The Captain's Beloved

33 - Titles that Lead to Trouble

He stared at me for a moment then turned and walked out of the room. "Jes' a minute."

I heard his footfalls on the floorboards, and I imagined him climbing the steps to the deck, where I heard him stomp around. A minute later, he was standing in front of me untying my hands. "I can't letcha be outta these ties for long. I gotta keep to the plan or I'm out my pay."

"I understand." We seemed to be connecting somewhat, and I didn't want to break that connection, so I hurried to manage the task of rubbing the ginger powder on my gums. The tingle felt nice. A damned site better than the throbbing in my head. In fact, I had been focusing so much on the parts of my body that were in pain, I had not noticed how full my bladder felt.

"Say, while I'm untied, would you let me use...the facilities? That is, do you have a private bath on board or do you..." I bit my lip, praying he wouldn't bring in a bucket for me to use.

He laughed, which perpetuated a nasty cough that had him squeezing his eyes shut. "There ain't no bathing facilities aboard this vessel, but there's a privy right there." He motioned across the room to a closed door, and I realized that was where the scent of urine likely originated from.

"That'll do. I know you're worried about Captain Boucetta returning and finding me untied, so I promise to be very quick."

His lips pinched, and I imagined his brain like a smokestack, churning out a decision. Would he risk punishment from an angry pirate, or put a lady in a position to wet herself? "A'right. But I'm leavin' the ties on yer feet. I'll jes loosen 'em so ye don't fall."

After giving my ankles a bit more room to move, he helped me make the journey across the floor. When he opened the door, I tried not to retch at the overwhelming smell that billowed out. I could almost taste it as I shuffled the rest of the way inside.

"There's a bucket of leaves to take care of...well... I'll give ye some privacy." I listened to his retreating steps and did my business in quick order. Not so much for my captor's benefit, but to take advantage of the opportunity to find a possible escape route.

The first thing I had noticed upon entering the small space was the porthole, which I could access by standing on the bench. Upon better inspection however, I realized the small size of the porthole and how impossible it would be for me to shimmy through it. Still, the porthole was open. And if I could fit my head through, I might flag someone down.

The problem with having one's feet tied was that climbing became very difficult. I started on my knees and used the open porthole frame to pull myself upright. Once I determined that my head could fit and not become stuck, I surveyed my surroundings. Based on the style of buildings nearby, I knew I was still in London. But at which dock? There were dozens along the Thames.

I presumed the hour was late, as nary a soul walked the path in front of the dock. And the number of ships were few, only three on the port side. If I were to take the word of my bearded captor, I would not likely receive assistance even if I cried out to a passerby.

As I struggled to make out shapes in the dark, I recognized the steeple of the Church of Saint Giles through a gap in the buildings. Oh, dear. That did not bode well for me even if I should make a successful escape. Duncan had been clever to think of hiding his stolen treasure here.

The pinch of the ship's rough wood beneath my fingers reminded me I had been relieved of my gloves. Had they been tossed aside without thought? On a whim, I felt inside the pocket of my petticoat and found they had been stuffed there. Whether it was done intentionally or not, whoever had done it did not realize what a useful tool they could be.

With my privy time running short, I tied the gloves together using the pinky fingers. Then I tied a pointer finger to the knob on the outside of the porthole window. With luck, a passing constable or good Samaritan would see them as a signal for help. After all, didn't the losers of a battle surrender with a white flag? I knew it was a long shot. But it was all I had.

When I opened the door, my jailor was lying prone on the cot, and he started when he heard me. Had he been nodding off?

"Arg. There ye are. I thought ye might've fallen in." He grunted as he pushed to his feet, and I waited for him to assist me on my return trip.

Knowing he had laid down in the filthy rags he wore did not help my delicate stomach as I assumed his place. If the situation had been any different... That is, if I were not his prisoner, I would have offered to take him to a poorhouse for a bath and a meal. As he tightened my bindings, I pushed a little more.

"How do you and Captain Boucetta know each other? Have you been friends long?"

He glanced up, and I thought he might answer. Then he pursed his lips and said nothing.

"It's okay. I know what Duncan's after. I just don't understand why he is going through all this trouble when I don't even have what he wants? Why didn't he just threaten me back at the embassy and force me to fetch it for him?"

He glanced at me but remained mute.

"Maybe you don't even know what he's after. I do hope he's paying you well for this. From what I heard, the item is quite valuable."

When he had finished retying my hands, he narrowed his gaze. "Maybe it's ye who don't know what he's after. Sounds like it to me."

"Oh? What did he tell you he's after?"

"Ye first. What do ye think he's after?"

"A ruby pendant."

His overlong eyebrows rose in surprise, and the throb in my head grew louder. "I know nothin' of a ruby. But that sounds like a fine prize."

"So, if it isn't the pendant, what could Captain Boucetta possibly hope to achieve by kidnapping me? What does he really want?"

A lopsided smile quirked his lips, and he shook his head like I was the ignorant one. "Ain't it obvious? He's after the newly titled daughter of an earl."