Against the Wind Page 11

  “Please, Emily,” Ethan said, his tone even and reasoned. “If you’ll simply come along, this entire...” When he reached out his hand for hers, Emily struck his wrist as hard as she could with her shoe. Almost instantly, though, she saw that she had just made a serious error in judgment. An apology was already on her lips when Ethan swept her up in his arms, strode to the edge of the dock, and dumped her, backside first, into the bay.

  She landed hard on the water, sank briefly, and struggled to the surface, spewing water and shrieking obscenities. On the dock above her, the ragtag crowd was roaring with laughter, and even applauding. A toothless dockhand, smelling strongly of sweat and long-dead fish, thrust a wooden pole in her direction, while Ethan merely watched, making no move to come to her aid. Emily snatched the end of the pole and allowed herself to be pulled back to the rotting steps. Gasping for air, and spitting out what she could of the bay’s foul-tasting water, she crawled onto the lowest step, stood up and shook herself like a wet spaniel, and then tried to smooth her skirts, which were so heavy with water that walking was impossible. Finally, she bent down to wring them out as best she could, standing in a spreading puddle of water. Behind her, the toothless gentleman touched her arm and handed her the sodden remains of her best afternoon bonnet, its pink roses drooping forlornly.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said loudly. “You, at least, are a gentleman!” With her eyes still on Ethan, she plopped the dripping hat on her head and marched up the wooden gangplank.

  “Captain McAllister,” she said stiffly, “Since you are so concerned that we will arrive late for supper at dear Mrs. Hanover’s, I suggest that we go there, immediately.”

  Ethan shook his head. “In due time, Emily. In due time.”

  Whereupon, the captain encircled Emily’s waist with one arm and carried her, draped over his hip like a sack of grain, to a nearby wall approximately three feet in height. Once there, to the delight of the onlookers, he sat down and pulled her roughly across his lap. The crowd, grown now to include a number of raucous fishwives and street hawkers, cheered and hooted as he took the hem of her soaked velvet frock and threw it and its multitude of sopping petticoats up and over Emily’s dripping head. From beneath the wet skirts, her protests could be heard only vaguely, but she kicked vigorously enough to propel a pink satin slipper across the walk, nearly putting out the single good eye of a grizzled old sailor wearing an eye patch.

  “Ethan!” she cried, her voice muffled under yards of drenched velvet. “For the love of heaven! Stop this!”

  When McAllister tightened his grip and opened the back of her drawers, the crowd cheered, and a moment later, when he bared Emily’s chilled buttocks to the merry throng, they expressed their approval with hoots and whistles. Emily merely groaned.

  As the spanking commenced, though, Emily did count herself fortunate that her head and face were obscured beneath her voluminous, sopping petticoats, and extremely thankful that none of the surly mob knew her by name. But in the next minutes, even anonymity did little to save her dignity.

  Somewhere between the wharf and the wall, Ethan had removed his belt, and now, he laid it across Emily’s shivering backside with a force that belied his earlier claim of feeling ill. And as he took a deep breath and set about setting Emily’s bottom on fire, the crowd again roared its approval.

  The spanking was hard but mercifully brief, and when he had finished, McAllister dumped Emily back on her feet, and delivered one last swat with his bare hand. By this time, he was almost as wet as she was, but ignoring his own condition, he thoughtfully brushed the folds of her dripping garment back in place and straightened Emily’s misshapen hat, shoving it firmly down over her tangled and streaming hair.

  “Now,” he inquired. “Are you ready to go on, or had you rather we repeat this performance for those who may have arrived late? You and I will continue this discussion later, in private. Let me assure you, Emily dear, the matter is not at an end.”

  Emily shot him a look of pure hatred, picked up her skirts, and preceded him up the street, leaving a trial of small puddles as she walked.

  They were, of course, late, and supper had already been served. As they were shown in, Jane Hanover stared with open curiosity at Emily’s bedraggled costume, which had begun to sag under the weight of several quarts of malodorous sea-water.

