Ransome's Quest (11 page)

When a particularly comely lady of the profession walked by, he responded to the invitation in her intense gaze with a slight raise of his chin, a squint of his eyes, and a half smile—a full smile was enough to make women swoon. The dark-haired vixen responded with a half smile of her own, her eyes lowering to rest on the triangle of skin exposed by his shirt that hung loosely open to the middle of his chest. With one last lock of their gazes, she strolled away, rejoining the boisterous crowd near the front of the alehouse.

Yes, he would find her later. Assuming his man did not keep him waiting so long she gave up and accepted someone else’s business.

There, through the crowd. A tall man with light hair and angular features.

He let his chair down slowly until all four legs were once again firmly on the floor. The two men flanking the table moved farther away as the newcomer sat down.

“Well?”

“She knows.”

“She made an accusation?” He slowly swirled the blood-red wine in his glass.

“No, but she insisted on reviewing the accounts. Everything.”

“When?”

“Five days from now. Thursday.”

He glared at the other man, narrowing his eyes. “I should hang you from the yardarm for such a foolish action. She is an intelligent woman who looks into everything. I warned you she would notice what you were doing. And you decided to add more suspicions to those she already has by running away. Do you not think your absence will be noted?”

“I am certain it has been already, but I can be of more use to you free from the constant vigil of the armed guards set about the place since the abduction of the Ransome girl.”

He leaned his chair back again, taking a sip of the sweet, fortified wine. Ah, yes. The abduction of the Ransome girl that took the two biggest obstacles out of his way—
Alexandra
and
Audacious.
He silently thanked whoever had done him such a favor. “And our other man on the inside?”

“Well placed and not suspected at all.”

Grudgingly, he had to agree with the overall assessment and actions taken so far. “Armed guards around the house?”

“Day and night. All men well known and trusted by the overseer. Not a chance of bribing a single one. She goes nowhere without one following along behind.”

“Getting to her will be difficult.”

A sly smirk formed on the other man’s face. “She will be leaving the plantation Monday morning to make the drive here, into Kingston, to visit her banker.”

“And our man?”

“Will be with her.”

He allowed himself the luxury of a smile. “You’ve done well, brother.”

Henry Winchester returned his brother’s expression. “Soon, everything you’ve suffered these last twenty years will be repaid in kind.”

Arthur Winchester motioned for a barmaid to serve his brother a drink. Yes, soon everyone in the Caribbean—and England—would know that he was a better man than either Admiral Sir Edward Witherington or Commodore William Ransome. The two men responsible for ruining his career and destroying his family. Watching as he did the same to them would make the two decades’ wait for revenge worthwhile.

Charlotte Ransome’s nearly endless chatter was enough to drive Salvador insane. But her silence for the past hour—since
Vengeance
entered the harbor at the mouth of the Black River—worried him. He took an extreme risk docking here at all. Going into town and seeking out a messenger willing to make the journey back to Kingston added to the probability that what he had done and whom he had aboard his ship would be discovered. But that was nothing compared to the fear Charlotte would attempt escape again.

He could say nothing to her that he had not already articulated. Threats of what he would do to her if she tried to escape again were met with disdainful laughter; entreaties to think of her own personal safety answered with a pitying shake of her head. So, with one last look meant to remind her of all he’d said, Salvador left the cabin and joined his men on the main deck, grateful the moonless night added a layer of protection.

“Leave the Dutch pennant up. The navy ship will be looking for it.”

A half dozen ships of varying sizes, ages, and repair lay at anchor in the harbor. If the ship coming in behind
Vengeance
was indeed a Royal Navy vessel, the variety already gathered in the harbor would provide good camouflage for the frigate, which Salvador kept in much better repair than many of his counterparts. Of course, he was more successful at avoiding being fired upon than many of his counterparts as well. No one ever suspected
Vengeance
was a pirate ship until it was too late to rectify that mistake.

“Declan,” he said, pulling his first mate aside, “you must stay here. Stay here and guard Miss Ransome.”

“No one on this ship would dare—”

“It is not the men from whom she needs protecting. It is from herself. I cannot believe that someone who would jump from a ship out in the middle of the sea would not attempt to escape this close to land.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” But Declan looked anything but acquiescent to Salvador’s command. “And if the English captain should decide to come alongside and question us?”

“Picaro speaks Dutch. I’m leaving him here with you, as well. Have him tell them your captain has taken men into town to negotiate for supplies.”

A commotion near the waist port drew Salvador’s attention. He strode over in time to see his boatswain, Lau, pull two young men apart—both of whom were smaller than the quiet man from the deep reaches of the Orient.

“What seems to be the trouble?” Salvador planted his fists on his hips.

Declan came up beside him and crossed his arms, towering over all of them.

