"God, he's down there! She has him!"
His hand fell hard on my shoulder, keeping me from going right over. "Steady on, Coz. Look at this carefully first before you go charging in."
"Your light-hold it up so they know you've come."
"All right, but I'll remind you they might want to blow my head off."
"I don't think so... yes, that's it! That's stirred them, they're moving about, pointing up at us."
"They'll recognize you."
"Hardly-all they can really see is your light and perhaps some silhouettes, y'know. That's why she wanted us to carry lanterns. Hah! One of 'em has a dark lantern, he's opening it
"Yes, I see it swinging, a signal for me I suppose. Hope to God it is them and not a pack of smugglers going at cross purposes with us."
The others came up with Elizabeth in the lead. "Is it Richard? Is it?"
Oliver looked over his shoulder to her. "I can't see him, but Jonathan can. Stay back now."
"Is he all right?"
"He's too far away to tell," I answered. "It's all very clever. You throw them the money, then by the time you find a way down the cliff to get to Richard they're on their ship and heading for France."
"If they even leave him behind,'' she said, putting into words one of my countless fears.
"They will, whether they've planned it or not."
"What are you thinking?"
"That they'll be feeling very safe from attack thinking none of us can get down this cliff. The very last thing they'll expect is for someone to turn up in their midst and take him away. I'll be on them and out before they know what's happened."
"You'll be... but it's too danger-oh! Never mind. None safer here than you and Nora."
"True, but I will be careful, dear sister, if you'll do the same for me."
"Gladly, but for God's sake tell us what you're planning."
My brain fairly hummed with ideas now that I had a definite and visible goal to go after. "Oliver, I'll want you to shout at them and get them to come closer to the foot of the cliff. Say that you've got the money and for them to be ready when you throw it down, but instead of the money, I want you to fill the pouch with the rocks from the cairn."
He grinned. "They won't like that."
"Indeed. I want all their attention on you. Distract them as much as you can, get their hopes up-it will be that much more of a frustration to them when they find their treasure is a false one."
"But won't it further endanger Richard?"
"No, because by then I'll have him. You have to keep them busy for as long as you can and give me the time to slip in close and get to him."
"But Clarinda will have them on you first thing."
"No doubt, but after ten paces they won't know me from the rest of the shadows. This darkness will be in my favor, I'll be able to run where they can only stumble. The lot of you need to have your pistols ready, too. A few shots and?E
Oliver shook his head, outraged. "And chance shooting you or the boy? I think not! We can't see a bloody thing from up here and could hit one of you by accident."
"I can help on that," said Nora. "I'll be able to direct your fire.'' She looked at me. "I assume you just want them busy ducking while you get away, because it's not likely we'll any of us be able to hit someone on purpose under these circumstances."
"Exactly, a few shots straight down the cliff should be enough to send them scurrying for their boat, though I'd be well pleased if you should happen to drop one or two of 'em by accident. Once you see me get Richard you open up and distract them from pursuing us. If they were fools enough to give us the high ground, then we'd be fools not to use it. If they do shoot back, with the distance and the dark you should all be fairly safe, but keep your heads low, and be sure to put out the lanterns. Right, then."
My sudden energy to do something was contagious. Jericho and Oliver hurried to the coach to get the pistols and powder. Elizabeth began putting rocks into the pouch.
With a hand on my arm, Nora stayed me from helping. "Remember he won't vanish with you. You won't be able to bring him up the cliff in the same manner of travel you'll use to descend."
Damnation, but I wouldn't. "Then I'll make for that village in the note. Leave the riding horses here and send your driver ahead with the coach. You can catch up with us later."
"Very well-but Jonathan, the shooting. If one of the pistol balls should hit you while you're holding the boy... it will go right though you to him. You're taking an appalling risk with his life."
And did I not clearly know it? "F-for all I know he might already be dead." I pointed to Tyne's partially uncovered corpse. "But if alive I'm ready to do anything to get him away from those monsters. I'll take that chance rather than leave him with them."
Her hand tightened, then fell away, and she said nothing more.
When all was made ready, I gave my sword stick and Dublin revolver into Elizabeth's keeping, knowing they would only be a hindrance.
"You should at least have the pistol," she protested.
"It takes two hands to bring a new chamber to bear on the thing, and I'll need both to carry Richard:"
"Then God go with you, little brother."
I saw her prayer echoed in the faces of the others and suddenly felt a wash of fear. Not for myself but for my helpless son. What if my actions brought him harm instead of deliverance? What if, God forbid, I got him killed? If I truly wished for his safety would it not be better to let him go? My brave words to Nora seemed but a hollow pretension. Clarinda could not possibly be so heartless as to hurt her own child. Surely some of the worry for him she'd expressed to me had had some tiny seed of sincerity within. The sensible thing would be to give her the money and hope for the best. It was entirely reasonable, much more preferable than the wild, perilous, half-thought-through plan I'd just improvised.
