A Buccaneer at Heart Read online

  Melville huffed and promptly confirmed Robert’s assumption. “As you can see, Captain Frobisher, we are in desperate need of someone with similar capabilities as your brother to travel to Freetown as fast as may be and continue our investigation.”

  Robert glanced at Declan. “I take it this falls under our...customary association with the government?”

  Wolverstone stirred. “Indeed.” He met Robert’s eyes. “There are precious few others who could do the job, and no one else with a fast ship in harbor.”

  After a second of holding Wolverstone’s dark gaze, Robert nodded. “Very well.” This was a far cry from his usual voyages ferrying diplomats—or diplomatic secrets of whatever sort—back and forth, but he could see the need, could appreciate the urgency. And he’d sailed into Freetown before.

  He looked at Declan. “Is this why there were no orders waiting for me at the office?” He’d been surprised to learn that; the demand for his services was usually so great that The Trident was rarely free for more than a few days, and Royd and his Corsair often had to take on the overload.

  Declan nodded. “Wolverstone informed Royd the government would most likely need to call on another of us once The Cormorant got back, and fortuitously, you were due in. I received a missive from Royd, and there’s one waiting for you in the library—we’re free of our usual business and are to devote our services to the Crown.”

  Robert dipped his head in acknowledgment. He tapped his fingers on the chair’s arm as he sifted through all Declan and Edwina had revealed, adding in Wolverstone’s dry comments and Melville’s few utterances. He narrowed his eyes, in his mind studying the jigsaw-like picture he’d assembled from the facts. “All right. Let’s see if I have this straight. Four serving officers have gone missing, one after another, along with at least four young women and an unknown number of other men. These disappearances occurred over a period of four months or more, and the few instances known to have been discussed with Governor Holbrook, he dismissed as due to those involved having gone off to seek their fortune in the jungle or elsewhere. Some such excuse. In addition, seventeen children from the slums are also missing, apparently disappearing over much the same period, with Holbrook brushing their vanishing aside as children running off—nothing more nefarious.

  “Currently, there is nothing to say if Holbrook is trying to suppress all interest in this spate of missing people because he’s involved, or whether his attitude springs from some other entirely noncriminal belief. Regardless, Lady Holbrook has proved to be definitely involved, and it’s doubtful she’ll still be in the settlement, but you would like me to verify whether Holbrook himself is still at his post. If he is, then we presume him innocent—or at least unaware of whatever is driving these kidnappings.” Robert arched a brow at Wolverstone. “Correct?”

  Wolverstone nodded. “I haven’t met Holbrook, but from what I’ve been able to learn, he doesn’t seem the type to be involved. However, he might well be the type of official who will refuse to react until the unpalatable truth is staring him in the face—until circumstances force him to it.”

  Robert added that shading to his mental jigsaw. “To continue, in the case of the missing adults, there are reasonable grounds on which to believe that they’re being selected in some way and that attendance at the local priest Obo Undoto’s services in some way facilitates that. We know nothing about how the children are taken, other than that it’s not through any connection with Undoto’s services.”

  Declan shifted. “We can’t even be sure the missing children are being taken by the same people or for the same reason as the missing adults.”

  “But given that young women have been taken as well as men,” Edwina put in, “there has to be a possibility that all the missing, children as well as adults, are being...used in the same way.” Her chin firmed. “By the same villains.”

  Robert paused, then said, “Regardless of whether the children are going to the same place, given the priestess’s claims—none of which have yet proven unfounded, so let’s assume she spoke true—Undoto and his services are clearly the obvious place to look for the beginnings of a trail.”

  No one argued. After a second of considering the picture taking shape in his mind, Robert went on, “If I’ve understood correctly, the vodun priestess Lashoria, Reverend Hardwicke, and even more his wife, an old sailor named Sampson, and Charles Babington are people you”—he glanced at Declan and Edwina—“consider safe sources.”

  Both nodded. Declan stated, “They’re potential allies and might well be willing to play an active hand in helping you learn more.” He met Robert’s eyes. “Babington especially. I believe he has a personal interest in one of the young women who has gone missing, but I didn’t get a chance to pursue that or him further. But he can command resources within the settlement that might prove useful.”

  Melville cleared his throat. “There’s also Vice-Admiral Decker. We have no reason to imagine he has any involvement in whatever heinous crime is under way in the settlement.” He all but glowered at Declan. “I gave your brother a letter enabling him to call on Decker’s support. I believe I worded it generally, so it will apply to you as it would have to him.”

  Declan dipped his head. “Decker wasn’t in port while I was there. I still have the letter—I’ll give it to you.”

  Robert wasn’t fooled by Declan’s noncommittal tone; he wouldn’t be tripping over his toes to ask any favors of Decker, either. Indeed, he hoped the vice-admiral remained at sea throughout his visit to the settlement.

  “Regardless,” Wolverstone said, “I cannot stress enough how critical it is that whatever occurs while you’re on this mission, you must not at any point do anything to alert the perpetrators to any level of official interest. We must protect the lives of those taken—sending in a rescue team who find only dead bodies isn’t something any of us wish to even contemplate. Given that we cannot be certain who of those in authority in the settlement is involved, and conversely who is safe to trust, every action you take must remain covert.”

