Upon A Starlit Tide

21. Those Bastards

21

Those Bastards

The love Luce had witnessed in the Thorner house, the devotion Samuel clearly felt for his family and they for him, was all that prevented her from stopping on the rough coastal path and shoving him backward off one of his spectacular English cliffs.

That, and the growing conviction that he had betrayed Saint-Malo to keep his family, and Luce herself, safe.

If I find you have lied, it will be not just you on the scaffold. It will be your mother, your sisters, your brothers... and your pretty cousin, too.

‘That was not the way I wanted to tell you about Howe’s fleet,’ Samuel said. They were alone on the path; Bones had left them outside the Thorner house, ostensibly to bid farewell to his own family before sailing back, although Luce suspected he had been more concerned with giving Luce and Samuel a moment’s privacy.

‘Oh?’ Luce stopped walking. ‘How were you planning to tell me?’

You will hate me for this, he had said when they had left the forest that morning. You will think me a monster.

They had reached the headland now. The grass on either side of the way was blanketed with sea thrift, the petals a softer, paler pink than those at the cove. Any other day, Luce would have gathered a sample. With Samuel glowering down at her, however, the sea wind catching at his overcoat, cold as the betrayal laying between them, there was no time for natural history.

‘Since I only became certain of it this morning, ’ he said tersely, ‘I had planned to tell you here. Today. Right after you met my family.’

True. He had asked her to meet his family before he explained what had occurred with the officer and his men. And yet...

‘Why?’

‘Because I knew that if you met them, you’d believe me when I said that I would do anything for them.’

Damn my soul. How could she remain angry with him now?

‘Tell me, then,’ she said, with a sigh.

He took a deep breath. ‘Those navy men we met—they caught Bones and me on a run. A stupid mistake on our part. We left late, arrived here at dawn. They spotted us, gave chase in their cutter. We could not outrun them, but nor could we risk them learning the location of the sea-cave. So, we let them catch us.’

‘When did this happen?’

‘Around the time you went to the ball at Le Loup Blanc and met de Chatelaine,’ he said. I leave you for a few days, and the wolf comes prowling. ‘They were all for bringing us back to shore, throwing us into the nearest prison, and confiscating the Dove. I couldn’t let that happen. My family relies on me to provide for them. So I did the only thing I could do.’

‘Which was?’

‘Talk my way out of it. Before they questioned me, I overheard some of the officers speaking of an attack on Saint-Malo. I knew I could use my knowledge as leverage, and gain their trust. I told them I knew the Malouin coast as well as any local— that I had been sailing it for years. And that, if they released me, I could gather information that would help them prepare for the landing.’

He leaned in close, intent. ‘You need to know—I began spreading word about their plans as soon as I returned to the city. I have contacts in the garrison, and the City Guard, too. I made sure they each got wind of it, as well as many others. And I ensured that it would rise to the top of the chain, to the Marquis de la Chatre himself.’ Luce nodded. She had heard the men’s talk around the supper table on the night of the Blessing. They had dismissed the threat, insisting the English would target Brest instead. ‘The news was not unexpected. The king of France knows the coasts of Bretagne and Normandy are vulnerable. The garrisons there have been preparing for months.’

‘So you courted them both.’

‘What choice did I have?’

‘Were you not worried you’d be caught?’

He smiled darkly. ‘I live too near a wood to be frightened by an owl. Besides, I never really planned to betray Saint-Malo. It has been good to me, helped me feed my family. Bones and I have friends there. And you... Of course, when the officers never received word from me they became suspicious. I knew they were looking for me. I did not expect them to be waiting in the middle of the village this morning.’

‘But you told them the truth,’ Luce said accusingly. ‘I heard you. Seventy-two, you said. There are seventy-two cannon on the walls of Saint-Malo.’

‘There are,’ Samuel agreed. ‘And they will need every one of them when the Duke of Marlborough and his twelve thousand men arrive.’

‘Oh, my God.’ Luce covered her mouth with one hand.