  “My God, Ethan?” Their hostess cried, leaping to her feet. “What on Earth has happened to this poor young woman?” She grasped Emily’s elbow. “Please sit down and rest, my dear. I’ll send for some dry things, immediately.”

  Ethan waved his hand. “I’m sure that Miss Fowler is grateful you for your kindness, Jane, but I’m afraid she’s unable to sit down at the moment. She lost her footing on the wharf and took a fall, as well as an unexpected plunge into the bay. She has asked me to convey our apologies and escort her back to her rooms, at once. Moreover, the lady and I have some rather urgent business to attend to. As you know, we hope to sail on tomorrow’s afternoon tide if possible, or the day after. “

  Jane patted Emily’s hand and kissed her on the cheek. “Of course, dear, we understand completely! Please, come again when you’re feeling more rested.”

  “Thank you, Madam,” Emily murmured. “You’re very kind.”

  When they returned to their rooms, Emily found herself bent gracelessly over the end of her small cot, wearing nothing but her damp shift, while the still annoyed captain applied a dozen swats to her already sore backside—with Emily’s own wooden hairbrush.

  “What was that for?” she asked when he let her up. “Have I not been humiliated sufficiently today?”

  “That,” he said, handing her the hairbrush, “was for not apologizing, and for making me miss an excellent supper. I have to go back to the ship tonight to oversee the work. Be ready to sail by late afternoon.”

  “And what makes you think I’d travel again with you, after the ignominious manner in which I’ve been treated today?” she asked haughtily.

  McAllister grinned. “Because,” he said, giving her throbbing bottom a final, cheerful smack, “there are only one hundred and fifty residents of this village, most of whom have witnessed your bare ass being soundly spanked on a public thoroughfare. By tomorrow, the event will be in the local newspaper, and shortly thereafter, all across the island. Besides, there is not one single decent place to shop, here, and you need a new frock.”

  After he left, Emily fell gratefully onto the larger bed and slept until late the next morning. She was awakened by the thud of his boots hitting the floor, and his weight sinking onto the edge of the bed.

  Emily pulled the covers up to her chin and glared at him.

  “If it is your intention to ravish me, Captain McAllister, there is, of course, nothing I can do to prevent it.”

  McAllister smiled wearily. “You flatter yourself, Miss Fowler. After the day I’ve had, there isn’t a female God created as inviting to me as sleep, which I am about to begin when you remove your charming backside from what is undeniably my bed. If you insist upon remaining in bed at this hour, please return to your own cot.”

  Emily flushed with embarrassment. “Forgive me,” she mumbled. “I mistook your motives.”

  Wrapping herself in the blanket, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed, and onto the floor. “I wouldn’t think of depriving you of sleep, since that is all that seems to be on your mind.” With her back to him and her head held high, she walked to the crude cot. “I am extremely sorry that you find me so ‘uninviting,’ as you describe it—and in your usual vulgar manner.”

  McAllister reached out and took her arm, and before she could turn away, kissed her very firmly on the mouth.

  “Emily, dear,” he said, smiling. “With this wretched weather, we will have a very long voyage ahead of us. Please believe me when I promise that before we reach home, I will find all the time necessary to ravish you, as thoroughly and as vigorously as you wish.”

  Emily slapped his face hard. “I wish no such thing! In th
e event you’ve forgotten, I am still a lady.”

  McAllister yawned. “Oh, I don’t think so, Emily. Not in any sense of the word. Still, I suppose only time will tell. Now, get out and let me sleep, before I decide to be annoyed by that slap, and blister your tail again. Stay close at hand, though. I want to make the early afternoon tide. Oh, and one more thing. You’re not to leave the hotel grounds, under any circumstances. Do you understand? I’ve had word that out Wallace is still at large.”

  Since the day was warm and Ethan fast asleep and snoring softly, Emily decided to ignore his instructions about remaining at the hotel, and walk about town for a while. Dressing quickly, she hurried downstairs and strolled along the street, looking in shop windows for a new dress. After a few minutes, though, she began to notice that people were watching her, and realized with a degree of horror that some of these same people might have witnessed yesterday’s humiliating spanking. Abruptly, she decided to make a final visit to Margaret, where she could also collect the books Tim had promised. She started off, humming cheerfully to herself in an effort to appear oblivious to the rude stares.

