Lily wrung her hands. “We have to stop him. Robert is so gentle. What can we do?”
“We’ll ride into town and solicit the governor to intervene. He’ll stop Jarvis.”
“But what are we going to say to convince him?” Lily asked.
“I don’t know, but I’ll think of some scheme on the way.”
In record time, Devon made it back to the stockade, the combination of a heavy sleeping draught for the governor to cure his woes and whipping the nag into a race horse. The timing of the governor’s affliction could not have been more disastrous. A delay in escape would ring alarm bells. Dooley’s purchase of a wherry, illegal by a debtor would appear suspect for an escape. Questions would follow Dooley on where he procured the money for such a venture.
Devon came up short in front of the gate and bid the guards to allow him to enter. It was well after midnight, later than he required for his plan to hatch, but if they hurried, they could make it. Lanterns were lit at the center whipping post, some poor wretch on the wrong side of Jarvis. Devon dismounted, deciding to take the long way around to his hut when a scream of agony caught his attention. He glanced over and his heart dipped belly-low. Ames.
Jarvis hauled his bulk forward, swinging his bamboo cane onto Ames’s naked shoulders and back again with full force. “My genius boasts a dozen ways, some of them quite diverting of conquering stubbornness in these convict scoundrels. Answer me, you dog. What plan is there for escape? I heard it from my niece, Claire’s own lips. Tell me what you know of it.”
“Claire!” Devon swore beneath his breath. What hellish plot had she devised?
“I don’t know,” Ames sobbed. “I do not know of what you speak.”
“You must learn manners to your master at the cost of a striped hide.” Jarvis lashed his victim about the head and shoulders. Soon his cane was reduced to splinters by his violence. Several long splinters each taking on the keen edge of a knife. Ames’s back was a bleeding pulp from neck to back; moaning he sank huddled in a heap. A cruel smile lit Jarvis’s brutish face. “You shall be taught proper submission. No drink or food for ye until ye tell me of this plan,” he spat on Ames. “When you’ve had enough of this, send word, and we’ll have the branding irons for you.” He strode to the overseer’s hut.
Devon’s blood fired for Claire. To think she’d unleashed this fiendish cruelty. He moved to Ames who bucked against a new and more dreadful torment of insects eating at his raw flesh. Devon reached down and gave him a cup of water which Ames drank then placed a palmetto leaf upon his back to give him relief from the insects. He could not rid the bitter taste in his mouth for that cold-hearted bitch.
“I didn’t tell him,” cried Ames. “I didn’t tell him.”
“There,” calmed Devon, taking a sponge from a bucket, he bathed his face.
“It’s no use, Devon. You won’t be able to take me now. I’m of no use.”
“Faith, what’s this? No navigator? How can we leave without you, lad? Small wonder that whore-son Jarvis who stands expert in loosening tongues can devise such means of torture.”
“Why do you think Claire betrayed us? How did she know?”
“Easy now. One thing at a time.” His lips compressed with Claire’s treachery. How he’d like to get his hands on her. When he spoke again, his voice cast calm and steady. “It’s to get you out of these chains.”
“You’re dreaming,” he said to Devon. “It’s Claire’s word against ours. When they find that Dooley purchased the boat, there will be questions asked. It will lead to us and all our heads will find the swing of the rope.”
Devon turned away, an agony of the soul like he never knew ratcheted through him. Claire’s betrayal. He looked out in the dark of night, imagining the sea beyond and the soft waves he’d be capturing his freedom, slipping between his fingers. To think he’d agonized about leaving her behind.
An angry voice stirred him from his thoughts.
“What the hell are you doing here? Did I not command, nothing to be given to this dog?” Jarvis crossed toward him. Devon turned, his mask descended. “Why, I am officiating the duties of my office.”
“You dare to go against my orders?” Jarvis looked at him in amazement, seeing the ladle next to the prisoner and a leaf upon his back.
“Yes, and I will do it again. Have you no sense of humanity?” Devon said.
“Get your hide away from here, unless ye want to be served the same.”
Devon regarded the object of his hatred. But at this moment when all was lost he did not know who he hated more Jarvis or Claire. Claire. Could she really deceive him?
“What about the governor’s feet, his rheumatism is in need of constant care?” he laughed out of despair, the demon of recklessness bursting from him.
“Do you dare to rely on that? Enough of your presumptions. Guards, chain this insolent dog. If you’re alive when my guards are done with you, perhaps you’ll learn a lesson.” Jarvis swung to his guards to prompt them forward, the huge oafs grabbed hold of Devon.
“Or maybe I’ll perform the deed myself. I have great appetite for novelty.”
“The man that once did sell the lion’s skin while the beast lived was killed with hunting him. Remember that.” With his back to the post, the shadow of a whip over him, Devon flung these words at the slave-master who sought to destroy him.
“You spout well for one who is soon to meet his maker,” Jarvis snarled.
