“They are filled with delusion and desperate for a hero—any hero—as long as he is Irish and Catholic, no matter if he is a figment of someone’s too-vivid imagination.”
“It’s funny how everyone in the fleet considers you obnoxious, rude and overbearing, not to mention excessively arrogant. I, however, know the truth. You are one of the most modest men I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet.”
“Is there a point to your being here, Jack? I haven’t been home in six years and I intend to make Askeaton before dark.”
“Then I suppose you shall have to hurry,” Harvey said.
Devlin knew Harvey wished to linger but he did not; he walked into the cabin. There he started, realizing instantly that Virginia was not present. He was disbelieving—and then, when he realized that she had somehow escaped, he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of admiration for her. She was more resolved than even he.
“Clever little witch,” he growled.
An odd strangled noise came from below his bed.
Devlin strode over and hauled the naked, hog-tied and gagged Gus Pierson out. He slit the ties and pulled out the gag. Gus was frighteningly white. “Sir, it was my fault. I take full blame for the prisoner’s escape, sir!” he cried, standing.
Devlin felt like striking him, but he did not. From the doorway, he heard Harvey murmur, “Well, well, she did it, anyway. Will you dismiss Gus, too, or simply keelhaul him?”
Keelhauling usually meant death and no one used such a method of punishment anymore. “Tell me exactly what happened,” Devlin said, ignoring the taunt and tossing Gus a pair of his britches and a shirt.
Gus donned the garments, turning red as he spoke. When he had finished, Devlin said, “You will help me find Miss Hughes, Gus, and when she is back in my charge, you will relieve the watch of this ship. Your privilege of liberty is suspended for the duration of our stay, until I deem otherwise.”
“Yes, sir,” Gus mumbled, but he looked relieved, as if he had expected far worse.
But Gus was a fine sailor and a very brave lad, and Devlin was well aware that his orders not to even look at the prisoner had aided her in her successful escape. His punishment of Gus was perfunctory at best—he needed the rest of the crew to witness it in order to maintain his discipline of the ship. But he did not blame Gus for her escape. There had been no treachery. Virginia Hughes was simply far more clever than the young Dane.
“And how will you find her?” Harvey asked. “By now, she is surely halfway to the next village—wherever that may be.”
Devlin smiled coldly. “Actually, you are wrong. There is only one sane way for Miss Hughes to get to London, and that is by another ship.”
Harvey raised his brows.
“Am I not the prodigal son? Did not the mayor greet me with a medal of honor? Did not Squire O’Brien invite me to supper? Did not the captain of theMystèreinvite me to dine with him tonight?”
“I begin to see,” Harvey murmured.
“Two can play this game,” Devlin said, turning to Gus. “Put out word on the docks. My reluctant fiancée is trying to find a passage to London, and her return to me, her heartbroken groom, will be amply rewarded. I will speak with the mayor and town council myself.”
Gus rushed off to obey.
Devlin left the cabin. Harvey followed more slowly, and he muttered, “Poor lass. She doesn’t stand a chance.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
SOMETHING WAS TERRIBLYamiss.
Virginia crouched on her knees in the hayloft of a dark, sweet-smelling barn, peering through the window onto the narrow, twisting street. Night had fallen and the street was now entirely deserted. Virginia had been hiding in the barn, which was somewhere in the center of town behind a carpenter’s shop, for several hours. In all that time, she had seen only the occasional pedestrian, a few pairs of sailors and a cart or two. Why hadn’t there been a huge search party?
Surely her clever captor had discovered her disappearance shortly after she had escaped. Surely he had organized his men into various groups in order to thoroughly search the town. But she hadn’t heard a search party, and from her hiding place she could hear the laughter and music coming from the wharf-front inns and bars. From time to time she could even hear drunken conversation on the streets just beyond the one where the barn was situated.
What could it mean?
Virginia stood, her knees aching, and stretched. As worried and suspicious as she was, she knew she must move on. She had to find a ship leaving for London, or if that failed, for any port in Great Britain. That seemed to be the only intelligent way to get to London—traversing Ireland, on foot and penniless, would be absurd.
Virginia climbed down the ladder and left the barn. She hurried toward the wharf, certain that, at any moment, her captor would appear from around a street corner, legs braced apart, a wicked and cool smile on his disturbing features, determined to capture her all over again. But neither O’Neill nor a search party materialized around any bend.
This was very odd, indeed.
Virginia’s unease and alarm grew as she faced the docks. Limerick had a few oil lamps on the main public streets, but the wharf was left mostly in shadow, except for the occasional glow of torchlight. It did not matter. Instantly she saw the dark outline of theDefiancerocking gently at its moorings, shadowy and huge, proud and beautiful even in the cloak of night. The reefed sails stood out starkly against the inky black sky. No lights burned from the captain’s cabin, although one torch signaled the presence of the watch. She half expected Devlin to suddenly appear on the quarterdeck, a ghostly figure in his white shirt and pale britches, but he did not.
