There was no avoiding the pirate captain. A hasty escape from the divan would have only drawn his suspicion. He had seen me and begun his journey across the room, smiling as he approached. Jules groaned beside me when he noticed him.
"Mistress Hayes! This is a nice surprise." Duncan removed his hat and produced a polite bow. "Are you here as a guest? Or are you on official business? I hear you have been promoted." His smile failed to come across as anything but wicked now that I knew what he had done. Perception was everything.
"There is nothing so official about it. I will manage my life as I have been." I had a feeling I would be stretching the truth before this conversation came to an end.
"Ah, you have always been so modest." He said this like we had been acquainted all our lives, and Jules's annoyance radiated off him like a brewing storm. "May I join you?"
The couple who had been keeping to themselves, grabbed the hookah and vacated their space on the divan. They seemed to be rather eager to leave, and this created a large opening for Duncan. Instead of assuming their position, he motioned for Odette to take the opening so he could sit next to me.
"I do not believe I have formally met your captain, though I have a vague memory of our brief goodbye at port."
"If I recall, you had been quite intoxicated," I said. "This is Captain Jules Thompson of the royal navy, reining boxing champion of Chatham, and my fiancé."
My embellishment of Jules's designations had Duncan chuckling. "Ah, so Odette was not teasing me when she said you had become titled and engaged. It is good to meet the man who has managed to tame this special woman. She is a crowning jewel among treasures."
"I do not believe Rose could ever be tamed," Jules said, clenching his fists in his lap. "She is rare among her peers in that regard."
"I am glad to know you recognize this. I cannot imagine her choosing anyone who is not willing to let her bloom. Is that not a fitting metaphor for Rose?"
Jules did not reply, and in the silence that followed, Odette waved down a servant carrying a tray of food. "Ah, here is the boulek I was telling you about. Everyone, please enjoy. I promise you will not regret it."
The small squares were layered with flaky dough reminding me of parchment and stuffed with filling that smelled of game meat, perhaps wild boar. Jules appeared skeptical as he inspected the unfamiliar item, giving it a thorough investigation and a sniff before taking a bite. When I joined him, the robust flavour that hit my tongue could not be described in any terms I knew. Still, it was quite delightful, and while we busied ourselves with eating, I watched Odette and Duncan exchange an entire conversation using just their eyes.
It quickly became clear that they knew each other, and this troubled me. While Odette and I had always been cordial during our interactions out among society, we did not know each other terribly well. She tended to forward her own agenda whenever possible, as many with means did, but I never believed she would wish ill-intent on others. Of course, fear often forced people to make uncharacteristic choices. And pirates were skilled at striking fear into people.
I was beginning to regret my choice to accept that second serving of mead as the music seemed to grow louder, and I took a long draw off my goblet. The bold flavour of mint helped clear my head a wee bit. At least, that is what I told myself as Duncan stared at me. More specifically, at my neck.
"I wonder, Rose. Are you still enjoying the special gift I put in your care back on the navy ship? If there is any time to show off such a splendid piece, it would be at an event such as this."
The question I prayed he would not ask had me stiffening in my seat. While I considered my answer, I finished the rest of my tea, eyeing Jules's goblet as I smiled at Duncan. "I did not wish to wear the piece here because I feared it would attract too much attention."
"Too much? If you are referring to the ambassador's love for fine jewels, I assure you, he would do nothing but compliment you on your taste. Or your taste in friends who gift you with such finery."
He smiled but there was nothing about it that reassured me. In fact, I could not be sure he wore a smile as the scarves appeared to sway into my field of vision, and a dull buzz started up in the back of my head. This was not the time for a nervous headache.
My shoulder brushed against Jules's arm, and he turned to offer me a searching look. "Are you feeling alright, Rose?"
His words blended with the buzz, but I managed to offer an answer. "I think the mead I drank earlier has finally begun to cloud my thoughts."
"You drank mead earlier? With whom? Your father?"
"Yes. And the Duke of Montrose. He insisted."
"So, you have met the Duke of Montrose?" Duncan said. "I have heard he is a jackass of the finest order." His demeanor switched from falsely genteel to openly aggressive, and I determined right then that I was ready to leave whether or not it was polite.
