Shanna (58 page)

“You are indeed my daughter.” the squire chuckled,
half questioning. “And not some ragamuffin thrusting himself on my good nature.”

Shanna laughed brightly and opened her mouth to reply, but her gaze went astray, and she jerked away, her intended words ending in a choked gasp of dismay as she stared at the deck of the schooner below them.

Ruark had been willing to greet even Ralston as his deliverer and reached out a hand to grasp the other's as the thin man neared him, but Ralston ignored the gesture, instead striking out viciously with the heavy butt of his riding crop. It caught Ruark full across the face, and the force of the blow was such that he spun away from the wheel, careened off the binnacle, and crashed heavily to the deck. As Ruark struggled groggily to rise, Ralston placed a foot roughly in the middle of his back, forcing him down against the splintered planks. The thin man gestured imperiously to two burly seamen he had commandeered. Without ceremony the pair heaved Ruark to his feet, bound his wrists tightly behind him, and, as he re-gained his senses, stuffed a rag into his mouth to still his curses. Ralston walked stiltedly to the head of the stairs and stood glaring back as he waited for his prisoner to be brought forward. The men thrust Ruark before them. He could not walk on his own, and he crashed down, twisting to protect the injured leg. When he was dragged to his feet again, an ugly bruise had swelled on his forehead and a small trickle of blood coursed down from it. They dragged him along between them, with Ralston leading the procession in the full glory of his victory.

Aghast, Shanna whirled to her father, but he was not of a mind to hear her pleas and set his back to her, stating firmly over his shoulder, “He'll be hanged for piracy as soon as we return to Los Camellos. The three bondsmen set free by the brigands told me well enough of our Mister Ruark.”

With that Orlan proceeded to climb carefully down from the quarterdeck and went to greet the party from the schooner.

“Nnnnooo!” Shanna moaned as she struggled past the captain and the helmsman to race after her father. As she reached the main deck, she saw Pitney leaning back against the rail, his arms folded across his chest, huge
horse pistols in his belt, and a sour frown on his face. He stared at Shanna for a long moment then with a cluck of his tongue turned his back, as if unable to bear the sight of her. A muffled groan was heard as Ralston's henchmen threw Ruark onto the deck while the thin man himself raged about, gloating in the power he had seized.

“This slave is guilty of a dozen crimes.” he bellowed. “Hoist him up on the yardarm.” He gestured wildly to those who had gathered about. The pair tossed a rope over a yard and, stretching Ruark's arms upward, bound them again over his head. Then, doing as they were told, they lifted him up until his toes barely brushed the deck.

Again Shanna turned a frantic appeal to her father and again he ignored her as Ralston halted before him. Instead of its usual gray color, the agent's face was flushed. He coughed in his glove to clear his throat and argued boldly.

“If an English seaman can be flogged for disobeying an officer, then surely this man deserves a thousand stripes or so. Let us see now that he pays for at least a few of his heinous sins, one of which being his abduction of your daughter. Justice must be swift to be of any good.

“Quartermaster,” he shouted, bent upon showing no mercy at all, “fetch your cat-o'-nine and let's make the bloody beggar whimper.”

Trahern remained silent, for to his mind the once trusted man deserved what he was getting. Arrogantly Ralston strode to Ruark and lifted his sagging head with a gloved hand.

“So now, my good man,” he sneered, “you shall find the full folly of your adventure at escape. You shall feel your justice on your back and also serve as a good example for the other slaves.”

He snapped his hand away, and Ruark's head lolled loosely between his arms. Ralston snatched the gag away, and his dry metallic breath close in Ruark's face, he mocked, “Have you no comment, milord? No defense? No plea for mercy?”

Ruark's tongue was thick in his mouth, and he could not ease the searing pain that seeped upward from his thigh; it seemed to fill his entire body. A brighter red began to mark the left leg of his knee breeches. The effort
of the past days had sapped his strength. He could not fight this farce now set upon him.

Almost wildly Shanna glanced about her. Was there no one to help her?

