...as nothing ... The gun was not loaded.
Captain Allen grins. And then he roars with laughter. "Did you really suppose I would be so stupid that I would have a loaded pistol lying about after seeing you take down Moseley and Flashby and half my squad? Did you think I would leave a loaded pistol within reach of Bloody Jack, or fairly close to Lieutenant Jacky Faber, or even in the same room with La Belle Jeune Fille sans Merci, the Scourge of the French Coast, the Caribbean, and who knows where else? Ha!"
He comes to my side, as I lie limp and quivering in my bonds, and he rumples my hair as one would a playful puppy. "Oh, Jacky, you are such a pistol, you are! I might even be in love with you! Ha!"
There is a sound from outside, and Captain Allen says, "Uh-oh. I think the agents are back. And just in time, too. For lunch, that is, which I'm afraid they will not ask you to attend. Perhaps that will be your punishment for trying to mislead poor, gullible Dick Allen. Hmmm?"
I reward that speech with a glare. He takes out his key and opens the hatch door, and Moseley and Flashby enter.
"What is this?" demands Flashby, upon seeing me with my hair down and my leggings off. The three empty wine bottles on the table do not escape his notice, either.
"She got hot," says Captain Allen, with an ill-concealed leer, "very hot, indeed, if you take my meaning." He makes as if he is buttoning up his trousers.
"Look, you..."
"Is she bound up, just as you left her?" asks Allen, his eyes steely again.
"Yes, but..."
"Then shut the hell up, Flashby. It's time for lunch."
"Yes, it is," replies Moseley, with a satisfied look. It is apparent he has received some good news today. Damn! Did Tecumseh agree to the plot?
The three arrange themselves at the table and food is brought down and I have to watch them eat it. But that's all right, I have gone hungry before and I suspect I will again, if I survive this ordeal.
As they are finishing, Moseley says to Allen, "After we are through here, I need you to take some men and scout downriver. I have heard of some encampments of savages down there that it might profit us to talk to."
Captain Allen cuts his eyes to me, as does Lieutenant Flashby, who smiles into his cup of wine. Uh-oh...
My head sinks down. How much more of this can I take?
Suddenly, all four heads in the room start up at a strange sound from outside.
"It sounds like music," says Moseley in wonder.
Yes, it does, says I to myself, hope rising in my breast once again. It is indeed music, and it is Scarlatti's Sonata in G for Harpsichord and Violin, played now with only the harpsichord, but it is sweet, oh, such sweet music to my ears!
Chapter 53
"What the devil?" asks Moseley, cocking an ear at the sound of the harpsichord.
Don't change expression, girl! Don't say a word! They'll get suspicious!
I keep my face calm, I let my head hang and my body sag as if I'm still without hope, but I am not, oh no, I am not. It is all I can do not to sing and shout for joy.
In a moment, there's a knock and Sergeant Bailey's florid face appears in the open hatchway. "Your pardons, Sirs, but there's a big keelboat anchored next to us. There's girls all over the boat, too." He glances off to his left for another look. "Pretty girls."
"We'll see about this," answers Moseley. He rises from the table and goes to the hatchway. "Come along, Flashby. Captain Allen, you stay here and watch things while we investigate."
"Girls, eh? We'll certainly have to investigate," says a grinning Flashby.
He and Flashby exit the cabin and I hear Reverend Clawson boom out a welcome to them.
"Gentlemen, may I introduce myself? I am Mr. Jeremiah Ezekiel Clawson and this is my Belle of the Golden West, the finest showboat and tavern on the Mississippi River! We have superb food and fine wines and the best Kentucky bourbon made! We have music and entertainment and the most beautiful and cultured young ladies to keep you company!"
I hear some yoo-hoos and feminine laughter, and I suspect that Honeysuckle and Tupelo and Clementine and Chloe are standing on the cabin top, smiling and waving and flirting shamelessly with the soldiers out on deck, who must be in a state of total amazement.
"It's been a long time since I've had a decent drink," says Flashby. "Or an indecent girl. I say we see what they got, Sir."
I can't hear Moseley's reply.
"Shall I send our boat over for anyone who would like to sample our offerings, gentlemen?"
"Very well, Mr. Clawson. Send the boat," says Moseley. He comes back and pokes his head into the hatchway, then says, "Allen. Lock the door from the inside. Keep an eye on her. You'll get your turn later."
He disappears and Captain Allen closes the hatch. "Imagine that, a floating whorehouse out in the middle of absolute nowhere. Will wonders never cease?"
He fishes the key out of his pocket, puts the key in the lock, and turns it. "There," he says, "I believe we shall have some privacy now." He goes to the table, picks up a piece of ham, and comes over to stand in front of me. "Open," he says, and I open my mouth, and he tosses in the chunk of meat. I chew and swallow. It is wondrous good.
He gives me a few more pieces and then holds his wine cup to my lips.
"Thank you, Richard. That was very good of you. To disobey Moseley's orders and all," I say, giving him the full big-eyed waif look.
"Well, my dear, he didn't order me not to feed you this time, did he?"
"If he had ordered you to go off on that scouting trip, would you have done it?"
