Revenge of the Fox
Chapter 32
Jeannine watched the cabin door close behind MacKenzie's back. She heard the lock click a moment later. Slowly and painfully, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bunk, pulling her skirt down to cover them. God it hurt! The only thing she was thankful for was that it hadn't taken very long. He'd merely pushed her onto the bunk, flipped up her skirt and held her down while he unfastened his breeches. Once he had them undone, well, that part had been over quickly. A couple of pig like grunts, and that was the end of it. Her struggles hadn't made the slightest bit of difference. She shuddered. Disgusting. Making a conscious effort to put it from her mind, she rose and put her clothing to rights. Then a wave of horror washed over her as she realized that the hairpin she'd been carrying was gone from her pocket. Frantically she searched her clothing, the floor, and the bed without result.
Jeannine sank to the floor and put her head in her hands. Relax! She ordered herself. Calm down. You've been expecting to be ravished since the pirates took that ship three days out from Martinique. Well, it had finally happened. It wasn't a fate worse than death, but it wasn't a fate she wished to repeat. If she couldn't get this damn lock open, repeat it she almost certainly would. Breathe deeply, she ordered herself again. Lt. Markson had a pin too. He'd come for her if he could. But she couldn't stop shaking.
--
Will crept back down the stairs to report. "They're sitting around the deck, eating porridge. How long does it take for the stuff to start working?"
Jack grimaced. "I haven't a clue. We don't know how much she used."
"Or even," said Norrington coolly, "if she managed to get the job done in the first place."
"You're a bundle of joy, aren't you?" Jack said sarcastically.
"Do you suppose they'll be bringing any food to us?" Markson asked, idly practicing unlocking his cell with the hairpin Antonia had given him.
"To you, probably," said Jack. "He plans on ransoming you, aye? Since he plans on killing the rest of us, he may not bother."
"Get back in your cell then, Will," said Norrington. "Just in case someone comes down." Will stepped back into his cell and reluctantly pulled the door shut.
Twenty minutes later, Jack opened his cell door and stole up the stairs. He was back down in a moment, picking the locks on the other cells. "It worked," he said tersely. "There's a half dozen men snoring away on the deck."
Norrington stepped out of his cell as soon as Jack got it unlocked. "We still need to be careful. Not everyone might be asleep."
--
Unlike MacKenzie, Reynard had no intention of rushing. Gwen's dress and chemise were in tatters, and Reynard had stripped off her stockings and shoes. He had doffed his own clothes as well, and was wearing only his breeches. Gwen closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and tried to twist away again as Reynard handled her in ways only Jack had ever done before. Jack's touch had always been loving. Reynard was anything but. Her right wrist was rubbed raw and bleeding from the rope encircling it. She wished she knew if Jack had been able to pick the locks in the brig with the hairpin she'd given him. If the lock was too heavy, the pin might not be sturdy enough. Would he be coming? Would he be in time? She'd never learned whether or not Annamaria had been able to do anything with the pins she'd given her before. Lashing out with her knee, she managed to land a solid blow in Reynard's ribs, and paid for it a moment later with a stinging slap across her face.
Jack silently opened the door of the Captain's cabin and peered through in time to see Reynard backhand Gwen across the face. A red haze seemed to lower itself in front of his eyes, and he leaped into the room. Reynard heard him coming, but scarcely had time to do more than turn before Jack seized him. Reynard tried to fight back, but the hard, punishing fingers around his throat robbed him of both air and strength, and both men fell crashing to the floor.
Dimly Jack heard voices shouting, but they meant nothing to him next to the bloodlust rage. He lifted the neck he was holding and slammed the head into the ground. Once. Twice. Three times. Feeble hands slapped at him, then fell away. Four times. Five times. Then stronger hands fell on his forearms, fingers digging into the tendons. "Stop it Sparrow! That's enough!" Blinking, Jack looked up into Norrington's face. "Jack, get a hold of yourself." Jack allowed Norrington to pull his hands away from Reynard's throat. Had the Commodore really called him 'Jack'? Must be a first.
He staggered to his feet and shook himself all over, like a dog shedding water. His dark eyes met Gwen's frightened gaze. He crossed to the bunk and sat on the edge, taking her into his arms. "It's all right now, luv. It's all right."
Will looked dubiously down at the body on the floor. "Is he still alive?"
Norrington felt for a pulse on the man's neck. "Yes, surprisingly enough. I imagine he'll be out for a while."
"Here, Commodore," said Markson, coming forward with a coil of thin rope. "Just in case." Norrington took it, and they swiftly bound him hand and foot.
