The Doldrums: the Sailor and the Virgin Ch. 11

'Twas somewhere near nine o'clock he wagered --- too early for all to be abed, wasn't it? Along the fence he crawled toward the rear of the properties. Ah! There be lamps lit at the stables --- and someone moving about. As the figure moved into the light, Liam recognized the curly, brown haired young man he had spoken to the night before last at the front gate. He was working on a large carriage upon the patio next to the stable --- affixing long streamers of gold and cream fabric in swags to the roof rail using pieces of string. Of course --- the task he had been grumbling about! Then the wedding hadn't happened yet!

Liam slipped from the neighbor's garden and back into the street. Smoothing his coat and trousers, he started walking towards the Bourget house with a purposeful stride. "Hullo," he called out to the man. "Good evening."

The fellow looked up. "Oh, it's you. Did you find the Carlisle House the other night?"

"Yes, thank you. Right where you said." Liam nodded at the carriage. "You're working late. Did they tell you when the wedding is to be?"

"Day after tomorrow. My list of tasks is so long, if I don't get this done now, I'll be up shit creek." He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and consulted it. "Flower vases too, Mrs. Bourget wants."

Liam shook his head sympathetically. "Speaking of your mistress, my mistress sent me with a message for her. It looked fair barren at the front, so I thought I'd check back here."

"Not here," the fellow said, snipping lengths of string from a roll. "The family's all gone to stay at Mr. Strachan's."

Liam's gut lurched. "I'd best be on my way, then --- 'tis an important message, so she said."

"Do you know where it is?" he called after Liam, who was already hurrying back to the horse.

"Yes, thank you," he called over his shoulder.

He rode through the streets, heading towards the waterfront and west. His leather book with the address he still had, but the map, he realized, was in the pocket of the ulster. He had studied it closely enough to ken where the street be, but to get there in the dark proved to be an unanticipated challenge. Several times he had to make detours to avoid police patrolmen, which sent him further off course. 'Twas past ten o'clock when he finally found the Beaty Avenue address. 'Twas even grander than the Bourget house: an enormous stone mansion with extensive grounds and a surrounding brick wall some ten feet tall.

Leaving the horse tethered down a small side street nearby, he approached the estate upon foot, and followed the wall. He found a better vantage point up in a maple tree, lying upon a bough overhanging the wall. Concealed here, he could look over the wall, and spent a fair length of time surveying his rival's lair. The house was constructed with a central tower several stories tall, and long, lower flanking wings. The outward ornamentation was less fanciful, but more massive than the Bourget house. In one wing, lights were on in three adjacent, tall first floor windows, and in the opposite wing, two windows on the second floor were alight. A dimmer glow came from the large central entry hall.

In the low light from scattered gas lamps, he noted sculpted shrubs near the ground floor windows, and many stately trees, but none near enough the house to afford him access to the second floor. There be no ledge to stand upon either. But he did see balconies with stone balustrades at each of the second floor windows. All at once he saw movement upon the lawn.

A guard --- no surprise there. The shadowy figure walked the length of the front façade, turned round at the end, and walked back. Liam saw him turn at the end and head down the side of the mansion. Counting out the time in his head, Liam observed the patrol. He saw that there actually be at least two men; the second one appeared at the opposite side of the house, looked over the front lawn, then turned and headed back. Presumably he covered the rear and the east side, while the first covered the front and the west side. He estimated that it took the guard ten minutes to walk the front, and five minutes to walk the side before he had a view of the front again from the corner.

He decided to try the lit second floor windows first. Waiting till the guard turned the far corner, he dropped from the tree to the lawn inside the wall and ran up to the front of the mansion. Pressing his back against the cold stone in the shadow of a tall shrub, he looked up at the lit window above. No stone curlicues to permit a climb. He scanned the structure and noticed an ornamented metal drainpipe running from the roof to the ground, affixed to stone in the corner where the wing joined the central tower. He scuttled back along the shrubs to its base and waited. Presently the guard appeared and walked by; 'twas too dark to make out any details of the man.

