Rogue Wave (The Rogue Wave Series Book 1), page 8
“Of course, Captain.” He let out a low chuckle. “I do have to say though, I do not think she will take kindly to being dropped off at the next port. I think the men will do just fine, they will be respectful, well, as respectful as they can manage.” He watched Lucas, “She did well, very well as part of the crew, they have enjoyed having her on board, I realize it was a bit different before, but she did her work. She never complained, even when her hands were covered in blisters. Not many well brought up young ladies are capable of such things. There must be a reason why such a lady would run away in the first place. Before dropping her off and sending her back, I think it would be wise to find out the answers first.” Alaric put a hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “Get some rest. I will have Benjamin bring you some broth, I already had some.”
Lucas nodded. “Thinking of her as a young boy aboard my ship was bad enough, but a young woman…she could have died last night. I gave her strict orders to stay below, she disobeyed and it almost cost her her life. I cannot have her on my ship knowing she might do something foolish again.” He shook his head, “I can’t imagine what caused her to do what she did.”
Lucas thanked his friend and let him know to steer the ship to the small island so the crew could rest and they could properly repair the damaged hull. He headed for his cabin, he needed to think.
There was a knock at the hatch. Benjamin did not wait for him to answer, he walked in carrying a jug of grog and a steaming bowl of broth. He set it on the desk that Lucas sat at.
“Her name is Catherine, huh? She’s my age, did you know that?” He asked, grinning, raising his eyebrows, and pointing a thumb at his chest. “You and Alaric are busy, so are Doc and Cook, it’s up to me. I will keep an eye on her, two eyes in fact.” His grin broadened. “I will protect her from those scalawags out there. Leave it to me, Capt’n,” Benjamin crossed his arms over his chest that he was trying his best to puff up; it was a humorous attempt.
Lucas nearly choked on the grog. “Thank you, Benjamin, for your gallant offer. I am sure you will do your best.” He paused, leaning back in his chair. “I am sure two eyes won’t be necessary, just the one should be sufficient.” He tried to hold back his laughter.
“Right. Of course Capt’n.” Benjamin puffed his chest out more. “I will go see if she would like some more broth.” He reached for the hatch and stumbled through it.
Lucas looked down at his own broth, shaking his head and letting a low chuckle out. He picked the bowl up, not bothering with the spoon. Draining the bowl in a second, the liquid hit his stomach, warming him and relaxing his body. He rolled his shoulders. His muscles were beginning to loosen up now that he sat down and had gotten some food and grog in him. It would not be long before they reached the island. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.
Thomas looked through his spy glass. He could not see any sails in sight. There had been a terrible storm and if he judged the distance right, The Trinity was likely caught in the middle of it. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. Likely Captain Harding’s ship had taken some damage. They would either need to anchor at a nearby island or would have been blown off course a bit.
This gave Thomas the opportunity he needed to close the distance between them. He knew very well that Captain Harding would make repairs and get back on course as quickly as possible, he would not linger. Thomas hoped to be able to catch him at the next port. He put the spy glass down and went to go back to his cabin, one of the crew member’s words stopped him.
“Aye, I heard the lady is a Missus Benedict, the daughter of one of the rich men on the Island. O’ course them at the big house are trying to keep it all quiet like so as not to ruin the Lady’s reputation and all. They said a stable lad’s clothes were missing from the big house and it’s suspected she dressed as a lad and ran away. At them docks a lad that spoke a bit funny was going to board a passenger ship but the ship had already left port. There were only a couple other ships there at the time that lad could have stowed away on.” The sailor sneered and grinned a half toothless grin. He spat on the deck. “Imagine, a lone Lady being on a ship, I just wished it be our ship she was aboard.” He laughed, shoving his fellow crewman.
“Sailor,” Thomas bellowed. He did not know most of the men that were on his ship, let alone all their names. It did not bother him, he did not care to get to know his crew, some would likely be killed in a battle or would sign onto a different crew when this voyage was done. Many of the men had just signed on with him, only a few of the men from The Trinity that had tried to help him mutiny against Captain Harding were still with him now. The only crew members that mattered were the ones that he knew would do his bidding no matter what. “What is it you are discussing? What is this about a Ms. Benedict running away?” The name rang a bell.
The sailor stared at Thomas for a moment, the men around them had all but stopped working. The sailor swallowed hard, “A Missus Benedict, she is the daughter of a Baron I think they says. Her father owns a plantation on the island. There was talk at the taverns Capt’n. They says she stowed away or was kidnapped on a ship in port at the time.” He looked nervously at the Captain who was staring menacingly down at him.
Lord Benedict, the Baron whose plantation deed he was after. The very same one Lucas Harding had possession of at this moment. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. “You said there were only a couple ships in port that she could have been on, what ships were those?” He thought he knew, but he wanted to hear what the sailor had heard. Thomas had little patience and was growing tired. He waved a hand in the air, glaring at the rest of the crew. They quickly scrambled back to their duties.