Will went to the desk and retrieved his weapons. Picking up Jack's he carried them over to the bunk. "Come on, Jack, we need to secure the ship. We don't have time to linger." He smiled awkwardly at Gwen. "Are you all right?"
Gwen summoned up a shaky smile. "I've been better."
With a curt nod, Jack took his knife and cut the rope tethering Gwen to the bed. The murderous fury surged again when he saw the raw, bleeding marks on her wrist, but this time he remained in control. Standing up, he slung his baldric over his shoulder, and stuffed the knife back into his boot. He checked the pistol and handed it to Gwen. "Lock the door behind us, and if this one," he gestured to Reynard's still form, "wakes up, just shoot him."
--
The four men moved swiftly through the ship, checking each recumbent form to see if it was really asleep. MacKenzie lay in a heap on the quarterdeck. One sailor leaned precariously out of the crow's nest. A trio of men lay snoring in a puddle of water they were using to swab the deck. A few sailors were somewhat awake, if groggy. A quick blow to the head took care of that. "Jeannine will probably be in one of the cabins," Will said. "Come with me, Richard. We'll find her."
Jeannine was systematically searching the cabin for anything she could use to try and pick the lock. So far she hadn't found anything that would work. Then she paused, listening. Was that someone calling?
"Jeannine!" Markson shouted. "Jeannine!" Will went down the passage, opening every door and checking each cabin for occupants.
"Richard!" Jeannine shrieked, pounding on the door. "Richard, I'm in here!"
"Jeannine!" Richard reached the door. The key was still in the lock, so he turned it quickly. He flung open the door. Jeannine stood just inside. Richard put his hand on her arm and drew her into the passageway. "Lord, Jeannine, I was worried about you, are you all....." He trailed off, seeing the cluttered cabin and the masculine clothing strewn around. "Whose cabin is this?"
"Mr. MacKenzie's," said Jeannine shortly.
Markson stared at her, seeing the strain in her face, and the traces of tears. "He hasn't hurt you, I mean, he didn't...."
Jeannine looked away. "Yes, he has and yes, he did. Don't concern yourself, Lieutenant. I knew it was a possibility when I came aboard."
Without another word, she turned and started up the stairs to the main deck. Aghast, Markson stared after her. Will put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Come on, Richard. We've work to do."
--
Chapter 32
Jeannine watched the cabin door close behind MacKenzie's back. She heard the lock click a moment later. Slowly and painfully, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bunk, pulling her skirt down to cover them. God it hurt! The only thing she was thankful for was that it hadn't taken very long. He'd merely pushed her onto the bunk, flipped up her skirt and held her down while he unfastened his breeches. Once he had them undone, well, that part had been over quickly. A couple of pig like grunts, and that was the end of it. Her struggles hadn't made the slightest bit of difference. She shuddered. Disgusting. Making a conscious effort to put it from her mind, she rose and put her clothing to rights. Then a wave of horror washed over her as she realized that the hairpin she'd been carrying was gone from her pocket. Frantically she searched her clothing, the floor, and the bed without result.
Jeannine sank to the floor and put her head in her hands. Relax! She ordered herself. Calm down. You've been expecting to be ravished since the pirates took that ship three days out from Martinique. Well, it had finally happened. It wasn't a fate worse than death, but it wasn't a fate she wished to repeat. If she couldn't get this damn lock open, repeat it she almost certainly would. Breathe deeply, she ordered herself again. Lt. Markson had a pin too. He'd come for her if he could. But she couldn't stop shaking.
--
Will crept back down the stairs to report. "They're sitting around the deck, eating porridge. How long does it take for the stuff to start working?"
Jack grimaced. "I haven't a clue. We don't know how much she used."
"Or even," said Norrington coolly, "if she managed to get the job done in the first place."
"You're a bundle of joy, aren't you?" Jack said sarcastically.
"Do you suppose they'll be bringing any food to us?" Markson asked, idly practicing unlocking his cell with the hairpin Antonia had given him.
"To you, probably," said Jack. "He plans on ransoming you, aye? Since he plans on killing the rest of us, he may not bother."
"Get back in your cell then, Will," said Norrington. "Just in case someone comes down." Will stepped back into his cell and reluctantly pulled the door shut.
Twenty minutes later, Jack opened his cell door and stole up the stairs. He was back down in a moment, picking the locks on the other cells. "It worked," he said tersely. "There's a half dozen men snoring away on the deck."
Norrington stepped out of his cell as soon as Jack got it unlocked. "We still need to be careful. Not everyone might be asleep."
