Not with a man like Captain Sherwen at the helm. He was old, yes. But he asked no questions, drank no ale…and took no smokes of the opium contraband they’d be loading from India and unloading in China.
That was more than could be said for Ellis.
But Ellis was not a problem. Not anymore. Filthy devil, he’d almost been worth the twenty-two men who had perished in the Atlantic. Who else would have taken the Gillingham girl that night?
How amusing…the look on the drunken captain’s face when Bowles had burst into the man’s hidden chamber and thrown down the child. “See this, Ellis?”
Ellis had scrambled from his makeshift bed on the floor, vomit on his gaping shirt, his gaze hazy and tormented. “What…what is this?”
The little girl had curled herself on the dirt floor. Sounds filled the room. Stupid, whimpering child. If someone had waited for him, let him do the thinking, this would never have happened.
Now everything was going wrong. And who was called upon to resolve things?
He’d jerked out his silver blade knife. “Since you do not mind taking lives, Ellis, I thought I might bring this little task to you.”
The blood drained from the captain’s face. “No.”
“It is the least you can do for a man who has hidden you so well, do you not agree? I shall even relieve you from your discomfort if you comply. A smoke perhaps—”
“No, no.” He stumbled toward the child, tossing away his tankard. “No more. I’m finished.”
“You cannot live without it.”
“I’ll be dead then.”
“Indeed you shall if my men ever get their hands on your bloody throat.”
“Let them. I don’t care. Don’t matter anymore.”
“Good. Have one more night of rest, then, and I shall throw you out of these quarters in the morning. What sport the men shall have with you.” He breathed a laugh. “I almost think it would be amusing if you lived through such an experience. If not though, it might be equally amusing to use your head on the bowsprit of our next ship.”
The words didn’t seem to affect the captain. He only stared, wiped his wet mouth, and waited over the child.
“Well, if you have not the stomach for it.” With a curse, he groped for the child’s ringlets and jerked her up. She screamed, the captain stiffened—but he sliced off a chunk of her hair before either of them could stop him.
“Don’t…don’t hurt the child.” Pathetic whine. “Leave her alone.”
“She has seen too much, I fear. There is no alternative but to kill her. That is, unless you wish to take her—”
“No, I be wantin’ no part of it.”
He slid the blade across the child’s arm. Twice. Blood filled her white sleeve and her hysterics rose another octave. He raised his knife again—
“Stop it!” Ellis’ shaking hands rushed into his hair and the terror made tears leak down his cheeks. “Stop it…please. I’ll take her. I’ll be doin’ anything you say…anything, only don’t—”
“Kill her like you killed our crew?” He sheathed his knife, tossed the child forward, and waited until Ellis swallowed the girl in his arms.
With silent shudders, the child buried her face into the man’s wrinkled neck and clung to him. Pitiful, the two of them. Why either of them should be left alive made no sense.
But he couldn’t make all the decisions. Most, but not all. The one in charge wanted the girl alive. This was the only way.
“There’s a coach waiting outside. Put on this cloak and get out of here—and if I ever see either of you again, you’ll both be paying for what you’ve done.”
Now, as he left the shore in the moonlight, he fought a smile at the irony of it all. Ellis should have let it end there, the fool.
Because they were both dead anyway.
Well, almost.