“A ship named The Jenny and another called The Trinity, Capt’n.” Thomas nodded to the sailor and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. The man scurried off. He could not believe his good fortune. He guessed which ship the girl ended up on and planned to use this new turn of events to his advantage. He grinned and headed to his cabin; he had a kidnapping to plan.
In his clean cabin, he nodded in approval. He had told the cabin boy to clean up the room for him. The lad had done a decent job. Grabbing the bottle of rum that was on his desk, he pulled the cork out with his teeth, spitting it on the ground. Taking a swig, he kicked off his boots and sat at the old chair in front of his desk. The chair creaked as he put his full weight in it, he lifted his feet, and rested them on the desk.
Kidnapping and bargaining, it would be simpler then he had originally thought. He may not even need to fight. Not that he did not enjoy a good battle, in fact he often looked forward to them, but he was not about to underestimate Lucas Harding again. He knew that the Captain was a skilled fighter and his crew worked well together. The ship was better equipped than his, it was also a bit bigger though. Thomas hoped that this would give him more maneuverability and he might be able weaken Lucas’s ship enough if it did come to a battle.
With the girl possibly being on Harding’s ship, Thomas now had the needed leverage. He would do what he had to. He could not hold back, if he failed, the Governor would find out and that would be the end of him. It would end with a noose around his neck and swinging from the gallows like the common pirate he was often accused of being.
There was still a ways to go before they reached the next port. He closed his eyes, folding his hands together over his chest. He was sinking comfortably into the chair and relaxing when a commotion on deck reached his ears. Listening, he put his hand on the pistol that was still hanging from his side. There was a loud bang at the hatch and a sailor barged into his cabin. Thomas sprang to his feet, raising the flintlock at the sailor’s chest.
The sailor raised his hands and waved them frantically, “Capt’n please, there is a fire! On board the ship, Capt’n.” He eyed the pistol in the Thomas’s hand.
Thomas lowered his pistol and put it back in the worn belt that hung along his waist. “Where did it start?” He asked, quickly pulling on his boots; a fire could cause the cannons to fire themselves. A small fire could cause an entire ship to sink. He raced towards the hatch. “Wet the sails down, make sure the sand and water barrels are being used.”
The sailor followed quickly behind him. “Yes Capt’n, the men are wetting the sails as we speak and they are already using the barrels, Sir.” Most crews were well trained and drilled on how to stop a fire on a ship. Even with a seasoned crew of rough sailors, a ship still was at high risk of even the smallest of flames in the wrong place.
Thomas unwrapped the cloth tied around his neck. He held it to his nose as the smoke drifted through the entire ship, filling it with it’s choking fumes. The cloth reeked of sweat and salty sea water. The men were rushing around, coughing, and gagging on the thick grey smoke. The cabin on fire held supplies, ropes, sails, and various containers.
As the flames licked the tar-soaked ropes, black smoke threaded its way through the cabin, causing the sailors to cover their burning eyes. Thomas watched the sailors desperately trying to put the fire out. They lifted another sand filled barrel, dumping the load on the orange flames that were clinging to the walls and containers.
Thomas yelled for them to move faster, “Get those flames out or you will all burn with this ship.” His anger rising with every second, he backed out of the room, unable to breathe any longer. He stumbled onto the quarter deck. Whoever set this fire would pay. He knew it was very likely an accident, but it could have cost him everything, including his life. Thomas suspected that the crew was getting the fire under control and it would be out soon. He waited at the helm for his crew to come up. Someone, Grady he suspected, had tied a rope to the helm to keep the ship on course, while the entire crew worked to put the fire out. He pulled the line loose and gripped the helm.
Men slowly began coming on deck, faces and clothes black from the smoke, still coughing and choking. Several were holding their hands and arms or limping from where the fire burned them. They did not have much in the way of a surgeon on board. The men would have to tend their own wounds, but only after he was through with them. Thomas indicated for Grady to take the wheel when he came through the hatch. Thomas walked over to the railing that sat in front of the wheel and looked over the deck at the men. He eyed the group, it looked as if they were all present.
“Who set the fire?” He bellowed.
The crew squirmed, looking at the shipmate that stood next to them. He heard a few murmurs, but no one spoke up. They were terrified, he could see it in their eyes. They knew that a fire on board could have cost the entire ship and crew their lives. The punishment for being careless and setting a fire on board was several lashes. Anger rising, he smashed his fist into the railing. “Cowards! Who set the fire? I can whip each an every one of you until you speak up.”
A man with long, dark hair pushed through the crowd. He walked straight, strong, staring right back at Thomas unafraid. His shirt hung loosely about his broad shoulders. In a confident, strong voice he announced. “I did, Captain. I was smoking my pipe and failed to remember to cap it. An ember fell out, catching the cabin alight.”
Thomas fumed, this man did not seem like the typical sailor that would join just any crew or ship. His words were clear and he spoke with a richness that indicated he was not the average pirate or sailor that inhabited the taverns, waiting to join the next ship that came along. He also did not seem the type to be careless with a pipe on board a vessel. “What is your name, sailor?” Thomas’s fingers were turning white from gripping the railing so hard.
“Ethan Clarke, Captain.” The man said lifting his head a bit higher, his eyes narrowing.