‘I take it you heard what else that officer said.’ Samuel stepped carefully toward her. ‘He swore that if he discovered I was lying— which he would have, quite easily, once the attack began—he would send not just me to the gallows, but my entire family. Which, after this morning, would also include my pretty cousin.’ He shook his head. ‘Better those seventy-two guns face English soldiers than my family. Than you . I can’t be sorry for it, Luce. Were I faced with the same choice, I would make it again.’

She rested her head on his chest, nodded wearily. ‘I understand.’

His arms came up around her. ‘Besides, didn’t you tell me that Saint-Malo has never fallen? That it never will?’

‘I hope that’s true.’ She turned her head against his shirt, looked southward over the wide, blue sweep of the Manche. ‘I really do.’

They sailed through the afternoon and into the evening. With the Dove free of contraband, it mattered not who saw them, or where. Luce stayed beside Samuel throughout the voyage, her thoughts churning, her gaze returning again and again to the English coast, as though she might glimpse Admiral Howe’s fleet sailing behind them, bearing down on Bretagne. She must have dozed. When she woke, her head was on Samuel’s thigh, one of his hands moving gently against her hair, the other firm on the tiller.

The evening light was cooling by the time Samuel and Bones manoeuvred the Dove between the rocks ringing the cove. Eight o’clock, Luce guessed. Perhaps a little later. Dressed once more in her breeches, caraco, and overcoat, Mother Aggie’s belt and sea-knife secured at her waist, she leapt onto the shore, flinching as her boots splashed in the shallows. The sea-silk was tucked into her caraco, with a layer of wool and her chemise between it and her bare skin. Even so, she looked fearfully down, half expecting to see a tail.

‘Careful there.’ Samuel was clearly thinking the same thing. ‘I’m still not sure how we’d explain it to Bones.’

‘Explain what?’ Bones said, yawning.

‘I’ll tell you when I’ve figured out how to explain it.’

Luce looked up at the cliffs, the forest, the path home. Her mother and Veronique had left for Nantes two days before, and would not arrive until tomorrow. After that would come the wedding breakfast, followed by a day or two devoted to shopping... Ordinarily, Luce would have hugged herself with happiness. Another five days, perhaps longer, before her family returned. Another five days of freedom. With the threat of the English fleet looming across the Manche, however, five more days without her father’s reassuring presence seemed an eternity. Could she send St. Jean or one of the stableboys to Nantes with a message for him? No; that would take days. Could she ride to Saint-Malo herself, then, and beg to speak to the captain of the garrison? She scoffed at the mere thought of the soldiers’ faces. Besides, Samuel had contacts enough in the city. She could always send a pigeon to one of her father’s business partners. Or perhaps riding to the neighboring malouinières would be best? Monsieur Béliveau had always been courteous and kind. He would listen to her, she was certain of it, even if the precise details of the impending invasion would be, through sheer necessity, rather vague. If she rode out first thing in the morning...

‘Who’s that, then?’ Bones asked idly.

‘Who?’ Samuel turned.

‘Those bastards right there.’

Those bastards were five or six rough-looking men emerging from the forest above. They were armed to the teeth, flintlock pistols in hand and swords hanging at their waists. Luce swallowed. Several of those pistols were pointed directly at herself, Samuel, and Bones.

Samuel swore softly as more men appeared on either side of the cove, weapons drawn. They left the rocks, moving across the sand. Closing in.

‘Samuel Thorner?’ one of the men called, drawing steadily closer.

‘Never heard of him,’ Samuel replied.

The man turned to one of his companions, half-hidden behind him. ‘That him?’ he growled.

The second man nodded. ‘It is.’ Luce narrowed her eyes beneath her tricorn. She recognised this man. Had seen him at the Blessing, drinking with Bones and the rest of Samuel’s friends.

Samuel saw him, too. ‘Morning, Debret,’ he said, so cold that Luce could have sworn ice crusted along her spine. ‘Didn’t expect to see you with de Chatelaine’s dogs. Not happy with your cut, then?’

‘Fucking traitor,’ Bones spat. ‘Couldn’t resist blowing the gaff, eh?’

The ice spread, wending its way into Luce’s chest, stealing her breath. She had been so caught up in worry for her family, for Saint-Malo, that she had not even considered the danger awaiting Samuel and Bones.

