Patricia Potter (27 page)

Others had heard the conversation, and a rope was lowered over a darkened part of the ship.

Adrian held out his hand. “Good luck, Johnny.”

Johnny grinned as he grasped it. “See you in Nassau soon, Captain.” He gave a brief salute just before slipping down the rope into the water.

Another flare lit the sky again, then a third. Adrian whispered down into the tube to the engine room, “Will?”

“Nothing, Captain.” The reply was despairing.

It was too late in any event, and Adrian knew it. Even if they could start the engines, they were completely boxed in. He felt an iciness seep into his bones. He had never surrendered, and he hated the bloody thought.

Another shot went over the bow, falling just beyond the deck. If Lauren were not aboard, he might have tried something, anything, but now he couldn’t risk it. He turned to Wade, who was next to him. “Go to my cabin and burn the logs and manifest.”

Wade nodded, and grimly turned on his heel and disappeared.

Adrian turned to two other men. “Thomas, light the lamps, and you, sailor, hoist a white flag.”

The
Specter
was bathed in flares now. Adrian heard a booming noise from a distance. Another runner, he thought detachedly. Some other runners would probably get through now, since so much attention was being centered on him. Adrian wanted to think of anything but the next few moments. His hand ran over the mahogany wood of the wheel. It had been a good ship. His home for a year. More than that, he had put his heart into its design and construction. His heart and his hopes.

He flinched as the white flag fluttered upward. His ship was now bright with lights, and he watched the nearest Union cruiser lower a boat with a group of men aboard.

“Lower a ladder,” he told one of his own men, “and prepare for a boarding party.”

Wade appeared next to him. “Papers are burned, sir.”

Adrian took his hand from the wheel. He’d said his farewell. “If we’re separated, you and the rest of the crew go to Nassau and wait for me there.”

His face still grim, Wade nodded.

“It shouldn’t be more than a few weeks at most,” Adrian said confidently. “We’ll get a new ship.”

They heard the slap of the boarding boat against the side of the
Specter
, and then six men boarded. They were led by a young, flushed-faced lieutenant, his hand on a sidearm strapped to his waist.

“I’m Lieutenant Edmond Porter. Captain …”

“Adrian Cabot.”

“So you’re Cabot,” the officer said. “I’d expected a better chase,” he added with arrogant contempt.

Adrian’s fist knotted. There was hardly concealed glee on the Union officer’s face, and Adrian understood why. The Union crew credited with the capture of a blockade runner received portions of the prize, and Adrian was well aware there was an extra bounty on the
Specter.
But still, the young officer’s attitude galled him, and Adrian’s fists flexed with his own impotence at the moment.

“Assemble your crew to the bow,” the officer ordered pompously, and Adrian, having no choice, did so. “Including those in the engine room,” the Yank added.

Adrian walked slowly to the tube near the wheel. “Will, bring your men topside.” He then turned back to the officer, feeling the pinch of the pistol in his belt. He was surprised the officer hadn’t asked for weapons, but then the man was young and arrogant and enjoying every moment of this, enough to be careless.

“You will accompany me below,” Porter commanded. “I want the crew roster, the manifest, and logs.”

Another boat was now below and more men were swarming up on deck. Blue uniforms were everywhere.

“I have a passenger, a young lady.”

“Anyone else?”

Adrian shook his head.

The man grinned knowingly. “Alone?”

Rage slowly filled Adrian, a deep burning rage. The indignity of surrender was being compounded by this puppy’s insolence. The ship was gone. The cargo. Possibly Ridgely. He didn’t want to think about Lauren. She could be lost to him now. It would be months, perhaps even a year, before he could get back to Charleston. Somehow, her loss seem to minimize the others.

“A lady,” Adrian emphasized, his anger now spilling over, “who deserves courtesy.”

“A Southerner? A slave-owner?” the man said contemptuously.

A muscle strained against skin in Adrian’s cheek. He had never wanted violence as much as he did this moment. But there were two other Union sailors behind him, and he’d surrendered.