  The two mile walk to Margaret’s cottage was warm, and by the time she arrived at the Duncans’ pretty blue door, Emily was tired and out of sorts. She found her former governess at the back of the house, planting spring bulbs in her garden.

  “Emily, dearest!” Margaret cried, getting stiffly to her feet. “I’m so glad you’ve come. Is your handsome captain with you?”

  Emily sighed. “My captain, as you call him, is neither handsome, nor mine, Margaret, dear. At this moment, Captain McAllister is still asleep in his room, unshaven and snoring like a bad-tempered bear, and looking very much like one, as well. I’ve come alone. Tim told me he would lend me a few books for the voyage home.”

  Margaret appeared shocked, and looked around her snug garden fearfully.

  “You’ve come all this way from the harbor alone? My heavens, Emily, do you think that was safe? With that wicked Wallace person still about, somewhere?”

  “I was quite safe, Margaret. It’s my feeling that Wallace and his band have fled the island by now, for a safer location. They may be villains, but they’re not fools.”

  Margaret seemed unconvinced, and began to wring her plump hands fretfully. “Well, nonetheless, we must go inside at once, bolt the door, and await Timothy’s return. When he arrives, I’ll send him to fetch Captain McAllister so that he can take you safely back to the village. Come along inside. We’ll have a pot of hot tea and the lovely fresh muffins I baked this very morning. And while we wait, you’ll tell me all about Chastity and dear little Caleb. I do miss them so!”

  Emily groaned to herself. Muffins and tea, and more prattle about her siblings was not her idea of a pleasant afternoon.

  The tedious afternoon wore on, and Timothy didn’t arrive, and with each passing moment, Emily could see Margaret’s anxiety growing. At three o’clock, bored with waiting, Emily rose to leave. By this time, Ethan had long since discovered her absence, and now, she thought glumly, he was walking the floors and no doubt planning an unpleasant welcome for her return. She didn’t even have the books she’d come for, and now, her bottom was sure to pay a heavy price for her disobedience, and for delaying their departure.

  “Emily! You can’t go back alone!” Margaret wailed. “I’m certain that Tim will be here at any moment, dear! I beg you to wait!”

  “I promise you, Margaret dear, that I am perfectly capable of finding my way back to town. Captain McAllister will be displeased that I’ve stayed so long, and the captain has a most disagreeable way of showing his displeasure. When Tim comes home, please tell him…”

  Outside, they heard the sound of approaching steps.

  “Thank the Lord!” Margaret cried. “That will be Tim, now.”

  Or Ethan, Emily thought. She grimaced as she imagined herself bared and squirming across his knee, being spanked in the most humiliating fashion before the eyes of her very own governess! Margaret had already scurried to open the latch when the door suddenly crashed inward, tearing from its lower hinges and catching crosswise in the door-frame in a tangle of splintered wood and broken glass. Margaret screamed and fell backward across the small serving table, knocking the tea things across the room, where they smashed against the opposite wall.

  In the half-blocked doorway stood three rough-looking men, one of whom was pointing a weapon at them. Each of the men brandished a drawn knife, as well, and Emily knew at once that they had come for her—on the orders of the infamous, sea-going criminal, Gilbert Wallace.

  Chapter Six

  In the few moments she had to react, Emily could do little other than to grab Margaret’s hand and try desperately to get her up from the floor. If they were both very quick, she thought, they might conceivably make it to the back door before the men could climb over or push aside the shattered front door. But Margaret simply would not, or could not, budge, crippled by either terror or her considerable bulk. Instead, she sat on the floor with her legs splayed, weeping and trembling as the men fell upon them.

  Seconds later, both women had been bound, gagged, and forced from the cottage into a waiting carriage.

