It was late in the evening when they
drifted alongside the sleek vessel known as the SS Todman. Goodson's
flagship shined in the dim moonlight, the pride of the US Naval
fleet. Men in sailor uniforms stood at attention on-deck, stoic in
their spotless dark blue uniform.
“Hold back, men!” whispered Tom as
they all ducked into cabins or squatted on-deck. “We want them to
think we're a ghost ship, not something real.” Tattered fabric bits
hung from the real sails. Cannons were covered in a veneer of red
dust to appear rusty and dull.
“That's all well and fine,”
grumbled lanky young sailor Bart Braverman, “but do we have to wear
the cut-out sheets?”
McLean, the silver-haired ship doctor,
poked his head out of his sheet. “I feel like laundry down here. We
aren't going to scare those guys. They'll just stick us in a basket
and rinse us the next time we go to shore.”
“Shhhh!” Sharon Farrell stuck her
curly yellow head out. “Do you want them to recognize us?”
Tom waved his hand as the boats scraped
against each other. “Enough, all of you! All right, everyone. Let's
get over the side.”
Sharon landed gracefully on the other
deck, barely ruffling her sheet. “If anyone tries anything, go flat
and pretend to be laundry.”
“They'd better not try stepping on
me,” grumbled Dolly under her sheet. “I just washed these this
afternoon!”
“Shh!” Robert Walden waved a
sheet-covered hand, indicating two sailors keeping watch on-deck. He
and McLean grabbed the duo, getting them on the ground with the help
of the knock-out drops McLean carried in his pocket. “All right,
the others have to be around here somewhere.”
“Wait!” Gene peered out of his
sheet into the rapidly setting sun. “I think these fellows might be
able to help us.” He grabbed the larger of the two with the thicker
beard. “Sir, have you heard anything about the whereabouts of a
Miss Brett Somers?”
Gene reeled back when the big fellow
breathed on him. He definitely smelled half a case of good brandy,
among other things. “Oh, her?” He hiccuped. “Thought her name
was Mrs. Audrey Klugman. Guess it's the same lady. She's havin'
dinner with the boss. My friend and I, we just brought her there. The
ladies got her all dressed up in some fancy lacy thing. His cabin is
thataway.” He pointed towards the ends of the ship behind them.
“Thank you, sir. You may take your
nap now.” Gene let him fall back and snore. “If she's with
Goodson, we can kill two birds with one stone.”
“I have an idea.” Bart tugged the
other fellow's shirt over his head. “Two of us can pass as sailors
and see if we can get information out of Goodson or his crew. No one
will notice sailors roaming around.”
Gene started stripping the larger man
with the silver beard, who snored on his lap. “Whew! I don't want
to know how many kegs this guy had with dinner. His clothes reek with
rum.”
As they changed under their sheets,
McLean and Tom knocked out two more sailors who came to check up on
them, wailing softly like ghosts until they came close. “I liked
Sharon's idea from earlier.” McLean pulled off one of the moaning
men's boots. “We'll pose as sailors picking up laundry. There's no
way we can keep up this ghost act forever.”
Dolly flipped off
her sheet and knotted it around her waist and bosom to resemble a
tight dress. “No one will ask a lady in a dress that shows this
much cleavage any questions.”
“I like it!” Sharon wound the sheet
around her body, too, making sure it lifted her own chest. “If
anyone asks, we'll say we're...er...ladies from the nearby harbor.”
“Ladies of a certain type,” Dolly
added with a grin. Gene couldn't suppress a whistle as she turned
around for her snickering audience. Sharon pulled up a little skirt,
revealing an expanse of slender tanned leg.
Gene took Sharon's arm and Tom took
Dolly's as they inched along in the shadows, now carrying their
sheets or draping them around their shoulders. Everyone scuttled
along the deck in the lengthening shadows, jumping or knocking out
sailors when they turned to check out the “ghosts” floating by.
“Shhhh!” Gene waved the others
behind his sheet, stopping by the window to the largest cabin. “I
think I hear voices over there!”
“How are we going to get in?” Dolly
made a face as she yanked at the door. “It's bloody locked!”
Gene eyed the lower sail. “I think I
know.” He took her sheet and Robert's and tied them together, then
tied a knot at the end.
“I hear her!” Betty leaned in to
listen. “Gene, hurry up! Tom, McLean, see if you can break the lock
on the door. I'll take the side way in.”
