A Dream of Desire (25 page)

James spun and pointed at the boy. “Good. Yes. What are your strengths?”

The boys looked at one another and squirmed.

“Uh, thievin’,” Daniel ventured.

“Brawling,” Robert added.

“I can read a little now,” Martin said.

“That’s not going to help,” James muttered.

“That’s exactly what I told Mr. Fletcher!” Martin replied. “Readin’ ain’t a help for anything.”

“What about you?” Peter asked James.

“Me?”

“You’re the biggest of us. What can you do?”

“I command expeditions around the world,” James replied somewhat defensively.

“How can that help?” Peter asked.

Command. James knew how to make people do what he told them to.

One infuriating woman excepted, of course.

“All right, then.” He dragged his hands over his hair as pieces began locking together in his brain. He also knew the push-and-pull rhythm of the docks, and though evening had descended, the workers would continue laboring until the light waned.

“We’ve got to get her out fast,” Peter urged.

“We’re not going to try to get her out,” James replied, staring at the ship. “I’ve got to get
in
.”

He turned to the boys and gave them instructions. As the sky began to darken, carts and wagons continued streaming in and out of the huge warehouse doors. Workers and sailors ambled toward the dock gates for payment and then got into a queue for inspection.

James and Peter exchanged glances as they moved forward to lose themselves in the throng of people clustered around the gates. As they were swept into the crowd, Peter gathered with a group of workers heading for the last warehouse on the quay.

James squinted through the evening fog at the
Warrior
. The gangway was down. Daniel darted past him en route to Warehouse Five. A few men began loading crates onto wheelbarrows to haul them up to the ships. James approached the dockmaster, a barrel-chested man who kept track of the incoming and outgoing vessels.

“
Warrior
going out soon?” he asked casually.

“Warping out to the river at midnight, then down to Gravesend before departing. Twenty-four hours hence.”

Midnight. James glanced at the sun, which had just made its final descent behind the horizon. He calculated they had another hour or two as the workers would continue loading provisions for the ships setting forth the following morning.

“Got enough work for the cargo?” James asked.

“Chief warder took care of that.” The dockmaster nodded toward a portly man with a bushy beard who was supervising the freight work.

When the foreman’s back was turned, James slipped into the warehouse and found a man hefting bags of tea onto a pallet. He grabbed his pocket watch and took hold of the man’s arm. A quick word about the cargo, and the man shed his coat and accepted the watch in exchange. James shrugged into the discarded coat, yanking the tight material over his chest. He took the man’s place unloading the tea, then navigated the wheelbarrow toward the
Warrior
. A stream of workers moved up and down the gangway past the two sentries on duty.

James caught Martin’s eye. He and Daniel were crouched behind a pile of crates that emanated the odor of fish.

“What’s left to get on board?” Martin whispered.

“Flour, tea, casks of brandy for the officers, and potatoes,” James said. “You both stay here.”

The boys were vibrating with excitement, ready to do whatever James asked. He almost smiled. Not wanting to put them at risk, he had only asked that they keep an eye out for Lawford.

He couldn’t, however, keep Peter out of the way. He piled a couple bags of flour onto the wheelbarrow as Peter appeared to help him push it toward the gangway.

Tension threaded James’s spine. He’d put his trust in the boy’s belief that Talia was actually on board the hulk.

They got the wheelbarrow onto the gangway and began rolling it upward. Closer…closer…

“Stop there!” the chief warder yelled.

Peter froze. James turned. The foreman was standing beside the gangway, his hands on his hips as he glared at them.

“Who the bleedin’ hell—”

The crash of wood splintering against stone echoed through the dock. The warder jerked his attention to the warehouse. Several crates had fallen from the top of a pile. Broken wood and hundreds of dead kippers spilled over the ground.

The warder cursed, his face reddening as he ran toward the disaster. His foot skidded on the slippery fish and he went down with a thud. At his bellow of anger, the two sentries ran forward to help him.

Behind the remaining crates, Martin and Daniel raised their fists in victory and scurried off to avoid detection.

“Go,” James hissed at Peter.

Peter grabbed a sack and started up the gangway. James took hold of the wheelbarrow and followed Peter up the gangway to the entry port. There was a bustle of activity on the main deck as workers opened the hatches to lower crates and barrels into the hold.

