Doctor Who_ The Roundheads Part 26

Ben crouched down low and scurried towards the cabin, confident that he and Winter could ransack the place unmolested, at least for the time being. He raced forward and then pulled up sharply as he collided with a heavy weight which was swinging in the air directly before him.

A cry of horror left him involuntarily as he realised the weight was a man's body, swinging from the yardarm. Worse than that, it was the body of Isaac Ashdown, his face bloated and black, his purple tongue protruding sickeningly from his open mouth. A viciously tight noose was wrapped around his broken neck.

So, Stanislaus had rumbled them, he thought, and tortured the truth out of the only decent man in his crew, just as O'Kane had said.

Filled with bitter anger, Ben ran towards the captain's cabin. A light was blazing within and Ben positioned himself as close to the little window as he dared.

Inside, he saw a sight that made his heavy heart sink further still. Winter stood behind the desk, her hands raised above her head, being covered with a pistol by G.o.dley.

Another man, all in black, whom Ben did not recognise, stood by the cabin wall, a thin smile on his skeletal features.

'Quite a prize!' G.o.dley was saying. 'Wait until the captain returns. It seems he had no need to board your ship. You were in too much of a hurry to come here!'

Winter scrutinised him closely. 'Mind your tongue, lad, lest you lose it.'

G.o.dley c.o.c.ked the pistol and levelled it coolly at Winter's face. 'You don't scare me, you she-ape. I've faced down far more dreadful apparitions than you.'

Again Winter looked at the young man and this time her weathered, powder-pocked face a.s.sumed a puzzled frown. 'Do I not know you, sir?'

G.o.dley smiled, almost, thought Ben, like some actor stopped for his autograph. But then the handsome fellow shook his rich curls. 'I think not, Captain. Unless you have seen me in your nightmares!'

Winter shook her ma.s.sive head. 'No. I think it would have been somewhere altogether more corporeal.'

G.o.dley seemed a little unnerved by her attention and glanced quickly at the other man. 'Where is that idiot Pole?'

he hissed. 'We must get him word that the Demeter Demeter's mistress is our prisoner.' The stranger nodded but made no move to help. 'Well?' thundered G.o.dley. 'Away, man! 'Sblood! Must I do everything myself?'

For the first time, the curious man spoke and Ben found himself physically recoiling, even with the window between them.

'I am not concerned with this pettiness. I have work elsewhere.' The voice was dry as dust and Dutch in accent.

Ben suddenly realised that this must be the man Stanislaus and G.o.dley had visited in Amsterdam.

G.o.dley raised his pistol as though to strike the man and Ben took his chance. He hurled himself through the window, which exploded inward, and landed flat on his face on a carpet of shattered gla.s.s.

Winter reacted at once, sliding her bulk over the desk and smashing G.o.dley's wrist against the woodwork. Again and again she moved until the pistol fell from the young man's grip.

Ben jumped to his feet and stood there, breathing heavily as Winter pointed the weapon at G.o.dley and the Dutchman.

'Well, my boys, seems the boot's on the other foot, now, eh?' cackled Winter.

G.o.dley sighed. 'If you think you can get off this ship, peg leg, then you're a bigger fool than you look.' He smiled nastily. 'And you look pretty foolish.'

Winter's face darkened. 'I give you one minute to tell me who you be. Then I'll plaster these four walls with your brains.'

G.o.dley seemed entirely unfazed. 'My name is Robert G.o.dley. I have some business with the captain. If I realised how he supplemented his commissions I should certainly have gone elsewhere.'

Winter waved her hand. 'Never mind that. What is this package you were to bring back?'

A flicker of fear fluttered over G.o.dley's face. He licked his lips and couldn't help but glance at his companion.

Ben turned to him. 'Perhaps you know, Dutch? Eh?'

Winter grunted her agreement. 'Yes, surely this fellow knows. Did they not pick up the package from you?' Suddenly the captain's eyebrows lifted and a gleam of excitement came into her good eye. 'Or... or are you the package yourself?'

Ben looked at her. 'What?'

Suddenly there were shouts outside, and the sound of feet tramping closer.

'Stanislaus!' cried Ben. 'It must be Stanislaus coming back!'

Winter looked rapidly round the cabin. 'Well, well. No time for answers. This treachery ends here.'

She pointed the pistol towards a coil of rope which was swinging from the wall. 'Ben. Tie them up.'

Ben dashed to the wall and, within seconds, had secured G.o.dley and the Dutchman together by their wrists.

Winter hustled Ben to the door and then kicked G.o.dley in the small of the back, sending him and the strange Dutchman sprawling into the corner.

She bowed low and raised the pistol.

'Farewell, gentlemen,' she said with a flashy smile.

G.o.dley screwed up his face in expectation of the shot but instead Winter pulled a small, round object, which looked to Ben like a cricket ball, from her coat. It was like a hard leather sack and had a long, tapering cord trailing from it.

With a throaty laugh, she struck a flint and set light to the cord, which immediately began to burn.

