The Blue Diamond (The Razor's Edge Book 1) (20 page)

“No. The Captain is sleeping
now. How is Madame Shepard?”

“I believe she’s asleep as
well, sir. Is there anythin’ I can get for ye?”

Green took a deep breath and
blew it out, turned his head a final time in Ivory’s direction, and answered,
“No. I have something to which I must attend. Goodnight, Richard,” Then, he
walked off toward the deck.

* * * *

Miranda and Cassandra were
sound asleep when Keara crept into their quarters and shook them awake with an
urgent push on both of their shoulders. “Wake up. We’ve arrived.”

They dressed in a matter of
seconds, donning their slops and hats and fully arming themselves. “Willy has
his orders, as does Phineas. We’ll weigh anchor two hundred yards out, so in
order to make it to the
Cat
by four
o’clock, we’ll need to get moving,” Keara said, pulling her watch from her
pocket and then tucking it back in as they exited the room. She tossed her
head, signaling Willy to lower the longboat and round up the five crewmen who
would be joining her, including Sandy.

“I want to come with you,”
Cassandra insisted as she tossed her leg over the side of the boat and climbed
aboard.

“Cass, I really need you to
stay. I can do this myself.”

“I never said you couldn’t.
I simply said I want to come. And I thought you were bringing at least ten.”

“I changed my mind. I was
afraid too many would just make us easier to spot. And I don’t have time to
argue this with you.
 
You have your own
free will, so grab an oar, cousin, and we’ll be on our way.”
 
She turned to the burly man next to her.
“What’s the best way to approach her, Sandy?”

“I’d say from the stern on
the port side. Reason bein’, that’s where he’ll be holdin’ her—a few doors down
from his quarters.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I know, is all. He’s a
cabin down the left passageway where he holds important prisoners or those he
wishes ta’
 
’terrogate.”

“We’ll have to take your
word on that, I suppose,” Cassandra said, pulling an oar.

“Thank goodness they’ve left
the lights on fer us,” Sandy said, nodding to acknowledge he spotted the
Cat
among the ships docked in the harbor
ahead. “See her there, Cap’n?”

Keara yanked the spyglass
from her belt, pulling it to her eye for a moment, and then she slammed it shut
and ordered, “Get down!”

“What is it?” Cassandra
asked.

“They’ve a man in the nest,
watching.”

“I been up in the nest more
times than I can remember, Cap’n. If we keep behind the ships in the darkness,
he won’t spot us. He’s watchin’ fer breakin’ water and a lantern. We’ve no
lantern lit, which means we have ta’ slow down as much as possible so as not
ta’ make waves.”
 
Keara nodded and made
to dip her oar in the water.

“Wait, Cap’n,” Sandy said as
he pulled his oar across his lap.

“What is it, Sandy?” Keara
asked turning back to look. One by one, the lights aboard the
Cat
were going out as if the ship itself
were going to sleep. “Well, isn’t that curious?” she murmured.

“It’s curious, alright.
 
After dark, Ol’ Blacksnake keeps that ship
lit like the night sky when he’s in port. Somethin’ ain’t quite right about
this,” Sandy agreed.

“Carry on, now. We’ve no
time to wonder about putting out candles. Deep, slow strokes then. And keep to
the boats. It may take us a bit longer to get there, but we’ll do what we
must,” Keara stated, pushing her oar deeply into the water. Cassandra rowed
quietly right behind her.

“I suppose you’re wondering
why I insisted on coming,” she spoke softly, making sure the others behind her
couldn’t hear.

“I’m not wondering at all,
Cass.”

“You’re not?” she asked in a
voice of upturned surprise.

“If you’re hoping to see ol’
Green Eyes, you’ll most likely get your wish.
 
He almost never leaves Blacksnake’s side, so I’ve heard.”

“I thought I may be able to
help.”

“Well, I wish you luck. We
can use all the help we can get.”

Chapter
Twenty-One

“Cap’n, it’s time,” Richard
whispered to Ivory over her shoulder. Ivory snapped back towards him and leapt
to her feet. She opened the trunk and burrowed into it for the dagger, and then
she wrapped the red sash around her hips. “Hand me my belt and be on your way.
I told you I won’t have your blood on my hands—I have more than enough
already.”

“I done what I said.”

“What?” she hissed, as she
buckled her belt and sheathed the dagger. “I told you…”

“I know what ye said, but
‘twas easy. I seen a man down the pier tie her up and head towards the city. He
nearly fell in the drink fer holdin’ on ta’ his bottle. He won’t be back
tonight, I can promise ye that.”

“No. Stay here. I’ll tie you
up and take your keys,” Ivory threatened.

“Have ye lost yer mind?
They’ll fer sure flog me, then! I know ye can take me, and I know the stories
of how ye make men—good sailin’ men— outta young fellas like me. Please, Cap’n
Ivory…”

Ivory glared at Richard and
shook her head, as she opened the chest and pulled out what once were three
beautiful dresses. She’d used the dagger to shred them into strips and then
tied them together to make a rope long enough to reach the water. She climbed
on the cot and poked her head out the window to make sure she wouldn’t be seen.

