ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

For many hours Maurette slept the peaceful slumber that she needed to mend her shattered mind and body. Ben had assured Dominic that her state of the past three days had not been really sleep at all. Her waking nightmares had sapped her strength and left her emotionally unstrung, and her exposure to the raging elements, even for so short a time, had racked her body unmercifully. She was in a kind of fragile netherworld, he told Dominic, from which she might very well emerge unscathed, but nothing would be left to chance as far as Ben was concerned. He ordered Dominic from the cabin to bathe and rest, for if any lingering effects did show themselves, he wanted Dominic whole to love and care for his Maurette.

Dominic knew that Ben was right, and though he was unaccustomed to praying, he invoked the deity in the fervent hope that Maurette would recover her vibrant spirit and physical vigor.

A delicate luster was returning to her skin, and color was appearing slowly in her cheeks. Ben sat hunched in a chair and watched her. Wrapped in a shawl and reading by a small candle on the large table in the center of the cabin, Ben pushed his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and gazed, without comprehension, at the book he held. He had been with Maurette all night and, as a pale sallow dawn entered the tiny cabin through a porthole, Ben gazed up from his book and regarded his patient.

He knew something of the woman through Dominic's description of her. For three days, the captain had spoken of her fire, her intelligence, and her strength of character. Ben chuckled to himself. He could not wait to meet this little paragon. She was in excellent physical condition, and all Ben really knew was that the natural resilience of youth would serve her well in the aftermath of the horror she had suffered.

Dominic had been in several times through the night, but with Ben's assurance that Maurette needed only rest to recover, he had eventually taken a bunk in other quarters and was, Geoff had assured Ben, slumbering soundly.

Ben shivered against the chill that, he felt, was ever present at sea. He rubbed his reddened nose with a linen square he always carried for the purpose, for he was constantly subject to a sniffling ague. The muscles of his neck and shoulders had stiffened throughout his long vigil. Standing up, he moved to the porthole and looked out on the gentle swells of the empty ocean. Thank God, he thought, for the storm's abeyance. He had seen worse storms in his life, and in his years as ship's doctor he had seen worse aftermath, but he had never seen his captain, with whom he had sailed for many of those years, in such a vulnerable state. Dominic had been at his lowest ebb even as the storm's fury had receded. He had been frightened, and Ben could not remember that ever before having been the case.

He moved away from the porthole and sat heavily on one of the wooden chairs. Pulling the shawl closer around his thin shoulders, he tried to read, once again, the tome he had left on the table. The candle was guttering shyly, and the jaundiced dawn afforded little light for his weak eyes.

Abandoning the thought of reading, he pulled off His spectacles, laid his head on the back of his chair, and stretched his lean legs. With eyes closed, he tried to relax his lank frame. Images of the years he had spent with Dominic on the Raven came sailing through his mind.

The captain had been ever bold, ever dauntless as they had prowled the Turkish Main or skimmed the warm waters of the Mediterranean. Ben could see him now, his raven hair lifting in the wild breezes and his skin gilded in the sun, valiantly braving whatever adversity God or man set in his path. In all things Dominic Warbrooke was confident and courageous-in all things but one. What powers had this fragile little lady over the valorous Warbrooke that reduced him to a fearful, troubled ordinary man?

Ben opened his eyes and rolled his head to the side so that he could better contemplate the pretty creature and perhaps better understand her appeal. Her eyes were open, and she was regarding him tranquilly.

"How is Dominic?" she said softly. Her simple words were filled with love, the inquiry connoting deep affection.

Ben smiled gently. "Your first words after all your trials are of our rough, captain," he said fondly. "'Tis good to know that he is well loved by one he loves so well." He stood up slowly and moved to the bunk. Lifting Maurette's hand, he pulled his shawl more snugly round his frame and sat down next to her. He counted the pulse in her wrist and noted her skin felt cool and dry. Satisfied, he looked down into her clear eyes. "our Dominic is well," he said. "And from all appearances, you seem so, too. The fever has left. No hellish images haunt your waking?"

Maurette smiled into his kind blue eyes. "Only the image of an unshaven, red-eyed sea captain. Tell me that he has slept, sir, and I shall be cured completely."

"He sleeps even as w~ speak, dear lady." Ben spoke through a quiet laughter. "He would only do so, however, on the tidings of your own peaceful slumber. What shall we do with the two of you, if the one's good health depends so on the other's?"

"We must need keep them both unscathed, methinks," said Geoffrey Frobisher as he entered the cabin with a quiet click. He carried a bowl of broth and moved to the bedside. "Our cook, Jase, has prepared this for you, my lady. Will you take some? The old fellow will be hugely elated if I can report your acceptance of his offering."

