Voyage Home

Callum was looking around the corner of a stack of crates, watching the shabbily dressed men continue to move out of the large opening that faced the dock. He stayed out of sight as he watched. He could see Dustin and the man out on the dock through the large opening, still engaged in their conversation, Dustin was animated with his hand gestures, trying to keep the man engaged with distraction, but the man kept raising a hand of his own as if to stop Dustin from speaking any further. Callum heard a crash behind him along with a deep growl that echoed throughout the vast warehouse. Before he could turn, the men stopped and headed back in his direction. Callum moved, turning back toward the crash. He came around a stack of crates, the last before the cleared area and the single crate that Christian was going to open. His eyes went wide with what he saw.

Christian was against a stack of crates, on his hands and knees, shaking his head slowly. Callum saw the giant of a man stepping toward Christian, Christian’s sword was stuck in the man, his lower abdomen, standing up at a bit of an angle. Callum moved quickly, coming to Christian’s aid. He ran toward the single that the giant man was going behind to reach Christian. Callum used the crate, putting his hands on it, launching himself, swinging his legs around, putting his feet out, pushing with his hands on the lid of the single crate. The giant man heard the movement and turned his head as Callum’s feet made contact with the giant square in his chest, Callum bouncing off the solid mass and going to the stone floor with a heavy thud.

The giant man was staggering backward from the impact of Callum’s feet and slammed into a stack of crates. He growled loudly in his throat. Callum was getting to his own feet as the giant came off the stack of crates and took a few steps toward him. Callum got up to face him as the hit came, the backhand. The power of it sent Callum up and over the single crate through the air and he landed on the stone floor, sliding to a stop. He grunted as he tried to get up and then he realized that he was not alone.

The men that were shabbily dressed had come into the open area and were all about him. Callum got up, wiping the blood from his swelling lip with the back of his hand. He went to reach for his sword, but noticed the men did not move. The giant of a man stood there a moment, he and Callum making eye contact and a sneer went over the scarred face, the upper lip curled.

“You are brave…but very foolish.” The deep voice of the giant man said, heavy with an accent. Callum narrowed his eyes as the giant man turned and went back to Christian, reaching down with one hand, gripping Christian around his throat, lifting him. Callum went to move but the men stepped forward, grabbing Callum by the arms, holding him firmly.

Christian started to choke as he was lifted, his hands going to the wrist that was attached to the hand that gripped him, Christian was on his tip toes and then was lifted off the stone floor. He tightened his own neck muscles to try and fight against the tightening that was on him.

“English boy…you will die.” The deep voice said. The sneer on the lips deepened. Christian’s eyes were bugging and pressing against his sockets as he kicked his feet wildly. The giant of a man reached up his free hand and pulled the sword that stuck in him out and dropped it to the floor. Callum struggled against the men but to no avail, there were too many that held him and then he saw it in a flash and they all heard the sound, all eyes turned and looked.

“Release him…or I shall blow a hole through your head.” Thomas said as he put the barrel of the cocked pistol to the temple of the giant man, angling up because of how tall he was. The eyes of the larger man shifted as he felt the steel of the barrel against him. He opened his fingers and Christian fell to the stone floor, coughing and holding his throat. More voices could be heard now echoing in the vast building, shouts and the sounds of feet, running on the stone floor.

“You men…release him or by God, I shall pull this trigger and scatter his brains.” Thomas said loudly, his voice full of authority as it echoed in the vastness of the building. The men reluctantly let go of Callum, he shrugged his arms of the last of the hands that held him and stepped away from them all.

“Who are you?” Came an older sounding voice from behind Callum. Callum turned and saw an older man that was stepping through the group. The man was grayed in his hair that was mussed, shabbily dressed as were the others. Callum recognized him as the man that Dustin had engaged out on the dock.

“That is none of your concern.” Thomas said, again in full authority, his eyes never looking away from the giant of a man. Dustin pushed through the group at that moment, seeing what was going on and quickly stepped toward Christian, who was still on his hands and knees. Dustin knelt down beside him, putting his hands on Christian to help support him.