The quartermaster emerged from below deck, shaking out the nine knotted cords of the implement The small lead balls woven into the end of each rattled on the deck as he flexed the handle. Pitney stood away from the rail and hitched up his britches. He had viewed enough of this travesty and was not about to let it go further. But before he moved, he glanced down at Shanna and paused. Her face wore a grimace of outrage he had never seen before.

Ralston saw the quartermaster approach, and his sadistic penchants forced him on to new heights. Bravely he posed, staring at Ruark, and reached back his arm. “I shall mete out the punishment myself,” he boasted, “to assure that there be no light strokes to cheat justice. Give me the whip.”

A moment later Ralston gave a frightened shriek of pain as the wicked strands shredded his sleeves and bit deep into his arm. In stunned surprise he whirled to stare directly into Shanna's enraged face. Snarling, she drew the whip back and shook it out, ready for another stroke. She stood her ground like some wild animal, her hair spread back over her shoulders like a lion's flying mane.

“I'll give you the whip, milord bastard, if you touch that man again!”

The quartermaster stumbled forward apologetically and reached out to take the cat from Shanna's hand but suddenly halted and gaped with sagging jaw. Pitney had pulled a pistol from his belt, and now its muzzle was less than an inch from the seaman's nose. Ralston himself would have stepped forward in indignant rage, but he held his heroism in check for Pitney drew his other piece and with a slow, casual grin spreading his mouth, cocked it.

“Cut him down!” Shanna's wicked snarl broke the silence, and the whip waved toward the two men who had hoisted Ruark up.

They hastened to slash the rope, and Ruark crumpled to the deck. Shanna yearned to rush to his side but held
fast lest he be taken again. She stood rigid before her father, while Pitney held at bay any who would have interfered. One of the pistols stayed centered on Ralston's chest, and he stared agog at the menacing black bore.

“You have made a dreadful mistake, father,” Shanna declared, using the more stilted form of address. “'Twas this Mister Ruark who saved us all from the pirates' hands as these good people will attest” She nodded to Gaitlier and Dora, who had followed it all with widened eyes, fearful lest this be their reward also. “Indeed,” Shanna murmured, “'twas Mister Ruark who saw that”—she paused, uncertain, but for a reason none of them guessed, and continued more cautiously—“he saw me safe from those bloodthirsty villains at the risk of his own life. I am as I was, untouched by them because of him.”

Ralston sneered and cold, sea-green eyes turned on him, but Shanna went on with her defense though she faced away from her father's gaze and could not bear to meet Pitney's, either.

“Mister Ruark was taken to Mare's Head from Los Camellos much against his will and 'twas by his wits he managed to get the rest of us away. If you insist upon taking him, you must do so over me. I swear you will.”

At a groan from Ruark she dropped the whip and flew to kneel beside him.

“Fetch the surgeon!” Trahern's voice rang out in command. “Then make sail for Mare's Head.”

Shanna gathered Ruark's head into her lap and brushed his tumbled hair from his forehead. As Pitney bent to straighten Ruark out more comfortably on the deck, he heard Shanna croon very low.

“It's all right now, my darling. It's all right.”

Ruark closed his eyes and sank into merciful oblivion.

By midmorning of the next day, Ruark was able to stand with Trahern on the quarterdeck of the
Hampstead.
He leaned on the merchant's grotesque black thorn quarterstaff which had been loaned to him—somewhat reluctantly—in lieu of a crutch. Shanna stood between them, clutching her father's arm while she kept a careful eye on her man. The surgeon had removed several small splinters and threads of cloth from his leg, dressed the
ugly wound with pungent salves and herbs, then wrapped it with fresh bandages. Though slightly feverish and a trifle lightheaded, Ruark refused to lie abed. He welcomed the refreshing breeze that swept the quarterdeck and savored the anticipation of sighting Mare's Head. On the main deck, the crewmen had already checked the long steel sackers, and when the
Hampstead
dropped anchor just outside the reef of the pirates' island, the dull silvery gray barrels were loaded and primed.

When all was in readiness, the
Hampstead
entered the cove beyond the reef.