As Gene tightened the knot on the
sheets, he swore he heard voices drifting from the cabin. “Welcome,
Mrs. Klugman,” Goodson purred. “Sit down. Enjoy the meal. We have
the finest cook anywhere on the high seas, hired straight from New
York.”
“You know, I think I will try it,”
Brett rasped as porcelain dishware and silver tureens clinked. “This
beef stew smells amazing. You can just taste the spices. You're a
lucky man, to have such a wonderful cook. It's been a long time since
I've had a fine dinner with a real gentleman. I don't count my, er,
husband as a gentleman, or those ruffians I used to work with. I'm
glad to be rid of them. The girls and I are better off with men who
don't consider it to be open season on your buns.”
“I don't know how you put up with
them for so long.” Goodson chuckled. “Rayburn was one of my best
captains, once upon a time. Intelligent...in his way...authoritative,
strong-minded. Trouble is, he couldn't respect the law. Insisted on
doing things his own way, making a comedy out of everything, giving
my money to the locals. But the law, my dear,” he purred as knives
scraped against porcelain, “is the law. The law is everything.”
“Especially,” Brett rumbled
alluringly, “if it's your law.”
Gene threw the sheets up, managing to
catch it on the end of the sails. He'd just swung up against the
walls as Goodson went on. “Of course, my dear. It's how you play
the game. There's no game if there's no law. The law must be obeyed.”
“Naturally.” Her foghorn contralto
dropped to a deep purr. “I know about playing the game, Governor.
I've played it for a long time.”
Even as something swished through
fabric, he took hold of the sails and grinned at the others. “I'm
going in after Brett. I'll let you guys in when I get there. Later,
folks!”
Of course, the last thing he expected
was to mistime his swing. Or for the sheets to go beyond the cabin's
window. Or for the sheet to rip and him to crash through the window
behind it, sending him flying into a map tacked onto the back wall.
“Gene? That was some entrance, old
friend.” Someone whipped off the map before Gene could struggle out
from under it. “You know, if you wanted to come in, you could have
knocked. I would have opened it for you.”
Bill Cullen leaned on his one good leg,
his wooden peg-leg thumping as he moved back to his chair. “Bill?
How in the hell did I end up in here? Where's Brett?”
“Oh, she's fine.” Bill helped him
sit shakily on the other chair. “She's dealing with Goodson. I
already had a talk with Mrs. Klugman.”
Gene took a deep breath and exhaled
noisily. “I don't know why I did that. I don't know how I did
that!” He frowned as Bill rubbed his back. “What are you doing
here, anyway? Thought you were working with your buddy Captain
Stewart on The Winner's Circle.”
“I enjoyed working with that ship,
but it got to be too much.” Bill's hand reflexively went down to
his wooden leg. “I let Bob's protege Dick Clark take over. Good
man. He's older than you think, but he has more youth and vitality
than men a decade under him. He'll be there for a long time.”
He nodded at the map crumpled under
Gene. “I'm working for Tom. Jack is my brother-in-law, and a dear
friend of mine. I have no personal animosity against Goodson, but I'm
not going to let him abuse Jack, either.” He stumped over to a door
in the back of the room. “When you need to get in, why don't you
just do what normal people do and ask someone?”
“Thanks, old friend.” He gave Bill
a pat on the shoulder, then dove into the room head-first with a
scream that would have frightened the blade off a swordfish.
It didn't do much for the occupants of
the room. “Gene?” Brett looked up from the wickedly sharp knife
she held on Goodson. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought
you went swimming!” The knife seemed more than a little out of
place with the silk and lace-trimmed gown she wore, her black hair
piled on her head with combs made of pearl and alabaster.
Gene made a face as he got to his feet.
“I came here to save you! The others are behind the door.”
“Is that what that god-awful racket
back there is?” Brett nodded at Goodson and handed Gene the knife.
“Keep this on him. Make sure he doesn't move. I'll let the others
in.”
“You do know, of course,” Goodson
chuckled amiably, “that I can no longer guarantee protection for
the rest of your female crew and Reilly.”
Brett made a face. “I wouldn't have
trusted you to do it, anyway. The girls and I planned this jailbreak
since we got on this leaky tub. Gene, get the keys.”
Goodson slid them out before Gene could
reach into his pocket. “I'll do it. That's the last place I want
your hands.”
“Thank you.” Gene immediately let
the others in...and they nearly tumbled head-first into the room.
“Well, that was graceful. Alert the entire ship to our presence,
why don't you?”
