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Chapter Eighteen
Using the elementof surprise by her rumpled and risqué appearance and her plea for help, Dita had struck one guard with the hammer, knocking him out, then swiveled and kicked the other in the groin, bringing him to his knees before she hit him with the hammer. A wild burst of energy exploded through her as she rushed to Roddy, darting between two unconscious men at her feet.
“My God, Dita, you were unstoppable with the hammer.”
One good thing so far was that her defense had invigorated her brother. She didn’t respond that the threat of rape and murder would give anyone the strength of Goliath. Amazing what vigor you could summon when you were fighting for your life.
“I wish Alfie could have seen you.” Roddy was on all fours, pushing himself to stand.
She didn’t tell Roddy that she had felt her grandmere’s spirit before she confronted the men. It wasn’t the time, and she didn’t think Roddy would understand the connection between the women.
She rushed to help him, grabbing his elbow to steady him. “I was so afraid I would kill them, but the hammer is so heavy that a small arc was enough momentum to knock them out without delivering a mortal blow.”
“You should not be worried about killing them. They planned to kill us.”
She had to really think this killing business through at a later time. She didn’t want to kill people even if they deserved it. Had Dash killed anyone? She couldn’t think of Dash right now. He must be frantic and frightened and raging at everyone.
“We need to get out of here before anyone else comes. You’re going to have to climb the ladder on your own.”
Roddy leaned against her, giving her most of his weight. Moving slowly, he shuffled without enough strength or energy to lift his feet. With every ragged breath, Dita’s panic heightened. If they didn’t make it out of the hold, they would be trapped. And on discovering she had disarmed their men, she didn’t want to consider the retribution the captors would deliver.
She had to keep her focus on leaving.What-ifswould not help anyone. At least the distance to the ladder wasn’t far as she dragged Roddy to their only means of escape. The porthole wasn’t large enough for them to use.
She stopped a few feet before the ladder and released Roddy. She raised her finger to her mouth for silence. Before ascending, she had to check whether anyone stood guard over the entrance to the hold. The view was clear from fifteen feet below. She counted at least twenty rungs that Roddy would have to climb. There was no other choice.
Roddy, standing behind her, whispered, “I should go first.”
She faced him. “Roddy, this is not the time to be a gentleman. You do not have the strength to fight.” She doubted he could make the climb, but if she was able to clear the deck, she could return and assist him.
“I’m not letting my sister sacrifice herself for my sake.”
“This is not the time for chivalry. Do you want to stay alive and escape? My choice is to continue to live.”
“Good point. I’m so sorry I got you into this mess.”
“No apologies. Use your strength to get up the ladder. Rest after each rung.” She hoped by the time Roddy reached the top, she would have freed the way. And if not, Roddy didn’t need to suffer more.
She climbed quickly, grateful for not having much of her skirt to impede the climb. The hammer and knife were tucked into her petticoat. She had fashioned a belt from the skirt material to hold the hammer in place in back. She would use the short-hilted knife as a last resort. The hammer, with its long handle and weight, required a larger arc to swing and would give her the element of surprise. And it meant she didn’t have to get as close to her opponent.
She amazed herself at the ease with which she ascended. How long would this surge of energy last before she wilted? Her heart sprinted, her vision narrowed, and she was ultra-focused on the next battle she faced. Could she train other women to act as fiercely when threatened?
Vulnerable the moment she climbed onto the deck, she paused three rungs below and listened to gauge how many men were present. There was the sound of seagulls, and men shouting in the distance but nothing close, no footsteps that she could discern. She steeled herself, trying to not think of Dash and the regret that they hadn’t made love. If she and Roddy lived through this, she planned to take Dash to her bed and not allow him to leave.
She gingerly climbed, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure the men would hear her. With her head level with the deck, she slowly peered at the surrounding area, gazing up at the mast and the furled sails. She saw no one except one guard with a wiry frame and strong arms most likely from lifting crates. He was ten to twelve feet away, leaning over the railing to watch the dock’s activities below the ship. He was stationed by the hole to prevent them from leaving and watching for anyone who approached. Or that was her conjecture.
She ducked her head back. Only three men—if she counted the two she had knocked unconscious—were guarding such high-value prisoners. But where were the other men?
And once she disarmed the guard, how would they get off without jumping into the water? Roddy was in no condition to swim. She had never been on a ship. She only knew about walking the plank from pirate stories… She and Roddy would be exposed if they ran down a plank. That was the next challenge.
The first was how to silence the man without killing him. She didn’t want him to call out for reinforcements or alert the men on the dock. She’d have to use the hammer again and go for a head strike. She shuddered at the memory of the sensation of the hefty weight making contact with the other men’s skulls. Both were breathing and would recover. Shooting them would have raised the risks of their discovery if she had a pistol, and most likely the men would have died from infection. She reassured herself that the hammer was more humane. She was stalling, steeling herself to hit someone who wasn’t attacking her. The other men, once they realized her ruse, attempted to grab and punch her. It was easier to fight back than be the aggressor.
She reminded herself of the plans that the men had for her and Roddy. Taking a slow deep breath to center herself and her focus, she searched the area again. Only one man was visible. She could hear voices from the dock below but nothing else. She climbed onto the deck, searching in a full circle, then tiptoed with the hammer fisted behind her back. It was heavy and her arms ached.
She was within striking distance when he must have heard her approach. He spun as he reached for his pistol. His mouth opened, ready to shout when she reacted instinctually. She pivoted on her right foot, kicking the pistol out of his hand as she swung and hit him in the face with the hammer. Blood spurted out of his nose as he fell to the deck with a loud thud.
She turned three hundred sixty degrees to see whether the sound had alerted his fellow conspirators. Nothing. Twenty feet to the front of the ship was their escape—a wooden plank connecting to the dock. She would have to move Roddy into the open area, leaving them exposed.
She peered over the side of the boat, looking for more men guarding the plank. No one stood near the entry onto the ship. Men were pushing carts next to the horse-laden carts. If she could get Roddy on a cart, they could leave undetected. Her and Roddy’s unkempt appearance would draw attention. She had considered removing one of the fallen men’s breeches, but the idea of undressing was unsavory and would take too long. She was barely covered in her slashed skirts. The dock was teeming with men. A shiver coursed through her at the men’s possible reactions to her risqué dress. And if that wasn’t enough to make her falter, she was sure that Haversham’s men were among the many on the dock.
