Bold Surrender

by Judith E. French

  Chapter 22

  Cannon roared as bar and chain shot whirred through the air to cut the merchant vessel's rigging. Forward, Ashley saw the dwarf, Cato, manning a swivel gun with the aid of a half-grown boy. Cannon fire from the square-rigged brigantine had dwindled to a sporadic volley as the deck became a morass of tangled line and canvas.

  The shrill pitch of an officer's whistle mingled with the screams of fallen men and the crack of a breaking mast. The merchant ship shuddered as she took the full shock of a broadside, bringing a rousing cheer from the crew of the Scarlet Witch. Before the shouts subsided, a second swivel gun on the elevated poop raked the deck of the brigantine with musket balls. The sounds were deafening. Ashley shut her eyes and put her hands over her ears.

  Gavin grabbed Ashley and shook her. "Coward!" he taunted. "Where's all that bravado now?" Letting go of her shoulders, he wound her single braid around his fist until her head was bent back at an unnatural angle. "Get below with your father, then," he growled. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you—not just yet." He shoved her aft toward the quarterdeck. "Prepare to board!" he shouted to his men. "No quarter!"

  Ashley ducked through the wooden doors and down the steps. Her heart was racing and her breath coming in frightened gasps. Gavin was a madman! She'd be better off dead than in his hands. To be touched by him... violated... No, by God! She'd see him in hell first. If she had to die in the process, so be it. Anger began to replace the numbing fear she had felt on deck. Why should she be afraid of dying? She had seen hell, smelled the fire and brimstone, and stood in the arms of Satan himself.

  Quincy's eyes were closed when she entered the master's cabin. His breathing was faint but regular. The bandage was bloodstained, but no worse than before. Ashley sank into a chair beside her father and tried to block out the sounds of battle above. There seemed to be nothing to do now but wait—and waiting was never a thing she did well.

  She had lost all track of time when suddenly there was a tremendous shock and a grinding noise. She jumped to her feet, realizing that the cannon fire had ceased.

  "We're boarding," Quincy murmured.

  Ashley looked up, unable to suppress a shudder. "He's going to murder them all. I heard him give the order. No quarter."

  "Try not to think of it." Quincy grimaced in pain and shifted his hip. "Water."

  Ashley poured him some and held the cup to his lips. "Is the pain bad?"

  "Ahhh," he sighed. "I've felt better... and worse." He forced a thin smile. "You're a good chess player, Ashley. You can beat him if you use your head."

  "We've got to get you to a doctor."

  "Stop it." Quincy's eyes darkened with anger. "No games between us. Not now." He took a deep breath and pulled himself up on an elbow. "If I haven't bled to death by now, I probably won't. That's means I may have a little longer." He motioned toward the sea chest. "Look in the bottom. There's a little rosewood box with ivory elephants on the top." Ashley went to the chest. "Beneath the clothing. Yes, that's it. Inside is a gift for your mother. I want you to give it to her if you can."

  Ashley opened the rosewood box. Wrapped in dark blue velvet was a shimmering gold necklace bearing a single square-cut emerald mounted against a frame of tiny diamonds. "Oh," Ashley said. "It's beautiful."

  "Gavin doesn't know I have it. He thinks I lost it in a card game in St. Mary's. Otherwise it wouldn't still be in the chest. Hide it somewhere. No, wait," Quincy said. "Give it here." He took the necklace and shoved it down into his breeches. "If I don't run too far, it shouldn't fall out. There's more jewelry in the bottom. Put something else in the box in case he gets curious in the next twenty-four hours."

  Quickly she replaced the box and closed the lid of the chest. A woman's scream filtered down from the deck above and Ashley paled. "Was it always like this?" she asked her father bitterly.

  "Hold your tongue, girl. I'll not be judged by you. What debts I have accumulated will soon come due in a higher court." Quincy's voice softened. "The penalty for rape among my crew was death—delivered by my own hand. Gavin must answer for his own crimes." He raised an eyebrow. "What of your Scotsman? Has he asked for your hand in marriage?"

  Ashley nodded. "I refused him."

  "You don't love him?"

  "What right have you to ask me these questions?" she demanded. "You can't start playing father after all these years."

  "Do you love him?"

  "Yes. I love him," she snapped. "I love him. Are you satisfied?"

