they careered round and round, the bright light of the moon making their every movement as clear to the spectators as if the fight had been taking place in day­time. Both were now gasping from their exertions and rivulets of sweat were running down their faces. As the minutes passed and Bloggs still failed to get a blow home the betting began to go against nun. Soon, three, four and five to one was being offered on Joao.

  Roger could not see the fight, as a group of seamen blocked his view of it, and, as his ankles were still tied, he could not leave the bench; but from the beginning he had been praying with all his might that Bloggs would emerge victorious. So, too, had Georgina, yet her heart began to sink as she saw that Bloggs's blows were losing some of their former strength, and that he seemed near exhaustion.

  Suddenly, it occurred to her to run in and s
eize Joao's sword arm from behind. Next moment she darted forward, but Pedro the Carib grabbed a handful of her curls and jerked her back. As she fell in a tumbled heap at his feet the pain of the wrench on her hair caused her to give a piercing scream. It was at that moment the end came with unexpected suddenness.

  Joao, well aware that he was carrying a load of liquor, had had the sense to keep to the centre of the deck, moving his feet only when compelled and letting Bloggs circle round him. Just as Georgina screamed Bloggs had reached the limit of his powers to continue battling without pause. Stepping back a couple of paces, he lowered his cutlass, hunched his great shoulders and drew a sobbing breath. Joao, his eyes glinting with ferocious triumph, sprang forward to administer the coup de grace; but the rum had robbed him of his sense of balance. On landing he stumbled and lurched sideways. Before he could recover Bloggs brought up his cutlass in a swift horizontal stroke. It slashed the pirate to the bone through the muscle of his right arm.

  With a scream of agony Joao dropped his weapon and staggered back. Bloggs promptly put his foot on the blade, but made no move to go in and finish Joao off. Seeing that he did not intend to do so, Lucette left the dais, on the edge of which she had been standing, and walked forward to confront the wounded man.

  An evil smile played about the corners of her full mouth as she stood there gloating for a moment, then she said: "Well, Captain Mondego, you cannot complain that you have not been given fair play. I could have shot you in the back any time within the past ten minutes; but I observed the rules and refrained. Now I am glad of that. Custom decrees that a defeated captain is fair game for anyone who has a score to settle with him, and it will give me special pleasure to obliterate your repulsive face."

  Stark terror showed in Joao's eyes. Blood was gushing from the terrible wound in his arm on to the deck, and he was already weaken­ing from its loss. Lurching to one side, he made an effort to lug his pistol from his belt with his left hand. Before he could get it out, Lucette had drawn hers from her sash and pointed it at him. There came a flash and a loud report. The bullet struck him in the mouth. His face blackened by the powder and spurting blood he fell sprawling at her feet.

  No one in the crowd made any protest, or even showed surprise at her callous deed. They simply stood round in silence while Joao lay there squirming; until, with a light shrug of her shoulders, she turned to Pedro and said:

  "Have him flung over the side to feed the sharks."

  The Carib had her order carried out with alacrity and it now became apparent that with Joao's death she had become the dominant personality in the ship. Marching up to the still panting Bloggs she publicly embraced him, kissed him heartily on both cheeks and thanked him in a mixture of French and broken English, then she pushed the pleased but embarrassed quartermaster before her up on to the dais. When Pedro had seen Joao's body overboard she beckoned him up to stand on her other side and, with an arm thrown casually round each of the men's necks, addressed the crew:

  "As M. le Vicomte's trusted representative it is within my powers to appoint a successor to Joao de Mondego; but I want no jealousy or discontent aboard. Therefore I will give you a choice. Here are two good men both of proved courage. To him you choose I shall expect all to give implicit obedience."

  Pausing she turned to Jake and told him to translate what she had said into English; then, when he had done, she added: "Now which will you have as your temporary Captain?"

  The shouts for Bloggs and Pedro seemed about equal in number; so a count of hands had to be taken. As was to be expected the pirates were solid for Pedro and the Circe's English mutineers for Bloggs; but the Porto Ricans were divided, and as they were closer by blood and language to the Carib most ot them voted for him, so by a majority of five he was elected. Bloggs shook him by the hand, to show he harboured no ill feelings, and Lucette slapped him heartily on the back; then she announced that Bloggs would act as Lieutenant. Two minutes later the crowd began to break up. Pedro had the man at the wheel relieved and appointed look-outs for the night, while Bloggs had Roger untied and, having escorted the prisoners to their quarters, posted a guard on the entrance to the after cabins.

  For the time being their terrible ordeal was over, but they were all too played out even to discuss it. Still fearful that Marlinspike Joe or some other drunken ruffian might attempt to break in on one of the women during the night, they decided that it would be safer for them all to sleep in the big saloon; so they dragged their mattresses and a few coverings there, and lay down in a row still fully dressed.