“His name is Quintan Callum.” Another voice said. It was rich sounding and echoed. Callum spun on his heels toward it. The man that was attached to the voice stepped out from between two stacks of crates and stopped. He was tall, finely dressed in dark clothes that were well tailored. A sword hung from a belt, the long coat covered part of it. His eyes were like steel, piercing, but narrowed. His face was handsome, square jawed and regal. His hair was a deep brown, trimmed neatly as if there was nothing out of place, “It’s been a long time, Quintan.”

“Atch?” Callum asked softly, his hand on his sword pommel. Dustin was looking back and forth between the man and Callum.

“Yes.” The man said, “I see that you have met Griffould.” He stepped slowly, cautiously to his right, his hand slowly going to his sword, fingers pushing the long coat back out of the way as they reached for the elegant pommel, resting on it finally. Callum was shifting his eyes between the fingers of the man and his face, “I do not think formal introductions are required. Captain Tomlin, would you kindly lower your pistol please?”

“I think not, sir, whoever you are.” Thomas said, not flinching in the least.

“Atchwood Franklin Penrose.” Callum said, “The son of Lord Upton.” The man bowed his head slightly in response to Callum’s loose introduction.

“I see that you have discovered what it is that is stored here, Quintan. I must say I am not surprised. You always were very a quick study at school.” The man said, “What I don’t understand is, how did you find this place?”

“That will remain my secret, Atch.” Callum said.

“I cannot allow you to leave, I am afraid, Quintan. There must be no knowledge of this given to others, say such as Lord Eldon.” Atch said.

“I understand your meaning, Atch, however I apologize if for sounding rude, but we are leaving.” Callum said, standing firm as he stared at the man.

“I think not.” Atch said and shifted his eyes toward the giant of a man, “Griffould.” The giant of a man moved.

In a flash, the giant of a man pushed against Thomas, sending him back against a stack of crates. The giant turned and sent a fist toward Thomas, who ducked, the fist crashing through the wood of the crate behind where Thomas’ head had been, splintering it. There was a growl in the throat as Thomas had spun away. He went to level the pistol as the giant of a man pulled his fist out of the wood, Thomas pulled the trigger as the giant was on him. The cloud of smoke billowed around them both, the shot echoed in the vastness of the building.

Several of the men rushed at Callum, who drew his sword in the blink of an eye, back slashing through the closest three, they started to crumple as Callum stabbed into a fourth making him scream.

Dustin rolled away from Christian, seeing his own sword next to the single crate in the large clear area they were all in. He pulled it to him as he rose in a fluid motion to his feet, throwing the scabbard away as he came into stance. A flash of steel and then as the ringing as steel met steel, echoing. Atch had pulled his blade and swung toward Dustin, Dustin countering. The dance between them was on.

Thomas freed himself from the grip of the giant man, backing up out of the cloud of smoke, pulling another pistol from his belt. He looked up as he saw the eyes, almost burning coming at him. He cocked the pistol, but could not raise it in time as the giant hand gripped his wrist, Thomas jerked the trigger and it went off. There was a grunt and then a growl in the new cloud of smoke as he was pushed back even further into another stack of crates, crashing into it. He went wide eyed as the giant of a man came through the new cloud toward him.

Callum dispatched the fifth of the shabbily dressed men, running his three-sided blade through the man’s throat, pushing against him and following him as he fell backward, Callum pulling his blade from the now dead man under his feet. He readied himself against the more than now dozen that were surrounding him.

Dustin countered again against Atch and lunged, it was blocked and then a back swing, Dustin ducking it, then thrusting, it was parried, the blade sang as the contact was made. They both pushed against one another, sliding their blades, going pommel to pommel, face to face. Their eyes locked on one another for a brief moment, Atch being larger than Dustin in height only had the quicker response as Dustin hesitated for a moment, a split second, and was pushed against, Dustin backing up a step, sword tip up. He saw the move coming, the thrust and circled the blade with his own, sliding down and thrust away, the blade going out of Atch’s hand, clattering across the stone floor. Atch froze and narrowed his eyes a moment.

“Impressive.”

“You have no idea.” Dustin said, he pointed his blade at the throat of his slightly stunned opponent, “I am not above killing you.”

