This chapter is dedicated, with utmost affection, to my brand new miniture Schnauzer puppy, Captain Jack. Now will you please stop chewing my toes until they're raw?
Chapter Eight
Treasure Hunt
in which the treasure is justice
Billy Robinson was a textbook case of trauma when he came down to the orlop, two hours after Kevin Andersen was murdered: eyes dilated and skin pale and whole body shaking.
"I assume they just told you the news." Stephen said with a sympathetic air, looking at the sailor over his glasses. "My condolences- I hear you were close to Mr. Andersen."
"We... we been friends since we started out in the Service, sir. Always in the same watch, sir. No mistaking fate."
"We saw an ill fate today, didn't we?" He set his book aside and gestured to the operating table. "Please, lie down. It is time to change your bandages. How have you been feeling?"
"Pretty fine, sir, but now?"
"Do try to relax, Mr. Robinson. I don't want to hurt you." He began carefully pulling off each bloody strip, his mind full of unusual praise for the Navy's system of punishment and the opportunity it afforded him now. "I imagine you feel very betrayed by whomever killed your friend, don't you, Mr. Robinson? By Miss Turner, I mean."
No response for a moment. He put light pressure on the open cuts on Robinson's back as he pressed a fresh bandage on. The man drew in a hissing breath.
"I suppose so."
"You suppose? I'd have rather strong feelings on the matter."
"I don't feel betrayed, like, is what I mean."
"That's strange. Mr. Davies seemed to feel very betrayed when he discovered the body."
Robinson drew in another hissing breath, even though Stephen's hands were far from his back.
"You see, what is puzzling to me is that he hasn't been on the ship for very long. Did he know Mr. Andersen quite well?"
"We'd only spoken to him properly once."
"We? Yourself and Mr. Andersen, you mean? And Mr. Toner, perhaps?"
"...yes." The muscles in his back tensed. The ice beneath him was thin.
"And when did you have occasion to speak with Mr. Davies?"
"Three days ago, sir."
"The day before you attacked Miss Turner?"
"...yes. Sir." The ice shattered.
Stephen finished bandaging Robinson in silence and sent him on his way. Toner was waiting just outside the orlop when his friend passed by and muttered:
"Careful what you say to him. He's a right Inquisitor today. Always knew I couldn't trust a Papist."
Yet Stephen Maturin was utterly silent when he bandaged Alexander Toner's wounds, even if he did put a little more pressure on them than he needed to.
Stephen made the time to be eleven o'clock when he went topside once more in search of William Mowett. He was just a little too conscious of the time, in fact. He was well aware that, unless he discovered what he needed to discover, in twelve hours Cora would be long dead.
The lieutenant in question was at the stern conversing with Bonden. Stephen sidled over and pretended to be interested in their discussion on the course and wind.
"So what brings you topside, Doctor? We haven't seen anymore dolphins." Bonden said after some time had passed.
"I wouldn't want to see any more dolphins," Mowett said, his characteristic bluster conspicuously absent. "They obviously didn't mean good luck this morning, what with the murder."
"No, they didn't." Stephen agreed. "It is an even greater shame that tomorrow we will bear witness to another death."
"I beg of you, sir, don't mention it. I can't stomach the thought of Miss Turner being hung." Mowett sighed and lifted his hat for a moment to smooth down his hair before settling it again. "I just can't fathom it, Doctor, not at all. How could she do it?"
"Perhaps he attacked her again."
"Then why didn't she confess? Surely she knew we'd take pity."
"I wouldn't be so certain. She was brought up to hate the Navy- who knows what stories she was told?" Bonden added.
"I'm curious, Mr. Mowett, did you happen to notice if Mr. Davies was on deck when the dolphins appeared? I was in such a fever I didn't stop to see."
"No, Doctor, he wasn't."
"He never came up?"
"No. I suppose that's why he was the one to find the body."
"I wonder why he was below deck while the rest of us went topside." Stephen mused. "As far as we can tell he and Miss Turner were the only ones below deck. And Mr. Andersen, the poor soul, of course."
"Yes, besides the powder monkey and a couple other sailors, but they are under no scrutiny." Mowett frowned. "If you don't mind my asking, Doctor, what are you hinting at?"
"I'm hinting at nothing," Stephen said mildly. "Good day to you, gentlemen."
He disappeared back into the ship's gut and wandered around, heading steadily deeper, until he found a passing sailor that could direct him to where the prisoner was being kept.
