Authors: Connie Mason
“No more, Mac. The rest will have to wait.” Alexa declared firmly. Mac started to protest but just then Mammy Lou bustled in carrying a basket over her arm. Giving Mac a cursory inspection she set to work
immediately. Alexa was somewhat eased by her no-nonsense manner.
“It’s bad, mistress.” Mammy Lou informed Alexa as she set out her instruments and potions. “Powerful bad. He surely will die if that bullet don’t come out.”
“Can you do it. Mammy Lou?” Alexa asked anxiously.
“Shore can try,” the old slave said confidently, turning back to the half-conscious Mac. “Hold him down,” she ordered curtly to Jem and the two men who had carried Mac into the house.
Mac screamed as the probing began, but his body soon gave up the struggle as he passed out. “Good,” Mammy Lou grunted as she felt Mac relax beneath the hands restraining him.
For the next half-hour Alexa felt her own life draining away from her as she watched the slave probe and prod Mac’s torn flesh. Then, uttering a cry of triumph, Mammy Lou drew forth the bullet. In swift order she sewed up the wound, sprinkled it with a white powder and bound it up tightly. Then she devoted herself to the jagged head wound that required nearly a dozen stitches to close. Through it all Mac lay pale and unmoving.
“Will … will he live?” Alexa asked fearfully, “He looks terrible.”
“If he’s lucky,” Mammy Lou shrugged noncommittally. “If the fever don’t kill him: or the loss of blood: or the shock to his system.”
“What can I do?”
“Nothing, mistress, except see that he is comfortable and takes plenty of liquids.”
“Thank you, Mammy Lou,” said Alexa gratefully. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“I’ll go back to my cabin now, but call me if you need me.”
Two hours later Alexa was still sitting beside Mac
when he opened his eyes, “Alexa, are you still here?”
“Aye, Mac, I’m here.”
“I must have passed out.” His voice was weak but clear.
“Small wonder.” Alexa smiled. “But thank God Mammy Lou managed to remove the bullet from your side and stop the bleeding. If she hadn’t you wouldn’t be here talking to me now.”
“Alexa, has anyone—have the English come looking for me yet?”
“No, Mac. No one has come.”
“They will! I have to leave here, Alexa! If they find me here you can be charged with aiding and abetting a fugitive. It’s a serious charge, one demanding the death penalty.” He tried to rise but weakness prevented him from doing more than making a token effort as he collapsed back against the pillow, pain twisting his features.
“Mac, please, don’t try to move. You’ll only succeed in reopening your wound.”
“Don’t you understand, Alexa? This is serious. If I’m found …”
“No one will find you,” soothed Alexa. “Adam is a loyal Tory. Why should they come here looking for you? Do you feel like telling me how you were wounded? And how you came here?”
“Did I tell you I was with Fox aboard
The Gray Ghost?
” Alexa nodded. “The British lured us out into the open by using a decoy. We were patrolling the eastern coastline when we spied what appeared to be a heavily laden ship sailing out of the Savannah River. It looked to be an easy mark so we prepared to attack.” Mac paused and wet his parched lips with the tip of his tongue. Sensing his need, Alexa pressed a glass of cool water to his mouth, and he drank greedily before continuing.
“We fired our cannon into the frigate but she did
nothing to defend herself. Almost at the same moment Fox and I realized our mistake, but by then it was too late. From behind one of the small islands at the mouth of the river came six British warships, heavily armed and closing in fast. We piled on the canvas but were unable to shake them despite our superior speed and maneuverability.”
“How did you get here?”
“We were somewhere in the vicinity of the secret cove I used when I first brought you to Adam when we took our first hit.” Mac continued slowly. “We didn’t have a chance. In short order we were surrounded and boarded. I took a bullet in the side and fell overboard.”
“And Fox? What happened to Fox?” asked Alexa, beginning to tremble.
“I don’t know. He may have been captured, or killed. I shudder to think what will happen to him should they take him alive. But then again, he may have escaped. I know of no man as wily as the Fox.”
“Did you swim to shore after you fell overboard?”
“I must have. I don’t remember too much after hitting the water. When I realized where I was instinct must have driven me here. But I must leave, Alexa. The British are probably searching for me now. I refuse to put your life in danger. Adam will have my hide.”