Surrendered. He still couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe anything that was happening. He would go to prison now, for weeks certainly, perhaps for months. The Yanks, he knew, would try to hold on to him as long as possible.

They had reached Adrian’s cabin. He stopped at the door and started to knock, but the lieutenant pushed him aside and jerked the door open. Dicken was still in the cabin, and he stared at the newcomer. Lauren was standing, closely holding Socrates.

The Union officer glared at Dicken. “All crew members are supposed to be at the bow.” He took several steps toward Dicken, but apparently Socrates thought he meant to attack Lauren, because the monkey suddenly launched himself at the lieutenant, his teeth going through the uniform jacket.

The lieutenant shouted and tried to dislodge the animal, as the other two Yankee sailors grabbed Adrian, who’d made a step forward. He threw them off just as the lieutenant pulled his pistol from his holster and aimed at Socrates.

Both Adrian and Lauren reacted at the same time. She threw herself at the lieutenant just as Adrian grabbed the gun tucked in his trousers and fired. He’d meant to fire at the gun in the Yank’s hand, but Lauren’s movement had propelled the lieutenant forward, and the bullet caught the lieutenant in the shoulder. At that moment, Adrian felt his arms being seized again, and this time he didn’t resist. He knew he’d just violated surrender. Not only that, he’d shot a Union officer. He’d lost his neutrality.

Dicken stepped in front of Lauren to protect her while Socrates retreated to a corner, looking with interest at the confusion he’d created.

The lieutenant had fallen to his knees, one hand clutching at his shoulder, and the doorway was filled with other blue-clad sailors who’d been summoned by the shot. Lieutenant Porter looked at Adrian with eyes filled with hate. “I want him in irons.” The lieutenant looked at Dicken. “Where do you keep them?”

Dicken just looked at Adrian, whose eyes flicked over Porter with grim humor. “We don’t carry them.”

“Then tie him. Securely.” He turned to Lauren. “And watch her.”

One of the newly arrived Union seamen went over to the bed and ripped a sheet into long strips, and Adrian’s arms were twisted behind him, the wrists bound tightly. Adrian stood still, his features controlled, his eyes blank as he felt a helplessness he hadn’t felt in years, not since …

A last jerk on the knot made him square his shoulders. He felt a overwhelming sense of failure, of frustration, even of humiliation that Lauren was watching his capitulation. A cheek muscle strained against his skin as he tried to disguise his anger.

“And shoot the damned monkey,” the lieutenant directed one of his men.

Adrian strained against the bonds and the hands holding his arms, but now the grasp on him was firm. As he struggled, Lauren grabbed Socrates, holding him tightly. “If you shoot him, you’ll have to shoot me too.”

“Lieutenant,” one of his men said, “the captain won’t like it if a civilian woman is hurt.” He was an older man, a boatswain by insignia, and his voice was soft and respectful, but nonetheless carried a warning.

Porter’s face was scarlet with pain and anger. “Get him out of here,” he said, pointing to Adrian, and Adrian was pushed out into the corridor.

Adrian turned around, watching as two other men leaned down to help the lieutenant up. He heard the man groan, and he didn’t feel regret for his actions, though he did feel for the consequences. But he knew now Lauren would take care of Socrates … and that the Union boatswain would protect them both.

When he was finally pushed up on open deck, another Union officer, an older lieutenant, had arrived.

“What in the hell is going on here?”

Adrian stiffened.

Just then, Lieutenant Porter, holding his shoulder, emerged from the hatchway. “He shot me, sir. I want him placed in irons.”

“That young idiot was going to shoot my pet,” Adrian retorted through his teeth.

“Lieutenant?” Inquiry was in the older man’s voice.

“The damned beast attacked me, sir.”

A faraway thunder told of another battle elsewhere. The older officer listened a moment, then shook his head and motioned to the two men assisting Porter. “Get him over to the doctor on the
Allegheny.”