Tom untangled himself from the pile
well before anyone else did. “All right, Goodson, talk.” He took
the knife from Gene and aimed it at the Governor's gullet. “Where's
my brother?”
Goodson smirked a little. “I'm not
telling you. However, I'm glad you're here. I knew you'd fall for
this. The moment I raise my voice, every man on this ship will come
running.”
“You'll do no such thing, Mark.”
Bill Cullen pulled a gun from his pocket and aimed it straight at the
governor's chest, even as he continued to smile sheepishly. “I'm
sorry to do this to you. I actually like you, and you are my boss.
What I don't like is how you treat your captains.”
“So it's mutiny.” Goodson raised an
eyebrow. “You're the last person I expected to turn against me.”
“Mark, it's nothing against you,”
Bill admitted amiably. “I just like my brother-in-law more.”
“Then you won't mind,” Mark
chuckled, “if I do this.” He grabbed at Bill's hand, forcing the
gun to the ceiling. Brett and Gene jumped at him, but jumped back as
the gun fired, sending splinters of wood and wood pieces flying
through the room.
“Damn it,” Robert yelled as sailors
dashed in, “we've got company!”
“I have an idea.” McLean leaned out
the window and managed to pull the sheet rope in. “Hey Bart, get
the other side!” They pulled it across the door just in time for
three sailors to run right into it, landing on the table with a
blinding crash.
Dolly pushed around the mess, grabbed
the knife, and pointed it at Goodman's chin. (Which was all she could
manage, being fairly small in stature.) “Where's my Dick? Er,
where's my husband?”
“Ma'am, could you please remove
that?” Goodson pushed her knife away. “You shouldn't be playing
with those. Matter of fact, neither should I. I have other things to
do, like have a long-overdue chat with Captain Narz.” He pulled a
sword with a gem-trimmed gold handle out of his dresser. “If you
want this, Rayburn,” he snapped, “you'll have to come and get
it!” He quickly shimmied under the sheet and dashed across the
deck, past more of his men.
“Damn it to all hell!” growled
Brett. “Not only did he not tell us where Jack and the others are,
we don't know where Charles is, either. He's not with the other men.
Goodson practically boasted that to me.”
“Gene!” One of the sailors went
flying as a diminutive body flung itself into him. “I know where
Jack and the others are. I can take you there.” Richard Dawson got
to his feet, holding his own sword on the sea dog on the floor.
“It'll serve Goodson right for lying to me and breaking his
promise."
“You bastard!” Brett angrily
launched herself at him before he could prepare himself, landing them
both on the floor. “You're just as big of a liar as he is! All you
care about is yourself and your god-damn blasted ship! I ought to
shove that entire dinner down your throat sideways, including the
bones from the chicken!”
Richard Dawson fought against her, his
eye patch slightly askew from the fall. “Brett, if you'll just get
off me, I'll explain...”
“I have half a mind to let her
throttle you to death,” Gene growled. “You sold us out at the
first opportunity! I almost got killed taking a bath in the Atlantic,
Charles may be dead, and it's all because of you!”
Robert and Bart finally wrestled Brett
off the diminutive ship captain. “I'd let him talk,” Tom warned.
“He's been here longer than we have.”
“That's...right...” Richard puffed
as he rolled over. “Bill...and I...can take you...to Jack and the
men. They're in...the hold. Charles...being held...elsewhere...”
“He's in a separate cabin, but I
don't know which one.” Brett made a face. “We can get the other
ladies out next. They're in the cabin next to Bill's. They're being
held to make sure I cooperate.”
Bill held out a set of dangling keys.
“As navigator of the ship, I have my own copy of these. Surprised
Mark didn't think of taking them before he left. I think he's aware
I'm not on his side anymore.”
“You get the ladies out,” Richard
ordered, directing the men to gather the remaining sheets. “We'll
deal with these blokes.” He nodded at the sailors, most of whom
were just coming to after being hit with wine bottles. The two men
wrapped the sheets around them until they could barely move.
“All right,” Brett grumbled as she
stormed out of the room. “But so help me, Dickie...Richard, if
you're trying to lure us into some kind of trap...”
“Just in case,” Gene added,
frowning, “I think one of us had better keep an eye on him.”
Robert took his arm. “I've wanted to
have a chat with you, anyway. You and Captain Cullen are the only
pirates who worked with Goodson and didn't end up on the short end of
a noose. I want to hear everything about his operations.”