--
Unlike MacKenzie, Reynard had no intention of rushing. Gwen's dress and chemise were in tatters, and Reynard had stripped off her stockings and shoes. He had doffed his own clothes as well, and was wearing only his breeches. Gwen closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and tried to twist away again as Reynard handled her in ways only Jack had ever done before. Jack's touch had always been loving. Reynard was anything but. Her right wrist was rubbed raw and bleeding from the rope encircling it. She wished she knew if Jack had been able to pick the locks in the brig with the hairpin she'd given him. If the lock was too heavy, the pin might not be sturdy enough. Would he be coming? Would he be in time? She'd never learned whether or not Annamaria had been able to do anything with the pins she'd given her before. Lashing out with her knee, she managed to land a solid blow in Reynard's ribs, and paid for it a moment later with a stinging slap across her face.
Jack silently opened the door of the Captain's cabin and peered through in time to see Reynard backhand Gwen across the face. A red haze seemed to lower itself in front of his eyes, and he leaped into the room. Reynard heard him coming, but scarcely had time to do more than turn before Jack seized him. Reynard tried to fight back, but the hard, punishing fingers around his throat robbed him of both air and strength, and both men fell crashing to the floor.
Dimly Jack heard voices shouting, but they meant nothing to him next to the bloodlust rage. He lifted the neck he was holding and slammed the head into the ground. Once. Twice. Three times. Feeble hands slapped at him, then fell away. Four times. Five times. Then stronger hands fell on his forearms, fingers digging into the tendons. "Stop it Sparrow! That's enough!" Blinking, Jack looked up into Norrington's face. "Jack, get a hold of yourself." Jack allowed Norrington to pull his hands away from Reynard's throat. Had the Commodore really called him 'Jack'? Must be a first.
He staggered to his feet and shook himself all over, like a dog shedding water. His dark eyes met Gwen's frightened gaze. He crossed to the bunk and sat on the edge, taking her into his arms. "It's all right now, luv. It's all right."
Will looked dubiously down at the body on the floor. "Is he still alive?"
Norrington felt for a pulse on the man's neck. "Yes, surprisingly enough. I imagine he'll be out for a while."
"Here, Commodore," said Markson, coming forward with a coil of thin rope. "Just in case." Norrington took it, and they swiftly bound him hand and foot.
Will went to the desk and retrieved his weapons. Picking up Jack's he carried them over to the bunk. "Come on, Jack, we need to secure the ship. We don't have time to linger." He smiled awkwardly at Gwen. "Are you all right?"
Gwen summoned up a shaky smile. "I've been better."
With a curt nod, Jack took his knife and cut the rope tethering Gwen to the bed. The murderous fury surged again when he saw the raw, bleeding marks on her wrist, but this time he remained in control. Standing up, he slung his baldric over his shoulder, and stuffed the knife back into his boot. He checked the pistol and handed it to Gwen. "Lock the door behind us, and if this one," he gestured to Reynard's still form, "wakes up, just shoot him."
--
The four men moved swiftly through the ship, checking each recumbent form to see if it was really asleep. MacKenzie lay in a heap on the quarterdeck. One sailor leaned precariously out of the crow's nest. A trio of men lay snoring in a puddle of water they were using to swab the deck. A few sailors were somewhat awake, if groggy. A quick blow to the head took care of that. "Jeannine will probably be in one of the cabins," Will said. "Come with me, Richard. We'll find her."
Jeannine was systematically searching the cabin for anything she could use to try and pick the lock. So far she hadn't found anything that would work. Then she paused, listening. Was that someone calling?
"Jeannine!" Markson shouted. "Jeannine!" Will went down the passage, opening every door and checking each cabin for occupants.
"Richard!" Jeannine shrieked, pounding on the door. "Richard, I'm in here!"
"Jeannine!" Richard reached the door. The key was still in the lock, so he turned it quickly. He flung open the door. Jeannine stood just inside. Richard put his hand on her arm and drew her into the passageway. "Lord, Jeannine, I was worried about you, are you all....." He trailed off, seeing the cluttered cabin and the masculine clothing strewn around. "Whose cabin is this?"
"Mr. MacKenzie's," said Jeannine shortly.
Markson stared at her, seeing the strain in her face, and the traces of tears. "He hasn't hurt you, I mean, he didn't...."
Jeannine looked away. "Yes, he has and yes, he did. Don't concern yourself, Lieutenant. I knew it was a possibility when I came aboard."
Without another word, she turned and started up the stairs to the main deck. Aghast, Markson stared after her. Will put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Come on, Richard. We've work to do."
--
