The Commodore's Daughter
Chapter Fifteen
"This way!" Jack said quietly, lifting his arm into the air and waving it. The people he had designated as his group – Anna, Hendrikson, Cotton, and Zhao – all came over to the owner of the waving arm. As planned, they took the paved road up the hill toward the governor's house, moving soundlessly in the growing dawn.
Anna fell into step beside Jack – she had been to the governor's house often to see Will and Elizabeth, so she had an excuse to be up front next to him. She glanced once or twice at Jack as they walked, laughing grimly inside her head for thinking of what possible future they could have when at any moment they might be caught by the French. At last she took the risk of speech. "Jack?" she whispered as softly as she could.
"What?" he said, looking quickly at her before fastening his eyes on the road again.
"What'll happen if they – if we get caught? If it doesn't work?"
Jack considered that for a moment. "Probably all get hung, compliments of the French marines." He snorted. "The French are just as good as the English at hanging pirates – better, in fact, considering they're all bloody pirates themselves." Hendrikson gave a warning hiss to keep their voices down, and Jack fell silent. A chill crept over Anna at his words, a chill that had nothing to do with the early-morning dew.
We just can't fail, then, she told herself firmly. That's all there is to it. We mustn't fail.
Five more minutes of brisk walking brought them to the gates of the huge house. Anna heard Cotton's parrot give an appreciative squawk, and she grinned in spite of herself. "Not bad," Jack muttered, giving the house an appraising look, "not bad for land folks." Then he turned back to look at his reduced crew and motioned them into the low-growing shrubbery by the gates. "Anyone speak French?" he demanded, and was greeted by a row of shaking heads. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "Right, then, that complicates things. Windows aren't likely to be open."
"What about the ice cellar?" Anna suggested. "The governor keeps an underground cellar to store ice in during the summer. There's a way from there that leads straight to the kitchen."
"We'll do that, then," Jack said quickly. "Zhao, you're our lock genius. Get to work."
The diminutive Zhao folded his arms and glared. "If someone could boost me up –" he said pointedly, his glare excoriating Jack for his thoughtlessness.
Cotton got to his feet. "Up the rigging!" squawked the parrot, and Zhao obeyed, clambering onto Cotton's shoulders. The tall pirate walked carefully out in front of the gates, in plain view of the house, and Anna gnawed her nails to the quick as Zhao, teetering on his unsteady perch, slipped a thick pin out of his belt and slowly picked the lock of the large gate. At last he gave a cry of muted triumph and pushed cautiously on the gate. It swung open with only a tiny creak.
"Hurry!" Jack hissed, leaping to his feet and racing through the gate. Hendrikson and Anna followed him, and Zhao climbed down from Cotton's shoulders and did likewise. Cotton came last, pulling the gate shut behind them with utmost care not to creak it.
"Now where's that ice cellar?" asked Jack as soon as they were on the grounds. Anna walked quickly to the side of the house and flattened her back against it, sliding around the corner. The pirates, all flat against the wall to limit the possibility of being seen, followed her. Anna's heart thudded painfully in her chest, and her breathing was shallow and constricted. Don't get caught, she repeated over and over, a mantra as she searched. Don't get caught. Don't get caught, don't get caught, don't get caught, don't get – "Here it is!" she hissed, beckoning to the pirates. A wooden door lay at a low slant against the side of the house, and Anna gripped the iron ring handle on the door and pulled. With a creak, the door lifted up, and the pirates dived down into the ice cellar. Anna came last, pulling the door securely shut behind her.
"It's bloody freezing down here!" complained Jack, rubbing his arms vigorously. "Let's find the door to the kitchen and get out of here!"
It took Anna a while to find the door, since it had been a long time since she was seven and could sneak into the Swanns' kitchen to nab sweets, but soon enough memory took over. "This is it, I think," she whispered, and pushed at a section of the wooden wall that had boxes of vegetables shoved against it. The door creaked open. Zhao, being smallest, was the first to climb over the boxes and scout the situation while the others moved the boxes, and he quickly nodded to show it was safe. Cotton came through the door, then Jack, Hendrikson, and Anna.
"Now for the powder magazine," Hendrikson whispered. "Captain, d'you think it could be in here?"
Jack raised his eyebrows. "The kitchen? Where the food is kept? Impossible. Not even the Frogs would risk blowing up their food." Anna was familiar with the derogatory term for the French – her father used it on occasion. "No, it won't be here. Let's look around."
They tried the dining room first, although Jack was right in insisting that it would not be in any useful room. So they bypassed the parlors and the hall, moving upstairs to the second floor. Perfunctory glances into the bedrooms, made with the utmost silence and caution, assured them that the gunpowder was not in the same room as the snoring French officers. "Elizabeth will throw a fit when she sees that Frenchman's boot marks on Kate's bed!" Anna whispered, forgetting that in all likelihood Elizabeth would not see anything from the house ever again. One glance from Jack reminded her of the fact, and she bit her lip, embarrassed.
