Ransome's Quest (32 page)

“Shaw destroyed my ship. Killed my entire crew.”

William took the dipper James handed back to him and returned it to its hook over the barrel. “Not your entire crew. Second Lieutenant Carey survived also. If he did, there may be others as well.”

James squeezed his eyes shut, and his face contorted in pain. For all that William had the right to berate him, to lecture him about not following orders and living with the consequences, he knew his brother did not need to hear it. James would punish himself worse than any panel of officers would do at his court-martial.

Haltingly, and taking pauses for water when his voice gave out, James reported what had happened to him while aboard
Sister Elizabeth.

“She screamed, William. Screamed as if she was being tortured, and there was nothing I could do to help her.” Tears streamed from the corners of James’s eyes.

Waves of fury wracked William’s body. If Shaw were not already dead…

“She said Shaw knew she had broken ribs and squeezed them, that’s why she screamed. She was wonderful, afterward, reassuring me and giving me more comfort than I deserved. Then Shaw sent for her and they took her away. I didn’t see her again after that. A short while later, they came and got me, tied me to the mizzenmast so you could see me and so, Shaw hoped, I’d be killed in the battle before you could get to me.”

“Where did Shaw put her during the battle?”

“I don’t know.”

Leaning over the portal, William smashed the side of his fist against the gunwale.

“Where is she? I need to thank her.” James used the bandages on his wrists to wipe his face.

“We haven’t found her yet.” William flexed his throbbing hand.

“What do you mean? I saw one of the officers take her off the deck.”

William turned quickly to face his brother. “Who?”

James shrugged. “Looked like the captain of the frigate that came alongside starboard and sent the first boarding party. He had her over his shoulder, like she might have been unconscious.”

Michael Witherington. William should never have trusted the man’s declarations that he wanted to turn his back on piracy, wanted to make reparations and reunite with his family. He wasn’t supposed to board
Sister Elizabeth.
He was supposed to discharge the boarding party and sail away, making it look as though
Vengeance
were on fire so that the story could be spread that, while trying to assist the Royal Navy in battle, Salvador and his ship had burned.

“William?”

Taking a composing breath, William inclined his head to his brother. “I will pray for a swift recovery, James. We will talk more later.”

Leaving his brother sputtering behind him, William climbed to the quarterdeck. “Lieutenant O’Rourke.”

The first officer gave the group of sailors around him one final order and then hurried to William with a salute. “Aye, Commodore?”

“How long until we are ready to sail?”

“Another hour. Two at most, sir.”

William wanted to leave now. He had a brother-in-law to hunt down and arrest. “Very good. Put together a prize crew, Lieutenant O’Rourke. You will take command of
Sister Elizabeth
and sail her back to Kingston Harbor.”

O’Rourke’s face twitched with his effort to keep from smiling. “Aye, aye, sir.”

“I shall give you written orders shortly. You are to retain command
of Sister Elizabeth
until I join you there. You are not to turn her over to anyone at Fort Charles. Understood?”

“Aye, Commodore.”

“She is our prize, and until the new admiral arrives from England, I do not want any question raised as to the possession or disposition of the ship or anything on it.” Then, as soon as he returned and could take command of the fort, he would ensure that it ran with the efficiency and honesty it should.

“Aye, sir.” O’Rourke saluted again and hurried away, a bounce in his step.

Giving orders, thinking through strategy and tactics, salved William’s anxiety. He returned to his cabin to write O’Rourke’s orders, as well as a message for the captain at the fort reiterating them. He also wrote a note for Jeremiah Goodland and tucked it in with O’Rourke’s orders to have a messenger carry it to Tierra Dulce.

Though he could not attest to Julia’s health or well-being, writing the words to assure her friends that she was alive, that Charlotte, too, was rescued, calmed him further.

That was good. He needed to be calm, reasonable even, when he arrested Michael Witherington for abducting Julia.

Ned splashed water on his face and rubbed it vigorously with his hands. After two nights of little sleep and the exertion and intensity of battle, he wanted nothing more than to climb into his hammock and sleep. But first he must find his wayward bride.

He’d been disappointed, but not surprised, when he returned to
Audacious
to find an empty dining cabin and great cabin.

With a fresh waistcoat and coat, he set out to assess damages and figure out where Charlotte had gotten herself off to.

Lieutenant Gardiner stood on the quarterdeck, directing officers and crew in the cleanup and repair that needed to be done. He reported the progress.

“And Mrs. Cochrane?”

“Never came back after Kent ran off, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gardiner.” The work progressed apace on the quarterdeck, so Ned headed down to the main gun deck. Lieutenant Wallis gave his report and also said he hadn’t seen Charlotte.

Frustrated, Ned moved forward, following voices toward the infirmary.

He stepped into the sick berth and was met with tumult. Declan’s broad back blocked most of it from view, but it quickly became apparent what was happening.

“I won’t be saved by a girl. She shouldn’t be here. I’ll have her arrested. They will all be drummed out of the navy.”

Ned stepped around Declan. The pirate leaned over a surgery table striving to hold down a struggling Midshipman Kent.

“Mr. Kent, you’ll hush your mouth or I’ll do it for you.” The concern in Declan’s face belied his threat.

“What is happening here?”