“What happened to yer
dresses?”

“I told you I already had a
plan.
  
Now please, just go.” Ivory tied
one end of the rope of former garments to the frame of the cot and tossed the
rest out the window. “Goodbye, dear Richard,” she sighed and pushed herself out
and over the window sill.

The eerie quiet unnerved her
as she climbed down, hand over hand, as fast as she could. The adrenaline
already had her heart skipping beats when, with less than a few yards to go,
she felt a tug on the rope. Her head snapped back to find the small dark figure
she knew to be Richard descending above her. “Dammit, Richard, go back!” she
shouted in a whisper, but he continued as if he hadn’t heard her. She’d reached
at least her own height from the water, but the rope was beyond stressed.

Ivory’s urging for Richard
to turn back flipped to begging him to hurry, worried that the rope wouldn’t
bear their weight and the splash when they hit the water would surely expose
their plot to immediate discovery. She had barely spoken the words when Richard
lost his grip on the smooth taffeta and fell free. Had Ivory not held the
shreds of a dress pressed tightly between her thighs and wrapped around her
calf when she caught him, she believed her well-thought-out plan would have
shattered on the surface of the water like broken glass.

Ivory reached out and
clamped onto Richard’s cotton breeches and snatched him from the night
air.
 
She held him tightly, and the very
tips of his hair dipped into the sea as he swung like a pendulum upside down.
She caught her breath, gave a sigh of relief, and lowered him an inch at a
time. “Please, don’t drop me,” he pleaded in a whisper. Suddenly, her hand drew
back now holding only his pants, and the boy, naked from the waist down, slid
with barely a spatter into the water.

Frozen, and still a good
five feet from the surface, she breathed deeply, tossed Richard his knickers,
and adjusted her grip while looking up from whence she came. In that moment,
the fabric tore free from the cot and she dropped the last few feet as stiff as
a pike. When her body pierced the surface of the water, she made no more sound
than that of a fish breaking.

Richard swam underwater
ahead of her as far as he could before surfacing to breathe and look back,
checking on Ivory’s progress behind him. She realized the boy was telling the
truth when they finally reached the adjacent pier and she saw the boat he’d
spied. The dock was illuminated in the soft glow of a lantern that sat atop the
farthest piling from shore. “Wait here,” Richard whispered as he climbed onto
the pier, snatched the lantern, and put out the light. Ivory clung to the dock
below and waited until she saw the small, pale hand reaching out to assist her.

* * * *

Maddox stirred in the night.
He’d taken Green’s advice and set down his cup, falling into his lavish bunk
soon after his friend left.
 
Yet he slept
only an hour, and off and on at that. Now, he craved water, and lots of it. He
pushed himself up and raked his hands several times through his mussed black
curls, which now nearly stood on end, and then rubbed hard at his eyes to open
them. Once on his feet, his legs felt like lead, and he crouched for a moment
before forcing his knees to straighten. He stood and arched his back and
searched frantically with his blurry eyes for his chamber pot.

Once relieved, he staggered
to his desk, but the water pitcher was dry when he lifted it to pour. He
released an exasperated groan and stepped to his door, opening it with a hard
pull to call for Richard. “Richard,” he groaned several times, but no answer
returned. “Where the hell is that boy?” He glanced up and down the hall, but
there wasn’t a soul in sight.

“It’s a sad state of affairs
when a ship’s captain has to fetch his own blasted water,” he mumbled hoarsely,
retrieving the pitcher and turning back to the door, but not before catching a
glimpse of the clock. It was nearly three thirty in the morning. His mouth was
so dry he thought he’d swallowed a pound of dirt, and he swished and swirled
his tongue in his mouth to pull whatever bit of moisture he could just to make
a sound.

Pitcher in hand, he walked
out of his quarters and stood in the hallway. He waited a moment for his eyes
to adjust to the darkness and then wondered why there wasn’t a lit candle or
lantern to be found. Again, he turned back and took a candle from his desk and
pressed its wick to the solitary flickering flame near his bunk. Candle in one
hand and pitcher in the other, he made his way down the passageway until he
found the water barrel. He dipped the pitcher in up over his hand and poured the
water into his mouth until it ran over the corners of his lips in streams,
soaking his unbuttoned shirt.

His Adam’s apple bounced as
he held his head back, gulping down the liquid. He poured the remainder of the
water over his head with an audible “Ahhh…”
 
As he began to return to his senses, he felt something hard and cold
poking him in the groin. He stuffed his hand beneath the waist of his pants,
and when he reached the object, he knew immediately that it was the
pearl-handled razor. He returned it to his belt and secured it. The clouds were
dissipating in his mind, as, once again, he found himself, standing in the
light of that single candle, just outside of Ivory’s door.
 