  "It's not me who has to be satisfied, Ashley, but you. Marry him, if he'll have you. Try and make a normal life for yourself while you can. It's no good alone. I know... I've tried it."

  "He'll not have me now,, so there's no sense worrying about it, is there?" Ashley went to the porthole and stared out at the churning water. When she had left Kelt in his room under Thomas's gun, she had lost any chance of their working things out. And without Kelt, even Morgan's Fancy didn't seem to matter.

  She turned back toward Quincy with steel in her eyes. "I can't stay down here like a rat in a hole," she said. "I've got to try and help them." Ignoring his protests, she hurried topside again.

  Crewmen were just cutting away the lines that held the merchant vessel fast to the Witch. The deck of the captured ship was still. Bodies lay where they had fallen and there was no sign of life. On the quarter deck she saw an elderly woman, arms flung out, head lolling to one side like a broken doll.

  "You shouldn't be here," a high, distorted voice rasped. Cato took hold of Ashley's arm and began to pull her back toward the quarterdeck. "They got the bloodlust on 'em," he warned. "And she"—he motioned toward the sinking ship—"she were carryin' rum."

  Ashley recoiled from the dwarf's touch. His hands were black with powder and something wet and sticky.

  "Yer just like the other women, ain't ye?" He laughed. "But they's others worse than Cato." He lowered his massive head and peered at her through bloodshot pig-eyes. "Be he still alive? Cap'n McCade?"

  She nodded. "He's hurt bad."

  "That's why Mister Gavin took on the brigantine, ye know. Some was fer him and some still fer Gentleman Jim. We all fight t'gether fer booty. We don' fight each other." He cackled deep in his throat. "Not yet, we don'." He brought his face so close to Ashley's that she could smell his foul breath. "When the cap'n dies, you and me, we ain't worth that." He snapped his fingers. "Now, you get below, girl, lest you want to die like that old woman, wi' yer legs in the air." He hefted his battle ax. "I'll foller t' watch yer back and do what I kin fer Gentleman Jim."

  Ashley looked back at the brigantine. She was floundering in the waves as water poured through the holes blasted by cannonballs. The coming storm would soon sink her. For a long moment she stared at the ship, offering a prayer for the souls she would carry to the bottom with her. Then Cato's impatient tugging at her arm drew her back to her own danger. The sounds of drunken revelry from the crew gave proof to his warning. Resolutely she stiffened her shoulders and hurried back to her dying father.

  * * *

  Darkness had wrapped the Scarlet Witch in a mantle of driving rain and howling wind when Ashley felt the motion of the ship alter abruptly. Quincy raised his head and looked at the dwarf slumped against the cabin hatch. Cato nodded. Both had caught the sound of the anchor line feeding out. Ashley went to the brass-bound window, but nothing except driving rain was, visible through the thick panes of bullseye glass.

  "What's happening?" she asked.

  "We're anchored," Quincy said. "I wondered how long he'd try to run before the storm." He glanced at the dwarf for confirmation. "Blind Man's Creek?"

  Cato nodded. "I heard him gi' the order."

  Quincy sighed. "'Twas a neat bit of sailing to bring her into the creek in this wind. I'm glad Gavin learned something I tried to teach him in all these years."

  "Where are we?" Ashley asked. "I've not heard the name."

  "On the Eastern Shore." Quincy motioned toward the desk. "There's a chart in the drawer. It sho
uld be on top. Yes, that's it, girl. Bring it here." He pointed to a spot on the map. "There. Blind Man's Creek lies between this point and this spot here."

  "But there's no creek on the map," Ashley said.

  Cato laughed and spit on the blade of his ax, polishing it with the corner of his shirt.

  Quincy grinned. "Would it be likely that it would be? The creek mouth opens thusly." He drew an imaginary line in the air with his index finger. "You must bring the ship in toward the beach, toward what looks like a wooded beach, then cut hard to the starboard. The channel is deep, but leaves no more than a fathom on either side of the ship. The creek makes a sharp dogleg, then widens out beyond the trees."

  "Hiding the ship from any passing vessels on the bay," Ashley said.

  "Exactly. I wouldn't bring the Witch here in winter." Quincy took another sip of rum. A flush had replaced the ashen hue of his skin, and his eyes glowed with unnatural brightness. "The creek's not wide enough to sail her far inland. But any season you have foliage on the trees, a ship's invisible from the water."