“I believe you.” Atch said and shifted his eyes only to look beyond Dustin, “However, your companions will die before me.” Dustin lowered his guard at his words, changing his stance and looked behind him. He gasped slightly.

Christian had been set upon by two of the shabbily dressed men, one was holding Christian from behind, the other using balled up fists pounded his face over and over, Christian eyes were beginning to swell, the blood was coming from a badly cut lip and as Dustin turned to go to help he also saw Thomas still dodging the giant of a man. Callum was holding the odd dozen or so men at bay with his sword. He was trying to back up.

Dustin moved, coming to Christian’s aid as he was closest. Dustin made eye contact with the man that was pounding Christian over and over, there was fear in the man’s eye as Dustin lunged, piercing him in the chest with his sword. The man fell back away, Dustin coming beside the man that held Christian. Dustin used his elbow, forcefully smashing it into the man’s face, he letting Christian go fell back, Christian dropping to the stone floor. Dustin continued on to the first man he had stabbed. The man growled in his throat and went to lunge toward Dustin, Dustin dropped to one knee, letting his blade run through the man as his momentum carried him forward. Dustin pulled his blade, turning and getting to his feet. He saw the glint of steel, the second man pulling a knife from his belt, arcing it over his head and came down with it before Dustin could reach out. The blade went into Christian’s back below the right shoulder blade, Christian let out a brief but agonized grunt going to the stone floor. Dustin ran his blade through the second man, burying the sword fully in him to the pommel. There was a gurgling sound that came from him, Dustin put his free hand to the man’s throat and pushed, making him fall behind Christian freeing the sword.

The giant of a man, Griffould, was slow to catch Thomas as his wounds were taking over, the loss of blood was becoming great. Not only the wound from Christian stabbing him with the sword, there was a bullet wound in his left side, the second pistol shot had hit him in the upper right thigh. Thomas saw Christian on the floor, Dustin turning to give him aid, kneeling down to him. Thomas became enraged, still holding the spent pistol in his hand. The giant lunged, swinging both arms as if to wrap them around Thomas, Thomas ducked, got out from under them, then came back up, he swung the spent pistol, the heavy barrel hitting Griffould over the top of the head.

“Fall, monster.” Thomas growled, hitting him again hard, this time breaking open the skin of the bald head. Eyes blinked heavily, the head shook a bit as if to clear itself of fog. Thomas saw it and swung again with all his might, this time hitting the temple, the head spun and then came back slowly, “I said…fall, monster.” Thomas growled and arced his arm to hit again, but he was stopped, the hand grabbing him. Blood covered the scarred face, Thomas fought against the grip that held his arm, but it was twisted. There was a snap that could be heard, Thomas screamed and dropped the spent pistol. The sneer returned to the blood covered lips and the other hand was raised, a fist was formed and pulled back.

“You fought well…now it is time for you to die.” The deep voice came. Thomas closed his eyes from the pain, his broken arm being twisted even more. Another growl echoed, one not heard as of yet. Dustin launched himself onto the back of the giant man, sword held in his right, his left wrapping around the blood covered bald head, pulling as he dug his boot heels into the back of the giant of a man, pulling with his left with all his might, the sword flashed as it came and cut into the throat as the blade was pulled through the air. A deep groan was heard and Thomas was dropped to the stone floor. Dustin falling backward as the giant of a man went to his knees. Dustin hit the stone floor and got quickly to his feet, seeing the giant, Griffould, falling forward next to Thomas. Dustin spun and launched himself coming to Callum’s side as the men were closing in about him. Some had bits of wood in their hands like clubs, others had boat knives. All were ready to spring.

“Enough.” The voice said. The dozen men stood their ground, Callum shifting his eyes as he looked them over, “Do not harm him. He is mine and mine alone.” The voice said, it was Atch, “Kill the boy beside him however.”

“Over my dead body.” Callum said.

“I think you have the idea now, Quintan. That is exactly what is going to happen.” Atch said.

“Dustin,” Callum whispered as he tilted his head a bit, “take Thomas and Christian, get them out of here.”