"To leave you here alone with the gallant Flashby? I'm afraid I would have had to obey that direct order or face a court-martial and a possible firing squad, either of which I would have found most unpleasant. I love you, Jacky, but not quite enough for that. Here, have another sip."
After giving me another taste of the wine, he crosses to the stove and lights another thin cigar.
"Pity we can't have you give your parole again and pick up where we left off, but those two could come back at any moment, and since we can't have them finding you sitting in my lap, whispering sweet words in my ear, we'll have to pass the time in genteel conversation." He pulls up a chair next to me and puffs away contentedly.
It is the last bit of contentment he will enjoy for a good long while.
There is a sudden crrrack! of cannon fire followed by shrieks of pain from the soldiers outside. I also hear a bloodcurdling Indian battle cry as well as a few yee-haw!s from, I suspect, the Hawkes boys.
"Damn!" says Captain Allen, jumping to his feet and fumbling for his key.
There is another crrrrack! and more agonized cries, and I hear Higgins call out, "Those guns were loaded with salt! Now we're reloading with grapeshot! Throw down your guns and surrender!"
"I'll be damned if we will!" shouts Allen. He gets out the key, unlocks the door, yanks out his pistol, and runs up the stairs.... Then he walks slowly backward down the stairs, with Lightfoot's long black rifle barrel pointed, once again, between his eyes.
"You been havin' fun with her, soldier boy?" I see Lightfoot's finger begin to tighten on the trigger. He comes fully into the cabin, with Katy Deere right behind him, an arrow nocked in her bow, her eyes searching the corners for any threat.
"Lightfoot!" I shout. "Don't kill him! Please! He helped me, he did! As best he could!" I feel a bump, which I know must be the Belle being grappled alongside.
"Then put the pistol down, boy, and stand back against that wall. Lift the gun and you're a dead man."
Captain Allen puts his pistol on the table and steps back, furious. "Friends of yours, no doubt," he says to me.
"The very best of friends, yes," I sob, overcome with relief.
"We got 'em all rounded up, Mr. Higgins," I hear Matthew Hawkes say.
"Good," replies Higgins. "Get their guns and take all their weaponry to the Belle. Be careful, Matthew. Remember, those men are trained soldiers."
"They don't look much like that now, no sir! Look like a bunch of crybabies to me." I can hear the sounds of sobbing from outside. Salt under the skin does hurt.
Higgins comes into the cabin, takes one look at me, and says, "Very becoming outfit, Miss. The Noble Savage, as it were. Quite handsome, and rather appropriate, too, considering your nature."
"Spare me your wit just now, Higgins. If you could see fit to untie me, I would appreciate it."
Higgins has me loose in a few moments. I stand, rub my wrists, and address Captain Richard Allen. "Captain Allen, do you surrender yourself and your men to me?"
"To you?" He looks at me with very little love in his eyes. "Why to you?"
"Because I am the Captain of the Belle of the Golden West, the ship alongside of us at the moment, which, I must point out, has just taken your ship, is why."
"Dammit, no, I won't."
"Then, the chair, Captain Allen. If you would be so good." I point to the chair in which I was so recently a helpless, hopeless prisoner.
"Move it, soldier boy," says Lightfoot, gesturing with his rifle barrel.
Allen goes to the chair, sits down, and stares straight ahead. He puts his hands behind him and I, taking the same pieces of rope that bound me, bind him. Securely, but not too tight. I am a sailor, after all, and an expert at knots. When I am done, I stand back, fists on hips, and regard him.
"Poor Lord Richard. It has been a day of reversals, hasn't it? The world turned upside down, as it were." I ruffle his hair, run my finger along his cheek, and bend down to put a kiss on his brow. He does not look at me.
"You are a pretty one, Captain Allen, but I shall not abuse a bound captive, as you, most nobly, did not abuse me."
I turn to Higgins and say, my voice hard, "But as for Moseley and Flashby, for them I have other plans. Where are they?"
"They are in the trap, Miss, protesting quite vociferously, as you may imagine," says Higgins. "The Misses Honeysuckle Rose and Tupelo Honey took them directly to their chairs resting on the trapdoor. It was a simple matter."
"Good," I say. "Have they given up their weapons yet?"
"No, they have not. The snakes, Miss?"
"Not yet. I want to be there." I lift the hem of my skirt to show him the two angry burn marks on my left leg there.
Higgins averts his eyes. "I am sorry for your pain, Miss. I cannot bear the thought of you being tortured. I wish we could have gotten here sooner."
"You got here in very good time, Higgins, and I bless you for it. It would have been worse, Higgins, if Captain Allen here had not stopped them."
Higgins looks at Allen and gives him a slight bow. Allen, still staring straight ahead, does not respond.
Lightfoot, now that Allen is firmly secured, puts up his rifle and takes my shiv from his belt and tosses it to me. I catch it in midair and slip it back in my arm sheath. "Thanks, Lightfoot," I say. "I thought never to see it again."
"Thank Tepeki," says Lightfoot, and I do, and then get back to business.
"Higgins. That cabin there." I point to what I think is Moseley's room. "There's a money box in there, somewhere. It was money to be used to buy the scalps of settlers—men, women, and children. See if you can find it."