He'd never fully realized the depth of the Surprise until he found where Cora was. To him the food and supplies that kept them safe and alive appeared like magic; he knew, of course, that they were stowed somewhere on the ship and that the somewhere was called the hold, but his existence on the Surprise rarely broached her highest and lowest reaches.
He knew he'd reached the end of his journey when he saw the scarlet coats of the marines standing beside the stacked crates and barrels that were forming a sort of holding cell at the moment, the brig remaining out of commission. Mr. Howard was there, along with two of his subordinates.
"Let me through, please." He said.
"Doctor, I'm under strict orders not to let anyone-"
"I should think that you owed me something, Mr. Howard."
Stephen knew it was a low blow- Howard had never forgiven himself for the accident with the albatross -but it worked. He had to see her.
She was leaning against the wall of the ship but sat up when the marines stood aside to let him into her little cubby. She looked as if she wanted to go to him, but they'd found heavy shackles for her feet.
"He'll do it, won't he?" She whispered when he came to crouch beside her. "He'll hang me."
"Not if I can help it." He whispered, pressing a brief kiss onto her forehead. "Let me see your wound."
She leaned back and lifted her shirt the way she had on the first day they met, exposing the smooth skin of her belly. The difference was that on the day they met he'd shown only a physician's interest, had seen only the injuries and was unconscious of the woman they belonged to. Now it took him a precious moment to recover his calm and push away the urgent desire to bend and kiss the skin of her navel and the few soft hairs that led to the waist of her breeches.
Just as she'd said, the shrapnel wounds were open once more and a thin trickle of blood issued from them when he touched them. More importantly, there was the red imprint of a hand on her skin and on the shirt above it. The blood that was on her hands when they came to arrest her was not Kevin Andersen's.
"I wish I could care for these." He said, his hands lingering on her skin.
"My mother told me that if a pirate hangs their soul is doomed to captivity forever." She gripped the front of his shirt with a sudden rattle of chains. "Don't let them hang me, Stephen. Shoot me if you have to but don't let them hang me, don't let them do it, I don't want to be hung..."
"I won't let them, I won't let them." He said it again and again and with each repetition kissed her face- her forehead, her cheekbones, her chin, her nose, and each eyelid. He leaned forward at last, lying almost on top of her, his hand on the bare skin of her ribs, to kiss her lips. He kissed her the way he first did, like he was helpless to stop himself. He kissed her like he was drowning because no matter how many times he said he wouldn't let her hang he was all too aware that this might be the last time he ever touched her. She clung every bit as fiercely to him.
"Dr. Maturin."
Mr. Howard's heavy words were a bitter dose of reality. Stephen drew slowly away from Cora and turned to see Jack standing beside the marines, his eyes hard and dark.
"My cabin." Was all he said before he walked away.
He rose. Cora still clung to him and he reached down to take her hand.
"I won't let you die." He whispered, and then walked away, the lonely rattle of her chains echoing in his head all the way to the great cabin.
Stephen let himself in. Jack was waiting with his back to the door. His normally ruddy face was livid with anger when he turned.
"What were you doing in there, Stephen?"
"I went to ascertain-"
"God damn you, you know what I meant! Do you realize what you have done, falling for her? You've just made what I have to do at dawn tomorrow a thousand times harder! I can't remember the last time you let a woman touch you like that, and now I have to kill her!"
"You are possessed of free will, Jack, you have to do nothing."
"I would've already been in hot water at the Admiralty if I let her off with a pardon after we sunk the Running. My career would not survive if I didn't punish this crime with death. My hand is being forced in this."
"Your hand is being forced by Jonah Davies. He is the one behind this. Robinson admitted that he, Andersen and Toner spoke to Davies only once, and that was the day before they attacked Cora. They showed her no ill will before that. And Davies was the only one besides Cora and Andersen below deck when Andersen died. Cora was sleeping. The blood on her hands was hers! Davies has hated Cora from the moment she stepped on this ship, and when you didn't hang her straight away he resolved to find a way to force you."
"And how do you explain the knife?"
"She showed me where she kept it before she was taken. It had a place in her boots. Anyone could've come by and stolen it while she slept." He took a step closer to the captain. "Jack, for all love, you and I both know it wasn't her."
"She said herself she's killed a man before, what's to stop her now? She's a damned pirate, Stephen, born and bred." Jack snapped.
