A bit of a longer chapter this time...hope you enjoy it!

XVII.

Meg sat in the stern of the small pirogue, shielding herself from the fierce sun with a white damask parasol.. Her rose silk dress, although made of the lightest possible fabric, clung to her skin. The air was heavy with humidity, and she could feel sweat trickling down her back.

A fly suddenly buzzed around her head. The noise startled her, and she swatted at it with irritation. Her usually steady nerves were on edge. She had followed Flint's instructions exactly, and had left the letter behind the brick in the bakehouse wall within an hour of finding it. When she had checked the hiding place under cover of darkness that night, she had found the letter gone. However, Flint's spy had not revealed his or her identity. The uncertainty fed her uneasiness. She was sure that Tobias would soon discover the letter missing, and would somehow find out that she had taken it.

As the canoe glided through the clear blue water, she saw Tobias glance at her free hand and frown. She was twisting the folds of her dress through her fingers, wrinkling the fine material. He captured her hand in his, forcing her fingers to still. "Are you sure you're up to this?" he asked in a low voice, giving her a penetrating look.

"What I do not need is more rest. Had I sat in my room any longer, I think I should have gone mad!" Realizing she sounded ungrateful, Meg summoned a smile to her face, and hastily added, "Thank you for understanding that I needed a diversion."

He leaned close to her ear, and murmured. "A diversion is all well and good, but you must promise me it won't involve a handsome naval officer." He brought her hand to his lips, then kissed it, the cool pressure of his mouth a striking contrast to her heated skin. "Fetching as you look today, that there will not be a man on that island who will be able to resist your charms."

She colored slightly. "I thank you for the compliment, but I do not plan on being the center of attention."

"Good." The boat hit a larger wave, and he put a steadying hand on the small of her back. "Have you given any more thought to our conversation the other night?"

She chose her words with care. "To be truthful, I have focused on rest and recuperation for past few days. Now that I am feeling more like myself, I can give you and your…" She glanced at young slave at the bow, who was readying the boat for landing. "Proposals..the proper attention that they deserve."

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. "The proper attention? It appears as if a favorable wind may be headed my way."

She lowered her eyes demurely, catching a glimpse of a beach looming ahead, the golden sand sparkling in the bright light. "Are we already there?"

Tobias squinted at the beach, shading his eyes with his hand. "We are...but the welcoming reception Is not quite what I had anticipated."

"How do you mean?" She followed his gaze, and saw a large canvas tent set up on the beach. Two British soldiers sat at a table underneath it, playing a game of cards. They were at ease, their regimental coats unbuttoned to reveal their sunburned necks, which were streaked with dirt. Two other soldiers stood nearby, outside the tent but still able to enjoy the benefit of the shade. Atttired in their resplendent red uniforms, muskets in hand, they stood guard over a civilian. The prisoner lay on his back, spreadeagled on the sand several feet from the soldiers. His hands and feet were tied to stakes, and he was exposed to the full force of the midday sun.

"What in heaven's name…" Meg stopped, her throat catching as her heart filled with compassion for the prisoner. "That man must be in torment! How can such a thing be allowed?"

"I presume he's a pirate," said Tobias, his eyes lighting up with interest. His hand slid to his sword, gripping it with an intensity that Meg found unsettling. "Lieutenant Hume has been hoping to capture one for some time."

Meg turned to him. "For what purpose?"

He gave her a dismissive look. "Intelligence, of course. Then there is the matter of improving morale. It's always good for the enlisted men to have someone to abuse when they are disgruntled with the food or the accommodations."

Her stomach turned when she saw the cruel twist of mouth as he gazed at the scene in front of them.

An officer appeared from a barracks on the far end of the beach, skirting the edge of the sand until he reached the area directly in front of the them. The man then carefully picked his way across the soft white sand, taking up a position a few yards away from the place where the pirogue slid to a rest.

Tobias helped Meg out of the boat, then turned to the officer, who wore a smart dark blue uniform and a neatly powdered wig. "Good day, Lieutenant Hume. May I present Miss Margaret Davies, my ward?"

