Page 78 of Inconvenient Honor
He shook with bitter laughter. Escape would be easy? If he managed to undo his bonds, find Lily, and get to the deck without being captured, he still had the problem of swimming to shore with a pregnant woman in tow.
How long before Liston or Sahin Pasha figure out what happened?
Rescue seemed almost as unlikely as escape. Even if the Ottomans knew to follow or cared to, the ship, if it was a Barbary corsair, would be fast.
Richard’s only satisfaction lay in the sight of the Russian beaten, bloody, and bound. At least Volkov couldn’t do further harm.
Richard couldn’t measure the time that passed before he felt the ship gain speed. Volkov had slumped, asleep or unconscious, and Richard himself had almost nodded off when footsteps on the stairs to the hold put him on alert. The man who entered no longer wore black, but his scarred face made Richard’s guts churn.
Dressed in loose brown trouser and wide-sleeved shirt, Scarface wore the long tunic characteristic of North Africa. He had a lethal-looking curved sword in a red sash and his dagger in his hand, the weapon Richard last saw pointed at Lily.
If this animal harmed Lily, he will pay; I will see to it.
He cut Richard’s bonds and aimed the knife at his neck. “You come now,” he said in passible English.
Richard pulled out the gag; his tongue and throat felt like old leather. Temptation to attack the man surged. One thought kept it in check.Not until you find Lily. Richarddid as he was told. He crawled up the stairs and limped across the deck. Wind whipped at his bared skin.
They had reached the open Mediterranean and picked up speed. He noted they sailed on a small frigate or perhaps a corvette, probably captured from the Portuguese or the Americans twenty or more years ago. Small but impressive.At least it isn’t a galley.
His keeper prodded him forward toward the captain’s cabin situated aft. The cabin, stripped of decoration and hard used, had the sparest of furnishings.
“Welcome, English,” a deeper voice said. The speaker sat at the broad table built into the deck, the captain’s desk with its myriad map drawers. Broken handles and gashed wood spoke to this one’s long life. Richard recognized him as the leader of their captors. The man clearly captained this ship. Richard lunged toward him; the point of a sword stopped him.
“Where is Lily?” he demanded, his voice a harsh squawk. “Where is my wife?”
“Wife?” the man arched a dark brow. “Your woman dresses for the Sultan’s Seraglio and you call her wife?”
Richard opened his mouth to speak again, but this time the words grated in his throat and died there.
The captain gestured, and Richard’s keeper handed him a water skin. He swallowed deep and choked. Rum! Both pirates laughed.
“I am Rais Hamidou. You have heard of me?” the captain spoke in impeccable English. Rais. Richard recognized that word. Leader. Chief. Captain.
“Rais Hamidou is dead. Steven Decatur killed him at Cape Gata.”
A roar of laughter greeted this pronouncement. Richard realized three or four more pirates had crowded into the cabin to watch this exchange. He inclined his head and raked his memory; the image of his desk with its dozens of reports on Mediterranean shipping didn’t help much. Legends clung to the name Hamidou, but they obscured the question of whether the deeds were true or those of any one man.Perhaps a Hamidou rises from the ashes like a Phoenix when one is killed.
“I am acquainted with the name,” Richard said.
He took a slower swallow of rum to soothe his throat and survey the room.
“Where is my wife?” he repeated with as much diplomatic aplomb as he could muster in his current state.
“Secured below.”
Relief swept through Richard.Lily is alive.
“She is an innocent.”
“An innocent?” Hamidou smirked.
“She is my wife,” Richard countered; his eyes dared the man to disbelieve. “I demand to see her.”
Shrewd eyes considered Richard’s defiance. Hamidou flicked a gesture, and one of the men bolted out the door.
“She is not untouched,” Hamidou said. “That will impact her value to some in the slave market in Tunis, but her fiery hair and her obvious fertility may prove an asset. The hair will certainly please. We shall see.”
The thought poleaxed Richard.