Then she placed the bomb carefully on Stanislaus's desk and dashed out of the cabin.

Despite her clumsy gait, the captain moved quickly and she and Ben were soon on to the ropes and back aboard the Demeter Demeter, where, from a safe distance, they watched Stanislaus and a dozen of his men marching back towards the cabin.

The Demeter Demeter began to pull away and Winter stood on her deck in the pitch dark, waving her hat above her head. began to pull away and Winter stood on her deck in the pitch dark, waving her hat above her head.

'They've been beat!' she screeched. 'My brave lads have fought 'em off.'

Ben looked quickly around. He could see much devastation, but most of the crew seemed to be intact and had lined up alongside their captain, grinning and sweating with exertion, their swords hanging slackly at their sides.

'Now, Pole!' cried Winter. 'Let's see how you like that!'

There was a long pause and Ben wondered what the strange woman was going on about.

Then there came a tremendous, shocking roar and the darkness exploded into fiery light. Flames raced up the rigging of the Teazer Teazer and Ben let out an involuntary whoop of delight. and Ben let out an involuntary whoop of delight.

The crew of the Demeter Demeter threw themselves on to the deck as flames licked over the remains of Stanislaus's cabin. They had put a good hundred feet between themselves and the Pole now and the ship sailed steadily on into the night. threw themselves on to the deck as flames licked over the remains of Stanislaus's cabin. They had put a good hundred feet between themselves and the Pole now and the ship sailed steadily on into the night.

Winter watched the destruction with satisfaction and then turned to Ben.

'Now, my buck,' she grumbled. 'Let us see what the cur has left of me ship.'

CHAPTER 8.

The King regarded Polly with an interested air, rubbing his bearded chin and watching as she crossed the room, swept back the curtain, and looked out into the night.

'You are very industrious, lady. Would you not rest a w-while?'

Polly shook her head but did not look round. 'There's no time.'

She began to search the room for a lamp but then, settling on the candle she had brought into the room, sat down on the window seat.

The King seemed baffled but amused by Polly's behaviour. He smiled slightly to himself and looked up at the darkened ceiling.

'I've received intelligence that I am to be r-rescued, is this not so?'

'It is.'

'And are you to be my rescuer?'

Polly turned at last. 'No. I'm just the first part of the plan.

Once those two guards are out of the way, I'm to signal and the others will arrive.'

The King raised the gla.s.s of wine to his lips and Polly raced to his side. 'I wouldn't. It's drugged.'

'Ah,' said Charles. 'Of course.'

He settled back in his chair and folded his hands over his knee. 'Tell me, madam. Is it not customary to curtsy in the presence of one's monarch?'

Polly stopped in her tracks, becoming suddenly aware of the bizarreness of the situation. Eventually, she genuflected slightly and gave a little bow just to make sure.

'You'll forgive me, Your Majesty. But you are not my monarch.'

Charles frowned. 'But are ye n-not an Englishwoman?'

Polly laughed and was about to sit down on a chair before her when her sense of protocol intervened. 'Do you mind if I ?'

The King waved airily. 'It is the common lot, my dear. I can scarcely insist on formalities when the army plan to c-cut off my head.'

Polly sat down heavily, She was filled with a strange kind of remorse, as though she felt personally responsible for what would happen to this sad, quiet little man.

She looked at him, imagining how soon his head would be detached from his narrow shoulders, how soon those glossy curls of hair would be congealed with royal blood.

Shuddering, she looked away. 'I'm English by birth, sir,'

she said at last. 'But I have been away for a long time.'

Charles nodded. 'Then perhaps you know little of the terrible pa.s.s to which I have brought my land.' He glanced down and a look of infinite sadness swept over his face. 'The land I l-Iove.'

'I know enough,' said Polly flatly.

Charles looked at her again. 'And that is why you would help me?'

Polly didn't answer at first. Then, reluctantly and without meeting the King's gaze, she said, 'I'm here to find my friends.'

Charles c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. 'Do you count me one of them?'

Polly smiled kindly. 'I'm doing what I can to help.'

Charles bowed his head. 'Then I am grateful to you. What is your n-name?'

Polly was on the move again, rising to her feet and resting her ear against the door. Charles made an impatient clucking in his throat.

'Will you not rest a moment, madam? You vex us severely.'

Polly turned, looking slightly wounded. 'I have to listen for the guards. As soon as the drug takes effect '

. Charles waved his hand. 'Yes, yes. But we shall not miss those great l-louts crashing to the floor, shall we?'

Polly moved back to the chair and sat down. 'No. I suppose not.'

She sniffed and looked the King straight in the eye. 'My name is Polly.'

Charles nodded. 'PPolly,' he stated.

'I must say you're taking this all very calmly,' she said, intrigued.

Charles sighed. ''Tis what I was trained to do, Mistress Polly.'

'Don't you get sick of it, though? All that regal-bearing stuff?'

Charles gave a rare chuckle. 'Sicken of it? It is my life.