Maurette struggled to raise herself, and the two men were quick to assist her. Setting down the bowl of broth, Geoffrey lifted her gently, taking her small shoulders in his large hands, while Ben set pillows in back of her. Geoffrey sat down on the bed next to her and began to spoon the heavy broth between her lips. Ben stood next to him, watching to see that she did not overindulge, for it was obvious by the enthusiasm with which she received the nourishment that she was healthily hungry. She swallowed vigorously and coughed, and Ben was there with a cloth and a warning to both of them that she must use caution in the taking of her first sustenance in four days. They all laughed merrily as some of the broth dribbled down her chin.

"Devour that broth with the dignity befitting a titled lady," Ben admonished her with mock solemnity, "lest the other members of the crew have it that our worthy captain has brought a tavern wench on board."

Maurette finished the soup and lay back against the pillows with a satisfied sigh. "Let them think what they will," she murmured. "At the least, I am no longer a hungry tavern wench."

Geoff stood and eyed Maurette happily. "I thank the deity that you are well, my lady," he said softly.

Maurette slanted a glance at him and then at the doctor.

"Neither of you fools me for a moment. 'Tis quite obvious that my own health or the state of my manners mean very little to either of you." She splayed a hand to stop their protests. "You needn't deny it, gentlemen. 'Tis all too obvious that you care not two pins for me except in the manner that I relate to your captain." She smiled rakishly. "Your loyalty to that lion-hearted rogue is excessive, and I would know from where it stems."

Geoffrey set the bowl on the center table and Ben sat in a chair, huddled beneath his shawl. "Does our obvious loyalty dismay you, dear lady?" he said ,gently.

"It warms my heart," Maurette stated in an equally gently tone. She moved to make herself more comfortable within the thick softness of the pillows. "And as we are to be companions in our loyalty and love for this lofty creature, I suggest that we dispense with formalities. Please, both of you, call me Maurette. How may I call you, sirs?"

Geoffrey laughed his big laugh and bowed low. "I am Geoffrey Frobisher. Please call me Geoff. And this sour-faced, myopic old fellow is Benjamin Tremain. He prefers to be called doctor. So puffed up by that degree he obtained at Oxford is he that he, wears it like a coat of arms. On any given day, he can he found prowling the decks with his ravaged nose in a volume on medicine. No wonder his eyes have weakened to the point of mere pretty blue orbs within his sour face. The candle gutters in the night but the doctor reads on."

Ben shifted in his chair and eyed the smiling Geoffrey levelly "I do not read every night, Geoff," he said mildly. "Some nights, when men whom I shall not name have drunk themselves into stupors and fight devils which they implore me to disburse, I play the nursemaid. I ply wet cloths and croon a bit and promise them in motherly tones that the nasty goblins that torment them will be gone on the morrow."

Geoff reddened and smiled sheepishly as Ben continued. "If I read, 'tis only to discover how grown men so boastful of their prowess, and rightly so, become little frightened boys after a few sips of rum." He turned to face Maurette, and he winked tartly. "Call me Ben," he said kindly.

Maurette laughed openly at the verbal jousting. "Thank you, gentlemen, Geoff and Ben," she said. "Now may I ask once again the stem of your loyalty to your captain?"

Ben settled himself back in his chair and, pulling at his shawl, folded his thin fingers over his chest. "'Twould be impossible to tell you all, dear Maurette," he said contemplatively. "What think you, Geoff? Where shall we begin?"

Geoff sat at the table excitedly. "Why do you not tell Maurette of the Turks?"

"Ah," breathed Ben softly. Though there had been a lifetime of large and lesser events in their years with Dominic Warbrooke, this one stood out in both their minds as one the entire crew remembered with relish. Tales would be retold and the incident relived on moon-washed decks for years to come. It pointed out the excellence with which Dominic's life and seamanship had both been marked, but it was the first time that the men had seen the true measure of their captain - his tested-and every man aboard had sworn his loyalty and unswerving trust to their captain. Ben smiled now, remembering the day.

"'Twas a humid afternoon," he began. "We had been attacked by the Turkish advance. We had known that the waters were unsafe when we entered them, but we were arrogant and unafraid as only young and reckless lads be. Dominic, I believe, was but twenty at the time, and Geoff here was not much less. I was older and wiser, perhaps twenty-five," he said, his eyes sparkling with merriment, but I, was caught up in the youthful exuberance of our first voyage. I was, even in my maturity, as arrogant as the rest."

All three laughed at Ben's self-deprecation. Then Ben Became serious and his voice softened.

"We made a valiant fight against two well-armed and equally arrogant Turkish crews. We were subdued but undaunted until the fateful moment when, after boarding our ship, the Turks finally captured our captain. They brought him to the mainsail, and we watched in horror as they stripped him of his shirt. To a man, we knew what was to come, They tied him to the mast."

Ben looked over and regarded Geoff. "Do you remember how he looked, Geoff?" Geoff nodded as Ben continued.

