Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(180)
“You should, if you don’t.” Gaitlier’s gaze did not waver, and he explained further. “The sloop came back from Los Camellos last night just before the storm broke. The Jolly Bitch was nearly caught by a frigate standing off the shore as she was cutting the bondsmen adrift in a whale boat. She was given no chance and took several hits before she could fly for safety.”
“A brigantine.” Ruark laughed.
“The Hampstead!” Shanna joined from behind him. “No frigate, surely.”
“Whatever!” Gaitlier waved away the correction. “These brigands have become doubtful of your wisdom and chafe at the loss of several good men. They only wait on the proper moment to do you in, and the lady will suffer a far worse fate if half of what they plan comes to an end.”
Ruark considered the information, and Shanna held her silence to give him the space to think. He stared at the floor for a long time and then began to nod his head. His gaze lifted and fixed on Gaitlier.
“You are right, of course. We must see to our opportunities and make the best of them.” He turned to look at Shanna, and the set of his jaw tightened. “We shall flee the place at the first chance.”
Eagerly Gaitlier pulled a chair close and sat in it, leaning forward. “The channel is difficult at best with the westerlies blowing, but after a big storm passes, the winds bend northerly and blow light for a day or so. ‘Twould be the best time for a short crew to sail a ship through.”
“There are things to see about.” Ruark grew restless, but his eyes sparkled with excitement. “Can you return after dark? We must venture out in the storm, but none can know.”
Gaitlier had one last question. “You will take the girl, Dora, too?”
“Aye!” Ruark assured him. “To leave an innocent here is unthinkable.”
“I will be here, then. Of a late hour, or if the storm slackens any, before. I will tell Dora to gather what we will need.”
“ ‘Tis done then!”
Chapter 19
THE ROOM BECAME A WORLD unto itself, a haven against the raging hurricane that swept across the seas and hurled its winds against the impudent structures made by puny man. It was the swamp that took the force from the waves and left the humble dune of sand unwashed. The inn huddled beneath the crest of the hill and with its solid walls and heavy tiled roof gave shelter to the ones within.
The oaken door protected Ruark and Shanna further against the drunken, gluttonous beasts below. Several times during the afternoon the pirates mounted the stairs and pounded their fists upon the chamber’s portal, begging Ruark to bring his charge before them for a dance or something better to while away the hours. It was only his threat of leaden ball and well-honed blade that held them at bay. They were made to slink away, muttering curses and dire threats, but go they did as none of them felt brave enough to test Ruark’s skill, and a quick accounting of the odds left all too few standing.
The hour aged, and darkness fell. Still the shutters groaned and rattled against the unabated onslaught of the storm. Shanna welcomed the noise and fury of the tempest. It brought to her a respite, for, as it raged without, it sealed them in, and it seemed that Ruark’s presence was the factor she had sought her lifetime through. He was ever near. If she turned suddenly, he would raise his eyes to her and smile. If she dozed a space and woke, she could lie still and listen to the sounds he made as he moved about or shuffled his charts. Even though the storm threatened to sweep them into the sea, she feared its strength no longer, and there was a thought in her mind that she would never again be terrified by lightning or thunder.
Still, it was a relief when Gaitlier knocked on the door. The mild man kicked in a large bag with his foot, and when he had placed the supper tray on the table and carefully closed the portal, he opened the bag with covert pride, to display a rope ladder. It would serve them well for their escape. As he was about to leave he paused at the door and shook his head with some worry.
“Dora has had to hide in the pantry to escape the attentions of Harripen and the others. Carmelita has served them food and drink and much more, but they grow weary of her and seek new entertainment.”
The hours took on the elderly hue of night. The din outside had become wearisome, and the drunken revelry below dwindled until only an occasional sound was heard. The night wore on, and Ruark waxed restless. He paced the room; fondled his brace of pistols and repeatedly checked the priming; and drew his sword to test its edge.
A slow and subtle shift came in the roar of the storm. The wind no longer howled as loudly around the eaves, and the rain dwindled to a fine spurting mist. No sooner had they both become aware of this than a light tap came at the door, and Ruark ushered in a grinning Gaitlier.