Much more preferable, but for the voice within telling me-all but screaming at me-to ignore sense and let my heart lead in this matter. Against all reason it cried alone. Undeniable, my instinct told me this was the right thing to do, the one thing I had to do.
But that did not make me any less afraid.
Confidence is an intensely ephemeral quality, flooding you fit to burst one instant and miles away the next leaving you dry and gasping in the emptiness. I was wretchedly parched by the time I'd eased my way down the cliff face to crouch immobile in a jumble of water-smoothed rock.
Oliver was already calling down from his now distant perch. He couldn't keep them occupied forever while I wavered between sense and folly. Perhaps in some distant corner of my mind I'd anticipated this hesitation, and that's why the pouch was filled with rock, not money. For then against its discovery would I be forced to take swift action.
But no matter the reasons-the time had finally come. Working or not, my heart had taken up lodging high in my throat, and I wasted several precious moments trying to swallow it back into place.
I'd drifted down and lighted just to the east of the men on the beach. The whole area seemed horribly bright, and I quailed each time a head swung in my direction. None of them saw me, though. None. What was like day to me was pitchy midnight to them.
"I don't think the pouch is big enough," Oliver bawled from on high. "It's sure to be too heavy to throw very far."
"Do the best you can, Dr. Marling," Summerhill bawled back, sounding unflappable and thoroughly in control. He was turned away from me, but I recognized his voice and bearing. He stood a prudent distance from the base of the cliff, cane in one hand and dark lantern in the other. He'd covered its light over; Oliver wouldn't be able to see him at all.
"Silly ass," grumbled one of two men hovering close by.
"Long as 'e's a rich ass," put in the other, identifying the object of comment as my cousin and not their captain.
I slipped off my cloak, hat, and scarf, forsaking their protection for ease of movement. Then did I also forsake solidity and float low over the ground, skirting Summerhill and his men, as substa
ntial as a ghost and just as silent. My vision limited, but still better than theirs, I made a straight line toward the boat and Clarinda.
Changes had taken place. She was no longer seated on a pile of rock, easy to get to, but was in the boat itself, with six more men standing around it. Richard was in her arms. My instinct had been true. She'd had no intention of leaving him after getting the money. No surprise was left in me concerning this woman, only fury, which carried me forward-just in time, it seemed.
No sooner was I started than Summerhill shouted something to the men, and they turned upon the boat and began shoving it into the water. I heard curses for its coldness and rebukes to hurry as "the Captain 'uz comin'." I hurtled toward them.
And was stopped.
It wasn't quite as severe as falling off a horse at full gallop, since my body was not solid enough for bruising, but the shock was just as brutal.
The sea. The damned sea.
I was hard pressed to cross free-flowing water normally; in this near-nebulous state I'd never do it. The limits of my condition utterly prevented me from pushing so much as an inch farther.
No time for thought about the consequences-I reformed and plunged up to my waist into the surf. By comparison, the freezing immersion in Edmond's well had been a summer lark. This winter sea was so icy that the cold burned my skin, seeming to eat right through to the bone like acid. I must have cried out from it, for two of the sailors so diligently pushing the boat turned to look.
In no frame of mind to be polite or careful, I was on them like a storm, knocking them out of the way and devil take the hindmost. My hands found the gunwale, grasped hard, and I heaved up and into the boat, sprawling over the ribbed bottom, water streaming from my clothes.
Clarinda half stood, but the craft bobbed crazily, forcing her to sit again. She gave out with an abortive screech, whether from the sight of me or from the danger of falling in, I could not tell. I had a single image of her staring at me, wide of eye and with a sagging mouth, of her trying to back away while holding tight to her precious bundle, of Richard's dark head poking out from the illusory protection of the blanket she'd wrapped around him. His eyes were shut fast. Asleep or made insensible by more laudanum?
And then the narrow boat was full of men, cursing, shouting, all their anger and fight centered upon me, the unexpected intruder. I had no thought for anything but to get to Richard, though. They were merely obstacles in the way, inconvenient, but surmountable. Even as a man raised a pistol level with my face I kicked out with one leg and knocked him right over into the water. Two more had slid aboard, one of them falling upon me more by accident than design because of the boat's now very erratic rocking. They got in one another's way in the confining space, and I took advantage of it by striking the nearest senseless, then pushing him back against his friend.
The way clear for a moment, I found my feet and surged forward again. Now Clarinda let go with a fully realized shriek. I heard Summerhill distantly barking commands, trying to instill order upon the chaos, and succeeding. There was one man left with the wit and speed to act; he bent and picked up one of the oars, bringing it hard around with intent to clout me flat with the thing. Fast as he was, the movement seemed slow to my perception. I caught the stave of wood before it could do me harm and wrenched it from him with a strong sideways twist that sent him overboard.