“I am not leaving you.” Dustin whispered in reply as he looked at the men that were in front of him.

“Do as I say, it’s our only chance.” Callum whispered.

“No. They will kill you.”

“Go…now.” Callum whispered and lunged forward with a swing taking out the closest two in front of him. They groaned as they fell, Callum not killing them but wounding them. Dustin watched for a moment. He realized what Callum was trying to do and thought for a split second, he knew Callum was right. Dustin backed up and went to Thomas.

“Thomas, get to your feet.” Dustin said as he held out his blade, some of the men were coming toward them, “Thomas.” Dustin said and heard Thomas groan as he got to his feet, Dustin got in front of Thomas, moving him toward Christian, a few steps away.

“Kill that boy!” Atch said. One of the men lunged forward, Dustin stabbed him in the upper chest and he screamed as he fell.

“Thomas, help me with Christian.” Dustin said, keeping his guard up, getting to Christian’s side. Thomas’ right arm had been snapped in half and was dangling at his side. Dustin shifted the sword to his left hand, grabbing Christian and lifting him partially off the floor, Thomas used his left hand and grabbed Christian’s other arm, lifting him, getting Christian between them both and supported him.

“He’s still alive.” Thomas said feeling the breathing of Christian. Thomas worked Christian’s right arm over his shoulder and supported him. Dustin worked the left and they turned as a group and backed toward the stacks of crates as Callum moved to cover their escape. Atch stood back behind the shabbily dressed men, watching carefully. Dustin kept his sword up and at the ready against the men that pressed closer to their group.

Callum swung twice, men backed up to stay out of reach of the blade. Callum bent and picked up the one uniform that Christian had taken from the single crate. He looked once over his shoulder, Dustin saw it. Callum tossed the uniform toward him and spun back to face the men. One had thought this was the opportunity and lunged toward Callum, but he was cut down quickly and fell to the stone floor. Dustin took the uniform and draped it over his shoulder.

“Anyone else?” Callum asked, his sword still at the ready.

“You are not going anywhere, Quintan.” Atch said and stepped forward, “We have unfinished business to attend to, you and I.”

“Perhaps another time, Atch.” Callum said.

“No, there is no time like right now. I will have my revenge against you, Quintan. I have so waited for it, all these years, and now you will not deny me.” Atch said.

“Quintan, come on.” Thomas said with a grunt. Callum stared at his old love, an adult now, but he saw the boy in him, the boy he had loved once.

“Alright, Atch.” Callum said, “Call off your dogs, let my companions go and I will satisfy you and your revenge.”

“No one leaves here, Quintan.” Atch said.

“I will stay, Atch, I will surrender myself to you, but only if you let my friends go.” Callum said.

“No, Quintan.” Dustin said, “We can make it.”

“What about it, Atch? Me for my friends.” Callum said. He watched the expression change to one that was cold, callous, empty. He had seen it before, their last day together, the last time that Callum had seen him.

“Your word?” Atch asked.

“I give you my word of honor.” Callum said and it was the first time that Callum had seen him smile, a sick kind of smile as it were.

“Your word of honor, as an officer, a gentleman, I suppose.” Atch said and stepped to his left slowly as if starting to circle. He feel silent for a long moment and then cocked his head slightly, “I will hold you to your word,…Captain.”

“We can’t let the others go.” The older man from the dock said as he looked at Atch.

“Oh, yes we can.” Atch said, the smile changed and went from sick to almost evil as it were Callum thought upon seeing it, “You see, I know where they are going. They will arrive just in time to be taken by those that are waiting for their return.”

“Quintan?” Thomas called out from the stacks of crates, making their way backward toward the side door of the building.

“Go, Thomas,” Callum said, letting his voice echo in the vastness, “go where you will be safe and looked after.”

“There is no safety for them, Quintan. You see, no matter where they go, they will be found and killed immediately. I only wish you would be alive yourself to see it, as they die slowly, one by one.” Atch said in a low voice.

Callum looked over his shoulder once toward the stacks of crates. He did not see the others, and sighed to himself silently, thinking that they must have gotten away safely. He turned his attention back to what was before him, the group of shabbily dressed men and the man that pulled their strings, Atchwood Franklin Penrose.

