Ransome's Quest (27 page)

William unfolded it, not surprised to see a letter of marque.

“In Philadelphia, a wealthy merchant offered to become my investor. But he insisted his son come aboard and serve as my first mate.”

“Declan?” Ned interjected.

“Declan. While
Vengeance
underwent repairs in Mr. Declan’s private shipyard, I spent time with the family, including the daughter, Serena. I fell in love with her and she with me. Her father invited me to join the family business when my term of service ended. The first year, we worked mainly along the coast. Nine months ago, when the attacks of American merchant ships coming out of New Orleans increased, we came south—after one last visit to Philadelphia. I asked Serena to marry me. So when this is over, I will return to Philadelphia and marry Serena and join Declan Importing.”

“And what about your family? What about the debt you owe Sir Edward?” Sailing off into anonymity in America might have been a good plan before, but William could not allow Michael’s offenses against Tierra Dulce and Sir Edward—and Julia—to stand.

“I intend to reunite with my sister. To beg her forgiveness for believing my family abandoned me so many years ago.”

William prayed that reunion took place soon. “We shall determine all of the conditions for your release from the charges of piracy later. But there is one condition I must put to you now, because everything else hinges on it.”

“And what is that?”

“Once we have subdued Shaw and delivered Julia safely home, you will return to England for Admiral Sir Edward Witherington to adjudicate your fate.” William turned his gaze on Ned. “You will travel with Captain Cochrane on
Audacious.”
Even though he planned on Ned serving on his station here in the Caribbean, Charlotte needed to go home and explain everything to their mother in person.

“And my ship?”

“I expect you planned to turn out all of your men and sail her back to Philadelphia with only a skeleton crew, newly recruited.”

The expression on Michael’s face proved William correct in his assumption.

“Then turn her over to your first officer to sail back to Philadelphia. Of course, you will need to rechristen her. Too many Royal Navy ships will be on the lookout for a pirate or privateer vessel named
Vengeance.”

Michael nodded. “I already have a name picked out. One that reflects the next stage of my life.”

The slight smile and humored glint in Michael’s eyes reminded William far too much of Julia. “And what is that name?”

“
Serenity.
”

I
don’t care if you just looked. Look again.” Shaw aimed his fist at the young man’s head, but the teen ducked and bolted up the steps to the poop deck.

“We’ve waited a full day. Cap’n Iverson’s never late—not this late, leastwise. How long are you planning on us staying here?” The first mate stood just beyond Shaw’s reach. Wise man.

The little island—a rock with a couple of trees, really—surrounded by the vastness of the Caribbean had served as his meeting place with
Sister Mary
for three years. Captain Iverson knew what would happen to him if he decided to double-cross Shaw and steal away with
Sister Mary
, Shaw’s first ship.

The sun edged toward the western horizon. “We’ll wait until nightfall. Bring Captain Ransome to my cabin.”

The first mate’s dark eyes glittered. “Right away, Commodore.”

Shaw paced, feeling like the tiger he’d seen at the Royal Menagerie at the Tower of London as a boy. He’d stood transfixed watching the predator rip apart a smaller animal and eat it. Yes, Shaw felt quite like that tiger.

When his first mate arrived with James Ransome, rather than allow him to walk in with dignity, he pushed the naval officer through the door. James’s bound hands ensured he lost his balance. His knees hit the deck with a loud crack.

Shaw let him struggle for a while and then walked over, hooked his foot under James’s shoulder, and flipped him over onto his back.

Before James could move, Shaw pressed the bottom of his boot to James’s throat.

The prisoner’s blue eyes bulged.

“Where is my other ship?” He eased up the pressure slightly.

“How should I know?”

Shaw lowered his foot again. “You came upon us in the exact rendezvous spot predetermined between me and my captain. There’s no way you could have found us if you hadn’t intercepted
Sister Mary
and found out from someone there where we were meeting.”

James coughed and gasped for breath when Shaw lifted his foot completely off his throat. He rolled onto his side, to relieve the pressure on his hands. “I found you by my own intelligence and diligent tracking.”

Shaw kicked him just below the ribs. James grunted and retched. Shaw liked that.

“Where is my ship?”

“We’re on it!” James tried to curl into a ball to protect his gut from more blows.

Wrong answer. Shaw grabbed his dagger and crouched beside the younger man. He grabbed a fistful of dark hair to hold him still and pressed the tip of the blade to his cheek. Years of practice had taught him just how much pressure to exert to achieve the desired results.

James pressed his lips together, screwed his eyes shut, and breathed hard through his nose.

So many men believed a blade to the throat would frighten someone into telling what he knew. But actual pain was the best motivator Shaw had found.

“Sister Mary.
Where is she?” Shaw put the point of his blade on the other cheek.

“I…do…not…know.” Every muscle in James’s throat and face tensed, blood vessels popping to the surface and throbbing in rhythm with his heart.

“If you did not attack
Sister Mary
and she is not yet here, that means someone else has intercepted her.” Which meant they could probably expect another visitor soon. Shaw grabbed the water basin full of his used wash water and poured it over James’s face in a slow, wide stream.