  "And what of the land?" she demanded. Her hands were gentle as she changed the dressing on his wound. That, too, had reddened around the edges. The bleeding had almost stopped, but she knew that what Quincy had said was true. A man could not live long with such damage to his vitals. She tried to keep her voice from betraying the awful sense of hopelessness that threatened to drain her will. "What's to say you wouldn't be sighted by a hunter or a farmer searching for a lost cow?"

  "Not flamin' likely," the dwarf said. "There's a thick wood an' marsh a'hind thet. Sand that'll suck a man down and leave nary a trace." He shook his ponderous head. "A safe harbor t' ride out a storm, or lay low 'til the sea is clear."

  "I don't know if—"

  The door swung open and Ashley twisted about to meet Gavin's rapacious scrutiny. "Still above water, are you, Quincy?"

  Ashley glanced back at her father and a chill passed through her as she witnessed the transformation of Quincy's face from the features of a courtly gentleman to the granite mask of a stranger.

  "Have you come to finish it, Gavin?" Quincy's low voice was edged with steel.

  Gavin braced his muscular legs against the roll of the ship and laid his huge right hand over the butt of the flintlock pistol jammed under his wide leather belt. In his left hand he carried a cutlass, and the spotted cowhide strap that ran diagonally across his bare chest bore a second pistol and an ivory-handled dagger. Two days' beard marred the classic square chin and the full, curving lips. His white-blond hair was held back from his face with a strip of red and white cloth, and a gold earring dangled from one ear.

  "Only a coward would harm a helpless man," Ashley cried, stepping between Gavin and her father.

  "Who said anything about harming a man?" Gavin's blue-green eyes reflected the gleam of the light from the whale-oil lamp. His slightly slurred speech gave evidence of his lack of sobriety. "I'll not harm a hair on Quince's head—not if he tells me what I want to know." He smiled with his lips. "And even if he doesn't..."

  "Leave her out of this," Quincy warned. "No one knows where the treasure lies but me and Cato. And you know he'll tell you nothing."

  "A man can be persuaded to talk," Gavin suggested. "Even you, Quince, if offered the right reward."

  "Abuse my daughter and I'll feed your guts to the crabs before your living eyes." Quincy fought to a sitting position. "By God, I will, Gavin! If I have to come back from hell to do it."

  "You can try, old man."

  "Leave 'im be," Cato growled. "There's men topside who won't stand for that kind of talk," the dwarf reminded them. "They followed Gentleman Jim too many years to see what belongs to him boarded." He blocked Gavin's path with his hulkish body and raised the ax. "It goes against the grain, Mr. Gavin. You kin see thet, can't ya? Even the brotherhood has laws. We don't feed on our own."

  "No?" Gavin's eyes narrowed. "What if I give you seconds? How long has it been since you've had a woman free of the runnin' pox? Or any woman at all?"

  Cato's mouth hung open and his eyes widened. Hesitantly he took a step toward Gavin.

  Bile rose in Ashley's throat. "Stop it," she shouted. Black spots danced before her eyes as fear turned her muscles to water and her sanity wavered. This couldn't be happening to her! "Hold your filthy tongue," she said. "What kind of man are you?"

  "A man who's waited too many years for what's rightly his," he answered bitterly. "And one who's hungry for a tender bit of woman."

  Ashley leaned over her father. "To hell with the treasure," she whispered. "Tell him where it is, Quincy." She glanced back at Gavin. "Maybe he'll take it and go."

  "She's talkin' sense," Gavin said. "Make up your mind before we drag you out of that bunk and throw her in it."

  "Ye'd let me hav' a bit?" Cato asked, running his tongue over his lips. "Yer not lyin' t' me?" The dwarf moved closer. "Yaaaa!" Giving a wild cry, he swung the ax at the blond corsair's midsection.

  Gavin sidestepped the blow, tossed the cutlass from one hand to the other, and brought the cutlass down with such force that it severed Cato's head from his shoulders. Ashley let out a sob and turned away, covering her eyes with her hands. There was a dull thud as the dwarf's lifeless body fell to the deck.