"He was so young and yet so brave. Lashed to the main mast, he still stood tall and proudly defiant. Some of us cried to see him thus."

Both men lowered their eyes and it was many moments before Ben was able to continue.

"Dominic's voice rose proudly over the general din of those voracious Turks. He seemed unaware of, or at least unperturbed by, the vicious curling knives that were being readied to make their agonizing cuts into his flesh. I remember his words exactly. ''Tis a noble victory that you enjoy,' he snarled at them.

"The despicable bastards laughed. 'You are many, and you pit your unworthy hordes against but one.' Again they laughed, but Dominic continued. 'You captains have before you the opportunity to ennoble this occasion beyond the plebeian aspects to which it has been reduced,' His voice was very strong, stronger than mine would have been under the circumstances, and his tormentors stopped laughing."

"The Turks have long hated their reputation as barbarians and, in the face of Dominic's lordly disdain of his subjugation, they recognized their own commonness, I suppose. They were now listening. I recall the relief I felt when the two executioners were ordered to cease their preparations."

"'What do you suggest?' one captain shouted. And I remember the hush that fell over the ship. 'I propose a duel to the death,' Dominic said with the most gentlemanly of nods."

Geoffrey laughed. "You'd have thought him in God's own drawing room, the way he spoke. He was so polite, so fashionably bloody proper was he."

"He was that," said Ben. "Dominic continued in that same civilized tone. 'I offer myself as contestant to both you captains and to any ten men of your choosing; I shall fight you each, one at a time, one after the other.' The captains glared at Dominic. 'And if you win?' asked one, and both crews rewarded his inquiry with hoots of laughter. The Turks could not believe that their captain could entertain such a ludicrous outcome. But we knew better. We laughed because that bloody Turk was scared, and he showed it. 'If I win,' Dominic said, you leave our ship and my men to their freedom.' The Turks pondered this for a moment. 'And what of their captain?' one of them said. 'Do what you will with me, but free my men, and I shall count the bargain fairly disposed. My men shall take word back to our queen that you are gentlemen.'

"The captains spoke quietly for a few moments. Our crew waited in silence. We were mobilized. For myself the battle was already won. I knew that no matter the outcome of this poor excuse for justice, I would not accept a passive death. I could feel the resolve that cut through the crew, like a sharp blade.

"One of the Turkish captains advanced toward Dominic. He smiled, I remember. I had never seen such cruelty in the face of a smiling man. 'It shall be done,' he said so softly that we had to strain to hear his words. There was a mighty roar of approbation from the men standing on the deck. The Turkish sailors offered their approval only because they hoped to see the arrogant English captain torn to pieces by their chosen assailants. "There is one last point I would make,' Dominic said. 'Your men are to lay down their arms while the duel progresses. Only the swordsmen may carry weapons. Is that agreed?' The Turkish captain looked around. As our crew was chained, the man agreed.

"Dominic was unlashed and led to the foredeck where he was handed a sword. The sun was hot that day, and even the soft breezes did nothing to cool the humid air. Dominic stood and faced his first opponent. 'Twas an easy victory, and the second went down as quickly as the first. As the day progressed and Dominic laid low six men, the Turks became unnerved. His boldness in the lace of their intended cruelty had shaken those men to their roots. They eyed their weapons, which had been piled midship, nervously. It went through the men that, in his travels, Dominic had accumulated some secret knowledge, some prowess of which they were unaware, for use in combat.

"Even to seasoned mariners, the great wilderness that lies beyond the charted seas holds awesome secrets." Ben grinned broadly. "We are the most superstitious of men, Maurette." He shook his head and shared a brief chuckle with Geoff before continuing.

"After the seventh, eighth, and ninth savage was beaten by our captain, the tenth man balked when it came his turn. He moved toward Dominic with almost slavish appeal in his eyes. Dominic was fatigued, but, when the man faced him, he became energized. The dog-faced Turk lost his weapon early on and, rather than be run through, ran screaming to the rail and dived into the ocean." Geoff and Ben laughed at the recollection. "We often wonder among ourselves what became of the bloody, white-livered poltroon. To this day we congratulate his decision," Ben said gaily. Then he continued, and his voice became hard, though his volume decreased with the solemnity of his words.

"Dominic's flesh was sheathed in sweat. He glistened in the setting sun. His breathing was coming hard and, as ship's doctor, I requested a cloth for his bead so that the perspiration would not run into his eyes. I had insisted that they allow him water during the afternoon, which they did, but cautioned him to drink sparingly. Dominic was fighting his fatigue very hard now. He was not through yet, however. He still had the two captains to fight, and my body and soul ached for him. I have seen much brutality in my time, Maurette, and I saw the worst of it that day, but what happened next turned my stomach to pap.