"Miss Davies." The lieutenant bowed, his cold, dark eyes flicking away from Meg for an instant, then settling on her again.

"It appears as if your fishing expedition has finally met with success," Tobias observed. He shaded his eyes once again to take a closer look at the prisoner. He nodded approvingly. "Quite a catch you have there. He's a big brute, isn't he? Which ship does he sail with?"

Hume pressed his lips together. "He's an arrogant ruffian-refuses to say much of anything, other than a few choice insults which are not fit for the ears of a lady."

"Then perhaps you need to be use more persuasive methods, Lieutenant," murmured Tobias.

The officer sniffed, and flicked a piece of lint from his sleeve. "Don't worry, sir. He'll break in the end. The Devil's Embrace works every time. It's just a matter of how long it takes."

"The Devil's Embrace?" Meg echoed. "What is that?" She took a step towards the tent. The glare of the sun as it reflected off the water made it difficult for her to get a clear look at the man. Thank God that Billy is safe. The Walrus is far away from both Nassau and Harbour Island by now.

He straightened his shoulders. "It is a very useful form of torture invented by a Spanish bishop. He used it to subjugate the recalcitrant native chiefs of Hispaniola who dared oppose the mass conversion of their people. The prisoner is outfitted with a leather vest that envelopes his torso, then left exposed to the elements. Within a week, the leather constricts to such a degree that it crushes the ribs, puncturing the internal organs. Death soon follows. It's simple, but brilliant."

Meg turned to stare at him."And if the man cooperates, and gives you the information that you need?'

Hume shrugged. "The same. We just don't have to keep him under constant guard once we've gotten what we want out of him. By that time, he's usually quite close to the end anyway."

Meg found his matter-of-fact manner repellent, but forced herself to keep her voice even. "Lieutenant, I am sure we can agree that no man, no matter what his crimes, deserves to be treated like an animal."

The Lieutenant barked out a laugh, and gave condescending glance. "With all due respect, Miss Davies, you have no idea-none at all-of how brutal these pirates can be. I would not let a woman of gentle birth within 10 yards, let alone 10 feet, of one."

Meg bit her lip, an uneasy thought coming to her. What if this man was someone like Billy? Someone who had been forced into a life of piracy because he had no other option? She could not just walk away without offering whatever comfort she could to the unfortunate prisoner. But how could she get a few moments alone with the man?

"I'm sorry," Tobias was saying. "You know how soft-hearted women can be. My ward is a committed Christian, and -"

Meg stepped forward, seeing an opportunity that was not to be wasted. "Has someone prayed with this man?" Surely he merits the chance to seek God's grace."

Hume ignored her, stiffly turning to Tobias. "Sir, perhaps we should adjourn to my dining room. I fear the heat is having an adverse effect on Miss Davies' reason."

"Yes, because it is clearly unreasonable to offer a prisoner the opportunity for spiritual support during a time of suffering!" Meg's grey eyes blazed with anger.

Giving the officer an apologetic look, Tobias took Meg firmly by the arm, and drew her off to the side "Listen to me," he muttered, his jaw tightening."While I admire your principles, I cannot afford to have your presence here jeopardize my future position with Governor Rogers."

"All I'm asking for is a few moments to pray with a man whose soul may yet be saved," replied Meg, lifting her chin and returning his stare."It is the right thing to do, and you know it, although you will not admit it."

"Is it the right thing to do is to make me look like an idiot?" he snapped. "To make me look like I cannot control my own ward?"

"For God's sake, Nelson, the Governor-elect is waiting!" burst out Hume, losing his patience. "If Miss Davies wants to spend a few moments succoring a man who is already on the road to hell, let her. He's been unconscious most of the afternoon anyway."

He turned to the two men at the table. "Morton! Cawley! Brown and Smithfield will escort us up to the barracks. You two will watch the prisoner-and this woman closely." he narrowed his eyes at Meg, "Miss Davies has 5 minutes to pray with this lout. The second that time has elapsed, bring her up to the barracks. Since she is so keen on prayer, she can continue her devotions in the chapel whilst we are meeting with the Governor."