The last man had recovered somewhat from being pushed, tried to drag me down, and promptly discovered himself to be on the wrong end of the oar for his trouble. The boat had drifted far enough from shore that Summerhill and his ruffians were no immediate threat. The rest of the men were unconscious or floundering. None stood between me and Clarinda now. Unsteady from the boat's motion I moved closer to her.
"Give him to me," I said, reaching out with one hand. She half rose, but could not back any farther away. Thrice now I'd returned from the dead, from the fight in the mausoleum, from the attempt in the bath, from the push down the stairs in her own home, the last being the most impossible to deny. What thoughts were in her mind I could not guess, but the emotions were obvious, being equal parts of rage and terror. Her white face contorting into something inhuman, she lifted Richard's limp form high, and hurled him into the sea.
Of all the horrors that had run through my mind since she'd taken him, this had never once shown itself. It was too abominable. My reaction was without thought, instantaneous. I swung the end of the oar wide and hard toward her. I had an impression of it striking her head, the impact traveling up the wood to bruise my hand, of her swift and abrupt drop; impression only, for by then I was diving into the corrosive water after my child.
No time to register the pain, all my effort was concentrated on maintaining a solid form against the overwhelming urge to vanish. He was not far, little more than five yards, but they might well have been miles for my slow progress. I lived lifetimes until my hand thrashed against the edge of his blanket, eternities until I found his small body in the mass of soaked fabric. I got his head clear of the smothering water. After all this his eyes were yet shut. Dear God, no...
The shore. Where? That way. Close and too far. Hurry.
More eternities until my toes brushed and caught on the rocky bottom. Staggering, holding him tight, I lurched from the sea's caustic grasp, then fell to my knees. Sobbing with dread, I tore away his wet clothes, searching his pinched blue face for sign of life. Pressing my ear to his chest I forced myself to silence, listening with all my soul.
There, I thought I heard it... a faint flutter like a bird's wing. His heart. His living heart...
"You murdering bastard," said Summerhill, almost conversationally.
I looked up at him, up into the barrel of his pistol.
"You" he broke off, recognizing me. His aim wavered as amazement finally penetrated his imperturbable armor. I'd seen such uncertainty before, such hesitation; it would not last long. With Richard close in my arms, I rose and bolted like a deer.
Ten paces, I'd said. Ten paces and they'd lose me in the dark. I'd been wildly, fatally optimistic, and Richard would be the one to suffer for my misjudgment.
Shots. A veritable hail of fire.
I ran faster.
A second volley.
I flinched and sought shelter behind the low mass of stones where I'd left my cloak.
"Run!" someone called in a thin, faraway voice.
Nora.
I glanced up the cliff. Yes. They were firing down at Summerhill and his men, scattering them, giving me the chance to get clear.
"Run!'' Elizabeth now, strident with urgency.
I swept up the dry cloak for Richard and fled east, threading madly between the stones, skidding, nearly tripping, but always rushing forward, and never more looking back.
EPILOGUE
It was a fine, clear Christmas Eve, not too cold, not too windy. Tomorrow promised a continuation of the good weather, though I'd be sleeping right through it, as always. No church for me, alas, but we'd made a merry party of it tonight having trooped out for evening services. I had innumerable blessings to be grateful for-though some weren't fit for the peace of the sanctuary, like my grim thankfulness for Clarinda' s death.
But others, like Richard's recovery, brought me to kneel before God with sincere and humble gratitude.
Thus far the boy had shown no ill reaction from his kidnapping. Clarinda had apparently kept him drugged for nearly the whole time, as he had nothing to tell us of the experience, not even a stray nightmare. I know, for since then I'd lately taken to watching him in his sleep when the mood struck, sitting close by with a book and alert to any change in him that might indicate distress. Mrs. Howard complimented my zealous concern and at the same time reproved me for being overly protective. I smiled and told her she was right, but begged her to indulge me until I felt more secure about his safety.
Richard continued healthy despite his plunge in the freezing sea water. I'd run nearly the whole way along the beach to the tiny village mentioned in Clarinda's not
e and had all but broken into its one tavern seeking help. One look at us and our bedraggled condition and the owner's anger changed to instant compassion as he took us for shipwreck survivors and roused the rest of his house to beneficent action.
As fires were built up, broth was heated, and our clothes were set out to dry, I improvised a poor tale of an overturned boat for their many questions. This inspired even more queries as they wanted to know where the boat was like to be found, why I'd been out at sea at night, how I'd upset the boat, and other annoying details. I was spared from additional bad lying by the timely arrival of Nora's coach driver, soon followed by Nora herself and the others. Oliver, taking charge as the one doctor on the premises, pronounced that I was too addled for talk and told me to rest while he tended Richard, something I was more than glad to carry out. What with the number of our party and all obviously being well to-do, the interrogators retired to watch and draw their own conclusions about the strangeness of the situation.
P N Elrod - Barrett 4 - Dance of Death Page 34