"We only just made acquaintance." Those were the only words I could manage as the room began to spin like a child's wooden top. The feeling was nothing like I had experienced before, but I had heard tales of others who indulged in far too much and found themselves face down in the street. I turned to Jules, attempting to keep his face in focus as my stomach rolled over, considering the strange food I had given it. "Jules, I think I may be sick."
Odette climbed off the divan, although she looked more like a colourful blur. "I will take you to the embassy's private bath, Rose."
"I will do it," Jules said as he helped me up. "Just show me the way."
The next few moments came at me like a parade of print caricatures and nonsensical images. I only managed to focus on Odette's voice as she helped me into the room she claimed to be the bath, and was forced to trust her as I dropped to my knees beside the tub, vomiting into it with extreme force.
"Rose..."
I heard Jules's voice at my shoulder, and I mustered all my strength to ask that he leave me to be sick in private. When I heard the door close, I continued to empty my guts into the embassy's fine claw-foot tub until the sound of fading music and voices serenaded me to the floor, and I lost all my strength, and the room went dark, and silence followed.
~ ~ ~
The first thing to hit me when I regained consciousness was the smell of urine and opium. I counted it a miracle that I did not immediately vomit. Not unequally disturbing was the feeling that someone had bashed my head in with an oar.
It took another few seconds to realize I was no longer in the private bath of the Algerian embassy. Based on the constant back and forth movement beneath me, and the repetitive slosh of water against the walls, I deduced that my person had been transferred to a ship, likely moored somewhere on the Thames.
Despite Jules's association with sailing vessels, I felt fairly sure I was not in the company of the royal navy. And my second clue came when I tried to move and realized my hands and legs were bound. A gag had also been tied around my head and mouth, which made it difficult to breathe without sucking in the stench.
When my vision finally acclimated to the dark, I made out the shape of a porthole, which appeared to be the only source of light. I had no idea where my captors were, but I did not have to think hard about who they were. No doubt, Captain Boucetta was behind this. And if he had managed to remove me from the embassy and secure me in this vessel, I did not want to speculate what methods he undertook to keep Jules from stopping him.
I spent the next few minutes trying to wriggle out of my ties. As I shimmied about, the cot beneath me shook, scraping the floorboards. I stilled but heard no signs of life. Surely, I had not been left on a ship without a guard. Were they so foolish to think that bindings could keep someone from finding a way to escape? Did they believe me helpless because I was female?
After a good amount of struggling, my efforts seemed fruitless. The bindings were made of strong twine wrapped many times. I needed a sharp edge to cut them. But first, I had to get myself out of the cot.
Feeling like a fish out of water, I scooted to one side of the bed frame. When it started to scrape again, I stopped to listen. This time, I heard a nasally whistle, like a constable on the chase. Sadly, I was unable to shout for assistance. Using one elbow, I pushed my body upright. This position caused some discomfort, given that my legs were tied tightly at the ankles. How in the blazes was I to walk once I had placed my feet on the floor?
It was at this point I realized my slippers had been removed. So had my gloves. It likely made the job of binding me easier. What might my captors do should they find me attempting to flee? My breathing had become erratic, and I had begun to sweat from all the wiggling. But it did me no good to wait for some new indignity to be done to me.
I swung my feet over the side and began to rock back and forth until the momentum catapulted me up and out of the cot. And that was where everything went south, including my bottom, as my bound feet could not hold me upright and I teetered and tottered and fell back onto the cot. My landing splintered the frame, and my head came down on the opposite edge with a hard thwack. I squeezed my eyes shut and stars blinked against my lids like painful pricks of sunlight.
The next thing I knew, I was being hauled up by my ties, and brought face to face with an unshaven man reeking of everything foul. "Thought ye'd outsmart me, eh?"
The smell and the sudden motion threw my stomach into a fit. I wanted to tell him that I was about to be sick on his boots, but the gag got in my way. All I could do was plead with my eyes and deliver my garbled message through the cloth bindings on my mouth.
"If ye fink I'm gonna untie that gag so ye can scream yer head off, ye better fink again."