Tobias gave her a dark look. "We will discuss this later," he hissed. Turning his back on her, walked over to the Lieutenant. The two men on guard duty left their positions, preparing to escort Hume and Tobias to the barracks.

"Be careful, Miss," the guard closest to her said quietly as he passed by. "He can't hurt you, trussed up as he is, but these kind of men are coarse and Ill mannered. If he does anything to upset you, just back away or call out, and the soldiers will be there in a jiffy."

"Thank you," she murmured, walking to the edge of the tent. The glare of the sun was still blinding, and she could just make out the man lying on the sand. He was tall, perhaps almost as tall as Billy. His clothes were dirty, and his shirt was in tatters. His feet were bare, the soles black with filth. It was difficult to tell what color his hair was, as it was coated with sand.

Aware that she had only a few moments to offer the man some comfort, she stepped out into the sun. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the brightness once again.

The prisoner seemed to sensed her presence, and turned his head, moaning with pain as he did so. In that instant, her heart stopped. Although he was bruised and battered, there was no mistaking the features of the man in front of her.

She sank to her knees, heedless of the white sand and the bits of seaweed that clung to her dress. His left eye was swollen shut, the surrounding skin grotesquely stretched by dark purple bruises. The right eyelid fluttered for an instant when she breathed his name. She instinctively reached for his hand, only to recall that he was bound.

"We must ask you not to touch the prisoner," one of the guards drawled, only briefly looking up before laying down a card. "For your own safety."

"I must lay hands on him in order to offer a prayer for healing," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "I will be careful."

Billy strained weakly at the ropes, another moan escaping from his cracked lips as the rope chafed the raw flesh at his wrists. Blood dripped onto the soft sand, enlarging the red stains under his hands.

"Shh," she said softly, cupping his cheek with her palm. "I'm here."

Billy opened his one good eye, and her breath caught when she saw the suffering therein.

He tried to curl the fingers of his right hand into a fist, but did not have the strength. He spoke then, but his words were barely audible. "You….don't…know…" His voice failed, and his eyes grew desperate.

"I do know," Meg whispered, her throat tightening. She leaned over his body, her shadow providing him with a few blessed moments of relief from the sun. "I can see it just by looking at you. I cannot even imagine…" She placed a gentle hand on his forehead, hoping to soothe the angry red skin..

He shook his head, tears of frustration welling in his eyes. "Me...you can't…"

"You're going to be fine," she said, her voice becoming urgent as she saw the hopelessness in his expression. "I'lI find a way to get you out of here."

"No!" He spoke louder louder this time, prompting a sharp look from one of the soldiers.

"It's all right," she called out reassuringly, "God's grace is freely given to all who repent and turn to him."

Turning back to Billy, she lowered her voice."You must not wear yourself out. I'll get word to Flint."

"Listen to me!" he rasped, then coughed. . "So...thirsty." He ran his tongue over his blistered lips, searching for any hint of moisture.

Meg looked over her shoulder. "Some water for the prisoner! I believe he is ready to confess his faith, but the poor man cannot speak because his threat is so dry."

The taller of the two men, the buttons of his uniform straining over his belly, blinked, then glanced at his partner belligerently. "Your turn, Morty."

Other man, rail thin and bald, threw down his cards, shrieking in a pitch high enough to shatter glass. "This is a shit detail! Not only do I have to rot here in the fuckin' heat guardin' some fuckin' pirate who likely ain't smart to know a damn thing, I have to put up with your fuckin' attitude! Who made you my master?"

The other man stretched, then,took a long swig from his mug and smirked. "Shut up and give him some of the water over there." He nodded at a wooden pail a few feet away. "Show a little Christian mercy, Morton."

A slow grin split his partner's lips as he staggered to his feet. "You're right, Cawley. We are called to help the less fortunate, aren't we?" He took a wooden cup and scooped some water from the bucket, taking a long look at Billy as he did so. "And that poor bastard is most unfortunate, isn't he?"

