Chapter 26: Little Gretchen

"Do you remember the Van Den H--'s, those two girls?" the old woman asked.

"Of course," I said, "Isn't the older one in the city providing all sorts of good information?"

She nodded, looking tired.

"And the younger one, I forget her name, she's in a school up on the river," I said. "Gretchen, right?" My mind conjured up a vision of the luscious youngster that provoked my root to jump. I could see her tongue licking my rampant phallus.

"Yes," said the old lady, "she was. But they have taken her away and are, we hear, preparing to ship her to England as some lord's concubine, a naval officer of some sort."

"That's awful! Does her sister, does Gertrude know?" I pictured the older girl beneath me; the young widow, passion filled and lovely, bucking like a wild horse, demanding all I had.

"No," the Madam said, "I do not believe so, not yet at least." She handed me a note. "This is what we know. Go rescue her. Hurry. Do not fail. There's very little time."

I knuckled my forehead and ran to the stable, leaving two of the nieces to whom I had made promises very disappointed.

On the busy dock by sunset, I went to the seamen's tavern and asked for the man named in the note. He appeared, a one-armed man of at least twenty stone. I shook his offered left hand, and he sat across from me.

"About young Gretchen Van den H--," I said.

He grimaced and shook his head.

"Yer too late, I fear," he said in a remarkably cultivated voice.

I waited, studying him over my ale.

"I saw 'em taking her up the gangway this noon along with some baggage, pretty little thing."

"Which ship?" I asked.

"The cutter, the one that makes fast trips to London and back. They'll leave with the tide. She only draws twelve feet or so."

"Who is the man involved?" I asked.

"That bastard," he growled, "the right honorable Lord Filbert, Morris Filbert, captain of the Princess, a captured 64."

I finished my beer, thanked the man, and went out to study the small craft with her raked masts. It was obvious they were getting ready to sail. I walked down to the end of the gangplank where a marine guard stood, his white belts all but glowing.

"They taking on hands?" I asked him.

"Be off," he said, not bothering to look at me. He was a big fellow, thick through the middle, just what I decided I needed.

"When are you off duty?" I asked. "Buy you a beer."

"Be off, I told ye, y'scum." He showed me his yellow teeth.

I put the tip of my broad bayonet just under his chin and smiled at him. "Follow me," I said, gripping his arm and pricking his skin. We hurried off beside a dark building, in a narrow alley, and I clubbed him down with three blows to the temple that skinned my knuckles. I donned his jacket and shako, picked up his musket and quick marched right up the gangplank and hurried down the first hatch I came to. Many men were busy on deck, but none noted me.

At the foot of the ladder, a lean sailor was stowing some gear.

"Where's the girl?" I asked, my arm about his neck and my blade before his eyes.

"What girl?" he asked, squirming.

I sliced open his eyebrow and tick the tip of my knife in his nose. He squealed. "By the captain's cabin, in the stern."

I bashed his head up against the heavy timber framing and dropped his limp body out of sight. Bending low, I made my way aft and found another marine guarding a pair of doors.

"Bird in there?" I asked him, sure my red jacket would make him hesitate in the half-light.

He smiled and nodded his head to the left just before I clamped my hand over his mouth and drove my long knife up through his heart and into the bulkhead behind him. I kicked open the door he had indicated and there stood the lovely Gretchen, stripped to her shift, arms above her and wrists bound to one of the beams crossing the small room's low ceiling, her feet and legs bare. She was alone, thank goodness, and she recognized me and did not make a sound as I cut her free and held her briefly.

"Got to get you out of here," I whispered as we both heard orders from above and bare feet slapping the deck.

She nodded and then said, "How?"

"What's in those sacks?" I asked, pointing to a several bulging bags in the corner.

"My clothes, mostly," she said, holding tight to my arm and trembling. "They were going to..."

"Never you mind," I said, dumping out one of the canvas bags and kicking her bright clothing aside. "I'm going to put you in this and carry you off. You'll have to trust me."

She nodded and I had her step into the sack, tossed a couple of dresses in with her and knotted the drawstring tightly. Since she was barely five feet tall and did not weight seven stone I'm sure, she fit easily. Then I put her over my shoulder, picked up another bag and slung it atop her, stepped over the marine's body and mounted the short ladder to the deck.

Looking neither right nor left but trying to act like a man following orders, I marched to the side, nodded to the young ensign standing there and hurried down the narrow plank, shifting the clothes bag to my left hand. I was sure everyone could hear my heart thumping and tried not to think about the girl whose rump was in my grip.

I was halfway to the tavern on the dockside when the big marine I had felled and robbed appeared, his shirt and one side of his head all bloody. "Halt, halt!" he yelled, stumbling toward me. Since I had both hands full all I could do was turn to meet his clumsy charge and kick him in the groin. He went down, howling and yelled for the guards, and I ran as the bag on my shoulder complained about the jolting. I threw the other one aside and got her into my arms.

Behind me a musket fired and the ball whirred past and struck the corner of a building. I pounded on, right by the door of the friendly inn and up a noisome alley and to the place's back door. Panting and heaving, I stood in the dark with my young burden and whispered, "Be quiet."