“Let me help with that.” Dolly
Martin took his other arm. “He's my fellow Brit...and I need to
have a talk with him about abandoning my Dick.” Her brown eyes and
wide white teeth gleamed nastily in the waning candlelight.
“Ok, let me at 'em!” Marcia growled
the moment she and the other women emerged from their cabin. “Where's
Goodson? I want to shove my knee in places where the sun don't shine,
if you know what I mean.”
“Where's Anson?” Lorrie wiped
blood-shot eyes. “They...they won't let me see him. The governor
says I'll be a distraction to him...he has too much work to do...”
Gene put an arm around her. “Don't
worry. We'll find him, just as soon as we rescue Jack and the crew
and Charles.” He grabbed one of the sailors on the floor. “Take
their uniforms. Ladies,” he handed Marcia a sheet, “try to look
alluring.”
Richard doubled over laughing. “You
idiots will never pass for normal sailors. The ladies maybe, but...”
“We don't have a choice, Rich.”
Gene tugged on the sailor's shirt, even though it was about a size
too small for him. “Well,” he grumbled as he tried to cover his
bare mid-drift, “lead the way, Captain Dawson! And no funny
business. You lead us into a trap, Miss Wallace has my permission to
kick you in places where the sun doesn't shine.”
Marcia glared at him. “And I'll do
it, too!”
“Very well. Are you all quite done?”
Richard sighed as he gazed at the motley assortment, half wearing
sailor uniforms that were too big or small, half wearing sheets tied
around their mid-drifts. “This will have to do. Hopefully, most of
the crew is too busy to really look hard.”
Robert and Dolly stayed with Richard as
he lead them across the main deck and down into the hold. The only
problem they had was from two sailors standing guard near the stern,
one of whom took one look at Dolly and Sharon and tried to
proposition them. He stopped when his face met Gene's fist; the other
one wasn't moving too well after Dolly's knee ended up in his private
parts.
“Shh!” Richard waved his hands as
he lead them into the black bowels of the ship. “We can't let
Goodson know I'm here, or Bill, for that matter. He'll call the rest
of these lovely blokes on us quick as a wink.”
As they went further into the hold,
Gene heard a familiar voice over the murmur of grumbles and
complaints. “Goodson, I've told you. You aren't getting your hands
on that treasure.”
Tom stopped so suddenly, Gene ended up
running into his back. “Tom,” he muttered, “could you warn
people when you do that?”
He glared at him. “We need to get the
drop on him. I don't want him hurting Jack.”
Goodson was too intent on his prisoner
to hear them. “It's too bad, Captain Narz. We could have worked
together, you and me. After all, you've been one of the most
notorious pirates on the Atlantic for a long time. I could have
provided for your retirement.”
Jack's angry look was just as heated as
his younger siblings as he glared at the captain from an iron cage.
“Provided for my hanging, you mean. You'll never let any of us
enjoy those spoils, unless we sell out to you like Dawson did.”
Richard winced as as Goodson chuckled.
“Dawson came to his senses, Captain. He realized how much easier it
is to work with the law than fight it.”
“I'm not like Richard,” Jack
growled. “I was going to use my share of that treasure to
retire...but I wanted to give the rest to my brother and our family.
I have no desire to end my life dangling on the end of the rope, and
I don't want Tom to, either.”
“Ah yes, that brother of yours.”
Goodson leaned in closer, his white teeth gleaming in the twilight.
“Did I mention your brother is here? My crew are dealing with him
and his men as we speak.”
“Are you going to toss him overboard
too,” called Scoey Mitchilll from one of the cages behind them, “or
are you going to treat him like a jail bird?”
“He wouldn't toss Tom overboard.”
Jack glared at him. “Not if he wants me to talk.”
“Maybe I will.” Goodson grinned
easily. “Maybe I will feed Kennedy to the fishes, like I did
Rayburn. Or I could always let my boys decide. They do enjoy a good
flogging.”
“Hello there, Governor.” Richard
strolled in, smirking widely. “Look at what I dragged in.” He
grabbed Tom by the arm. “Found him upstairs, brawling with your
boys, but we took care of him.” He looked over his shoulder at the
others. “Right, men?”
“Uh, yes.” Bart, who held up a pair
of sailor's trousers that were too big for him, nodded. “Uh, yes,
sir. Absolutely. We got him! And this guy, too!” He shoved Gene out
front.
“Hey!” Gene made a face. “Is
everyone turning me in now?”