They met in the hall between rooms, exasperated and not a little worried. "So where is the damn stuff?" Jack snapped, his nerves fraying. Oh, how I wish I had some rum with me, he thought longingly. Just a little. It would calm me nerves. He moved his thoughts firmly back on track and looked at Anna. "You know your way around here. Where else could it be?"
Anna racked her brain for a room they hadn't looked in. "The outhouse?" she suggested.
"That's an extremely useful place, and liable to become quite damp," Jack pointed out.
"Right, of course," Anna muttered, blushing. "Same with the ice cellar." She snapped her fingers suddenly. "The attic!" she hissed. "It's probably in the attic, where it's dry, and which you can't get to without going through the whole house!" She made for the stairs, the others in her wake, and unceremoniously threw open the attic door.
Sure enough, the powder was there. Hendrikson, peering over her shoulder, breathed what sounded reverent enough to be an exceptionally vile Dutch oath, and the parrot squawked, "Buried treasure!"
"Right as usual, Cotton," Jack said. "Who brought flint and steel?" he added, producing a long fuse from under his hat. He drew his knife and sliced it into long lengths, then laid an end of each piece inside a crate. Anna stood back against the wall, swallowing down her rising jubilation and watching.
Hendrikson pulled his tinderbox from his pocket and withdrew two small rocks as Jack knotted all the loose fuse ends securely. He set them down as close to the door as they would go and backed away, his eyes riveted on Hendrikson. The Dutchman knelt down, poised to strike the rocks –
And something – an arm – whipped around Anna's waist as a hand slapped over her mouth. At the same time, something cold and round and hard presented itself just below her chin, and the faint click that went with it told her that it was a pistol, cocked to fire into her jugular. She gave a muffled cry and kicked back as best she could at the attacker she could not see. Hendrikson froze, and Jack whirled around, his hand on his sword.
From behind Anna a cold voice said in heavily accented English, "I vould advise you not to do zat, or she dies."
Author's Note: I'm really sorry about such a short chapter after my long absence, but I thought this was a perfect end to the chapter. I'm working on Chapter Sixteen, and I will try to make it much longer – and I think it will come soon, too! Again, apologies!
Chapter Fifteen
"This way!" Jack said quietly, lifting his arm into the air and waving it. The people he had designated as his group – Anna, Hendrikson, Cotton, and Zhao – all came over to the owner of the waving arm. As planned, they took the paved road up the hill toward the governor's house, moving soundlessly in the growing dawn.
Anna fell into step beside Jack – she had been to the governor's house often to see Will and Elizabeth, so she had an excuse to be up front next to him. She glanced once or twice at Jack as they walked, laughing grimly inside her head for thinking of what possible future they could have when at any moment they might be caught by the French. At last she took the risk of speech. "Jack?" she whispered as softly as she could.
"What?" he said, looking quickly at her before fastening his eyes on the road again.
"What'll happen if they – if we get caught? If it doesn't work?"
Jack considered that for a moment. "Probably all get hung, compliments of the French marines." He snorted. "The French are just as good as the English at hanging pirates – better, in fact, considering they're all bloody pirates themselves." Hendrikson gave a warning hiss to keep their voices down, and Jack fell silent. A chill crept over Anna at his words, a chill that had nothing to do with the early-morning dew.
We just can't fail, then, she told herself firmly. That's all there is to it. We mustn't fail.
Five more minutes of brisk walking brought them to the gates of the huge house. Anna heard Cotton's parrot give an appreciative squawk, and she grinned in spite of herself. "Not bad," Jack muttered, giving the house an appraising look, "not bad for land folks." Then he turned back to look at his reduced crew and motioned them into the low-growing shrubbery by the gates. "Anyone speak French?" he demanded, and was greeted by a row of shaking heads. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "Right, then, that complicates things. Windows aren't likely to be open."
"What about the ice cellar?" Anna suggested. "The governor keeps an underground cellar to store ice in during the summer. There's a way from there that leads straight to the kitchen."
"We'll do that, then," Jack said quickly. "Zhao, you're our lock genius. Get to work."
The diminutive Zhao folded his arms and glared. "If someone could boost me up –" he said pointedly, his glare excoriating Jack for his thoughtlessness.
Cotton got to his feet. "Up the rigging!" squawked the parrot, and Zhao obeyed, clambering onto Cotton's shoulders. The tall pirate walked carefully out in front of the gates, in plain view of the house, and Anna gnawed her nails to the quick as Zhao, teetering on his unsteady perch, slipped a thick pin out of his belt and slowly picked the lock of the large gate. At last he gave a cry of muted triumph and pushed cautiously on the gate. It swung open with only a tiny creak.
