The Doldrums: the Sailor and the Virgin Ch. 11

"Grab the top of the wall, get over!" She obeyed, swinging her leg over the wall, then the other one. He heard a thud and a gasp as she landed on the other side. The furious barking of dogs now joined the approaching shouts. Liam backed up several feet and ran headlong at the wall, jumping to plant one boot several feet up and getting his good hand upon the stone cap at the top. A snarling dog suddenly leapt at him and sank his fangs into Liam's trouser leg. He kicked himself free and hauled himself up and over.

Hand in hand they ran through the street, swerving suddenly down the side street where he had left the horse. He mounted first, his chest throbbing in protest. With his good arm, he pulled Anya up behind him from the right side. The horse pranced to the side. "Hold fast round my waist." He kicked the horse into motion, galloping down the street as the shouting voices receded behind them.

Through a maze of dark city streets they galloped, Anya pressed against his back with her arms round his waist, the hooves clattering over the cobblestones. Several times he thought he heard the sound of a horse in pursuit, but when he looked over his shoulder, he saw no one. He steered them to the waterfront and eventually to O'Leary's pub, approaching via the alley. A wagon was in the alley, and young Michael O'Leary was carrying crates filled with bottles from the wagon down the open stairs to the basement.

Liam dismounted and helped Anya down. Her hair was wildly disheveled, and her lip was swollen and caked with dried blood. In the trousers and oversized coat --- the neck of which showed an immodestly large triangle of bare skin that hinted at the nakedness underneath --- he knew 'twas not safe to take her in. He knew not what rough characters be inside, and he could anticipate the attention that a distressed beauty barely covered by lad's clothes would attract --- attention from which he might not be able to defend her, in his injured state.

Stroking her hair gently, he spoke to her in a low hoarse voice. "I need to stop here to look for a friend who will help us. 'Twill only take a few minutes. But 'tis not safe in there for ye." She stared at him, her eyes big.

"Michael," he called out to the lad unloading the wagon. The lad, who was about Anya's age, approached, looking at her curiously. "I'm Liam," he said.

Michael nodded. "Aye, Liam, I remember ye."

"Michael, can ye help us? I need to go inside to look for Jimmy McCann ---"

"He's in there," Michael confirmed.

"I need to talk to him for a couple of minutes. I don't want to bring my sister in --- she's had a terrible fright tonight and 'tis not a good place for a lady. Will ye stay with her here?"

Michael agreed readily and Liam hurried inside. He found Jimmy at the bar. Within a few minutes they had settled upon a plan. They were shaking hands when Michael burst through the door. "Oi! LIAM!" he screamed above the din. "Come quick --- he grabbed her!" Liam bolted for the alley. "He just came up to her and grabbed her!" Michael jabbered frantically. "I held her arm as hard as I could, but he just grabbed her." He pointed down the alley towards the street. Liam was already in the saddle and started galloping towards the street, noticing her slippers upon the stones of the alley. To the right he saw a dark carriage hurtling down the street, some few hundred yards away.

With the horse at full run, he closed the distance to the carriage, which he now recognized as the brougham he had seen outside Brock Hall in Markham. The driver heard the approaching thunder of hooves and whipped the horses faster, but pulling the weight of the carriage, they were no match for a man upon horseback. Liam's horse soon pulled even with it, a few feet apart. In the interior of the lantern-lit carriage he saw Anya struggling with a man.

Liam swung his right leg over the front of the saddle and leapt at the carriage, his good arm grabbing the roof rail. His boots scraped the street stones for a moment before he got one foot upon the small step. Inside, Anya and her stepfather were standing between the seats fighting. Her arms were flailing, beating at him; Liam could hear her screams through the door. The coat had been ripped open, and he was pawing her breast and yanking her trousers down at the same time.

The door was locked. Liam wrenched at the handle. The man had her trousers down to her calves, and hobbled, she fell back onto the floor. He pounced upon her, trying to deflect her blows. Suddenly he drew back his fist and drove it into her gut. Her mouth went wide with a silent howl of pain as she dropped her arms to her belly and curled up. The carriage careened round a corner and Liam's foot slipped off the step. Hanging by his good arm, his feet scrambled upon the cobblestones. Desperately trying to get his foot back upon the step, he saw her stepfather jerk her trousers completely off her now subdued body. He threw her knees open. His back was towards the carriage door, but 'twas clear from his motions that he was pulling out his cock.

Liam's foot found the step again. He tried to kick the door in, but could not mount enough force from so close. When the man's weight settled between her thighs, Anya started struggling again, but more feebly. In the bumping carriage, the man's hips were shifting and straining against her. She pushed against him with the heel of her hand. Oh God, no...was he...? Liam put his elbow of his injured arm through the glass and his fingers scrambled upon the latch. He'd just freed it when the carriage was rocked by a deafening report.