The scene that greeted them was one of chaos. Boats began setting out to the ships in the harbor. The mulatto had retrieved his ship from the tangle of the swamp, and it now lay close beside the dock. There was feverish activity aboard the sloop and at the shed which hid the guns. Even before the
Hampstead
was in range, a flash and a cloud of smoke appeared from the sloop, and a column of water rose abruptly a good two hundred yards short of the bow. It was a poor warning shot, for it marked the maximum range of the pirates' aged guns.

The sound of the cannon was hidden beneath a sharp bark of one of the
Hampstead
's sackers, and, a split second later, the other. Thus the battle was begun. A geyser showed short of the sloop, and a huge roll of dust formed on the hill above the town.

In the village there was an abrupt halt to all activity as the guns sounded, for all suddenly realized that the island was not safe, as they had supposed. Suddenly there was a frantic rush of people running to and fro between the houses as they snatched their most precious belongings and tried to carry them to safety.

The sackers barked their staccato duet again, and this time plumes of timber and debris rose above the town. Ruark had an unpleasant vision of the innocents cowering beneath the barrage that descended with merciless indiscrimination upon them. The
Hampstead
's gun crews were not skilled in the use of fine pieces; they knew, instead, the haphazard ranging of the older iron and brass cannon. Ruark mouthed a single silent curse and painfully began to make his way to where the gun crews labored. The sackers barked again, and again pointless
showers of dust and splintered timbers rose to scatter down on the people. Meanwhile, the mulatto's sloop was being winched out on her anchor cable, and sails were rising along her mast.

Ruark used Trahern's staff to brush aside the captains of the gun crews and, seizing a handspike from one of them, aimed the guns himself. Standing back, he raised his arm, and two men stood ready at the touchholes. Ruark dropped his hand, and the deck jumped beneath him as both guns fired in unison. The deck of the sloop became a shambles as the twin shot crashed upon it and brought down masses of rigging and the foremast. Ruark urged the gun crews to reload with all due haste and aimed the pieces again. At his signal they spoke together. This time the pirate ship's mainmast fell, and she heeled heavily as a long gash opened in her starboard side at the waterline. Men dived overboard as she swung astern against the pier and began to settle in the shallow harbor.

Ruark shifted the direction, and two of the smaller ships bucked in the water as the shots smashed through their sides. Smoke began to pour from one, and the other rammed hard ashore, her crew fleeing into the swamp. More shots were fired until the small fleet was a smoking mass of floating wreckage. Now Ruark set the aim more carefully, but it still took three rounds before the blockhouse dissolved in an explosion. Again the direction shifted, and Mother's inn took the brunt of the attack. Nearly twenty rounds had been fired before the facade slowly began to crumble, leaving the interior agape.

Once more Ruark bade the crews reload, and, sighting carefully, he adjusted the barrels. His hand dropped and Shanna stared as the eastern wall and the room wherein they had resided dissolved in a cloud of dust.

From the main deck Ruark called to Trahern, “Unless you wish to slay innocents, the most damage is done. It will be months before a ship sets sail from here. Those responsible for your daughter's capture are either dead or fled. I await your decision, sir.”

Trahern waved an arm and turned to Captain Dundas. “Secure the guns. Set sail for Los Camellos. We have seen enough of this place. God willing, we'll see no more.”

The exertion had cost Ruark his strength. He hung his
head and sagged weakly against the handspike. One of the gun captains handed him the squire's staff, and, taking it, he moved a step aft toward the quarterdeck, toward Shanna. His mouth was strangely parched, and his face and arms felt hot while the sun began to make dizzying loops around the masts above him. He saw Shanna running toward him, then the rough deck was beneath his cheek, and the smell of gunpowder was strong in his nostrils. The day grew dark and faded further still. Cool hands were under his neck, and a strange wetness fell on his face. He thought he heard his name called from afar, but he was so tired, so tired. The blackest of nights closed in around him.

T
HE SURGEON MUTTERED AND SWORE
as he tried to steady the wounded man's legs against the lurch of the barouche.

“Have patience, Herr Schauman.” Shanna Beauchamp's voice was soft and sure. “ 'Tis only a bit further.”