James sputtered and choked, turning his head from side to side, trying to escape the drowning flow.

Shaw shook the last few drops out of the bowl and put it back on the commode. “Collier!”

The steward appeared at once. “Yes?”

“Have Mrs. Ransome join me on the poop. And inform the captain of the,” he paused to consider a moment, “starboard mainyard to make preparations. Captain Ransome is going to dance for us.”

Julia pressed her back against the wall when the door opened. Collier filled the opening. “Commodore Shaw wants that you should join him for the entertainment.”

The knot of nausea in her stomach grew. Aboard this ship,
entertainment
most likely did not include dancing or a concert. Julia maneuvered herself so that Collier took hold of her left arm instead of her sore right one. Not only did he seem to favor grabbing her right arm, his rough handling of her resulted in his thick knuckles bumping her injured ribs multiple times.

He led her up to the highest deck of the ship. Shaw turned and flourished a bow, a mocking expression on his face when he straightened. “My dear Mrs. Ransome. So kind of you to join me.”

“I wish I could say it was my pleasure.” The words slipped out before Julia could think better of it. She tensed, waiting for his blow, but his dimples deepened with his smile, though his eyes remained cold.

“You are just in time for the evening’s entertainment.” He nodded toward the quarterdeck.

Julia turned and swept the deck with her gaze. A larger number of sailors than necessary stood around on deck, and several men were aloft on the lowest yardarm on the starboard side of the mainmast.

“Captain Ransome,” Shaw called, looking down into the crowd on deck. The men parted, allowing Julia to see her brother-in-law standing between two men, who held his arms.

Was that a noose around his neck? Julia grabbed Shaw’s sleeve. “What are you about to do?”

Shaw pulled his arm away from her. “I warned you both that I would kill him.”

“No! You cannot—”

Shaw seized her by the throat, stopping her air. She wrapped her hands around his wrist and tried in vain to pull him off. Pain roared in her ears; tears flooded her eyes. “That sounded like a demand to me, Mrs. Ransome. And we both know what happens when you try making demands.”

She managed to nod her head. He let go and she gulped to refill her lungs, her cracked ribs shooting pain through her side.

He pulled her in front of him, his grip painful around her upper arms.

“Music!”

At Shaw’s command, the men on deck started singing a sea chantey, one Julia had never heard before and hoped she’d never hear again.

“Now, Captain Ransome, dance for us.”

Atop the yardarm, three men pulled on a length of rope secured to a block-and-tackle on the yardarm above them. The line running from the block down to the noose around James’s throat straightened and pulled tight. Julia turned her head away.

Shaw released her right arm, but then his hand settled over her side. He squeezed, hard.

Julia screamed as the pain of a dozen knives stabbed through her chest. Her stomach heaved, intensifying the pain as all of her muscles contracted.

“I planned this entertainment especially for you, Mrs. Ransome.” He held his mouth so close to her ear, bits of spittle landed on her cheek. “You will do me the kindness of watching it.”

Shallow, panting breaths were all she could manage. Her head spun, and her dirty, tangled hair stuck to the moisture on her cheeks. Shaw’s hand remained on her side.

Below, James gasped and sputtered against the noose tightening around his throat, the toes of his boots still on the deck.

“Make him dance, boys!”

With one coordinated heave, the men hoisted James up into the air. A sob convulsed Julia’s chest, generating more pain.

James’s face bulged and darkened. His feet flailed, as if trying to find purchase.

How would she ever be able to explain to William that she did nothing but stand by and watch as Shaw murdered his brother? A haze of pain—physical and spiritual—enveloped her. How could the God William loved so dearly and had taught her to trust allow this to happen?

James’s kicks slowed until they became mere twitches.

Shaw sighed. He once again pressed his mouth to her ear. “Are you as bored with this as I am?”

Julia made no attempt at a response.

Shaw laughed and raised his head. “Stop the music! Let him down.”

The singing ended and the men released the rope, letting James fall several feet to the deck. He coughed, gagged, and gasped, drawing the laughter and ridicule of the sailors surrounding him.

“Collier!”

The steward rushed forward.

“See that our guests are returned to their quarters.” With a wink and a flash of his dimples, Shaw left Julia to the tender mercies of his steward.

The horror of what she’d seen and the agony of her body made Julia insensible to everything around her. Collier could have dragged her down the several sets of stairs to her prison for all she knew.

She hit the back wall of the chamber and fell to the floor, her bound wrists preventing her from protecting her side. She longed to lose herself in sobs, but she would not give Collier—still standing in the doorway—the pleasure of reporting such discomposure to Shaw.

Collier moved, letting the wan light from his lantern flow into the little room. Julia scrambled out of the way just in time to keep James’s inert form from landing atop her. Before the door closed, she caught sight of blood on his face and down the side of his neck.

He was so still.

Though it increased her agony, she managed to hunch over him and put her cheek close to his nose and mouth. He was breathing.

She pushed herself upright, leaning into the corner for support before losing her last measure of stoicism and letting the shock and terror overwhelm her.

Lord God, if You love William at all, please do not send him into this hell.