‘How much was the reward again, Debret?’ Samuel mused. ‘You should have come to me. Might be I could have matched it.’

‘I doubt that,’ the first man, clearly the leader, said. He spat in the sand and turned to his men. ‘Bring all three of them.’

‘All three?’ Samuel stepped forward, palm raised. ‘You spoke of Samuel Thorner. Here I am. What need have you for my companions?’

‘Me? None,’ the leader said. ‘You’ll have to ask Monsieur de Chatelaine. He’s the one said to bring you, and anyone you sailed with.’

‘I barely know these men,’ Samuel said. ‘I hired them to help me on the crossing, nothing more.’

The leader turned to Debret. ‘That true?’

‘That one there’s his cousin,’ Debret said, pointing at Bones. ‘The two of them work together.’

‘And the boy?’

Luce kept her head down.

‘I’ve not seen him before,’ Debret conceded. ‘But if he’s sailing with Thorner, he’s as like to be in his confidence.’

‘You’re a rare piece of shit, Debret,’ Bones said conversationally. ‘Leave the lad out of it,’ Samuel said. ‘He knows nothing of my business. He’s less than useless to de Chatelaine.’

‘I’ll guess de Chatelaine’ll be the one to decide that.’

‘But—’

‘Listen, you thieving bastard.’ The first man strode forward, squaring up to Samuel. Luce felt the rest of the men tense, heard the ominous clicks of pistols cocking. ‘We’ve been out here for two days waiting for you. Last night some fucking gnomes set fire to our camp and stole our supplies. We haven’t eaten all day. So believe me when I tell you that I don’t give two shits about your men, or how well you know them. You’re all coming with us. Now. ’

He turned for the path, not bothering to watch as his men closed in around Luce, Samuel, and Bones. Pistols surrounded them on all sides, black barrels staring with unmistakable intent. No choice. Luce saw it in Samuel’s eyes as he glanced at her, as Bones seized the Dove ’s anchor and wedged it into the sand. No choice but to follow the men up the beach, to hunker low in her coat and draw her kerchief up around her chin.

A carriage drawn by two horses waited on the other side of the woods, its windows covered. Several saddled horses grazed nearby. Luce, Samuel, and Bones were bundled roughly into the carriage, then closed inside the dim space. The sound of a lock shooting home on the outside of the door, a creak and rock as someone climbed onto the driver’s bench. Then they were moving.

‘Fucking Debret,’ Bones muttered, as the sound of the wheels on the rough road and clop of hooves rose around them. ‘Always said he was a riotous prick.’

‘Debret is not my concern at this point.’ Samuel reached for Luce’s hand in the darkness. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘If I’d known you’d be tangled up in all of this...’

‘No,’ she said. ‘This is all my fault. I should never have gone to Dorset with you. You and Bones should have gone alone, and stayed there.’

‘Where’s the fun in that?’ Bones asked. He swore as the carriage gave a sudden, rough jounce, clunking his head against the roof.

‘I should have done a lot of things,’ Samuel said, ‘none of which will help us now.’ His eyes glittered in the darkness as he turned to Bones. ‘What do you make of this?’

‘Honestly? I have no fucking idea. But I will say I’d have been a deal happier if we’d found the City Guard waiting for us instead of these leery pricks.’

‘Agreed.’ Samuel was silent for a few moments. Then, ‘They didn’t ask us where we’ve stored the stone.’ Luce could all but hear the whirring of his mind.

‘No,’ Bones said darkly. ‘They did not.’

Samuel turned to Luce. ‘Do you have the knife Mother Aggie gave you?’

She fumbled in her overcoat, drew it out. Shards of dark light gleamed on the blade.

‘Best keep it within reach,’ he said grimly. ‘No telling when you might need it.’

The carriage trundled along the rough road, its interior growing even dimmer as evening spiraled toward night. At last, it drew to a stop. Luce heard low voices, the champing of horses, the squeak of harness and carriage springs as their captors moved about.

‘Stay close to Bones, Luce,’ Samuel said quietly. ‘Don’t let de Chatelaine see your face. The first chance you get, run. Both of you.’

‘We’re not leaving you,’ Luce hissed. Bones grunted his agreement.