I fought the bitter taste welling on my tongue and the tightness in the back of my throat. I most assuredly did not want to vomit with a gag on my mouth, but the energy it took to maintain my composure had my knees going weak, and I collapsed forward onto his chest. While this was not pleasant in the slightest, it did cause him to sit me back down on the cot.
"Watchit there, girlie." He chuckled as he squinted at me through the dim. "Those that ain't used to opium can suffer some nasty effects."
"Opheeum?" I attempted to speak around my gag, but it only made my jaw hurt. How long had I been bound this way?
He laughed again. "Yep. T'were a clever plan Boucetta had to set himself up wif a new vessel."
So, I was right about Duncan being behind this. And it sounded like he had worked it out ahead of time. But that didn't make sense. If this was his plan to get the stolen pendant back, and I didn't have it, why kidnap me? Was Odette helping him with his plan? Did she tell him I had given it away? She had only learned this minutes before Duncan joined us. How had I been drugged so cleverly?
My mouth had gone dry, and I guessed the pounding in my head was partially caused by dehydration. I doubted my scruffy-faced captor kept fresh water aboard his ship, but I was desperate to have him remove the gag so I could breathe properly. "Wather."
"Water, ye say? We don't have none of that on board. But I got rum that come straight from the islands."
I couldn't say what islands he spoke of, and I had never tasted rum, but if that was all he had... I nodded.
"Aright, but cha gotta promise not to yell when I set yer mouth free. Promise?"
I nodded again.
"Not that anyone would come to yer rescue round here," he said as he walked away. "The constables have given up on policin' us."
He clanked and banged around in the next room, and I considered the risks of drinking from the same cup as a man who had clearly not bathed since winter. But he also struck me as someone who might unwittingly let information slip without knowing he'd done it. If I could get him talking, it might improve my chances for escape, as it seemed we were the only two bodies on board.
He reappeared with a bottle in his hand, which he sat on wooden chair while he untied my gag. When the cloth loosened and fell away, I took a deep inhale. While the air that entered my lungs felt thick and polluted, there was more of it, and after a few breaths, my head began to clear.
"I spect that's better, eh?" He picked up the bottle and tipped it over my lips. The bitter liquid splashed cold across my tongue. But once I swallowed, it burned like icy fire. I coughed and sputtered while he laughed. "Ye ain't tried rum afore, have ye?"
"No, I haven't. It is nothing like brandy."
"Nah. Brandy's too refined for my taste. The rum's more tolerable if ye water it down some. But I jes pulled into port and ain't had time to fetch clean water."
"Are you a fisherman?"
His eyes narrowed, and I worried I had pushed too soon. But he seemed to come to a decision as he gave his shoulders a shrug. "I be a jack of every trade, ye could say. Fishin' be one of 'em. Ye need more?"
He held up the bottle and I nodded reluctantly. This time, I succeeded in getting the liquid down without coughing. The smile behind his whiskers appeared almost proud, and I used it as an opportunity to push a wee bit more.
"Do you have a biscuit or something to soak up the sour in my stomach? I fear I might vomit again."
"I got ginger powder. Ye just rub a bit on yer gums. Anyone who spends time on a ship knows of its uses. I take it ye ain't been at sea much." He talked as he disappeared again, and I spoke to his shadow as he lit a lantern in the next room.
"I just spent two months on the Surety helping war wounded soldiers. Before that, I had only taken one holiday on a passenger ship." Clearly, this fellow had not been debriefed by Captain Boucetta, which made me wonder what kind of loyalty he had with the pirate.
"So, yer a nurse? And ye ain't heard of ginger powder?"
"I didn't say I haven't heard of it. And I am not a nurse. I assisted in the laundry for a time. Then I was given the opportunity to attend the wounded in the infirmary...once I proved myself."
When he returned, he held out a small jar, which I tried futility to reach for with my bound hands. This had him grimacing as he looked at his own filthy hands. "I'm afraid I ain't washed proper in a few days."
"I can apply the powder myself if you'll untie my hands." I glanced pointedly down at my bound feet. "I am not going anywhere with my feet tied like they are. I can't even stand on them."
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."