“Captain Cochrane, sir.” The surgeon’s mate—the one who had to take over after
Audacious
’s doctor died in the attack the week after leaving England—jumped back and knuckled his forehead. “I don’t know what he’s on about, sir. But there’s something wrong. He’s not rational, sir. Has a bump on the head, so I’m wondering if his senses got knocked out. Keeps talking about how Midshipman Lott, here, is a girl and he doesn’t want Mr. Lott to touch him.”

Charlotte, who had been leaning over someone in one of the hammocks turned, a damp compress in her hand.

“Is there nothing you can do for him?” Ned asked the mate.

“I can give him something to make him sleep, sir, but Doc Hawthorne needs to see him. He’s a real doc. He might know something about how to get his senses back, sir.” The surgeon’s mate wiped his hands nervously on his bloody smock.

“Do it. Mr. Declan, will you help transport Mr. Kent to
Alexandra
’s surgeon?”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

Declan had to hold Kent’s mouth open so the mate could pour a liquid medication down his throat. Everyone, even the other injured sailors, watched as Kent’s struggles lessened before ceasing altogether.

“Very good.” Ned locked eyes with Charlotte. “I need to speak with you.”

“Aye, Captain.” Charlotte bent down, rewet the compress, and then put it on the patient’s forehead before following him out of the cabin.

“What happened?” Ned pulled her away from the gun crew working on the cannon just outside the infirmary.

“He’s been acting strangely ever since we rescued him. Off balance, blinking like he can’t see clearly. Bursts of anger, according to Mr. Jamison. But in the cabin during the battle, he became insensible, yelling about…well, you heard him.” She dropped her head, cheeks red.

“And then he ran out of the cabin,” Ned prompted.

“Yes, sir. I had to chase him all the way to the forecastle. Lieutenant Duncan was trying to subdue him but couldn’t, sir. Kent was armed. He could have hurt someone. We were taking return fire from
Sister Elizabeth,
sir, and so I had to help get him down so that he wouldn’t get shot. It took two sailors to get him to the infirmary. I stayed there to help with the wounded, sir. There were so many, extra hands were needed.”

Ned nodded, struggling to keep from smiling at the way Charlotte had transformed from young woman to midshipman the longer she spoke. Her stance changed—square shoulders, upheld head—her voice deepened, and even the cadence of her speech changed.

“When we brought him back from
Sister Mary,
he did have a head injury, sir. He may have been concussed, and that could have caused his confusion, sir.”

“Thank you for so fine a report, Midshipman Lott.”

Charlotte startled at being so addressed, and then she laughed and hugged him.

Oh, how he wanted to hold her, to kiss her. But he took her arms and pushed her back. It would not do for the captain to be seen hugging someone in a midshipman’s uniform.

“Oh!” Charlotte pulled her left arm out of his grasp.

“Are you injured?”

“It is nothing. Just a scratch.”

He narrowed his eyes at her but took her word for it.

Declan came out of the infirmary, carrying Kent. “Ready, Cap’n.”

“What shall I do?” Charlotte asked.

“Stay in the sick berth and help if you are still needed. If not, return to the big cabin. I imagine we will be getting under way soon.” He smiled at her, trying not to think about the fact that they were married and that he would like nothing more than to kiss her until the memory of this day was wiped from both of their minds.

“Aye, sir.” Charlotte disappeared back into the sick berth.

“She tell you she got shot?” Declan asked.

Ned shoved the infirmary door open. Charlotte turned, startled. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“You got
shot
?” He unbuttoned her coat and pulled it off her left shoulder.

“I told you it is nothing. It had stopped bleeding by the time Declan got me down here.”

The full sleeve of her white shirt was stained with dried blood, but the bandage wrapped around her upper arm showed no signs of bleeding. “When did this happen?”

“Whilst saving the life of this ungrateful scoundrel.” From the other side of the doorway, Declan indicated Kent with a twitch of his head. “But don’t you worry none, sir. I’ll make him apologize when he wakes up. You can count on that.”

Ned turned back to Charlotte. “We will discuss this later.”

Charlotte gave him a sardonic smile. “Aye, sir.”

With a final warning look, which she turned her back on, Ned left the infirmary and led Declan up on deck. All of his officers were busy either here or on
Sister Elizabeth.
Ned found several idlers who had finished their tasks and soon commanded a launch across the distance to
Alexandra.

William had his crew lower the bosun’s chair, but because Kent was asleep, someone had to ride up with him. As his commanding officer, Ned offered. By the time he arrived on deck, two surgeon’s mates had arrived with a litter to carry him to the infirmary. Ned explained the situation to William and then joined his junior officer in the sick berth, where he described in detail how Kent had been acting before the medicine knocked him out.

Dr. Hawthorne, a man whose ability far outstripped his reputation as a good surgeon, leaned over Kent, looking into his eyes with a magnifying glass. After a long examination, he motioned Ned to step outside of the infirmary with him. “I have a diagnosis and suggestion for treatment, but I need to discuss them with both you and Commodore Ransome.”

“He was on the quarterdeck when I came aboard.”

They found him, and Dr. Hawthorne asked if they could speak privately. Ned wondered at his severity.

William led them to his dining cabin and invited Hawthorne and Ned to sit.

“Commodore, Captain, the young man, Kent, has sustained a head injury that has caused bleeding in his brain. Though I have not seen his symptoms myself, from what Captain Cochrane described, this is typical when the swelling presses on the brain—imbalance, blurred vision, confusion, uncontrollable anger.”