She held Ruark's head upon her lap and placed a cool, wet cloth against his brow. Trahern sat on the other side of her and studied his daughter in some bemusement. He noticed a new self-confidence and a quiet reserve that he was sure had not been there before. She had made much of keeping a silver dirk. It and a pistol so small as to be almost useless were wrapped carefully in the leather jerkin at her feet With a single-minded purpose and a tenderness she had shown no other man, she tended this bondslave whom she had once hated.

“The leg festers.” The surgeon's voice broke into his musings.

Trahern brought himself to awareness and listened to the doctor.

“It should be removed. Now! Before he awakens. The longer we wait, the more difficult the task will be.”

Shanna gazed silently at the doctor and her mind was filled with the terrible vision of Ruark struggling to mount a horse with his left leg gone at the hip.

“Will it save him?” she asked quietly.

“Only time will tell that,” Herr Schauman answered brusquely. “There is every chance he will survive.”

For a long moment Shanna looked down at Ruark. His face held a deathly pallor, and she could find no courage in herself; yet, when she spoke, her voice was both soft and firm.

“Nay, I think our Mister Ruark will fight for his leg as
well Perhaps between the two of us we'll save it for him.”

Both men recognized her statement as final and said nothing more.

The carriage rattled to a halt in front of the manor and before the horses had stopped their prancing, Pitney, who had ridden ahead, was reaching to take Ruark carefully in his huge arms. Immediately Shanna stood beside him.

“To the chambers next to mine, Pitney, if you will.”

Her father's eyebrows rose sharply. She had been anxious to see Sir Billingsham quartered completely across the house from her, and now she took the bondslave into her own wing.

Sir Gaylord meekly held the door ajar for the returning party. As Trahern passed through, last in the procession, he paused to consider the knight's bandaged foot.

“Well, Sir Gaylord,” the squire grunted. “I see your ankle is much the better.”

“Of course,” the man replied heartily. “Dreadfully sorry I couldn't go with you, but the bloody animal stepped away just as I—Well, he banged me up, you see, then trod all over it. But it's mending rapidly.” Gaylord lifted his cane and then winced as he bravely tried the foot.

With a snort Trahern brushed by, struggling with the sneer that threatened to conquer his face.

“The fate of the courageous, I suppose,” Trahern said over his shoulder as he brushed by.

“Aye,” the reply came quickly. “Rightly so. Would have come anyway if it hadn't happened in the last moment there, but didn't know how bad it was, or what good I'd be in a fight. There was one, I see.” He gave a nod toward the wounded man being carried up the stairs. “I see you've captured that chap, Ruark. Dastardly thing he did, running off like that and kidnapping your daughter. A foul man, to be sure. Get him well enough to stand a hanging.”

It was Gaylord's good fortune that Shanna was arguing her point with the doctor and completely missed his words. Trahern's answering grunt was noncommittal; he
rather savored the idea of letting his daughter set good Gaylord right in his thinking. He had no doubt that the event would occur soon enough without any urging on his part.

“Join me in a rum while they get Mister Ruark to bed,” Trahern invited and mounted the stairs after the group. “'Twill be interesting to see what they must do to keep him alive for the hanging.”

The knight hobbled up after his portly host as best he could, since no one paused to give assistance. When at the head of the stairs Pitney bore the bondslave off in the direction of Shanna's chambers, Gaylord managed to disguise some degree of his concern. Still, he hurried to catch up with the squire to bring the matter to the elder's attention.

“Do you think it wise to have that renegade so close to your daughter's rooms? I mean, if the chap hasn't done his worst by now, he's likely to, eh? The sly one that he is, a lady should take precautions or be reminded of the dangers when she cannot see them for herself.”

Trahern replied with a touch of humor. “I think it wise of me not to deny my daughter anything at the present moment.”

“Still, sir!” Gaylord became adamant. “A gentleman's future wife can hardly be quartered in the same wing with a knave without some wagging tongue claiming that the good man's being cuckolded.”