His hands shook. He raised
his right fist to knock but pulled it back and rested it on his chest in a
futile attempt to still the tremble. He set the candle down and tried threading
his fingers together as if to pray, but it was of no use. His jaw tightened and
his brows fell low over his eyes. His body tensed from toe to nose, and his
hands flexed open hard before curling into two tight fists that he used to
pound on the door with every bit of frustration and anxiety trapped within him.
Each thundering blow he landed was an effort to relieve the pressure. “Ivory!
Wake up!”

When no answer came, he
rushed back to his cabin for the keys which Richard always hung on the hook
outside of his door when he wasn’t holding them.
 
But the peg was empty. “Richard!” he called
out again, but still the boy did not come. With bare feet and his unsecured
shirt flying in his wake, he sprinted down the corridor.
 
Upon reaching her door again, he threw
himself against it. “Wake up and answer me, woman!” Now, soaked in water and
sweat, he stood back. His chest rose and fell with steamed breath and anguish,
when the fear that something may have happened to her rolled up his spine,
leaving him with a chill. Unable to wait one second longer, his hands gripped
his hips, and he lowered his right shoulder slightly. A moment later, the door
blew open, and he was covered in splintered wood and devastation.

* * * *

“Around there,” Sandy
whispered, pointing to the port side of the stern of the
Cat.
They’d reached the darkest hour before dawn, and the oddity of
how the ship was almost completely unlit spooked Sandy. “I don’t like this a
little bit,”

“What’s wrong?”

“Blacksnake could keep
twenty candle makers in business. The man’s afraid a’ the dark or somethin’. I
never seen her without a light in every winda. Sorry, ladies, but this is…”

“Afraid of the dark, you
say?” Keara asked, raising both eyebrows and holding her oar in her lap.
“Perhaps he’s just trying to hide in the dark.”

“Well, all I know is she
looks like a ghost ship t’night. Something’s amok.”

“I couldn’t care less about
something being amok, other than us. Now, let’s take advantage of our good
fortune and get aboard. You, Tobias, tie her off here and stay put until we
return.”

One at a time, they climbed
through the gun hole as Sandy instructed and kept to the shadows—which was easy
since there was barely one candle alit in each compartment they passed through
on their way up. Sandy’s knowledge of every nook and cranny of the
Cat
helped lead them through her belly
and straight up to her whiskers within minutes. Once they’d passed several
sailors in their drunken slumber, as well as a few fearless rats, they found
themselves in the blackened hallway just outside of the captain’s quarters.

“Down that way, last door on
the left,” Sandy instructed.

“Aren’t you coming?”
Cassandra asked.

“Wait…” he answered, as he
touched the captain’s door with the tips of his fingers, and it creaked slowly
ajar. Sandy peered through the few inches of doorway and then pressed the door
open far enough that he could step inside. He reached across his body with his
right hand and unsheathed his broadsword, raising it at his side. Keara,
Cassandra, and their three sailors waited in the dark hallway with their backs
pressed against opposite walls, until Sandy emerged a few moments later with
his sword back in its place, shaking his head.

They heard a loud crash and
spun in unison towards the direction of what they believed to be Ivory’s
cabin.
 
“What was that?” Cassandra asked,
falling back hard against the wall. “What the devil?” Sandy hissed, dashing
down the hallway behind Keara, as the others followed suit with their weapons
now drawn.

Keara pressed her free hand
out behind her, motioning for them to wait.
 
Her hand still raised to hold them off, she assessed the situation. The
door was hanging off its frame, clearly having been destroyed in a fit of
rage.
 
The bit of light emanating from
the room leaked into the hallway before them, and the silhouette of Keara’s
left hand began to count to three… and then, suddenly, stopped.

She tipped her head around
the busted door frame and found Maddox Carbonale, standing over the empty cot,
unarmed and seething. “Blacksnake! What have you done to Ivory?” Keara burst
into the room and shouted—the tip of her sword pointed directly at his chest.

“I’ve done nothing to her.
As you can see, she isn’t here,” he answered smartly, raising his hands from
his sides and holding a folded letter in his right hand.

“Give me that,” Keara
growled, reaching out to snatch it. Maddox raised his arm higher and pulled it
away.

“I beg your pardon, Madame,
but this letter is addressed to me. And, it’s of a rather intimate nature.”

“Give me the letter now, or
I’ll slice you in two!”

“Keara, wait, please,”
Cassandra said, slowly pushing Keara’s sword to the side while she stared into
her eyes, as if begging for patience. “May I please see the note, Captain?”

“As I said, this is
addressed to me.”

“Please, Captain, I must
insist. If there is any information in it which could help us find our cousin,
we’d be ever so grateful,” Cassandra implored him.

 
“What is the meaning of this?” Master Green
shouted from the doorway of the room—pistols drawn at their backs.

“Master Green, there’s a
very large sword pointed directly at my heart. If you’d be so kind as to lower
your weapons, I’d be forever in your debt.”