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“We can’t leave him.” Dustin said, tears filled his eyes, “I can’t leave him.”

“You must, Dustin.” Thomas said as they had struggled putting Christian into the carriage, “I cannot drive with my arm, Christian is dying, we need to save him. Help me to help him, please.” Thomas said with obvious pain in his voice. Dustin looked at a very pale looking Christian that was slumped in the seat. The swelling of his eyes from the beating was more than obvious now, the blood that was smeared all over his face from cuts, and there was the wound from the knife.

“Where shall we go?” Dustin asked as he looked at Thomas, “There is no place that will be safe.”

“Oh yes there is.” Thomas said, “Did you not hear Quintan? He said to go someplace that is safe and that we will be looked after. We need to get to the Admiralty. There are surgeons there. Do you know the way?” Thomas asked and Dustin nodded, “We can send Marines back here for Quintan. We must hurry. He will buy us time but not much.” Thomas said and touched Dustin on the arm, Dustin nodded his reply and climbed up on the bench and took the reins. Thomas climbed in and sat down next to Christian. He reached for another pistol and cocked it, putting it beside him as the carriage leaped forward, Dustin snapping the reins hard.

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Callum slowly stepped in a wide circle as did Atch, opposite him in the large clear area. The men that were shabbily dressed, those that survived had backed up, pulling those that were wounded out of the way, those that were dead were left for the moment.

“I have waited so long for this as I have said, Quintan.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Atch.” Callum said, holding his blade low as he stepped slowly continuing in the wide circle, Atch walking slowly as well.

“Oh but it does, Quintan, it does. You shamed me, hurt me in the eyes of my father. I trusted you, you were my friend but you betrayed me with your…unnatural ways.” Atch said.

“There is nothing unnatural about it, Atch. I am who I am.” Callum said, “I was your friend, but you turned against me. And as far as my ways, I seem to recall you enjoyed it very much before you went home, before that day that ended us.”

“Enough.” Atch said, “I will hear no more from you.”

“Again, I’m afraid you must, Atch.” Callum said, “You see, all I wanted was to share what I felt with you, my closest friend. You, you turned your back on me, tried to kill me, all because of your father. I think all you wanted to do was please him, to follow what he laid out for you, to follow his way of thinking, whether it be wrong or right.”

“Shut up.” Atch said, bouncing his sword tip up and down as he was becoming angry.

“You know I’m right, Atch. We were too close of friends for me not to be right, and you know it.”

“I said, shut up.” Atch said.

“Make me.” Callum said, lifting his sword a bit, using the fingers of his left hand to invite Atch to move against him, a tease. There was a growl and Atch came across the clear area around the single crate and swung his sword with anger and blinding speed. The clang of steel echoed throughout the vast space over and over as the hits of the blades came again and again, Atch continued to press his attack, Callum countering but stayed on the defensive, Atch pushing but not gaining ground against him.

“Someone has taught you the blade I see.” Atch growled and tried to lunge, Callum blocked it but did not press the advantage he had for a split second. Atch compensated and tried to lunge again.

“Yes, I did learn the blade, as have you. It seems to be a Spanish influence with your style.” Callum said blocking another lunge.

“Good of you to notice, Quintan.” Atch said and composed himself and controlled his anger a bit, bringing focus back to the blade. He back swung, Callum parried quickly, “My time abroad.”

“Ah, I was wondering what might have happened to you after Sheflands.” Callum said, blocking another swing.

“You have no idea.”

“I think I do. Your father sent you away, ashamed and fearful of what you might want, what you might desire.” Callum said and sidestepped, blocking another lunge, he spun his blade back and knocked Atch’s blade away from his own.

“I had only one desire, and that was to kill you.” Atch said with a growl as he swung wildly, Callum ducked the first swing, then rose, blocking the second with his own blade, “You know nothing.” Atch said as he almost spit the words, his anger building again.

“Again, you forget, I know you, Atch. We were friends, close friends.” Callum said and watched as the eyes of his opponent almost burned with the fire of rage.