“I've had enough of your ordering me
around and your hambone acting!” Richard yelled...even as he gave
Gene a tiny wink. “I've wanted my own command for a long time, and
you never listened to me! You never heard me! I've watched, and I've
learned, and I'm ready to take over my own ship!”
Gene knew an opening when he heard one.
“You could have told me, not dumped me in the Atlantic! Do you know
how cold it was in there?”
“Enough, both of you!” Brett
yelled. “I'm about ready to knock you both overboard, starting with
the traitor over there!” She lunged for Richard, her hands ready to
wrap around his neck again.
“Mrs. Klugman,” Goodson reached for
her arm, still smiling. “I'll deal with Captain Rayburn. Captain
Dawson, if you please...”
For the first time in weeks, Gene saw
Richard's familiar roguish smile. “Why certainly, Governor! On the
count of three, boys. One...two...”
The moment he said “three,” he and
Gene turned and hit Goodson at the same time in the chin! Gene
grabbed him by the collar when he went down stunned. “All right,
Governor,” he growled, shaking him, “where's the keys to those
cages?”
Goodson never lost his composure, still
giving him that bland smile. “I'm not telling you. I will, however,
call my men to handle the lot of you, including Dawson. I should have
known you couldn't trust a pirate.”
“Now you figure that out.” Richard
easily lifted the keys from his pockets. “Used to do a little
all-purpose pick-pocketing with an underground regiment during the
Revolution. Here, Tom,” he tossed the keys to the taller man, “get
your brother out.”
Dolly ran to her husband as soon as
everyone tumbled out of the cages. “Dick!” she laughed as he
picked her up and spun her around. “You crazy goose!”
“I never thought I'd see you again.”
He laughed and dipped her. “We need to celebrate this. How about we
raid the wine cellar next and see what they have on this tub for a
party?”
“Later, dear,” Dolly murmured as he
nibbled at her neck. “We have an audience, including the Governor
of New York.”
“Now that we've found Jack,” Gene
continued as he shook Goodson like a rag doll, “where's the rest of
my crew? Everyone is here but Charles and Gary.”
“They're with my men,” Goodson
gasped, his teeth rattling. “Boys thought they'd make a little
sport of them, then dump them overboard. The little one in particular
is far too feisty. Almost took out three of my men before we subdued
him. They should be on the deck by now, having fun.”
“Fine!” Gene pushed him away. “Take
us to them!”
Scoey slid out his own wicked-sharp
knife as Jack tossed them weapons. “And if you don't, little man,”
he ran a finger down the shining blade, “we could part that fancy
hair of yours the hard way.”
Brett smirked. “You know, I think we
ladies will hang back a bit. We'll meet you boys upstairs.” She
nodded at Marcia, who grinned back. Sharon giggled, while Joyce gave
her a big grin. “I have my own ideas on how to deal with Goodson's
men in uniform.”
“Except me.” Lorrie tugged the
smallest sailor's blouse over her head. “My husband's with
Goodson's men. He's being watched every minute. We need to find him,
too.”
“I'll stay with the ladies.” Bill
Cullen leaned against a barrel of rum. “I'm no fighter. I'm better
off helping them plan their next move.”
“Do we really have to take those guys
on?” Bill Daily rambled as he tried to hitch up a pair of pants
that were way too big. “Scoey and Richard Paul are the only ones
who are as big as them. I don't know about the rest of you, but I
don't want to be flattened like a pancake.”
Richard Paul tried to yank an officer's
jacket around his ample belly. “Worst comes to worst, we could
always send you and Brett to talk them to death.”
“You know, I could tell my boys none
of you are with me,” Goodson reminded them, “and that will be the
end of that.”
Robert Walden blocked him from leaving,
shoving a pad of paper and a quill pen in his face. “I have a
million questions I want to ask you about how you run things here and
what your plans are for defeating the pirate fleet on the Atlantic.
I've heard things about the kickbacks you give your higher-ups in New
York, if you know what I mean.”
“Um, you know, Gene,” Goodson's
blue eyes widened, sending him quickly back to his former officer. “I
suddenly have this incredible need to show you my new mother-of-pearl
cufflinks. Had them specially ordered from the emperor of China.”
Richard Dawson grabbed his other arm.
“We don't want to hear it, Goodson. Answer this nice young man's
questions and take us upstairs, before Gene and Officer Mitchilll
decide to make you into tomorrow's party platters.”