Her stepfather slumped on top of her. Liam saw Anya's hand holding the revolver fall back from his side --- she had pulled it out the of the coat pocket! Liam yanked the door open and ducked inside. She whimpered as he threw the body off her. She sat up, and before he could stop her, she looked down --- and started screaming. Her belly from her rib cage to her hips was awash in blood and offal. Her stepfather's gut was a gaping red maw, his deflated penis below. Her shot from the side had blown the front of his belly open. She screamed and screamed, her hands shaking in the air in front of her body.

Liam pulled the white handkerchief out of the man's breast pocket and mopped the gore from her body. He noticed that the carriage had stopped and he heard the sounds of footsteps running away. Backing out, he pulled Anya out of the carriage and onto the street. She stood shaking and whimpering as he put the trousers back upon her, lifting one bare foot then the other into the legs. The buttons were gone from the pea coat, so he just wrapped it closed. "You're safe now," he murmured. "Liam's here, love." He held her close and kissed the top of her head. "Did he....?" he asked in a tortured voice. Numbly she shook her head no.

He found his horse a block back and remounted. This time he put Anya in front of him, despite the pressure of her head against the throbbing pain in his chest --- he trusted not her strength to hold onto him in her state of shock.

He steered the horse back to the inn.

Confirming the common room to be empty, he guided her quickly to his chamber. He sat her in a chair and proceeded to start a fire in the simple stone fireplace. Soon he had a right proper blaze. Squatting down in front of her chair, he said, "I'm going to get someone to help fetch water for a bath. I want ye to lie down upon the floor here." He pointed at the far side of the bed. As soon as she was so situated, Liam went back outside.

He stabled the horse, making sure he had water, oats, and clean straw. He woke the stable boy, and with the promise of a good coin, solicited his help with the water buckets. "I've had myself a jolly brawl down at the pub and need a good soak," he offered as explanation for his bruised and bleeding face, and blood stained clothes. The lad and Liam --- with his good arm --- carried steaming water from the kitchen hearth and cold from the well, filling the copper tub in the chamber.

Finally they be alone, behind the locked door and bolted shutters, with only the firelight for illumination. He pulled her to her feet and brought her to the fire. "Let's get ye cleaned up, lass," he whispered. She stood unresisting as he removed the coat and trousers so that she stood naked. He slid the weighty engagement ring off her finger. Soaking a linen towel in the hot water and lathering it with soap, he used it to scrub the blood from her belly. A second towel rinsed her. "Now into the tub with ye," he said, and held her arm as she stepped in. "Sit, lass." She sank down with the water up to her neck, seeming dazed.

He undressed, gingerly moving his left arm to get his braces down. Boots, trousers, shirt. Standing naked, he examined himself. His left arm appeared to be internally sound, but there be gash along his arm and shoulder from Strachan's cane sword, and cuts round his elbow from the carriage window. Nigh the entire left side of his chest was a deep red bruise. Confused, he picked up the pea coat and inspected it. A bullet hole was in the left side where his heart would be. Inside he found no exit hole. He realized that the breast pocket be behind the hole, and he looked inside it. Slowly he drew out the stuffed pouch of gold coins and saw the hole in the leather, and the flattened bullet lodged between the coins. He almost laughed at the irony of it.

He wagered his rib or ribs be broken. Many years ago, when he was a lad, he had climbed the tower of the castle in Carrickfergus --- and had fallen, breaking a rib. The pain be similar.

Stepping into the tub, he eased himself into the hot water. There be just enough room for the two of them. He had her stand up at the end closer to the fire; the water reached to her thighs. Kneeling in front of her with the soap, he washed her again, this time from head to toe. She stood passively, and he did as he wished. Gently with his fingertip he cleaned the clotted blood from her lower lip, finding a laceration on the inside. He washed the tear tracks from her face. He worked the lather down her neck, shoulders, arms, and hands. Her wrists were red and raw from the sash, and she whimpered as he cleaned them.

Very softly he soaped her breasts, washing away the touch of the men's hands, stroking tenderly the round globes and small nipples where her flesh had been so roughly handled. Down her waist and belly, stirring thoroughly in her navel. He saw the angry red stripes from Strachan's caning above her cunny hair. He proceeded down her hips and thighs. He lifted her legs, one at a time, to wash her feet and calves. With her knee thus elevated, he could see her cunny lips and the weal along them.

Lathering his hand again, he looked up at her blank face, her eyes lost in some unknown vision. He swallowed and started to gently wash her cunny hair. He twirled and ran his soapy fingers through her little pelt, rubbing her mound, till it was a full puffy white froth. Then he advanced to more delicate ground. Re-lathering his hand, he slid his fingers back, finding her clitoris, and washing it and the soft notch at the start of her split. He lathered her outer lips and inner thighs. Slipping into her petals, he soaped between her outer and inner lips, then in central groove. With fresh suds he washed her opening proper, cleaning away any trace of the other men's touch.