“You disgust me! I’ll chop your body into pieces!” Atch spit as he leaped forward, Callum caught one of his wrists and spun him, using the weight to his advantage, Atch dropped his sword and spun almost out of control. His chest was heaving and he screamed in rage and ran toward Callum, colliding with him, they both clattered to the floor, Callum struggled against him, but was hit again and again with fists in the head, his chest. Callum regripped his sword and used the pommel, smashing it into Atch’s handsome face, knocking him senseless for a moment, Callum pushed him off him and got to his feet, sword point to Atch’s throat.

“It is done. Stop and surrender,…now.” Callum said with his voice of authority. Atch got to his knees, his chin being lifted by the blade point, “You have no choice.”

“Yes, I do.” Atch said, Callum cocked his head to one side slightly, “Griffould.” Callum felt the powerful hand grip his shoulder, squeezing and pulling him away from Atch. He was tossed across the large open area and hit the stone floor, losing his sword, and sliding to a stack of crates. Callum raised himself up on one arm and shook his head. He saw the giant of a man coming toward him, limping slightly as he came on, one hand reaching out in front of him as if to take Callum by the throat. Callum got to one knee as Griffould reached out to take him, Callum rolled under him, going to his side, he used one leg and swung it quickly, kicking the giant of a man’s feet out from under him, bringing him to the stone floor with a heavy thud, knocking the wind out of him. Callum got up quickly and went to get his sword but a few steps away but he was grabbed by several hands from behind and held. He struggled but there were too many on him.

“I told you I would have you.” Atch said as he came toward Callum as he struggled. Atch bent down and picked up his own sword, swinging it once and then walked toward Callum. The evil smile had returned to the handsome face, but there was also a bit of satisfaction behind it now. Callum stopped struggling against the tight grip of the men, “I also said I would cut you into pieces. I am going to enjoy this, Quintan, more than you know. Once you have bled yourself dry, I will have them dump what is left of you in the Thames for the fish to enjoy. Then after that, I will find your companions and finish what was started here. I will enjoy cutting up your young friend especially as I know that you obviously enjoy him as you once did with me. It will end.” Atch said and turned away, taking two steps, then turned back, the blade was lifted that he held, it gleamed in what light there was about them and that evil smile grew even more. The arm was bent, pulled back and was set. Callum watched as he knew his time had come. One of the men behind him that held him grunted and fell. The sword was lowered slightly as another fell with a thump being heard before the groan of the man.

“What?” The older man from the dock asked as he turned to see what was happening. The heavy oaken staff made hard contact in the middle of his forehead and he fell like a great tree in the forest to the stone floor. More grunts and hands let go of Callum as men were being dispatched with multiple hits, all were falling and Callum made his move, charging into Atch, taking him by surprise, tackling him to the stone floor.

They struggled for control of the blade, rolling together as the men around them fell one by one, or in pairs. Callum was focused on the task at hand and continued to struggle against the powerful Atch. Several punches thrown by each, the blade was knocked away and Callum was on top of his opponent and had control of him. They stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity, but the reality was a second only, Callum backhanded Atch with all the force he could muster, again knocking him senseless. Callum rose to one knee over Atch grabbing him by the shirt collar, balling up his right fist, he pulled back and pounded the handsome face again and again, blood erupting from the nose. Eyes closed and the body under Callum went limp. Callum let him go and let him drop to the stone floor. He turned his head and saw his savior and smiled briefly as the last of the men backed away from the onslaught.

“Shill.” Callum whispered as he came to his feet and went quickly to his sword, “You men, surrender yourselves, here and now.” The voice of authority echoed throughout the vast building. The struggle with the men was over and Callum came up close to his old friend and mentor, “What kept you?” Callum asked softly. The older man with the bandages around his eyes cocked his head to one side.

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The carriage pulled up in front of the great building of the Admiralty. The two Marine Sentries saw the three men in the carriage. Thomas stood up and with his one good arm, motioned for them to come. They carefully came down the wide stone steps toward the wide walk, their muskets held in both hands.