"Hurry!" Jack hissed, leaping to his feet and racing through the gate. Hendrikson and Anna followed him, and Zhao climbed down from Cotton's shoulders and did likewise. Cotton came last, pulling the gate shut behind them with utmost care not to creak it.
"Now where's that ice cellar?" asked Jack as soon as they were on the grounds. Anna walked quickly to the side of the house and flattened her back against it, sliding around the corner. The pirates, all flat against the wall to limit the possibility of being seen, followed her. Anna's heart thudded painfully in her chest, and her breathing was shallow and constricted. Don't get caught, she repeated over and over, a mantra as she searched. Don't get caught. Don't get caught, don't get caught, don't get caught, don't get – "Here it is!" she hissed, beckoning to the pirates. A wooden door lay at a low slant against the side of the house, and Anna gripped the iron ring handle on the door and pulled. With a creak, the door lifted up, and the pirates dived down into the ice cellar. Anna came last, pulling the door securely shut behind her.
"It's bloody freezing down here!" complained Jack, rubbing his arms vigorously. "Let's find the door to the kitchen and get out of here!"
It took Anna a while to find the door, since it had been a long time since she was seven and could sneak into the Swanns' kitchen to nab sweets, but soon enough memory took over. "This is it, I think," she whispered, and pushed at a section of the wooden wall that had boxes of vegetables shoved against it. The door creaked open. Zhao, being smallest, was the first to climb over the boxes and scout the situation while the others moved the boxes, and he quickly nodded to show it was safe. Cotton came through the door, then Jack, Hendrikson, and Anna.
"Now for the powder magazine," Hendrikson whispered. "Captain, d'you think it could be in here?"
Jack raised his eyebrows. "The kitchen? Where the food is kept? Impossible. Not even the Frogs would risk blowing up their food." Anna was familiar with the derogatory term for the French – her father used it on occasion. "No, it won't be here. Let's look around."
They tried the dining room first, although Jack was right in insisting that it would not be in any useful room. So they bypassed the parlors and the hall, moving upstairs to the second floor. Perfunctory glances into the bedrooms, made with the utmost silence and caution, assured them that the gunpowder was not in the same room as the snoring French officers. "Elizabeth will throw a fit when she sees that Frenchman's boot marks on Kate's bed!" Anna whispered, forgetting that in all likelihood Elizabeth would not see anything from the house ever again. One glance from Jack reminded her of the fact, and she bit her lip, embarrassed.
They met in the hall between rooms, exasperated and not a little worried. "So where is the damn stuff?" Jack snapped, his nerves fraying. Oh, how I wish I had some rum with me, he thought longingly. Just a little. It would calm me nerves. He moved his thoughts firmly back on track and looked at Anna. "You know your way around here. Where else could it be?"
Anna racked her brain for a room they hadn't looked in. "The outhouse?" she suggested.
"That's an extremely useful place, and liable to become quite damp," Jack pointed out.
"Right, of course," Anna muttered, blushing. "Same with the ice cellar." She snapped her fingers suddenly. "The attic!" she hissed. "It's probably in the attic, where it's dry, and which you can't get to without going through the whole house!" She made for the stairs, the others in her wake, and unceremoniously threw open the attic door.
Sure enough, the powder was there. Hendrikson, peering over her shoulder, breathed what sounded reverent enough to be an exceptionally vile Dutch oath, and the parrot squawked, "Buried treasure!"
"Right as usual, Cotton," Jack said. "Who brought flint and steel?" he added, producing a long fuse from under his hat. He drew his knife and sliced it into long lengths, then laid an end of each piece inside a crate. Anna stood back against the wall, swallowing down her rising jubilation and watching.
Hendrikson pulled his tinderbox from his pocket and withdrew two small rocks as Jack knotted all the loose fuse ends securely. He set them down as close to the door as they would go and backed away, his eyes riveted on Hendrikson. The Dutchman knelt down, poised to strike the rocks –
And something – an arm – whipped around Anna's waist as a hand slapped over her mouth. At the same time, something cold and round and hard presented itself just below her chin, and the faint click that went with it told her that it was a pistol, cocked to fire into her jugular. She gave a muffled cry and kicked back as best she could at the attacker she could not see. Hendrikson froze, and Jack whirled around, his hand on his sword.
From behind Anna a cold voice said in heavily accented English, "I vould advise you not to do zat, or she dies."
Author's Note: I'm really sorry about such a short chapter after my long absence, but I thought this was a perfect end to the chapter. I'm working on Chapter Sixteen, and I will try to make it much longer – and I think it will come soon, too! Again, apologies!