  Robert nodded curtly. The more he heard—the more he dwelled on all he’d learned—remaining covert first to last seemed his wisest choice.

  “So, Captain,” Melville said bracingly, “we need you to go into Freetown, follow the trail your brother has identified, and learn all the details of this nefarious scheme.”

  Melville’s expression was a blend of belligerence and something much closer to pleading. Robert recognized the signs of a politician facing a threat beyond his control.

  Before he could respond, Wolverstone softly said, “Actually, no.” Wolverstone caught Robert’s gaze. “We cannot ask you to learn all the details.”

  From the corner of his eye, Robert saw Melville’s face fall as he stared at Wolverstone, who, in this matter, was effectively his mentor.

  As if unaware of the angst he was causing, Wolverstone smoothly went on, “From what your brother has said, and from all I’ve learned from others over recent days, given that those effecting the kidnappings are slave traders, then I gather that in Freetown, as generally in that region, the slave traders will be operating out of a camp. They will hold their captives at that camp until they have a sufficient number to take to whoever they’re supplying. Further, the camp will almost certainly be outside the settlement’s borders, somewhere in the jungle, possibly some distance away.”

  Wolverstone glanced at Declan, who, his expression impassive, nodded.

  Imperturbably, Wolverstone continued, his gaze returning to Robert’s face, “Consequently, this mission is highly unlikely to be accomplished in only two stages. There will be however many stages we require to learn what we need to know, all without alerting the villains involved. Your brother”—he paused, then inclined his head to Edwina—“and Lady Edwina got us the first vital clues. They identified Undoto’s services as being a part of the scheme and gave us the connect
ion to the slave traders. They also confirmed that those in high places in the settlement are involved, something we must strive never to forget. If Lady Holbrook was suborned, almost certainly others will have been as well.”

  Wolverstone’s gaze cut to Melville, but although he looked dejected and, indeed, disgruntled, the First Lord made no attempt to interrupt.

  “Therefore,” Wolverstone continued, “your mission must be to confirm the slave traders’ connection to Undoto and, by following the slavers, to identify the location of their camp. Your orders are specifically that. Locate the slavers’ camp, then return and report. You must not follow the trail further, no matter the temptation.”

  Wolverstone paused, then added, “I appreciate that, very likely, that will not be an easy directive to follow—it’s not one I take joy in giving. But in order to mount a rescue of all those taken, it’s imperative we learn of the location of that camp. If you go further and are captured yourself...put simply, all those missing can’t afford that. If you are taken, we won’t know until your crew return to tell us. And once they do, we’ll be no further forward than we are now—no nearer the point of knowing enough to effectively rescue those taken.”

  Wolverstone glanced at Melville; when he looked back at Robert, his features had hardened. “Running a mission in successive stages may seem like a slow way forward, but it is a sure way forward, and those taken deserve our best attempts to successfully free them.”

  Robert met Wolverstone’s gaze; two seconds ticked past, then he nodded. “I’ll locate the slavers’ camp and bring the information back.”

  Simple. Straightforward. He saw no reason to argue. If he had to sail to Freetown and do this mission, he was glad enough that it should have such a definite and definable endpoint.

  Wolverstone inclined his head. “Thank you.” He looked at Melville. “We’ll leave you to prepare.”

  Melville rose, as did everyone; he offered Robert his hand. “How long before you and your ship will be ready to depart?”

  Robert gripped Melville’s hand. “A few days.” As hands were shaken all around and they moved toward the door, Robert thought through the logistics. He halted at the doorway and spoke to all. “I’ll send The Trident to Southampton to provision from the stores there. I imagine I’ll be able to set sail in three days.”

  Melville humphed, but said no more. From his expression, Robert surmised that the First Lord was even more deeply troubled by the situation in Freetown than Wolverstone.

  Then again, Wolverstone had no real responsibility to shoulder in this instance, while Melville...as Robert understood it, as First Lord, Melville had his neck metaphorically on the block, at least politically, and possibly even socially.

  Robert returned to the armchair opposite the sofa. While Declan and Edwina farewelled their unexpected guests, he swiftly reviewed all he’d been told.

  When Declan and Edwina reentered the drawing room and resumed their seats, he looked from one to the other. “All right. Now tell me all.”

  As he’d assumed, the pair had a great deal more to impart to him of society in Freetown, of all the characters who had played even small parts in their own drama, of the sights, sounds, and dangers of the slums, and so much more that, he knew, could well prove helpful, and perhaps even critical, once he was on the ground in the settlement.

  The hours slid by unnoticed by any of them.

  When the clocks struck one, they repaired to the dining parlor and continued their discussions over a substantial meal. Robert grinned when he saw the platters being brought in. “Thank you,” he said to Edwina. “Shipboard food is good enough, but it’s nice to eat well when one can.”

  Eventually, they returned to the comfort of the drawing room. Having exhausted all the facts and most of the speculation applicable, they finally turned to the ultimate question of what purpose lay behind the strange kidnappings.

