Part 10 (1/2)

She chewed and swallowed. She looked into my eyes. All I saw in hers were tiredness and pain. She didn't say a thing. She didn't try to boss me or scold me or nothing.

It was just awful.

Whittle hadn't killed Trudy, but he'd sure taken the starch out of her.

When the last of the old stew was gone, she turned onto her back and covered herself to the chin. She stared up at the ceiling.

”Everything will be all right,” I told her.

I knew it was a lie. So did she, more than likely. But she didn't tell me so, just lay still and gazed.

Back in my bed, I licked the stew gravy and grease off my hands. Then I spent a while licking my wrists, which were pretty much as raw as Trudy's.

I gave some thought to having another go at Whittle. But remembered all of what he'd done to Trudy after my last try.

If I should attack him again and muck it up, she would be the one to pay.

I decided to call it quits and behave.

Reckon I'd lost near as much starch as Trudy.

CHAPTER TEN.

Patrick Joins Our Crew By and by, Whittle came in. His arms were full of clothes, and he left the door open. ”Good afternoon, my friends,” he said, sounding wonderful chipper. ”I trust you slept well.”

With that, he commenced to split up his bundle, tossing garments and shoes onto our beds.

”You'll have free reign of the s.h.i.+p for a while,” he explained. ”We're anch.o.r.ed at Plymouth, and I've sent Michael ash.o.r.e for all we'll be needing.”

He stood with his back to the doorway, watching as we sat up and dressed ourselves. He'd brought heavy sweaters for both of us, trousers for me, pantaloons and a skirt for Trudy, along with stockings and shoes. The clothes were too large for me. I reckoned they belonged to Michael or to Trudy's dead father. Michael, I hoped. It didn't set well, the idea of wearing a dead chap's duds. Why Whittle hadn't returned my own trousers to me, which would've fit properly, I didn't know. I allowed I wouldn't make a nuisance of myself, however, by asking.

He watched me cinch the belt tight.

”Should you consider using that to strangle me, please remember what came of your previous mischief.”

”You needn't worry,” I said. ”I'll not attack you again.”

”It will go very hard with Trudy, should you forget yourself.” With that, he patted the handle of the knife at his hip.

Trudy'd managed to get herself dressed, but she just sat on her bunk when Whittle told her to stand. He pulled her up. She hobbled, stiff and moaning, as he ushered her past me. I followed them out of the cabin.

He let her go alone into the lavatory. He shut the door and we waited in the narrow aisle. I saw he'd changed his bandage. The new one was fresh and white, without blood and such leaking through.

”I take it you've grown rather fond of Trudy,” he said.

”I shouldn't like to see her hurt, is all.”

”Such a gallant lad. I was quite impressed with your efforts to save her from hanging, last night.”

”You could've lent a hand.”

”Oh, but I had such a merry time watching.”

”We might have perished.”

He laughed and clapped my shoulder. ”Not allowed, my boy. n.o.body dies while I am captain of the True D. Light. True D. Light.”

Trudy finally came out, and I got my turn. In a mirror above the wash basin, I took a gander at my face. It was a frightful sight, all puffy, dark with bruises, stained with dried blood. I cleaned off the blood, then sat down to relieve myself. I'd had no opportunity for that since setting off for Whitechapel. Two nights ago? Three? Sitting there, I realized I had no certain knowledge of how much time I'd spent aboard the yacht. I was aware of two nights pa.s.sing, but others might have been missed while I was asleep or unconscious. Though I'd had little to eat and nothing whatsoever to drink during that period, the toilet proved itself welcome.

Done, I stepped out and was surprised to see that Trudy and Whittle had wandered off. I spotted them beyond a narrow doorway at the far end of a room considerably larger than the one where we'd so far spent our captivity. This, I supposed, must be the main saloon Trudy had mentioned last night.

It had berths along both sides which were more s.p.a.cious than ours. One looked as if it had been slept in. No doubt, this was where Whittle had spent the night after returning Trudy and I to our beds.

There were cabinets, seats, a table, and even a gas burner which accounted for the warmer air in this section of the boat. Through portholes, I glimpsed other crafts anch.o.r.ed near ours. Thoughts of escape set my heart to pounding, but I pushed them away, fearful of the outcome for Trudy if I should arouse any suspicion or anger in Whittle.

I joined them in the kitchen-or galley, as Trudy had called it. The room was as wide as the main saloon, but not so long. At the far end, a few stairs led upward to a closed door.

The galley was equipped with a stove, a sink with water pumps, counters and cabinets. Whittle sat at a small table while Trudy stood at the stove, preparing ham and eggs.

Whittle gestured for me to sit down across from him. I did so.

”I'll have a dab more tea,” he said.

I filled his cup from the pot on the table, and eyed the cup in front of me.

”Do help yourself, Trevor.”

I poured steaming tea into my cup, and sipped at it.

”Had I known we'd be embarking on this little adventure,” he said, ”I should've asked Elsworth to join us. However, I fear I'll be forced to get along without his services. A fine fellow, Elsworth. What's to become of him? I didn't even find an opportunity to provide him with a reference.”

”Shall we go back for him?”

Whittle laughed. ”I think not.”

”Are you certain you wouldn't prefer to...return home?”

”You've made that rather impossible for me,” he said, and lightly fingered the bandage where his nose used to be. ”Besides, I've long had my heart set on America.”

”Why?”

”Just the place for a gentleman of my tastes. Particularly the Wild West, don't you know? Why, with any luck, my various depredations will be laid at the feet of the aborigines, the redskins. They're really quite keen on a wide variety of mutilations.” Whittle put down his cup and leaned toward me, his eyes agleam. ”I understand that they not only scalp their victims, but have been known to skin them alive, dismember them-oh, they have a jolly time of it.” He patted his lips with a napkin. ”Perhaps I'll join up with a band of marauding savages and show them a few new tricks.”

”Perhaps you'll find yourself scalped.”

That set him to laughing again. ”Oh, Trevor, you're marvelous. A fellow of infinite jest.”