Moving closer, he slid his slippery hands round to her bottom. Each supple cheek was carefully massaged and cleaned. Next his fingers lathered down into her cleft, swishing the suds lower and lower till his finger found her anus. He soaped the delicate folds of soft skin thoroughly, then swirled the pad of his fingertip round the firm little ring of muscle and central opening.

For the first time, his cock was quiescent as he handled her treasures. He remained for some time with his arms round her, pressing his face to her belly, overcome with emotion. He had his lass back...his heart was aching with his love for her. Although he had saved her from ravishment, he was tormented by the trauma to which she had been subjected. Might he have done something differently that would have produced a happier outcome for her? Under his cheek, he felt the movement of her belly with her breathing, and his tears ran down to be lost upon her wet skin. "I'm sorry, lass," he choked. "I'm sorry." Her body swayed slightly.

Presently, he shook himself back to action. He turned her round and washed her back, noting in sorrow the cane marks upon her lovely arse. He sat her down again and rinsed her in the water. Pulling the pins out of her hair, he washed that too. Finally he gave himself a thorough scrubbing.

Upon the hearth he dried her, and retrieving her nightgown from the saddle bag, slipped it over her. He put her into the big bed and covered her with the quilt; she fell into an immediate exhausted sleep --- or simply passed out. There be only two hours before they had to meet Jimmy --- let her have any rest she could.

While she slept, he washed her trousers, his shirt, and the pea coat, scrubbing away the blood as best he could. He hung them in front of the fire.

Nigh a half hour before they had to leave again, he put on his trousers, lit the lantern, and slipped out of the room. At the chamber at the end of the hall, he rapped softly upon the door. By and by came the question, "Who is it?"

"Franklin Webster," he said quietly.

The door opened and he saw Nicholas in a shirt and long drawers. He looked alert and anxious. "Did you fetch her safe?"

"Aye, lad. She be here now. Everything is well. Strachan and your stepfather will never bother her again."

"Then we can go home to Aunt Elizabeth's?"

Liam looked at him defensively. "Anya's coming with me."

"Oh. Then she said yes?"

"'Tis not that simple, ye see...some very terrible things happened to her tonight. You're too young to understand...and even if ye were older, ye wouldn't want to know...anyway...she be not in a state to discuss..."

They regarded each other for a moment without speaking.

"Come with me lad, and see her before we have to leave."

Nicholas followed him to his chamber. Inside, Liam turned up the lantern and knelt by the bed. "Anya, I have Nicholas here. Anya?" Her eyes opened and she sat up in confusion. "Nicholas is here." She turned slowly.

"Nicholas?" she said in a soft, strained voice. She slid out of the bed, clutching the quilt round her, and hugged him. "Are you well? Did they do anything to you?"

Liam could see the lad trying to hide his alarm at her bruised lip and swollen eyes. "I'm fine, Anya. Liam brought me here safe."

They spoke briefly while Liam packed up the few items into the saddle bag. The clothes were still damp, but they would have to do. In the end, Nicholas was happy to remember that he had an extra shirt in his rucksack, and gave it to his sister.

Liam brought the horse round and they said their goodbyes. With Anya in the saddle in front of him, he headed for the waterfront.

As they had agreed, Jimmy was waiting aboard his tug at Felsen's marina at three in the morning, the engine already rumbling. Liam introduced him to Anya.

"Boniface...aye, a fitting name, so it is. Even with thon big lip, lass, ye've got a right bonnie face on ye." He grinned at her.

In the dark harbor, they motored slowly to Strachan's private marina --- Jimmy knowing where it be. Liam knew not what to expect there --- whether Strachan's lackeys would be content to be free of their boss, or would carry on his vendetta, or set the police after them. Or if any guards there would even know of the night's events. When they arrived, he saw well-lit docks with rows of steam powered boats --- large, small, passenger, freight. There be few vessels with sailing rigs, and when he saw the Selkie's mast at the end of the last dock, he knew it right well.

Jimmy pulled alongside her, and Liam helped Anya across to the deck. He tossed a tow line to Jimmy, released the dock lines, and took the helm. As they pulled away, he saw behind them a man walking out on to the dock. A moment later, they were out of the halo of the gas lights.

At the mouth of the harbor, he stepped to the mast and started to raise the mainsail. 'Twas here at last that his strength failed him; with the broken ribs, he could not do it. Suddenly he heard a thud as Jimmy jumped onto the deck. "Could ye face some help?" he asked. Liam nodded. Together they hoisted the sails. The Selkie rocked, and the sails flapped gently. Liam looked at his friend. "Thank ye, Jimmy --- I dinna ken when we'll meet again --- we'll be sailing far from here. I can tell ye that ye need not trouble yourself about Strachan; he'll not be coming after ye."

Jimmy gave him a knowing look. "Good luck, me brother." They embraced, then Jimmy leapt back to the tug and heaved the line back.

Liam took the wheel and let the wind fill the sails. The Selkie headed out onto the dark lake.