“We’ll talk about it later, Mac,” Alexa promised soothingly. “You need to rest. It’s nearly dawn and I’m going downstairs to see if cook will prepare a broth for you. I’ll be back later.”
Refusing to listen to his protests, Alexa left the room, intending to see cook first and then wash and change her clothes. She fully expected Mac to be asleep within minutes of her departure and she was right.
Alexa had just gained the foot of the stairs when there came a loud pounding on the front door. “Open up!” demanded an authoritative voice. “Open in the name of
the king!” Alexa nearly dropped from fright. Had the British found Mac’s trail so soon?
“Who is it? And what do you want?” called back Alexa, gathering her scattered courage. “I am alone. My husband is on a mission for General Prevost,” she added in an effort to impress the soldiers with her husband’s importance. But it appeared to make little impact.
“Open up, or I’ll be forced to break down the door! We know the Fox is here. We’ve been trailing him most the night.”
The Fox! Alexa laughed aloud with relief. He escaped! Of one thing she was certain. Fox was not here. She could safely open the door and know they would not find Fox. The banging began anew and she swiftly moved to open the door before it was torn from the hinges. Hopefully the soldiers would not know who Mac was if they found him.
A half dozen armed men moved into the room and Alexa recognized their leader immediately—that nasty Captain Barrington who was such great friends with Lady Gwen and claimed an acquaintance with Charles.
“Where is he, Lady Foxworth?” the captain asked as his eyes roamed beyond the entranceway into the darkened room.
“I told you,” Alexa insisted haughtily, “Fox is not here. And if he did happen to travel in this direction what makes you think I’d give him shelter?”
“Come now, milady,” sneered Barrington contemptuously. “We are all aware where your sympathies lie. Not too many months ago you as much as declared yourself a traitor before hundreds of people.”
“Surely you know better than to give credence to the words of a pregnant woman,” scoffed Alexa, feigning
disbelief.
“I believe nothing that comes out of the mouth of a traitor. No, milady, move aside and allow my men to pass. I will believe you only after a thorough search fails to turn up the Fox.”
“If Adam were here he wouldn’t allow this,” said Alexa murderously.
“Lord Penwell, much as I dislike the man, would be the first to surrender the Fox to the authorities. He is a loyal subject even if his wife is not.”
So saying he bodily removed Alexa from her stance by the door and set her aside while his men fanned out to begin their search. Alexa feared greatly for Mac, for though she knew that he was not the Fox, he nevertheless was a privateer and wanted by the British.
Alexa’s heart plummeted to her feet when she heard a triumphant shout echo through the rafters. “I’ve found him, Captain! He’s in one of the bedrooms, sorely wounded!”
“So, the Fox is not here!” sneered Barrington, turning on Alexa. “Then who is the man upstairs? Your lover?”
“That man is not the Fox!” shouted Alexa frantically. “His name is Logan MacHugh and he is Adam’s friend!”
Snorting disgustedly, Barrington turned from Alexa and bounded up the stairs. Gathering her skirts in one hand, Alexa followed swiftly, all the while entreating Barrington to believe her. Mac was barely conscious when they reached the room, and burning with fever. One of the soldiers drew the sheet away from Mac’s flushed body so the captain could view the wound. He stared fixedly at the bloodsoaked cloth binding Mac’s middle and at the gash on his forehead.
“It’s the Fox all right,” he gloated happily. “We’ll be well rewarded for this night’s work, men.”
“No, no!” persisted Alexa in an effort to save Mac.
“Why won’t you believe me? This man is Logan MacHugh. He … he’s been injured in an accident.”
“Likely story,” scoffed Barrington derisively. “If this man is not the Fox as you claim, then where is the Fox? And who is he? We trailed him here. Come, Lady Foxworth, if this man is not the Fox take us to him.”
Alexa frowned, confusion creasing her smooth brow. “I … I …” she stammered as she searched for a likely answer.
“The look on your face is answer enough,” said Barrington knowingly. “Search the house for evidence,” he ordered his men. “Meanwhile, I’ll make certain Lady Foxworth does not escape.”
“Escape?” squeaked Alexa, panic-stricken. “Wha-what do you mean?”
“You know the penalty for harboring a traitor, milady. I am obliged to take you into custody. You will be jailed in Savannah until your trial.”
