“Sail ho!”
She heard the call out on the deck. Looking out the great window, India could see another vessel in the distance.
“Put on more sail!” came the command.
India could hear the creaking of winches as additional canvas was raised, but the ship didn’t seem to be gaining any speed. She looked back out the window again. The other ship was gaining on them rather quickly. It was a narrow, sleek vessel with scarlet-and-gold-striped sails. She turned as the cabin door opened and her cousin entered, a worried look upon his handsome face.
“Be quiet and listen,” he told her. “In a few minutes we are going to be boarded by pirates from one of the Barbary States.”
India paled, and gasped. “Can’t we escape them?” she asked.
“Under ordinary circumstances, yes, but the bloody wind is dying on us, and without the wind we can’t outrun them. Now hear me very carefully, India, for what I am going to say may save your life. My grandmother was once in a similar situation. If you are asked to convert to Islam, agree and save your life. Don’t be a little fool and refuse. We need no martyrs in this family. Agreeing means you will be given, or sold, to a highly placed man, and not thrown into the common slave bagnio where you would be raped and forced into whoredom.”
“But can’t we be ransomed?” she asked him, horrified.
“Neither of us is important enough, Cousin,” he told her. “One day I may be able to get a message home, and then perhaps . . ” He stopped, and looked at her. “You may not be able to go back then.”
“Ohhh, Tom!” India cried. “Not to see Mama or Papa ever again?”
“This family has a history of troublesome and adventuresome women, who usually end up surviving quite nicely, India. Listen, learn, and for God’s sake remember that from the moment of your capture you are no longer the duke of Glenkirk’s daughter but nothing more than a beautiful slave. You will be at the mercy of your master, whoever he will be. Keep your temper in check, Cousin, and a civil tongue in your head, or you could find that tongue yanked out. The Barbary pirates are fierce men.”
“I would rather be dead than submit!” India cried dramatically.
Tom Southwood grasped his young cousin by the arms, and shook her hard. “Don’t be an idiot, India,” he said, and then, releasing her, he was gone out the door again. To her despair she heard the key turning in the lock. Did he never forget?
The corsair ship drew skillfully alongside the Royal Charles. She could now see the reason for its speed. While the ship had sails, it was also propelled by banks of oars, which had given it a great advantage over the larger merchant vessel, caught in a dying wind. India wished she could be out on the deck. What was her cousin doing? Was he going to fight?
“The crew stand ready to defend the ship, sir,” Mr. Bolton said.
Tom Southwood shook his head. “Resistance would be futile,” he told his first mate, who had already known it. “Look at their guns. Besides, I want the ship intact. Eventually we’re going to steal it back, Francis Bolton.” He chuckled. “You’ve told the crew what I said?”
“Aye, sir, but two of them is Irish papists, and half a dozen are hard-nosed Puritans. The sailmaker is a Jew, and the cook says he don’t believe in anything. They won’t convert,” the first mate replied.
“Well, I’ve warned them, and hopefully enough of the lads will so we can sail this ship home one day,” the young captain replied. “Heads up, Bolton, here they come!” He stood straight, his green eyes sweeping over the corsair’s vessel. It was the largest of the galley class, with twenty . . . -four, -five, -six, -eight . . . benches of oars. Each bench would hold four or five men. This particular ship had an enclosure over the stern, which meant it carried janissaries. The rest of the deck was open to the sky. There was a large fixed cannon located on a low deck area, and several swivel guns sat amidships.
Then a large, tall man was standing before him. He spoke accentless French. “I am Aruj Agha, a captain in the royal Ottoman janissary Corps, based in El Sinut, and sailing under the command of its dey. Who are you, sir?”
“Captain Thomas Southwood, out of London, commanding the Royal Charles, under the aegis of the O’Malley-Small Trading Company. We are usually allowed unmolested in these waters, Aruj Agha. Why have you stopped us? Did you not see the pendant we fly?”
“It means nothing to me, sir,” came the polite reply. “Whatever meaning it might have had once, it obviously no longer has that meaning. You and your ship are fair game, and now belong to the dey of El Sinut. What cargo do you carry?”
“Wool, Cornish tinware, hides, fruit, and barrels of sherry,” was the response. “I also have two passengers, both of whom can be ransomed. One is the son of the earl of Oxton, and the other, who happens to be my own cousin, is the daughter of the duke of Glenkirk. Her younger brother is King Charles’s bastard nephew. Her father will pay a fortune to regain her custody. I was taking her to visit her grandmother in Naples.”
“If you are familiar with our world, Captain Southwood, then you know the rules on captives. I hope for your cousin’s sake that she is an ugly little girl.”
Thomas Southwood grimaced, and Aruj Agha laughed.
“No? Well, then, you had best let me see her,” he said.
“I have locked her in the main cabin as I feared for her safety, sir. Please follow me.”
“Very wise,” Aruj Agha agreed. “We’ll be taking your ship in tow, and so you, your passengers, and a few of your crew may remain until we reach our destination. I shall put my own men aboard to sail this vessel. We are three days out of El Sinut.”
“And the rest of my crew?”
“They’ll come aboard my galley, to be put in chains, of course. The dey will decide their fate once we arrive,” Aruj Agha said.
Tom Southwood was not surprised. It was to be expected. The dey would give the men a chance to convert to Islam, and those who did would sail aboard his ships. Those who did not would be sold, go to the dey’s ships as galley slaves, or go to the mines. It was a well known and common practice. Reaching the main cabin, he unlocked the door, calling to India as he did, “Cousin, it is I.”
She stood in the center of the cabin, a sword in her hand. “You gave up without a fight,” she accused him.
“We are a merchant ship, India. The corsair has guns,” he explained. “Where the hell did you get that sword? Put it down. Now!”
“I cannot. I must uphold the family’s honor, Tom, which you have so easily besmirched. I found the sword beneath your bunk. I will not give up without a fight,” India declared.
Aruj Agha looked admiringly at India. The girl was a dazzling beauty. She wore a dark claret-colored velvet skirt and a man’s full shirt. A large black leather belt surrounded her tiny waist. Her long, dark curls were loose, and her eyes flashed fire. She was utterly magnificent!
“En garde, infidèle!” India taunted, waving her weapon at him.
“Jesu!” Tom Southwood swore helplessly. How could he have forgotten the weapon beneath his bed?
Aruj Agha, however, burst out laughing. “Come, my beauty,” he cajoled her with a friendly grin. “Your cousin did the right thing. It would have pained me to have to blow this lovely ship to pieces