"Do you remember when you told me that it was my prerogative to view the world through a microscope, Jack?" Stephen asked in a low voice. "Well it's yours to view the world through a spyglass, and your view of it is no wider than mine."
Jack made a harsh angry sound and turned away from Stephen to regain his control. When he turned back his blue eyes were back to chips of ice.
"Miss Turner will die at dawn, unless you manage to find proof in writing that she did not kill Kevin Andersen."
Stephen dropped his gaze and ran a hand through his hair.
"Thank you for hearing me out." He said quietly, bitterly, then he turned and took his leave.
Every whispered promise, every kiss he gave her, had been a lie.
He went back to his cabin and tried to find something to distract himself- anything. He elaborated his sketch of the dolphin but couldn't bring himself to finish it entirely. He tried to write in his diary then settled for rereading it as far back as the first sighting of the Acheron. That provided the longest relief, until he reached the end. Every time the initials CT appeared was like a quick jab at his gut.
He tossed on his hammock after that. Even his treasured notes from their long-awaited trip to the Galapagos couldn't console him. His body counted every minute and the devil in his chest whispered how many left she had to live.
Around dinner he could no longer remain in the same place. Just before he went topside he paused at the scene of the crime. In the typical naval fashion it was already clean.
Tomorrow past dawn no one will even know what happened here. No one but me.
"Excuse me, sir." Someone carrying a lantern was trying to get by. Stephen stepped out of the way but didn't remove his gaze from where it was fixed on the floor before him. If his gaze hadn't been downcast, he never would've seen the sudden interplay of light across something shining towards the base of the wall.
He ran down to his cabin and seized his own lantern, then walked carefully by that section once more. He dropped to his stomach when he saw the glimmer, setting the lantern down beside him. His stomach dropped through the floor when he read the writing in blood on the wall.
Jonah Davies MURDERER
It didn't take much for Robinson to confess: Davies had approached them the day they met with the Beacon and asked them to make a pact to send Miss Turner to the gallows. The first stage in their plan was to attack her and see if they could put any black marks in the book against her; when that failed, Davies said more drastic steps were needed. He came to their berth when the rest of their watch was already on deck and told Andersen to steal one of the weapons confiscated from Miss Turner when she was captured. But Andersen had seen Cora using her own knife when they were on watch together and stole that instead.
It was the last time either sailor had seen their comrade. Davies must have killed Andersen with the knife the moment he gave it to him. All throughout this, Toner stood by with sullen eyes but didn't say anything to the contrary. Davies put up a strong defense when they came for him- they probably heard him shouting all the way back in Portsmouth -but in the end he was the one in irons.
The master at arms gave Stephen the key to unlock the manacles. Cora's eyes were closed and her lips moved in soundless prayer as he removed the heavy shackles and pulled her to her feet.
"I told you I wouldn't let you die."
"I know," She smiled. "But there were a few hours when it was hard to believe."
He led her out of the small cell they'd created so their three new prisoners could take residence. They were to be court-martialed at the earliest possible time.
Jack was waiting for them on deck.
"Miss Turner, there is no apology strong enough for what has happened here. I spoke in haste and in error when I accused you, and for that all I can say is that I am deeply sorry."
She just smiled weakly and shook her head.
"It's not the first time I've stood in the shadow of the gallows, sir."
Mr. Mowett had just seen that Cora was free and while the ship was in an uproar he went over to her to express his glee, giving Jack enough time to pull Stephen aside.
"Stephen, earlier-"
Stephen stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Never speak of it, joy. She is safe."
Jack gave him a smile, but it was as strong as Cora's had been. She was looking over at them now- looking at Stephen. Looking at him in a way that made his spine shiver in his skin, looking at him in a way that made him wish they were somewhere utterly alone, with all the time in the world, with no ghosts to haunt them and no reprisal to fear.
Jack caught the look and gave Stephen a knowing one of his own. Some things haven't changed, the look said.
"Never speak of it, joy," He repeated. "Let me have her for now."
"For now." Jack replied.
The cry of 'Land ahoy!' went up and the ship exploded into a different kind of preparation. Each man looked nervously to the water around them, afraid that their quarry might have reached her den before they did.
Isla Cruces was on the horizon.
A/N-- Total Da Vinci Code moment with the blood on the wall, huh? That was the last fandom I wrote in, so I let a little slip in. After all, the movie had Paul Bettany. --yayness-- Review, or I'll set Mr. Davies loose and tell him that you're all pirates! (lol)