James motioned for Peter to stay concealed, then hurried off toward the stairs leading to the lower decks. He passed the galley, his heart jumping as he realized the cook was busy raking the coals of the fire just below a black boiler.

James held his breath until the man turned away from the door; then he darted past and made his way to the forecastle. He paused just outside a linen drying room, where shirts and stockings dangled from ropes strung up along the ceiling.

The hatchway by the top deck was barred and padlocked. A sentry’s bayonet leaned against the wall, but the guard was nowhere in sight. James exhaled a slow breath. Sweat dripped down his neck. He had no way of opening the hatchway.

“Ho, there!”

James whirled, his fist striking out instinctively. The blow knocked the sentry’s head back. He let out a yelp and stared at James in momentary shock. Before he could recover and strike back, James hit him again. The man’s head banged against the wall, but he managed to lunge forward in a tackle. James grunted, the breath escaping him as he wrestled the sentry into the linen room.

With a muttered apology, he slammed the man’s head to the ground, the blow stunning enough to give James time to grab a few shirts and stockings from above. He tied a gag around the sentry’s mouth, then removed the jacket of his uniform and fastened bindings around his arms and legs. When he’d ensured the man couldn’t escape, he pulled off his jacket, shrugged into the uniform, and took the keys from the sentry’s belt.

After closing the linen room door, James unlocked the hatchway, grabbed the bayonet, and went down to the prisoners’ decks. Two long rows of cells lined the top deck, filled with hammocks like gigantic cocoons. Snores and the rumble of conversation echoed against the wood. Lanterns hung outside the railings.

James grabbed a lantern, keeping his head bowed as a few of the men shouted at him. Fear seized him at the idea of Talia anywhere near dozens of rough prisoners.

He moved forward, his heart thumping as he continued down the hatchway to the lower deck. The air was hot and stale. The lower decks contained fewer prisoners, but surely not even Lawford would put Talia in their midst…

He kept going until he reached a narrow, whitewashed passage at the end of the lower deck. An unlocked door barred the passage. Gripping the bayonet, James pushed open the door.

Five solitary cells lined the walls. James stepped forward. Tension knotted his chest. A loud snore resounded from a hammock in one of the cells. He crept into the passageway, scanning the other cells. Empty…empty…
oh, God.

Terror filled him.

She was lying on the floor of the last cell, her head buried in her arms, her eyes closed…

“Talia!”

She bolted upright so fast that James stumbled backward. His pulse pounded with a combination of fear and relief. Talia blinked, shoving her loose hair away from her face as she tried to orient herself.

“James?”

“Are you all right?” James set the lantern down and moved closer, gripping the bars of the cell.

“Yes…I…I think so.” She pressed a hand to the side of her head, staring at him in disbelief. “How did you find me?”

“Peter knew Lawford would bring you here.” He reached a hand through the bars. “I’ve got to get you out. The ship is leaving at midnight.”

Talia’s fingers tangled with his. An immense emotion coursed through him at the simple touch of her hand. He fumbled with the sentry’s keys, not daring to hope that one of them might unlock this particular cell. After hastily fitting all the keys into the lock, he was forced to concede defeat.

“Do you know where Lawford went?” he asked.

“To find Peter and Alice. Are they all right?”

“Peter’s fine. He’s here. Alice is back at home, I think.” James grasped the back of Talia’s head and pulled her closer. He pressed his mouth to hers in a hard kiss, loath to leave her alone and yet having no choice. “I’ll be back soon.”

He grabbed the lantern and ran back down the passageway to the lower deck. The instant he stepped through the door, he crashed into Martin.

“What are you doing here?” James snapped.

The boy gave him a triumphant smile. “Part of thievin’ is knowin’ how to get around, right? Thought you’d want to know we spotted Lawford comin’ along the quay.”

James muttered a curse and grabbed Martin’s arm. Together they made their way back to the upper deck.

“Where’s Peter?” James whispered.

“Helpin’ with the cargo loading, last I saw,” Martin replied. “Guess he’s such a good worker they don’t care that he wasn’t hired.”