  Gavin looked down at the growing pool of gore. "A pity," he said. "I'd planned to drown him in a keg of rum. The men were taking bets on how long he'd kick." He nudged Cato's body with the toe of his shoe. "Damned abomination. I should have done it long ago."

  "Let her go free and I'll lead you to the treasure," Quincy offered. "You don't need her."

  Gavin shook his head and grinned. "I don't let go of what's mine 'til I'm done with it. You'll tell me what I want to know or every man jack on this ship will have the use of her—including the boatswain's pretty boy. And I'll make certain you get to watch."

  With a curse, Quincy struggled to his feet and forced himself erect. Sweat broke out on his face and the bandage turned to red. "Stay away from her," he said. "Ashley, behind me, girl." From the sleeve of his shirt a small dagger appeared. Swaying slightly, Quincy dropped into a fighting stance, the knife in his hand.

  Gavin whipped the pistol from his belt and leveled it at Quincy. "You son of a bitch! I'll blow you to hell," he swore.

  Quincy jabbed at him with the knife and the lieutenant brought the barrel of the flintlock down across the captain's temple. Quincy dropped like a stone. Gavin reached for Ashley and she fled to the far corner of the room, seizing an inkwell and heaving it at his head. Gavin ducked the inkwell, then caught a wine goblet full in the face. He grabbed Ashley's arm, slammed her up against the wall, and ground his mouth against hers.

  She struck at his face with her free hand and tried to bring her knee up to strike him in the groin. Ignoring her, blows, Gavin ran his hand over her breasts and squeezed her viciously. She cried out and went limp in a feigned faint. Cursing, he shook her by the shoulders, then picked her up and carried her toward the bunk. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed the empty rum bottle. The instant he laid her down on the bed, her hand shot out, seized the bottle, and slammed it against his head.

  Ashley clenched her eyes shut as a shower of glass rained around her. Gavin groaned and fell forward on top of her. Shoving him aside, she scrambled off the bunk and ran toward the door. For a heartbeat she hesitated and looked back at her father's prone body on the floor. He hadn't moved. Was he dead? Gavin groaned again, compelling her to action. Ashley snatched the pistol from the floor and fled from the cabin, running so swiftly down the passageway that the bearded guard in front of the powder magazine door was unable to stop her.

  Up the ladder and out onto the deck she ran, almost into the arms of a drunken buccaneer. He threw out his arms to seize her, but she kicked him as hard as she could in the knee, dodged sideways, and ran for the railing. Wind shook the masts and rain beat against Ashley, soaking her to the skin. A shadowy figure loomed ahead of her in the darkness and she turned and ran back the other way
.

  "Don't let her get away!"

  "Stop her!"

  Gavin's command rang above the wind as Ashley scrambled over the rail. She couldn't make out the shore, but it didn't matter. Even drowning was better than staying aboard the Witch. A hand closed over her shoulder and dragged her back, lifting her into the air. Instinctively she raised the pistol and pulled the trigger point-blank. The only sound was the click of the trigger. Misfire. Desperately she squeezed again just before something slammed her down against the deck.

  Gavin's face hovered over hers. "You bitch!" he shouted. "I'll—" His words were drowned in the roar of a cannon. Suddenly the air was thick with falling canvas and rope. Something heavy hit the deck only inches from her head. Ashley curled into a ball and covered her head with her hands.

  The clang of metal against wood and shrill whistles sounded from both starboard and port sides of the ship. Ashley lifted her head cautiously to peer through the falling rain and saw a man's head appear over the rail of the ship. Screams of fallen men and musket shots filtered back from the bow of the ship. Within seconds it was evident to Ashley that the Scarlet Witch was under attack from all sides. She had barely gotten to her feet when the shock of a collision between the schooner and what must be another vessel threw her to the deck again.

  A grappling hook flew over the side and two more men climbed over the rail. One was struck almost at once with a pike, screamed, and tumbled back into the water. The second man dropped to one knee and fired a pistol into the darkness. A scream testified to the accuracy of his blind aim.

  Ashley began to crawl toward the quarterdeck, keeping her head low. Between the driving rain, the tangle of canvas and fallen yards, and the fighting men, it was almost impossible to go more than a few feet at a time. When she was close enough to make out the wooden doors that led to the passageway below, she got to her feet and made a dash for the opening.

  "Ashley Morgan!"