  Slumped in the armchair he’d claimed, his long legs stretched out before him, his booted ankles crossed, Robert tapped the tips of his steepled fingers to his chin. “You said that Dixon was the first to vanish. Given he’s an engineer of some repute, assuming he was chosen for his known skills, I agree that that suggests the enterprise our villains are engaged in is most likely a mine.”

  Lounging on the sofa beside Edwina, Declan nodded. “At least in those parts.”

  “So what are they mining?” Robert met his brother’s blue eyes. “You know that area better than I. What’s most likely?”

  Declan twined his fingers with Edwina’s. “Gold and diamonds.”

  “I assume not together, so what’s your best guess?”

  “If I had to wager, I’d go for diamonds.”

  Robert had a great deal of respect for Declan’s insights into all matters of exploration. “Why?”

  Declan’s lips twisted. He glanced at Edwina. “I’ve been thinking about why those behind this have chosen to take young women and children—what uses they might have for them. Children are often used in gold mines to pick over the shattered ore—they’d be just as useful in mining for diamonds, at least in that area. But young women? They have no real role I can think of in gold mining. But in mining for diamonds in that area?”

  Gripping Edwina’s hand, Declan looked at Robert. “The diamonds there are found in concretions, lumped together with other ore. Separating the ore from the stones is fine work—not so much precision as simply being able to work on small things. Young women with good eyesight could clean the rough stones enough to reduce their size and weight so that the final product, while keeping its value, would fit into a relatively small space—easy to smuggle out, even by mail.”

  Declan held Robert’s gaze. “If I had to guess, I would say our villains have stumbled on a pipe of diamonds and are busy retrieving as many stones as they can before anyone else learns of the strike.”

  * * *

  Later that same day, in a tavern in Freetown located on a narrow side street off the western end of Water Street—an area frequented by clerks and shopkeepers and others more down at heel—a man rather better dressed than the other denizens sat nursing a glass of ale at a table in the rear corner of the dimly lit taproom.

  The tavern door opened, and another man walked in. The first man looked up. He watched as the second man, also better dressed than the general run of the tavern’s clientele, bought a glass of ale from the man behind the counter, then crossed the room to the table in the corner.

  The men exchanged nods, but no words. The second man drew up a stool and sat, then took a deep draft of his ale.

  The sound of the door opening reached the second man. His back was to the door. He looked at the first man. “That him?”

  The first man nodded.

  Both waited in silence until the newcomer had bought an ale for himself and approached the table.

  The third man set his glass down on the scarred surface, then glanced around at the others in the taproom before pulling up a stool and sitting.

  “Stop looking so damned guilty.” The second man raised his glass and took another sip.

  “All very well for you.” The third man, younger than the other two, reached for his glass. “You don’t have an uncle as your immediate superior.”

  “Well, he’s not going to see us here, is he?” the second man said. “He’ll be up at the fort, no doubt busily sorting through his inventory.”

  “God—I hope not.” The younger man shuddered. “The last thing we need is for him to realize how much is missing.”

  The first man, who had silently watched the exchange, arched a brow. “No chance of that, is there?”

  The younger man sighed. “No—I suppose not.” He stared into his ale. “I’ve been careful to keep everything we’ve taken off the books. There’s no way to see something’s missing if according to the books it was never there.”
r />   The first man’s lips curved without humor. “Good to know.”

  “Never mind that.” The second man focused on the first. “What’s this about Lady H? I heard through the office that she’s decamped on us.”

  The first man flushed under his tan. His hands tightened about his glass. “I was told Lady H had gone to visit family, and for all I know, that might still be the case. So yes, she’s gone, but as she knows nothing about my connection to our operation, she didn’t see fit to explain her reasons to me. I asked around—indirectly, of course—but apparently Holbrook doesn’t know when she’ll be back.”

  “So we might have lost our ability to vet our kidnapees?” The second man frowned.

  “Yes,” the first man replied, “but that isn’t what most concerns me.” He paused to take a sip of his ale, then lowered the glass and went on, “Yesterday, I heard from Dubois that Kale claims he lost two of the three men he sent to the governor’s house to fetch some lady Lady H had sent word to them to come and get.”

  The third man looked puzzled. “When was that?”

  “As near as I can make out, it was fifteen nights ago. Three days before Lady H sailed. I spent the evening in question dealing with dispatches, so I knew nothing about it at the time.” The first man paused, then more diffidently went on, “From what I could gather, it was Frobisher’s wife, Lady Edwina, who came to see Lady H that evening, but I can’t be certain Lady Edwina was the lady Lady H called Kale to come and get, and I see no point in asking too many questions of the governor’s staff.

  “According to Dubois, Kale said that the lady his men picked up was drugged and asleep. All his man—the one who survived—could tell him was that the lady had golden hair. In their usual team of three, Kale’s men wrapped her in a rug and carried her out through the slum behind the house, but then they were attacked by four men—sailors, according to the survivor. The sailors killed two of Kale’s men and took the lady back. Kale’s third man ran, but then doubled back and trailed the sailors to the docks. He saw them get into a tender and be rowed off, but in the dark, he couldn’t tell which ship they boarded.”