“I am Captain Tomlin, HMS Dover. This is Captain Holt of the Royal Marines, he is severely wounded. Help us to get him into the surgery.” Thomas said, his voice had a commanding tone to it, the Marines came closer, “Dustin, help with the door.” Thomas said and looked at the Marines, “Hurry. Where is Lord Hood or Lord Fitzwarren?”

“They are in chambers, I believe, sir.” One of the Marines said as he looked at Christian.

“He has been beaten and stabbed.” Dustin said as he climbed in to lift Christian. The Marines saw the condition of the officer, one of their own, and the other Sentry recognized Christian.

“My God, it is Captain Holt.” He said softly. He set his musket down and helped Dustin to take Christian out of the back of the carriage.

“Gently, gently.” Dustin said as they climbed out. Thomas followed them out and then went around them as the Marines carried the unconscious Christian up the steps. Thomas reached the doors and opened them with his one good hand and went in. The Registrar was at the small desk speaking to two officers who had their backs to Thomas.

“I have a wounded man and need a surgeon immediately.” Thomas said, the Registrar looked around the two officers as they turned to see who was speaking, “I need to see Lord Hood or Lord Fitzwarren immediately as well. Where is the Captain of the Marines?” Thomas asked as the Marines carried Christian in, Dustin following them, closing the doors behind them.

“Captain Tomlin.” Isaac Middleboro, 3rd Lt. of Dover was wide eyed at seeing his commander standing there, the other officer was Lt. Henry Dorland, attaché to Lord Fitzwarren. Thomas focused through his pain as to who was standing there in front of him.

“Isaac,” Thomas smiled and the pain caught up to him as there was a bustling of activity about him. Dustin was at his side supporting him now, “must get back…”

“Easy, Thomas, I’ve got you.” Dustin said.

“What’s happened?” Middleboro asked and recognized Dustin, as did Dorland.

“Dustin, what’s happened?” Dorland asked as Thomas slumped.

“We were attacked, on the docks. Quintan is still there. He was covering our escape and needs assistance.” Dustin said as he took Thomas’ full weight.

“What happened to him?” Middleboro stepped in and helped support his Captain.

“His arm was broken severely. He needs a surgeon.” Dustin said. He and Middleboro carried the slumped Captain Tomlin out of the foyer and toward the surgery.

“What the devil is going on down there?!” The booming voice filled the open area from above.

“A moment, My Lord.” Dorland said as he looked up and spoke to Fitzwarren as they went toward the surgery doors.

“Is that Tomlin?!” Fitzwarren asked as he rounded the bannister and started down the stairs.

“What’s left of him, My Lord.” Dorland said without looking back as they entered the surgery, a doctor was waiting and had them place Thomas on a table. He set about with a great pair of shears and started to cut the shirt apart that Thomas wore. Dustin saw three others working on Christian, one was shaking his head slightly and reached over for a jar on the next table.

“What the devil is going on in here?” Fitzwarren’s voice boomed throughout the surgery. Dustin watched as the surgeon was looking over Thomas’ arm. It was discolored around where the break was, bruising very dark to a deep purplish color.

“My Lord, if I may…” Dorland said but Fitzwarren walked up behind Dustin, seeing him wearing a sword.

“Dustin Perkins, are you not?” Fitzwarren asked, Dustin turned around and saw him standing there and swallowed hard and bowed his head.

“My Lord.” Dustin said softly.

“Where is Callum?” Fitzwarren asked. Dustin looked him in the eyes, his own getting wet from the thought of Callum and what might have happened to him by now.

“He sacrificed himself, My Lord, to allow us time to escape.” Dustin said.

“He’s dead?” Fitzwarren asked.

“I do not know, My Lord, I hope not.” Dustin’s voice quivered.

“Where is he?” Fitzwarren asked.

“On the docks, in Anne’s Quarter, My Lord.” Dustin said, Fitzwarren turned.

“Dorland, fetch the Captain of the Marines. Have every man assembled, block wagons, horses, everything. We must get to Anne’s Quarter right away.” Fitzwarren said.

“Yes, My Lord.” Dorland said, tipping his hand, he turned and went quickly to the doors. Fitzwarren turned back to Dustin.