After the lieutenant was helped into the boarding vessel, the other man took a long, steady look at Adrian. “I’m Greenway, first officer of the
Allegheny.
You’re Cabot?”

Adrian nodded.

“What happened to your ship? Why did you stop?”

Adrian shrugged. “One of the paddle wheels.”

“And down there?” He motioned to the hatchway from which the lieutenant had emerged.

“Your lieutenant is a fool.”

The man didn’t disagree. “Can the engine be fixed, or will we need to tow it?”

Adrian shrugged. It was no longer his problem.

“Your logs?”

“Destroyed.”

“Manifest?”

Adrian nodded again.

“Is all your crew British?”

“Yes.”

“The pilot?”

Adrian remained silent.

“You are in a very precarious position, Captain. Regardless of provocation, you shot a Union officer. Your cooperation would help.”

Adrian laughed bitterly. “Would it?”

They both turned as they heard an angry chattering. Lauren, firmly holding Socrates, approached. Socrates, sensing something wrong, fought his way down and ran to Adrian, pulling on his coat.

Greenway arched one of his eyebrows. “That’s your pet?”

Lauren approached Adrian, reaching down and taking the monkey again. “He thought that officer was attacking me.”

“Captain Cabot?”

“No, Socrates.”

“Who in the hell is Socrates?”

“The monkey,” Lauren explained patiently, but her eyes hadn’t left Adrian’s face, as if she were memorizing it.

Adrian remembered the frustration he’d felt when he discovered his brother had gambled away everything. He knew the same fierce sense of helplessness now. His wrists remained tied behind him and, despite the conversation, Lauren’s face was taut and strained, her voice tightly controlled. Under any other circumstances the exchange would have been humorous, but there was no humor in it for any of them now.

Especially not for Adrian. There was something about Lauren that turned him cold inside. He was grateful for her protection of Socrates, but there was something in her face, something that begged his understanding. And there was a stiff reserve, as if she had to stay away from him.

“And the young lady?” The question came from the Union officer.

“Miss Lauren Bradley. She’s a civilian taking passage.”

Lieutenant Greenway bowed slightly to Lauren. “Both you and the … Socrates … will be given every consideration. I regret Porter’s … actions.”

He motioned to the boatswain. “Please take the lady and the … animal to the
Allegheny
and tell the captain we need a towline. Also some irons. We’ll keep the
Specter
’s crew here.”

Lauren, who had started moving away, turned back at his words. “Irons?”

“Yes, miss. The captain violated his surrender.”

“But …”

“It’s no longer your concern, miss.” He turned, leaving Lauren no choice but to accept the lead of her escort.

Greenway then turned to one of his own men. “Check the engines and have a crew ready to help with a towline. I want to get under way. Captain Cabot, you will join your crew at the bow.”

As an insistent hand tugged at Lauren’s arm, she hesitated, then turned back to where Adrian was watching her with hooded eyes, visible in the light of lamps now lit throughout the ship. “I’ll take good care of him,” she told Adrian. “I’ll find a way to get him back to you.” There was desperation in her voice, even a plea.

But he was being pushed toward the bow, and when he was finally able to look around, she had disappeared over the side of the ship.

Lauren sat on the bow of the Union steamer, the Allegheny, and stared at the
Specter
still being towed behind. She had, apparently, done an excellent job. Union engineers had worked on the
Specter
all day to no avail.

Adrian was still on his ship. No, she thought, the
Specter
was not his ship anymore. It would never be used again to transport war goods to the Confederacy. Its cargo of cannon would go, instead, to Union forces.

Emptiness had settled inside her. Emptiness and loss and grief. They had seeped into the core of her bones, and she hurt for Adrian, for herself. She had committed an unforgivable offense against him, no matter how worthy her motive. And nothing ever could repair the damage. Especially not now … not after Adrian had shot the lieutenant. And even that was her fault. If she hadn’t moved forward as she had …