"The two Turkish captains were conferring away from the rest of their men. They eyed him over their shoulders and were most circumspect in their discussion. I had been allowed my freedom temporarily so that I could tend to Dominic. He had not been cut to any significant degree, but a few superficial wounds were bleeding sufficiently for the captains to allow the application of bandages. I was bemused by their generosity until I realized within a few moments what they were saving him for. The two men now came toward us. "You are no lily-skinned gentleman seaman,' one said, and his voice was almost silky. 'I have devised a real test for you. You have killed ten men. We have watched the slaughter with a great interest and, I must admit, great admiration. But,' he added, 'in our country, the real test of a man comes when his powers have waned. If he can survive the final and most arduous test, then he is truly a man.' The little mustachioed bastard was smiling, and such evil lurked in that smile that I nearly vomited. He held a sword, and the other captain held a sword, and suddenly my heart lurched into my throat.

'I will not allow this,' I said.. The soils of diseased bitches were planning a dual assault. They were both going to fight him at the same time. I stood my ground, and thought they were both somewhat taller than I, I faced them with all the indignation that I felt at their dastardly contrivance. I started to say something else, I don't remember what, when I felt a sickening pain on the side of my head. One of the men had swatted me as though I were a pesky bug in his way, and I went sprawling to the deck. Two sailors dragged me back to the line of men and chained me once more. I began to scream wildly at the unfairness of the contest, and the crew joined me in hoots of derision for our tormentors. Our defiance was rewarded with kicks and blows and equally derisive insults. I had never in my life, have never known since, such hatred. I could see in the eyes of the other men that their abhorrence equaled my own. The abomination that was about to happen had confederated us, and though we were separate individuals chained shoulder to shoulder on that deck we became in that instant one man.

"We watched with hate-filled horror as three swords were raised. Three men fought barbarously. Two against the one. Dominic was a ravening killer. He gave those bloody snakes in the grass no quarter. Dominic advanced and lunged with every ounce of tenacity that was in his soul." Ben was leaning now with his arms on his knees. He pressed forward. "Dominic's disadvantage was of very little use to those malevolent Turks. His aggression was all powerful. Time and time again he drew their foul blood, and they drew none of his. Their resistance faltered. In the face of Dominic's great strength as well as his unyielding aggression, they were befuddled and unstrung. They could not gain the time they needed to plan out an adequate defense against the onslaught of Dominic's combative sword."

Ben paused for breath. He lowered his eyes. "I saw the blood spurting from Dominic's shoulder. It ran in terrible gushing rivers down his sweat-streaked arm. The others must have seen it at the same time, for we moved as one. Our arms chained at the wrists in front of us, we became one killing vinculum. We advanced upon the Turks with a rapacious retaliation that both surprised and, I would imagine, horrified them. I will not say, however, that that was our advantage, for we could not be stopped. When men care nothing for their own lives, they are invincible. We hit and gouged and stomped as we encircled our enemy. With every ounce of the monstrous hate that had been building in us, we subdued them.

"The two Turkish captains lay on the bloody deck, one dead and one dying. Dominic stood over the one who remained alive. 'Take your dead and go back to your ship,' Dominic said, holding his blade to the man's throat. The men of our crew urged Dominic to run him through, but he would not. 'He will be dead before his men have carried him to his own ship,' he said. And when his men lifted him, we heard the terrible low gurgle that told us that our captain had been right."

Ben leaned back in his chair. "The setting sun had left a gilded rim of light on the horizon. In that golden twilight, Dominic moved to the foredeck and raised his sword arm. As one, we let out a mighty roar of victory. We are told," he said softly, "That roar reached our home shores for when we returned, our queen dubbed our captain the 'Silver Raven.'"

"There is not a man among us who would not die for him," Ben finished in a hushed voice.

Maurette shuddered in the silence that followed Ben's tale. She could not relate the tender lover she knew to the ferocious killer that Ben had described. She drew the blankets to her chest, and Geoffrey rose quickly to assist her. He seemed to sense her thoughts.

"Do not fear little Maurette, you will never see that side of our captain," he said tenderly.

"I only spoke of this, child, because you inquired as to the stem of our loyalty to Dominic," Ben said, rising and standing over her.

Very low in her chest, a soft laugh began. She remembered a fiery little eighteen-year-old girl who had seen nothing of life beyond the end of her nose. That defiant dansel had stood in arrogant belligerence before the Silver Raven and challenged him to a duel. Maurette's laughter bubbled up. She closed her eyes, and tears of mirth spilled over her silken lashed to pour down her cheeks.

"I am grateful that you have told me this," she said. Both men eyed her questioningly as she made an attempt to compose herself.

"I shall tell you all about it some day, my friends. You shall not believe it when I do." She shook her head in self-deprecation. "You shall simply not believe it."