Squire Trahern halted abruptly in his tracks and faced the man, and as the humor faded, a glint of anger shown piercingly in his green eyes.

“I do not question my daughter's virtue, nor would I believe rumors put to the fore by some rejected suitor or mewling bitch. My daughter has a mind and will of her own and a good sense of what is decent Do not strain my hospitality by indicating differently.”

A shout from Pitney had sent Berta and Hergus running ahead to the chambers Shanna had indicated, and by the time he came through the door with his burden, they had folded back the linens and placed a double layer as a rest for Ruark's wounded leg.

The room became a place of activity. Pitney was followed closely by the surgeon who stepped aside to allow
Shanna to enter before him. Trahern joined them with Gaylord directly behind him, and the two of them observed the proceedings from just inside the door. Shanna urged their care as Ruark was stretched on the bed. The linen shirt and his stockings were stripped from him. The surgeon directed that a small table be set near for his knives and instruments. Hergus hied to slide one close, glancing anxiously toward Shanna, who had dipped a cloth into a basin of water and had begun to lightly bathe Ruark's face and chest. The breeches had been split up the one leg to the hip, and as Herr Schauman yanked away the sticky bandage, the maid caught a glimpse of the blood-caked, oozing wound. Unaccustomed to the sight of gaping flesh, Hergus whirled and fled the room, her hand clutched tightly over her mouth. Shanna stared after the woman in amazement. Hergus had always seemed so stalwart and unruffled, not at all inclined to be squeamish.

“Females!” the doctor muttered. He gestured irritably to Ruark's stained breeches, which were blackened with gunpowder and bore the same acrid scent. “Unless you find your delicate nature abused, girl, I suggest you rid him of those.”

A gasp of astonishment came from the shocked Berta at such a bidding, but Shanna did not hesitate. With her small dirk she reached out to rip the seam of the breeches and had made only a frayed spot at the knee when Pitney brushed her hands away and took out his huge, broad-bladed knife. He separated the garment to the waist with a single stroke and then finished parting the other leg of the garment.

Shanna turned in exasperation as Berta plucked for the third time at her sleeve. Pitney was easing the breeches from Ruark's slim hips, and the housekeeper raised a trembling hand to carefully shield her eyes from the bed. Her cherubic face was crimson as she cautiously held her gaze upon Shanna's face.

“Come, child,” she whispered urgently. “Ay tank dis is no place for you. Ve leave dis to the menfolk.”

“Aye, Madam Beauchamp,” Gaylord agreed, stepping forward then wincing and leaning heavily on his cane.
“Let me escort you away. Tis certainly no place for a lady.”

“Oh, don't be an ass!” Shanna snapped. “I am needed here, and I can help.”

Gaylord's jaw slackened, and he beat a hasty retreat, colliding with Trahern, who had possessed the good sense to leave his daughter alone. But Berta tried again, though her comment dwindled into a confused stutter as, from the corner of her eye, she caught Pitney flinging the breeches to the floor. Seeing the woman's distress. Shanna laid a comforting hand on the plump shoulder and spoke gently.

“Berta, I'm—I have been married.” Shanna paled slightly as she realized what she had almost blurted out and continued more carefully. “I am not ignorant of men. Now, please, stay out of my way.”

Berta felt herself dismissed and fled to soothe her abused modesty in the fresh air outside the chamber. Shanna leaned across the bed and held the oil lamp high for the doctor who was again probing into the wound.

The leg was propped on a pillow so the doctor could better do his work. He drew out more splinters and, carefully, a coin-sized piece of cloth. Ruark groaned and twisted. He was still deep in his unconscious state, but not immune to the stabbing reality of pain. Shanna cringed; she could almost feel the agony he suffered. She helped swab the fresh flow of blood, aware that her father studied her intently, puzzled over her concern. She could not hide it, nor did she even try. If he guessed there was more to her anxiety than seemed proper, she'd answer to that later. Right now, all that mattered was Ruark and getting him well.

Some of the poisons were washed away with the blood, and Herr Schauman cleaned the ragged flesh and spread his unguents and balms liberally. Then he bandaged the leg with wide strips until It was held almost immobile.