Thomas was growing impatient with the man’s impertinence; he was clearly challenging him. He wanted more than anything to have the man’s shirt stripped from him and to show him he was the captain of the ship and was to be obeyed. He deserved to feel the cat o’ nine tails on his back. Thomas clenched his jaw. This man was no coward and there was more to this situation than it appeared.
Ethan was clearly covering up for one of his shipmates. Why, Thomas had no idea, but whatever the reason, he would be punished. Thomas motioned to one of his men that had come with him from The Trinity. “Go fetch the whip.” Ethan had not even flinched. Thomas looked at the rest of the crew, “Back to work, or you can join your friend and be strung up against the grate as well.” He yelled, watching to see if any of the men showed even the slightest hint of defiance.
“You there, fetch a rope and tie his arms up to the grate.” The big man’s face broke out in a grin, showing a silver tooth. The sailor had a long braid that hung down along his back. He walked over to Ethan who peeled his shirt from his damp chest. Ethan tossed it aside and simply allowed himself to be strung up by the burly sailor.
Thomas grabbed the whip, cracking the cords through the air, watching to see if Ethan made any sign of distress. Ethan was looking straight, his jaw clenched, his bare back glistening with sweat from the hot sun. His arms were tied up above his head, causing his muscles in his shoulders to bulge out.
A sickening slap echoed across the ship as the knotted cords struck against flesh. Still Ethan made no move, the whip came down several more times. Thomas waited for any sign of weakness, it angered him that the man was proving to be so resilient. He took no enjoyment from punishing a person if they gave no indication of feeling misery or pain. Twenty-five lashes was the penalty, but Thomas would not slow his hand until he saw the sailor weaken.
As blood began to seep from the wounds in his back, and his skin was an angry red, the man’s head slunk forward slightly. Sweat beaded down Ethan’s face and dripped onto the deck. Thomas’s lips curled. He let the whip come down one last time. He had not been keeping track of the lashes, but he knew it was far more than the typical amount.
“Take him below, let him sleep in the brig with the rats.” Thomas wiped an arm across his forehead and tossed the whip back to the big sailor. The crew had stopped working to watch the flogging. One of the men rushed to the edge of the ship, emptying the contents of his stomach into the water below. Thomas had seen men faint at the sight of floggings. He turned and walked in the direction of his cabin. He needed a drink and did not wish to stay under the hot sun any longer.
“Grady, see me in my cabin.” He shouted over his shoulder. Two of the sailors were still dragging the exhausted and beaten sailor into the brig.
Thomas looked to Grady as the man ducked into the cabin. “When did Ethan Clarke sign on? What do you know of him?” He spat the sailor’s name out with disgust.
Grady was looking out at the water though the small window in the cabin as the ship easily sliced through the curling waves. His arms crossed, resting against his chest. “Not much,” he shrugged. “His clothes are a bit dirtier and torn now but when he signed on you could see they was new and o’ good quality. His speech ain’t that of the regulars at the ports. I’d wager he had an education, and a fair one at that.” Grady glanced at Thomas. “He came in the tavern askin’ about joining a crew. Some men pointed him to me, saying we be taking men on. I asked him if he had experience working ships, he says he did and that he had a fair bit o’ knowledge about them.” Grady explained. “Don’t know what ships he sailed on before. All he said was that he was looking to sign on with a crew.”
Thomas shook his head, he did not trust this Ethan Clarke. He would need to keep a close eye on him. He would also need to keep a closer check on the rest of the crew, to see if Ethan had gained any followers. Thomas did not know how many of his other crew members he could count on. Most of them only wanted their pay and did not care what they had to do to get it. It was a good thing he had Ethan locked in the fowl smelling brig, he had little time to worry about the man. He had bigger things he needed to focus on. Whatever trouble Ethan was going to cause with him was going to have to wait. After he took care of Harding, he would deal with the cretan below decks and dispose of him on some island like he had been stranded on.
“Capt’n, many of the men have burns,” Grady said this, turning his arm over to show a patch of blistered red skin. “They will need to take care of them before they can continue with their duties.” He did not dare look at Thomas while he spoke.
“Very well, have those that need to go below. Go with them and make sure no one goes near that brig.” Thomas commanded, taking a swig of rum.
Catherine’s head was splitting. Her eyes felt as if they would pop out at any second. Doc had given her a few sips of whiskey. It burned a path down her throat, pooling in her stomach. Doc had said the whiskey helped with the pain. She had just started to feel better when Doc had answered the door. She had been terrified of what the Captain would do or say. Doc had been so understanding.
She remembered waking up, feeling dizzy, and like she would lose all the contents in her stomach. Doc had put his hand on her back and had given her a drink of grog. He told her how he had wrapped her head and cleaned up her hand. She explained how the shard of wood had dug into her palm. She did not remember much about going on deck during the storm. As she came round a bit more, she realized her hair was falling down. She had looked up at Doc with horror and shock. He simply smiled and said, “you sure fooled the crew, lass.” He had laughed and asked if she had any pain anywhere else.