“No trouble, Captain.” Lau gave the two teens a good shake before releasing their shirt collars. “Just one too many for the boat crew to row you ashore.”

“Who was winning?” Declan asked.

“This one.” Lau nodded toward the young man on his left. The scrawny lad wore a round hat pulled down almost to his eyes, and what the hat did not obscure, the darkness did.

Declan grunted in approval. “Good. The captain may need someone who can hold his own in a fight. You, boy—”

“Martin, sir.”

“Martin, the boat is waiting.” Declan waved toward the open port.

“Aye, sir.” Martin scurried down the side of the ship to the boat waiting below.

Salvador hesitated briefly. Too many new faces had come aboard
Vengeance
in the past few weeks, and he’d had no time to get to know them, but now that would have to wait for another day. He pulled Declan away from the waist port. “Remember, she’s unpredictable and likely to do something idiotic and unexpected. Be on your guard.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

Salvador crossed to the gap in the bulwark, ready to go ashore and complete his business. The sooner he got away from here and the possibility of crossing paths with the captain or officers of the ship coming up behind them, the better. But he was forgetting something.

He paused and patted all his pockets. Of course.

The darkness in the cabin surprised him when he arrived back there, as it had been full of lamplight when he’d left it less than half an hour ago. He lit a candle and held it aloft.

Charlotte must have decided to turn in early. Her figure did not make much bulk in the hammock hung in a corner of the room, but the outline was unmistakable. And, he knew, even if she weren’t already asleep, she would pretend to be if he tried to talk to her.

He moved quietly to his desk on the opposite side of the room and retrieved the letter he’d written earlier, which he slid into his coat pocket. Turning back toward the door, he could see movement in the hammock.

“Goodnight, Miss Ransome.”

A slight, muffled sound was all the response he received in return.

Chuckling, he made his way to the boat waiting to row him to the town of Black River. While he regretted the outcome of his action, Charlotte amused him as no one had in a very long time. He wished Serena were here. He had a feeling the two of them would be great friends in no time.

The men made the oars whisper through the water—all, that was, except for Martin. But Lau addressed the matter, and within a few strokes the new lad maneuvered his oar as quietly as the other eleven men.

As soon as the boat scraped the wooden dock, Salvador jumped out. “Lau, new boy—Martin—you’re with me. The rest of you stay here and be ready to leave as soon as we return. This should not take long.”

Charlotte had no idea what had come over her, but the moment the giant of a first mate had turned his attention to her, Lieutenant Martin’s name was the first one to pop into her mind. Even though Salvador had not known her as Charles Lott, the name was too close to her own, and he was too clever by half. She hadn’t meant to start the fight on deck, just to slip down onto the boat and come ashore. But she hadn’t accounted for the loose manners aboard a pirate ship.

And now Salvador wanted her to accompany him on whatever nefarious mission he undertook.

She fell in step with the small Oriental man called Lau a few paces behind Salvador. He headed for the town—the seedy end of the high street, from the sounds and number of well-lit buildings. Her heart raced. She must make her escape before they reached the lights of the taverns, for Salvador would surely recognize her.

Where would she go? She strained her eyes against the darkness. There, in the distance to her left. That looked like a church bell tower. Yes, she would go to the church and seek refuge. They would protect her.

As soon as they entered the crowded high street—

But Salvador turned, ducking into a darkened alley rather than heading for one of the taverns. A few more turns down a few more narrow, dark streets, and Charlotte wasn’t certain she could remember which way was which. And the closeness of the buildings blocked her view of any landmarks that would lead her to the church. Best to stick with Salvador and Lau for the moment.

The pirate finally stopped and banged on the door to a house that looked as if it were held up by the owner’s sheer willpower. He had to knock three times, increasing the pressure and volume each time.

The sounds of scraping were heard inside and then the door flew open. “What d’you want in the middle of the ni—Salvador?” The rough-looking man framed in the door held aloft a lantern. “It is you, m’boy! Come in, come in. What can ol’ Dandy do for you?”

Charlotte hung back and waited until the man—Dandy—had moved far enough into the room that she was assured of deep shadows in which to hide upon entering.

Salvador reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something—a letter. “I need to get this on the next ship to Kingston.”

Kingston? Charlotte started to step forward to see what Salvador handed over to the other man, and then she remembered the need to stay out of the circle of light from the lantern.

Dandy took the letter from the pirate and angled it toward the light to read the address. “Tierra Dulce plantation, eh? You picked off another one of their ships and want to taunt them with your success?”

“Something like that. How soon will this get there?”

“I’m sailing a packet out in about four hours. We’ll be in Kingston by midday Monday, then another several hours for the messenger to get out to the plantation.” He tapped the letter against his grizzled chin. “I hear the mistress of Tierra Dulce is returning.”