Before Samuel could argue further the door opened, revealing a rectangle of dusky sky and a familiar stretch of beach littered with hauled out boats for careening, slips, piles of timber, warehouses, and workshops.

They were at the dockyards in Saint-Servan.

The yards were empty now, the workers long gone. Luce stayed close to Bones and Samuel as they were pulled from the carriage and ushered through the gloaming, the bare bones of half-made ships rising like carcasses against the violet sky.

Two ship’s boats waited on the shore. Beyond them, the water glimmered with the distant reflections of the candles and lanterns flickering to life in Saint-Malo, as well as on the many ships anchored in the harbour. Morgan’s men did not stop to admire the view. They merely shoved their captives into the boats and pushed off, sculling for deeper water, where the shadowy shapes of new ships lay at anchor. One ship stood out to Luce from the rest. The Lucinde was even more beautiful now. Her three masts had been manoeuvred into place, as well as her stays, yards, and much of her rigging. She would have her sails, and be ready for her first voyage, in a matter of days.

Luce’s interest in the ship quickly turned to confusion when she realised that it was to the Lucinde that the ship’s boats were bearing. As they neared, the subtle glow of lanterns glimmered from the deck, dancing over the water. A tangle of questions rose in Luce’s mind. Had Morgan truly dared to board her father’s ship without permission? What possible reason could he have for ordering his men to take them there? Samuel, craning his neck to take in the familiar features of the figurehead high above, swore softly.

‘The Lucinde ?’ he whispered to Luce.

She nodded.

The second ship’s boat had drawn up alongside the Lucinde, the men aboard it climbing a ladder rope to the deck above.

‘Up you go,’ the men at the oars ordered, guiding the boat beneath the ladder. Luce made to stand and climb, but Samuel caught her arm. Bones went instead, the little boat rocking as he stepped across Luce and took hold of the ladder. Hidden by the movement, Samuel gripped Luce’s hand.

‘ Go, ’ he mouthed, tilting his chin meaningfully at the water beside them. ‘ Now. ’

She shook her head, firm. I won’t leave you.

He gave her a look that clearly meant he was about to throw her overboard himself, but was prevented from doing so by the nearest oarsman, who grabbed Luce’s shoulder and shoved her toward the ladder. She stumbled on the boat’s uneven bottom, the sea-knife, now secured at her waist, digging into her thigh. Righting herself, she gripped the rope ladder in both hands. Below her, the Lucinde ’s hull curved into the darkness, the timber already roughening with a crust of pale barnacles. Above, Bones was about to reach the deck.

She took a breath, raised her boot, and began to climb.

Her feet bleated with every step on the narrow ladder, but even so Luce made it to the top. She struggled over the railing, almost staggering as her boots met solid deck, clutching at her tricorn as it threatened to slide off her head. Bones steadied her, tugged her to his side with one firm hand, shoving her behind him.

‘Good God,’ came an amused, velvety voice. ‘Is the boy drunk?’

Luce froze. The urge to look into Morgan’s face, to demand why he had boarded her father’s— her —ship as though he were entitled to, why he had ordered these men to snatch Samuel from the beach, was overwhelming. Only Bones’s broad hand, laid on her forearm in gentle warning, stopped her. She kept her eyes down, her chin tucked into her kerchief, hoping that the poor light, her tricorn, and Bones’s wide shoulder would be enough to keep Morgan from recognising her. She felt Bones tense as Morgan’s shiny black boots appeared on the deck before her. ‘ Is he, though?’

At that moment Samuel boarded the Lucinde. Morgan, distracted by the arrival of his prize, turned away.

Luce, still shielded by Bones, risked raising her face slightly. No sooner had Samuel reached the deck and straightened than one of Morgan’s men—there were half a dozen already on the deck, and more climbing from the boat below—seized his wrists, binding them before him.

‘Samuel Thorner, I believe,’ Morgan said politely. He stepped closer, immaculate in a grey silk frock coat and black breeches, his dark eyes narrowing as he took in Samuel’s face. ‘Wait. I know you.’

Samuel said nothing, his expression perfectly neutral.

‘You’re the drunken scum who attacked me on the night of the Blessing!’

