Read Online Kit Black by Monica Danetiu-Pana - Free Book Online Page B

him.”
    The man’s name was Pierre. He had survived eight hours of swimming in the Atlantic. Our ship’s doctor wondered if he might lose one of his feet.
    â€œYou’ve nine lives, lad.”
    â€œYes, sir, I mean, ma’am. I’m very hungry.”
    â€œWe’ll feed you when your fever is down. What happened?”
    He explained that he had jumped after the ship was set ablaze. Most of the men were dead by then.
    â€œDid your Captain die?”
    â€œThey took him. They wanted to interrogate him, I’d expect. Captain Dupuis was a fine man, ma’am.”
    My heart leapt in my chest.
    ***
    â€œYou want to do what?” Roger yelled. “Board a British war ship?”
    â€œWe’ll do it at night. I’m sure they’re docked not far from here. They’ll have sustained a lot of damage, according to Pierre. I know we can do it.”
    â€œIt’s insane. Armand is likely dead, lass. They’ll have tortured him or—”
    â€œI have to try, Roger. I have to save him.”
    â€œStrange thing to do for someone you supposedly hate.”
    We found the English ship docked just off the coast. Most of the crew was drunk, including the night watch. They were easily taken.
    â€œFind the prisoner,” I tried not to let my voice quaver as I said it. I prayed that he wasn’t dead.
    I don’t think that Captain Wardman expected to be awakened by a masked woman holding the tip of her sword to his exposed privates. He was on his back in bed, a drunken frowsy doxy curled up beside him.
    â€œJesus,” he gasped. He tried to sit up and then thought better of it.
    â€œNo, not Jesus. My name is Kit Black. And if you move, Captain Wardman,” I lifted his flaccid penis with the tip of my sword, “I’ll cut it off.” A little trickle of blood flowed down into his pubic hair.
    At the sound of his scream, the doxy beside him awoke. She pulled the blankets up as far as she could and began to emit a high-pitched wail.
    â€œGet out of here,” I told her. “He wasn’t even worth it. He’s got the smallest manhood I’ve ever seen.”
    The whore just picked up her clothes and ran.
    â€œLet me dress,” Captain Wardman pleaded.
    â€œI think not. I plan to parade you out in front of what’s left of your men.”
    His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his skinny neck. “Why are you doing this? You have broken all the rules of engagement. We are a docked ship.”
    â€œYou broke the rules of engagement when you sailed under French colors to trick L’Esprit du Mer .”
    He swallowed hard.
    â€œParty’s over, Captain.” I moved the sword, allowing him enough inches to rise to his feet. “Slowly, now. We’re going to the deck.”
    â€œYou are an unnatural female,” he muttered.
    I poked him in his skinny buttocks, drawing more blood, and making him squeal.
    â€œMove.”
    The flogging technique is referred to as Moses Law. A shirtless man is given forty lashes, minus one. The name came from the number of lashes that Christ received from King Herod as related in the bible. It rarely results in death if the ship’s surgeon is allowed to treat the wounds directly following the beating.
    Armand had been given at least that many lashes with a whip dipped in tar and studded with musket balls. A vinegar and salt bath had followed to add further punishment. He smelled as if he’d been pickled. Add these insults to the musket ball that had grazed his temple during the battle and a deep cut to his thigh, and the man was lucky to be alive at all. The ship’s surgeon told me later that the salt and vinegar was a blessing. It tended to have an antiseptic effect.
    Roger and Terry supported Armand’s lifeless body between them. His head was lolling on his shoulders. I tried not to think of anything but the blessing that he still lived. I would think about what might