“Trial! Oh, God!” she moaned, grasping for a chair when her knees turned rubbery and refused to support her meager weight. Adam, Adam, where are you? she silently implored. I need you, desperately.
Amid much noice and boasting, two of Barrington’s men burst into the room brandishing a distinctive black mask emblazoned with the face of a fox. “Here’s all the proof you need, Captain!” concluded the man, wagging the damning evidence in his hand. “Found it in a trunk in the attic.”
Alexa gasped, her face white in the pale dawn. “I … I don’t know where that came from!” she denied weakly. Truly, she was more surprised than anyone in the room.
Barrington growled something unintelligible low in his throat before ordering his men to take up Mac and bear him away. “No, you can’t! If you take him from bed he’ll die!” Alexa cried out frantically.
“It will save us the expense of hanging,” shrugged Barrington as two of his soldiers carried Mac from the room, his moans of agony echoing down the hall. “Now, milady, get your cloak, we have a long ride ahead of us.” Grasping her elbow in sturdy fingers he hustled her from the room and down the stairs.
“Wait!” cried Alexa, halting when she saw Jem standing in the entranceway wringing his hands. “At least allow me a moment to leave instructions for my people until my husband returns.”
Nodding curtly, Barrington released his grip while Alexa hurriedly told Jem what was taking place and asked him to instruct Forbes to instigate a search for Adam on her behalf. Then she had time for nothing more as Barrington, growing impatient, shoved Alexa out the door before him and mounted his horse, unceremoniously pulling her up in front of him.
“I’m perfectly capable of riding one of my own mounts,” Alexa complained bitterly as she felt his arms tighten uncomfortably about her middle.
“I’ll not give you the opportunity to escape,” Barrington replied, leveling an icy glare in her direction. “I intend to see you brought to justice and punished.”
It was the most miserable ride Alexa had ever experienced in her life. She had no idea what damage Mac had sustained when he was dragged from his bed and hauled to Savannah. Barrington’s men rode ahead and she could see neither them nor Mac. And, to add to her misery, Barrington goaded and taunted her unmercifully the entire way, telling her that he was certain General Prevost was so enraged by the navy’s losses to the Fox that he was certain to make an example of her by hanging her forthwith. Alexa could only grit her teeth and pray that Adam would arrive in time to rescue her from her uncertain fate. When they finally arrived in
Savannah she was near collapse, exhausted from her long vigil at Mac’s bedside and her terrible fear of what awaited her.
As they passed through the city, Alexa dared to ask, “Where are you taking me?”
“The lower levels beneath the Governor’s mansion have been divided into cells to house traitors and like criminals,” mocked the captain. “I’m certain you won’t find it up to your usual standards, milady, but it will have to do.”
“Please, ask the General to send for my husband. I’m certain he will clear up this misunderstanding. What can I do or say to convince you that Mac is not the Fox?”
“Nothing, Lady Foxworth. But rest assured both the General and the Governor will be informed of your treasonous act and will decide if your husband should be sent for. Until then you will be treated no better than you deserve.”
Alexa recognized the Governor’s mansion as they approached. They did not enter the long, circular driveway but circled the block to a little-used side entrance. Barrington pulled her roughly from his horse after he dismounted and shoved her through the door and down a long flight of stairs. The chill and dampness immediately penetrated her thin dress and cloak, even piercing the soles of her shoes to her feet, and Alexa could not suppress the shiver that shook her slight form.
Soon they came to a large room lit only by two torches set in sconces in the damp wall and lined on both sides with tiny, cell-like cubicles, each sealed off tightly from the world by a heavy oaken door. Cut into each door was a small, grilled opening through which food could be passed and the prisoner viewed. Sheer black fright seized Alexa and she began to shake uncontrollably.
“What is the matter, milady?” The captain grinned maliciously. “Isn’t it to your liking?”
“You … surely you don’t intend on locking me in one of those cells, do you?” she asked tremulously.
Barrington laughed raucously. “Have no fear, milady. You should be housed here no longer than it takes to build a scaffold.”
From a smaller room located somewhere off the larger one in which Alexa stood, two guards approached, both registering surprise at the lady of quality to be placed into their dubious care. “Well, look what we have here,” sneered the older guard, leering appreciatively at Alexa. “She is a lot better than the usual riffraff we get. Can we take our pleasure with this one like we do the others, Captain?”