Liam waited till the guard passed on his way back, then, shielded from view by the tower, he scaled the drainpipe. At the level of the second floor, he twisted upon the pipe, gathered himself, and forcefully pushed off to jump across to the first balcony. His boot made a scuffing sound upon the stone, and his hands grasped the balustrade. He swiftly stepped over the stone parapet and ducked down upon the balcony; the window next to him was completely black. Peering down into the dark yard, he saw the second guard appear at the corner, then turn back. Liam stepped over the rail upon the other side and jumped to the next balcony over, nigh six feet away. Again no trace of light in the room.

He continued jumping from balcony to balcony, coordinating his movements with the those of the sentries below him. Finally he reached the seventh balcony where the lit window be. If this be not hers, then he would get into the house and start searching for her --- at gunpoint if necessary.

The drapes were open. 'Twas a bedchamber, perhaps even exceeding the opulence of the room he had seen at the Bourget's. A fire was burning in the fireplace, but at first glance, he thought the room be unoccupied. Then he saw her, saw the spot of glowing jade fabric in the corner --- his heart started to pound. Anya was sitting at a desk, writing in a most distressed state. Her hand flew across the page, pausing to dip the nib rapidly into the ink well. Then she looked up, seeming in thought, before returning to her scribbling.

Liam crouched agitated upon the balcony, watching her. He couldn't tap upon the window now with the guard below. She stood up and began to pace anxiously back and forth between the window and the desk --- she was clad in the jade dressing gown and silken slippers --- she would need to at least put on boots in case they needed to run. So near did she approach the window that he could see the tears in her eyes. I'm here love, I'm here for ye. He counted, the second guard would appear any moment --- there he be --- now he turned back. Liam stood and was about to knock upon the glass, when he saw Anya suddenly turn to her chamber door.

She wiped her eyes and crossed to open it. A maid stood in the hall; a few words were exchanged, then Anya reclosed the door. Quickly she went to the desk and took up the paper she had been writing upon. She crumpled it and tossed it into the fire. She gathered up her unbound hair and piled it atop her head with a few pins. Then she picked up her engagement ring from a table near the fireplace and slid it upon her finger. Snugging her robe sash, she re-opened the door, where the maid was waiting. She shut the door behind her.

Where was she going!? Liam tested the handle of her window and found it unlocked. Swiftly he stepped inside and crossed to the hall door. Opening it a crack he saw that the hall outside was actually part of a gallery with an ornate gilded railing, overlooking a marble atrium below. He saw Anya and the maid descending a grand staircase. Waiting till they had crossed the atrium, he stepped out into the gallery and silently ran towards the stair to crouch and see which way they be going. They walked through the central hall and through a doorway upon the other side.

Liam hurried back into Anya's chamber. He didn't have time to leap back across all the balconies. He yanked out the braided gold cord that looped the drape back and darted onto the balcony --- no guards be visible. Tying it round the stone rail, he stepped over and used it to lower himself close enough to the ground to safely drop. He hid behind a shrub till the front guard had turned and headed for the corner. Then he scampered along the front of the mansion to the other set of lit windows --- which proved to be French doors --- and ducked between a dense yew tree and the house. He looked inside.

He saw Strachan and Anya standing in what appeared to be a large, luxurious study. He scanned the room noting a fireplace and sitting area upon a Persian rug at one side, a massive dark wood desk in the center, and a collection of leather covered structures and iron barbells at the other side that he recognized as a gymnasium --- the ironic means by which wealthy men achieved the physique that hard labor granted the working man.

Strachan, wearing a suit, was half sitting upon the front corner of the desk. Anya was standing at the end of a brocade covered settee; she seemed ill at ease, with her arms hugging her waist. He was talking to her. She shook her head and said something in return. Strachan leaned back and lifted something from his desk and held it out before her. Her hand suddenly lifted and clasped the neck of her dressing gown; she was staring at it. Liam could not make out what it was --- it appeared to be a satchel or a bundle of cloth. Strachan shook it briefly and held it higher; his mouth moved. There was a pause in which they both were looking at this object, then Anya opened her mouth and said something. In the next instant Liam saw Strachan lunge at her and strike her across the face with the back of his hand, so forcefully that her light body spun and crumpled onto the settee. He leant over her, reaching for her again.