  From soon after dawn they had been subject to acute anxiety and the strain of the past few hours had been almost beyond endurance. Nature took charge and within a few minutes every one of them was deep in the sleep of complete exhaustion; yet their last waking thoughts had been as harrowing as the worst of nightmares. Lucette's loyalty to her French master, and Bloggs's rage at Joao's treatment of her, had gained them a respite from horrors even to think of which made them feel physically sick—but only a respite. They knew now that, short of a miracle, within the next few days they must suffer utter degradation.

  chapter VIII

  A MIDNIGHT MARRIAGE

  When they woke it was near midday. Their fatigue had been so great that they had slept the clock round. As each of them slowly roused to consciousness they could hardly believe that they had not awakened from some appalling dream, but realization that they were lying on the deck of the big after cabin brought home to them the awful truth. Georgina was stricken anew by the knowledge that her beloved Charles was dead, and burst into heart-rending sobs. It was the sound of her weeping that fully roused the others, and sitting up they gazed woefully about them.

  As soon as Roger moved his head began to pain him again, but now the wound ached only dully; and, apart from the fact that his mouth was as parched as a cinder pit, he felt moderately well. On getting up he found that he could walk quite steadily, and going to the table he took a swig of wine from one of the half-empty bottles that was standing on it. As he did so he noticed that the debris of the previous night's meal had been removed and that other items now littered it. Evidently Lucette and her officers had breakfasted there, but any noise they had made while doing so had been insufficient to arouse the prisoners from their sleep of exhaustion.

  Jenny had left her mattress and was once more attempting to console Georgina. Amanda and Clarissa were both sitting up and staring before them, their faces pictures of misery. After one quick glance, Roger looked away from them. He ached to say something that would cheer them but could not think of any possible opening which might do so. Never before had he wished himself dead, but now he felt that Charles had been luckier than himself. With an effort he said:

  "Come, a wash would freshen us all up; and there's enough food here for us to make a scratch meal afterwards."

  Silently they accepted his suggestion. Georgina found evidence in her cabin that Lucette must have slept there; so with Jenny's help she moved her toilet things and some of her clothes into one of the spare cabins. By the time they returned to the saloon the others were all seated round the table. Their cabins had showed no traces of intruders; Roger had had a shave and Amanda looked considerably less haggard with her face made up. Clarissa's resilient youth had already obliterated all signs of her previous night's distress, and Jenny's robust health made her look better than she was feeling. Georgina's beautiful eyes were bleary and she had not attempted to remove from her face the ravages that grief had made upon it; but at least she had ceased weeping and again had full control of herself. Nevertheless, as they helped themselves to the food, and ate a little of it mechanically, depression weighed upon them so heavily that none of them felt capable of making conversation, until Clarissa electrified her companions by remarking:

  "I'll not deny that I was near scared to death last night by that hideous fellow's designs upon me; yet all the same I incline to think that being raped is nothing near so terrible an experience as it is painted."
r />   "Clarissa!" exclaimed Amanda in a shocked voice. "How can you speak with such immodesty? And before Roger, too."

  Georgina gave a weary tight-lipped travesty of a smile, then observed cynically to Amanda, "Is it not a little late, m'dear, to suppose that Roger has any illusions left about the nature of women. Nothing she can say is likely to make him think better or worse of the sex. Besides, as rape is the only subject upon which any of us have brought our­selves to utter this morning, surely it is better that we should discuss it rather than continue to sit here in dreary silence." Then, turning to Clarissa, she added: "Now child, let us hear the reason for this belief of yours."

  "'Tis based upon what a friend of mine once told me at the young ladies' Academy which I attended," Clarissa replied. "She was of French descent and her grandmother had the misfortune to be caught by the Prussians during the Seven Years' War. It so chanced that my friend was playing one day near a summer-house in which her mother and grandmother were talking of that campaign. She distinctly re­members having heard her mother say, 'I cannot think, Mamma, how you survived that brutal assault. The first attentions of a husband are bad enough, but to be raped by a total stranger would drive most women into a mad-house.' At that time my friend did not understand what was meant by the word rape, but when she learned it she recalled this conversation and her grandmother's reply."

  Clarissa's cheeks suddenly coloured up, and casting down her eyes she hesitated before going on, until Georgina asked: "Well, what did the grandmother say?"

  In a small voice, still looking down, Clarissa answered: "She said: 'My dear, you should realize that there is nothing unnatural about rape, and that until historical times it was normally every female's first experience of physical love. Therefore, providing she can save her face by appearing to have had no alternative but to submit, any sensible woman will shut her eyes, lie back and endeavour to imagine herself the bride of a cave-man lover.'"