  As she was dragged from the carriage and aboard a ship she took to be the Dark Moon, Emily managed to bite the taller of the two men, who rewarded her with a vicious blow to the side of her head. Through a haze of pain, she saw that it was a large vessel, square-rigged, sleek and long, of the type she knew from Ethan’s teaching to be a clipper. Evil-looking men hurried about the deck preparing to sail, and above her head, the rigging seemed to be alive with the shadowy half-seen bodies of other men, working to unfurl the gigantic sails.

  The man she had just bitten slapped her across the face again, and then shoved her through an open hatch and down the companionway. She tumbled most of the way down, twisting an ankle when she landed in a heap at the bottom. A moment later, Margaret thumped down the steps on her large backside, screeching in terror. She landed just to Emily’s left, barely avoiding squashing the child she had cared for so tenderly and for so many years.

  Emily took the older woman’s shoulders in her hands and tried to see her face. “Dear God! Have you been injured, Margaret?”

  Margaret shook her head and tried without success to stifle her sobs.

  “No, thank the Lord! And you? Good heavens, Emily, dear! Your mouth is bleeding!”

  Emily nodded, dabbing at her cut lip. “I’m very much afraid that our captors are no gentlemen.”

  While Margaret was wailing anew at this rather understated remark, Emily was trying to listen to the shouting from the deck above. “Please hush for a moment, Margaret,” she whispered. “I think…” Beneath her bruised body, she felt the ship stirring to life. The Dark Moon was moving seaward.

  Suddenly, two men armed with short knives appeared at the open hatch. Seconds later, the two terrified women were being dragged by their ankles down the passageway and into a small, windowless cabin. Once inside, Emily scrambled to her feet and swung at the smaller of the two men, who promptly punched her in the stomach and shoved to the floor. For some minutes, she lay still, dazed and out of breath. Across the cabin, she could see Margaret. She was still weeping piteously, with her wrists firmly secured to a table leg. Emily got to her hands and knees and crawled to her friend’s side.

  “These dreadful men are going to kill us, aren’t they?” Margaret sobbed. “Or…”

  Emily shook her head, hoping to appear more confident that she really was. “No, I don’t believe so. I should think we are worth money to them alive. I imagine that we are to be held for ransom.”

  Margaret wailed. “Or sold as slaves…or even worse!”

  Emily sighed. “What could be worse than…?” She paused, and went pale. “Oh, yes, I believe I see what you mean.”

  “At least you’re young!” Margaret whimpered. “And pretty!”

  “My dear Margaret,” Emily said irritably. “I hardly think that can be considered an adva
ntage in this instance. It’s not as though I’m trying to fill my dance card, you know. Have you seen even one of these fellows you’d wish to…well, to dance with? “

  Margaret blushed furiously and began to sob in despair.

  Emily tried cheering her old governess with words of encouragement she didn’t even believe herself. “Now, now, we mustn’t lose heart, Margaret,” she said brightly. “The thing to do now is to escape. Surely, there must be a way off this vessel. We’re not far from shore, yet. We will simply get ourselves loose in some way, and swim ashore.”

  Margaret sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve, attempting to gain her composure. “But, Emily, dear, I can’t swim! And besides that, these waters are probably infested with sharks!”

  Emily blanched. “Sharks?”

  Margaret nodded, her plump face streaked with tears. “Oh, Emily! I can’t bear thinking about what’s to befall us! There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that these villains intend to defile us. We must place ourselves in God’s merciful hands rather than submit. I know! We will throw ourselves overboard, somehow. Better to drown or be rent to pieces by fierce, flesh-eating sharks than suffer the shameful fate these men intend to force upon us! They are savages, clearly bent on stripping us stark naked and despoiling us, over and over and over!”

  Emily was not quite as sure of the wisdom of this plan as Margaret seemed to be, but she chose, for the moment, to keep her doubts to herself.

  “Actually, Margaret, dear,” she said, after a moment’s thought. “I’m not certain that one can be despoiled more than once. I believe the first time is quite–”

  “Emily!” Margaret howled. “Please!”

  By nightfall, none of their captors had returned to the cabin, but on the decks above, the women could clearly hear sounds of revelry and drunkenness.