A second of shock, then Liam yanked the revolver from his pocket and put his boot through the glass door with a tremendous crash. He pointed the gun at him, his eyes burning. "Unhand her, ye bastard!" he growled, and started to advance upon them. Strachan's reaction was stunning. Without the least expression of surprise or fear, he grabbed Anya's arm and snatched up her limp body in front of his own. In one swift step to the side, he picked up a knife from the desk and held it to her throat.

Liam stopped short, holding the revolver. Anya was unconscious, Strachan's arm wrapped round her chest, holding her up as a shield. He saw blood oozing from lip, then her head lolled forward. The knife point indented the white skin of her neck. He had no shot at the man. Strachan's eyes were gleaming, staring at him.

"Well, well, if it's not the dashing young sea captain Mr. Thomas," he sneered.

"Unhand her," Liam repeated.

"Drop the gun."

Liam stood motionless.

"Drop the gun or I'll slice open her pretty little neck." He pressed the knife harder against her.

After a moment's hesitation, Liam lowered his arm.

"That's the way, boy. Set it upon the floor slowly."

He crouched and placed it upon the wood floor, his eyes fixed upon Strachan.

"Slide it towards me," Strachan commanded.

Liam hesitated again, staring at the knife at Anya's neck, then gave the gun a brisk shove. It slid over the smooth, polished floor till it bumped against the edge of the rug, half way between the two men.

"Now, get down upon the floor --- all the way down." Liam knelt down. "Sit on your ass, Mr. Thomas," he added. "And sit on your hands."

Liam had no choice but to comply. He sat with his legs slightly spread and bent, his palms upon the floor under his buttocks. He glared up at Strachan.

There was the sudden sound of boots crunching upon glass behind him; his head turned to see a man in a dark coat and cap pointing a revolver at him --- the guard. "Is all well here, sir?" was his ironic question, given the scene before him.

Strachan smiled, all calmness. "We've had an unexpected guest."

"I'm sorry sir ---" The man sounded nervous. "He must have slipped past us."

"A wily beggar, he is. But all is under control now. Hand me his gun --- there upon the floor."

The guard walked past Liam and picked up the gun. He stepped over to Strachan, who laid the knife upon the desk and took the gun from him, pressing the muzzle against Anya's head.

"That will be all. You and Higgs can stop the patrol. I don't think we'll be expecting any further guests."

The man nodded and left through the broken door.

Strachan gave him an appraising look. "Well Mr. Thomas, this is most serendipitous --- you paying me a call at this time. Indeed it is. You have arrived just in time to help clear up a little matter." Again that smooth smile. "Little Anya here was explaining this." Strachan moved his gun hand only long enough to pick up the cloth bundle that he had been showing Anya and toss it across the floor towards him.

Liam stared at it in confusion.

"You may lift one hand and reach for it."

Stretching forward, he pulled it near. Suddenly he recognized it --- how could he forget? 'Twas the wool trousers that Anya had disguised herself in, and worn while aboard the Selkie. Strachan must have searched her valise.

"Well Mr. Thomas, what do you have to say about it?"

Lifting them, Liam realized that they were partially turned inside out, and that the inseam was stiff and stained with his spunk. In a flash the image of her riding his cock upon the foredeck came back to him. His face flushed.

"You seem to be having some difficulty with that question. Perhaps this will help refresh your memory."

Liam looked up to see him toss another bundle of cloth towards him. It unfurled partially, and he didn't have to draw it near to see that it was the sheet from his berth aboard the Selkie. The spot of dried blood and sperm stood out boldly in the silence. Liam was rigid with rage --- at the violation of his boat, at the violation of this tender talisman of their love.

"Hand back under your ass, if you please."

He put his hand back, and raised his head to stare Strachan in the eye. "I forced her," he said shortly.

"You forced her? Hmmm...that is very curious indeed. Anya said that her stepfather forced her." Strachan looked from Liam to Anya's limp body in the grip of his arm. He started to laugh, an exaggeratedly jolly chuckle. "I see the way of it now. Why it's a precious little love story! You're protecting her, and she's protecting you. How moving! My heart is so touched that I can feel the tears sprouting --- in a moment I shall be boo-hooing. Ha ha!"

His false laughter abruptly halted, and his voice became low and menacing. "But you overlooked one thing, Mr. Thomas, when you pursued your little romance. This belonged to me!" He suddenly grasped Anya's breast hard through the dressing gown.