Attacked him? It took all of Luce’s self-control not to shove Bones aside and run at Morgan herself.

Samuel, however, remained calm. ‘I believe it was you who kicked the shit out of me, monsieur.’

‘And glad I am for it, too,’ Morgan said. ‘For it would seem that you have stolen more than just the Dauphin ’s storm-stone from me.’ Luce remembered the handful of ribbons shining in Samuel’s hand. It was clear that Morgan knew exactly who had taken them from his pocket.

‘It’s not stealing if it never belonged to you,’ Samuel said quietly. ‘And, speaking of...’ He gave the Lucinde ’s decks an appraising look. ‘Is this pretty ship even yours?’

‘It will be, soon enough.’

Samuel raised his brows. ‘As you say.’

‘Enough with the pleasantries,’ Morgan snapped. ‘You know why you’re here. Where is the stone?’

‘The stone?’

‘The stone.’

‘Which stone is that?’ Samuel pretended to examine the bindings on his wrists. ‘There’s a lot of it around, you know.’

‘The storm-stone. ’

‘The storm-stone?’

Morgan clenched his jaw. ‘The storm-stone you salvaged— stole — from the Dauphin. ’

Samuel shrugged his shoulders, a movement that suggested he would have raised his palms had he been able. ‘I have no idea.’

‘Have it your way, then,’ Morgan said, gesturing to the yardarm above. It was near-dark now, but the men had hung lanterns from the masts, and set more around the deck. Gazing up, Luce could see that there was something unusual about the yard; extra ropes attached to the blocks at each end that should not have been there.

‘Start with the boy,’ Morgan ordered. Luce flinched as she was grabbed from behind, as heavy hands clamped down on her arms. She fought to free herself, heard Samuel and Bones shouting at the men to let her— him —go. The men merely shoved her toward the section of decking where those strange ropes trailed down from the yardarms.

‘Hurry up,’ one of the men snarled, nudging her forward. Luce, watching those ropes, wondering what on earth Morgan meant for the men to do with them, stumbled over her own boot, a wedge of pain driving up into her right heel. She went down, one knee smashing into the freshly polished deck.

‘For fuck’s sake.’ The man closest to her reached for her collar, wrenching her to her feet. Luce cried out as his hand caught the thick tail of her hair, hastily thrust down the back of her coat, ripping it free. In the instinct that comes with pain she shoved the man in the chest as hard as she could. He staggered back a step or two, shocked, then recovered himself and strode forward. The back of his hand crashed into Luce’s jaw, sent her staggering.

‘Insolent fucking whelp.’

Luce felt herself falling, the deck sliding out from beneath her, Samuel’s roar of rage dim in her ears. She hit something, shuddered to a halt. Smelled cologne and pomade. Almond and cloves, bergamot and musk. Someone knocked her hat from her head, dragged her to her feet.

‘ Lucinde? ’ Morgan was gripping her collar, staring down into her face.

Luce swallowed the fear that rose at the sight of the soulless rage in his eyes. ‘What are you doing on my ship, Morgan?’ she demanded. ‘How dare you do this?’

Morgan seemed not to hear her. He turned his head to Samuel, his entire body tight with fury. ‘What else have you stolen from me of late, Thorner?’

‘As I said: it’s not stealing if it was never yours.’ Samuel’s eyes did not leave Luce.

Morgan showed his teeth. ‘And what of him?’ he demanded, jerking his chin toward Bones. ‘What is he in all of this?’

Luce realised the man that had betrayed Samuel, Debret, was also there on deck. ‘That there’s Bones,’ he stammered. ‘Thorner’s cousin.’ He glanced nervously at the yardarm, the waiting ropes. ‘What do you mean to do with those sheets, sir? I gave you Thorner’s name believing you’d take it to the Guard. I didn’t know—’ His gaze flicked worriedly to Luce. ‘I didn’t know about any of this. ’

‘Bones, did you say his name was?’ Morgan asked. He smirked. ‘How apt.’ He pushed Luce toward two of his men. ‘Secure her on the quarterdeck.’ He turned to the rest of the men. ‘Run Cousin Bones up.’