James didn’t dare send Martin back down the gangway for fear he’d be caught by the two sentries standing guard at the bottom. Instead he opened the linen room door and pushed the boy inside. The sentry he’d tied up was still there, struggling against his bonds.

“Watch him,” James told Martin, ensuring the man’s bonds were still tight.

Martin gave a swift nod, crossing his arms as he stared at his captive. James left the lantern with Martin and ducked back to the hatchway door. He wanted to tell Peter to get off the ship. The boy might be able to do so easily, if he’d depart with a group of workers.

He started for the upper deck. The smell of boiled cabbage drifted from the kitchen. James turned the corner, then froze at the sight of William Lawford.

Lawford stared at him and grabbed for his gun. James darted forward, pushing the bayonet against Lawford’s chest.

“Don’t,” he hissed. He fumbled to search Lawford’s pockets and found the ring of keys. He got behind Lawford and prodded him toward the hatchway.

Silenced by the tip of the bayonet, Lawford preceded him down to the solitary cells. Talia rose to her feet, her eyes wary as she watched Lawford approach.

James nudged him with the bayonet. “Unlock it.”

Lawford inserted the key into the lock and pulled open the door. Talia started to hurry out. Lawford stepped into her path. Alarm ignited in James’s chest as he realized Lawford had gotten within touching distance of…

“Goddammit.” The curse snapped from him the same instant Lawford shoved Talia back into the cell.

Talia’s scream choked off as Lawford grabbed her neck. He twisted one arm behind her back and pressed his other hand to her throat, cutting off her air. James lunged forward, panic rushing through him.

“Stop,” Lawford shouted. “I’ll kill her, I swear.”

He backed up against the far wall, his grip tightening on Talia’s throat. She opened her mouth to try to suck in a breath. Terror lit in her eyes.

Stay calm.
James battled the overwhelming fear, shoving it down beneath the certainty that the woman he loved was in danger and he was the only one who could save her. He lifted the rifle with a steady hand and aimed it at Lawford’s head.

“Let her go.”

“Back away,” Lawford said. “I’m leaving this ship and locking you both up in here.”

Talia grabbed Lawford’s hand at her throat and tried to wrench his fingers away. Her face grew red. She fumbled at her skirts suddenly, her movements flailing and scared.

James backed up a step, but kept the rifle trained on Lawford. His finger twitched on the trigger. He ached to fire, to hit Lawford between the eyes. Only the fact that Talia was so close to Lawford stopped him.

Talia wrenched her hand from her pocket. A gleam of green shone in her palm. She brought her hand up frantically, scratching something deep along Lawford’s cheek. He shrieked and released her, clutching at his face.

Talia sucked in a hard breath, gasping as she stumbled from the cell. James grabbed her and slammed the door, locking Lawford in. He took Talia’s hand and ran back down the passage to the hatchway. They returned to the linen room, where Martin was still guarding the trussed-up sentry.

“How will we get out?” Talia whispered, nodding toward the guarded gangway.

“Leave it to us, miss,” Martin said proudly, grabbing the lantern from the floor. “I’ll get hold of Peter first.”

He darted away. James shrugged at Talia’s questioning look and led her back toward the kitchen. He put his arm out to indicate that she should stay behind him.

A sudden commotion broke out from the gangway. Martin and Peter ran from the upper deck, followed by a few of the other workers. James moved forward, his hand tight around Talia’s arm.

Halfway up the gangway, Robert, who’d apparently been hiding between two casks of brandy, had rolled one of the barrels off the cart. It crashed to the gangway and broke, splashing liquor everywhere.

The sentries shouted and ran up toward the entry port as Robert pushed another barrel off. Close to the entry port, James caught Martin’s eye. The boy lifted the lantern.

James suddenly knew what they had planned. He tightened his hand on Talia.

“Run,” he ordered.

He dashed for the gangway, evading the sentries in the increasing chaos. Cold night air, laced with the smell of brandy, hit him as he hauled Talia down the gangway. They hit the quay just as flames burst from the gangway.

They turned to see the brandy flare into a spreading fire from the lantern Martin had thrown. At the entry port, the sentries and workers yelled to detach the gangway so the fire wouldn’t reach the ship.