Liam shook with fury, his fists clenching under him. "Dinna touch her --- or I'll kill ye," he growled.

"A bold threat from a chap fondling his own ass," Strachan snickered. He started squeezing Anya's breast with overemphasized motions. "You seem disturbed, Mr. Thomas. Is this bothering you?" Strachan looked down at him, smirking. He let go her breast and switched the revolver to the arm holding her up. His free hand now stretched down and gathered up the fabric of her robe and the nightgown under it, bunching it up till her cunny hair showed. He groped between her legs. "How about this? Is this bothering you?" he taunted.

He could only watch in helpless rage as Strachan shifted his wrist to so that Liam could see his middle finger forcing its way up her cunny. "By God, she's small! Did you even fuck the right hole, you halfwit tar?" He pulled out his finger, and with one step to the left, tossed her body onto the seat of the settee. She slumped over, her legs partially upon the seat. One knee upon the cushion, Strachan held the gun to her head with the other hand yanked her robe and nightgown up to her waist, exposing her pale legs and mound.

Liam's hands jerked out from under him and he started to rise, but Strachan turned to him with a "Tsk, tsk, Mr. Thomas." He prodded Anya's ear with the gun muzzle. "You'd be well advised to grab your ass again."

His hands back under him, he watched Strachan push Anya's legs open with his free hand. Bending closer, he crudely pried her cunny lips open and inspected her opening. He contemplated it for several moments, his face darkening, then muttered, "A recent breach, no question."

Removing his fingers, he rose slightly and shifted such that Liam thought he was reaching to undo his trousers. "I'll tear your throat out if ye violate her!" he burst out.

Strachan looked at him contemptuously. "I'll share no hole with a filthy Mick sailor." His eyes narrowed, then he suddenly rose and scooped up her limp body round the waist. "But there yet remains one virginity to me." He dropped her over the arm of the settee so that her arse was up, her face in the seat cushion, and her legs hanging down. Grabbing the robe and nightgown, he began to pull them up.

From the floor, Liam spoke up. "I had her there too," he said tersely, with no intent but to deter Strachan's violation of her.

Strachan did stop. He dropped her skirts and stared at him incredulously. "Why you dirty beast!" he exclaimed with a short, barking laugh. "Well, well!" A malevolent smile grew upon Strachan's face as he regarded Liam. He stepped to the desk and pressed a button upon a wooden box. He was still smiling when a moment later there was a knock upon the door. "Enter," he said without turning round.

The door opened and two men in suits stepped in. One Liam recognized as the assistant with the revolver who had been at the pier with Strachan when the Selkie had arrived in Toronto. Like the guard, the men evinced not the least surprise at the scene before them: an unconscious girl arse-up over the settee arm, a disheveled young man sitting upon his hands on the floor.

"Bind him," Strachan ordered.

A coil of rope was produced from the area of the gymnasium equipment. As Strachan stood by, nonchalantly crossing his arm across his waist and pointing the revolver at Anya's arse, the two men knelt next to Liam. One pulled his hands out from under him and tightly bound his wrists together behind his back. The other bound his ankles. All at once they flipped him over onto his belly, bent his feet back and trussed his wrists and ankles together like an animal. 'Twas apparent that they were well practiced at this exercise.

"Gag him. I'll have none of his caterwauling. The screams of a terrified young girl are so much more piquant, n'est ce pas?"

Liam went cold in horror. He lifted his face up from the floor, pleading unashamedly. "No! Please! No! Do what ye will to me, but spare her! 'Twas all my doing!"

Shiny black boots stepped in front of his face. From above he heard Strachan's voice: "Oh rest assured, Mr. Thomas, I will 'do what I will' with you." He squatted and grabbed a handful of Liam's hair, lifting his head up to look into his eyes. His other hand casually dangled the revolver a few inches from his face. "I will not spoil your anticipation, but here is a clue: part of the festivities will involve this revolver and your cock and balls."

Whatever sound was about to issue from Liam's open mouth was at that moment smothered by a balled up handkerchief being shoved into it. A strip of cloth was forced between his teeth, and tied tightly behind his head, biting into the corners of his mouth. The two men stood, leaving him writhing upon the floor, straining at his bonds.