“You will lead the way.” Fitzwarren said as a tear dropped from Dustin’s eye, “I know what he means to you, my lad. He means a great deal to me as well. Fear not, he will be alright, I assure you. He has survived great odds against him in the past.” Fitzwarren said and put a hand on Dustin’s shoulder, “Now tell me, what is going on?”

“Lord Hood knows of this, My Lord, as does His Grace and Lord Eldon. I cannot speak of it, you must understand.” Dustin said.

“Damn, it’s that Upton, isn’t it?” Fitzwarren asked above a whisper. Dustin’s eyes widened a bit, “His Lordship explained part of it to me. I am with you, my lad, trust in that. We will see this done.” Dustin bowed his head slightly toward the older man and then looked over his shoulder at his friends laid out on their respective tables being worked by surgeons, “They couldn’t be in better hands, I assure you.” Fitzwarren said to Dustin’s ear, “Are you injured?” Dustin turned back and looked at him.

“No, My Lord.” Dustin said.

“Good.” Fitzwarren said and smiled briefly. Dustin saw Middleboro still standing there behind Fitzwarren and then saw the door open and was relieved by who he saw entering.

“Captain Arvin.” Dustin whispered. Arvin surveyed all about him that was going on in the surgery and stepped up next to Fitzwarren seeing Dustin.

“Dustin, what has happened? Where is Quintan?” Arvin asked.

“Oh, sir, he is on the docks. He was holding off those that attacked us so we could escape.” Dustin said, his voice was faltering again.

“Dear God. How many?” Arvin asked.

“At least a dozen, sir.”

“The Captain of the Marines is assembling his men, My Lord. They are loading now and standing by.” Arvin said.

“Good. Fetch my sword and…” Fitzwarren said and Arvin held out his hand, Fitzwarren’s sword was in it, “I see.” Fitzwarren said, taking it from Arvin, “Alright, let’s be off.” Fitzwarren said and turned for the doors, he went through, Dustin, Arvin, and Middleboro followed.

“I have a carriage out front, My Lord.” Dustin said going around Fitzwarren and heading for the entrance doors of the Admiralty.

“Excellent.” Fitzwarren said, Dorland was coming toward them all.

“Marines are gathered and at the ready, My Lord.” Dorland said, bowing his head slightly.

“Captain Arvin, you’re with me and Perkins, Dorland you as well.” Fitzwarren boomed as he was heading to follow Dustin, Arvin hobbled as fast as he could behind him, “The rest of you, stand fast here until sent for, if needed. One of you, inform Lord Hood we have gone to assist Captain Callum.”

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“How did you find me, Shill?” Callum asked. He held his sword up, keeping the men at bay as they were on their knees on the stone floor.

“E be e’sy, Cap’n. E knew ye were comin.” The older blind man cocked his head the other way as he replied.

“Well, it’s good to see you.” Callum said and smiled. He heard something and looked over his shoulder. He turned and saw the giant of a man, Griffould getting to his feet, covered in blood, Callum turned to face him, “Stay down.” Callum said in his voice of authority. The giant of a man did not listen. He rolled and got to one knee and started to stand.

“Cap’n.” Shill said as he readied his oaken staff with both hands. The men watched nervously as Callum went to Griffould, sword out.

“I’ll kill you if I have to.” Callum said.

“Try…little man.” Griffould said as he pushed with his good leg to stand. Callum balled up his left fist and let it fly, hitting the scarred bloodied face, the head turned and came back in an instant. The eyes flashed and there was a growl deep in the thick throat. Callum went to hit him again but a hand caught the fist before it could be landed. Callum was held tight and then his fist was twisted, Callum tensed the muscle to fight against it, another growl as Griffould rose to full height. Callum swung his sword, bringing it to the far leg, pulling against and sliced into muscle. A deep groan echoed.

The men that watched looked at each other briefly and then toward Shill, knowing he was blind, yes, but after what he had done to them, taking them out the way he had, they were more than afraid and had had more than enough of all of it. They all nodded to each other and rose up almost as one, Shill felt it and readied himself, but the men that were shabbily dressed ran off through the stacks of crates. Those that were too wounded to run away with the others were left behind.