Cawley guffawed. "That's for damn sure." He locked eyes with Meg, and his expression changed to a leer. "Although he does have a beautiful lady fawnin' over him. Perhaps I should get myself tied down and let her tend to me."

Meg flushed with embarrassment and turned away. Billy's eyes, which had been dull with pain, sparked in anger.

"It's nothing," she whispered, desperately wishing that she could tend to him properly. . "Ignore them."

"So many things…" he said hoarsely, then swallowed and closed his good eyes. "Wish I...had just…"

"Excuse me, Miss." Morton's words were slurred as he came up next to Meg.

"Give it to me," she said curtly.

He burped, and wagged a finger at her. "Not goin' to happen, missy! No one is to give the prisoner food or drink except for us. By orders of Lt. Hume."

"If he is displeased, I will I accept full responsibility," she replied evenly.

He hesitated, and she snapped. "For heaven's sake, Corporal! You poured the water yourself!"

He shifted uncomfortably, then handed her the cup. Scuttling back to the tent, he picked up his cards, squinting at his hand.

Meg glanced at the cup, then at Billy. "I'll pour some into my hand, then drip it into your mouth so you don't choke. How's that?"

He nodded, and opened his mouth eagerly as she cupped her hand and poured a tablespoon or so into her palm

He swallowed the first mouthful in an instant, then gagged and turned his head to the side, fighting the urge to vomit.

"Billy, what's wrong?" Meg heard a note of panic in her voice. Calm down-you can't help him if you lose your head. She cautiously put her tongue to her hand, and anger surged through her body. Salt water.

She rose in an instant, fury lacing her words. "What kind of men are you? There is a word for this-torture! You will give me something for this man to drink right now, or by all that is holy, I-"

"You'll do what?" Cawley jeered. He spat onto the sand, then raised his bloodshot eyes to hers. "Say a prayer for my soul?" In one quick motion, he pushed his chair back and stood up, grasping her arm so tightly that she winced. "Your five minutes is up, love. You're comin' with us now."

"But I-"

Morton seized her other arm, and before she could react, they had hustled out of the tent.

.As the soldiers dragged her away, a strangled cry came from Billy. He winced as he craned his neck in an attempt to see what was happening. He tried to force the words from his throat, but they came out in a croak. "Leave her…" His head sank back onto the sand as he watched Meg disappear into vegetation at the edge of the beach. "Alone," he whispered," closing his eyes in defeat as the word burned his throat. He strained at the ropes once again, then cried out as a muscle spasm tore through his left calf. The pain radiated down into his foot, and spots danced in front of his eyes. Awareness began to slip away from him as the clouds swirled above him in an ever more rapid circle. Why didn't I just tell her?

xxxx

"You need to stop fightin' us now," said Morton smoothly, steering her into a small clearing and digging his yellowed nails into her arm. He eyes strayed to the at the low cut neckline of her dress. "After all, we wouldn't want to have your lovely assets spoiled by association with pirate scum. What you need is a strong, upright military man."

"Or men." Cawley's lips brushed against her cheek, his foul breath causing her to jerk her head away from him. "What you need is someone to curb that feistiness .Good, old fashioned discipline, that's what I say."

"Preferably while in a horizontal position," chortled Morton, shoving her towards the ground with surprising strength. Cawley caught her by the arm, and clucked his tongue.

Meg felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps he is not the brute the other one is. Her hopes were extinguished with his next words.

"Have you no imagination, Morton? This one, I think, might like it up against a tree." He pulled her against him, thrusting his hips against hers. "What do you think, darlin'? Fancy a bit of discipline from an honest country boy?"

An instant later, his jaw went slack, and he dropped to the ground like a stone, blood spurting from a gaping wound his side. A sword slashed across his throat, and he made a horrible gurgling sound, then lay still.

Morton seized her by the arm, whipping a knife to her throat in a split second. Using her as a shield, he backed towards the edge of the clearing."If you know what's good for you, you'll leave off! Now!" he quavered.

There was silence for a count of three, and then a low voice spoke. "Now why the fuck would I do that?"

Any thoughts to who spoke the last line? I've two possible people in mind...

Many thanks to all the new followers!