“'Tis the best I can do,” he sighed. “But if the rot should set in, we'll have to remove the leg. There will be no question then. 'Tis infected enough already. You can tell by the purplish color and the red which spreads away from the wound. I shall have to bleed the man, of course,” He laid Ruark's arm so that it projected over the
side of the bed and began to set out his knives and bowls.

“Nay!” The word burst sharp from Pitney's lips. “He has bled enough, and I have seen too many die with their life in a barber's bowl.”

The German drew back in righteous anger but held his tongue as Trahern spoke in agreement with Pitney. “There will be no bleeding here. I, too, have watched a loved one die beneath a knife, and I do not think it wise to further weaken an ailing soul.”

The surgeon's lips were white and tightly pressed as he threw his scalpels back into the bag and snapped it shut. “Then I can do nothing more here,” he retorted sharply. “I shall be in the village if you need me.”

Shanna stretched a cool linen sheet over Ruark and touched her hand to his fevered brow. His lips were moving, and his head rolled slowly from side to side. A sudden fear nipped at her. What if he should become delirious and begin to talk or call her name or speak things better left unsaid? Quickly she whirled and began to sweep everyone toward the door.

“Leave now,” she commanded. “Let him sleep. He will need every ounce of strength. I will sit with him for a spell.”

As Pitney and Trahern went off down the hall, Gaylord paused in the doorway. Though Shanna tried to close the portal, he was not daunted by her eagerness to be rid of him. Taking out a lace handkerchief and daintily touching a pinch of snuff to each nostril, he stepped back into the room and glanced about him imperiously.

“Terribly decent thing you're doing here, madam, after all this fellow, Ruark, put you through.”

Shanna shrugged in annoyance and tried again to usher him to the door.

“I know you must have suffered hideous atrocities at the hands of the pirates.” Another bit of snuff, a sneeze, and the handkerchief delicately dabbed against his nose. “But I wish to assure you, madam, that my proposal of marriage still stands. And in fact, I would advise the nuptials be spoken with all due haste to quiet the rumors that will no doubt spread of your ravishment and shame. Perhaps you even know of a woman on the island who
can be of benefit to us should you carry the proof of your ill use.”

Shanna was aghast and for a moment accepted the affront in stunned disbelief.

“Yet I would not speak of your—ah—adventure to my family. Twill be difficult enough to convince them of your rather questionable heritage.”

Shanna became stiff with fury.

“'Tis charitable of you, sir, but whatever seeds I might have gathered in my—ah—adventure,”—her smile was grittingly sweet—”I will carry through to their fruition!”

Sir Gaylord dusted his cuff as he continued to demonstrate his magnanimity. Surely this common wench would be impressed. “Still, my dear, we should get into marriage before you are disgraced. Should you be found with child, we will deny all rumors, and I shall stand forth as its father.”

He glanced toward her to see the effect of his unimpeachable logic but saw only her rigid back. He had no way of knowing that her lips were tightly set and white with rage. She must, he surmised, be completely demolished by the generosity of his offer. Then he boldly vowed, “I would personally challenge any oaf who casts a slur upon your name.”

Shanna's arm flung out, and her finger trembled as it indicated the most direct path to the door.

“
Aaaaooout!
‘ Her voice was a half-strangled shriek.

“Of course, my dear,” Sir Billingsham mumbled, never realizing the nearness of his total maiming. “I understand. You are distraught We can discuss this later.”

He took several steps before nearly tripping on his cane, and displaying excellent recall, he suddenly remembered to limp on his bandaged foot; it took the knight a quick step and a hop to avoid the slamming door behind him.

Shanna leaned against the door, and a slow moment dragged out before she could wash the outrage of Sir Gaylord's proposals from her mind. It was a moan from Ruark that emptied the ire from her and sent her flying across the room to his bedside. She saw his face flushed and dark in the dim light. His head rolled from side to side with a loose, disjointed fervor. Anxiously she felt his
forehead and found nothing to solace her there. His skin still burned with that hot dryness that put a chill of dread in her.