Free Ransom by Lee Rowan

conclusion, hadn’t it? “All right,” he breathed, his mouth dry. “You’ve made your point. I’ll do it.”
    “Of course you will.” Adrian’s smile was ripe with self-confidence. “I never had any doubt. But this is a consequence, not a threat.” He raised his voice. “Let these gentlemen see what’s going on so they understand how very serious I am.”
    He strode onto the main deck, and Archer reflected that a stage career might have saved them all a lot of grief. “Men,” Adrian announced, “We have had an escape attempt this evening. It was not Lt. Marshall himself who essayed it, of course, but he will have to bear the burden for it, this time.”
    Marshall blinked at Archer in surprise as his blindfold came off. “So that’s why you were so winded when you came back. Why didn’t you say something?”
    “I’m sorry,” Archer whispered. “But I didn’t—” Someone hit him from behind. He’d have to explain later. No. He’d have to come up with some plausible lie, later. He couldn’t possibly explain.
    “I don’t want to disfigure such a splendid young specimen,” Adrian continued. Hearing the undertone, Archer went cold. “So we’ll use the cane this time. Next time, it will be the cat. Bosun—oh, before you begin, give Mr. Archer a small sample.”
    The flexible rattan cane whistled shrilly as it slashed down across Archer’s back. The shock of it caught him unprepared and it was all he could do not to yelp. He caught his breath and tensed, waiting for the next. He’d just about decided that was all when the bosun, craftily watching for his guard to go down, gave him two more in quick succession.
    “That’s enough,” Adrian said. “It is Mr. Marshall’s turn, after all. A dozen, if you please.”
    “Predictable,” Will muttered. His face twisted as the first blow landed, but his mobile mouth compressed, and no sound escaped but a faint gasp of impact. The grate rattled each time his body jerked in reaction.
    It was too close; Archer couldn’t bear to watch. Not that the punishment was especially severe—they’d each had this sort of thing a time or two as midshipmen, on Titan —but knowing that he was responsible made it almost unbearable. His own back stinging in sympathy, he stared out past Will, past their captors, to where Captain Smith stood, hands tied behind him and surrounded by half a dozen guards. His face was granite, eyes hooded by the angle of moonlight, but something about his posture made Archer think of a loaded cannon awaiting the match.
    Adrian’s voice pulled his attention back. “That’s 12.” Will let out a breath and sagged against the iron. “And one for good measure.” After it had landed, too fast for him to brace against it, Adrian caught Marshall’s hair and yanked his head back. “And have you any words for the shipmate who brought this upon you, Lieutenant?”
    Will bared his teeth in a wild, dangerous smile. “I certainly do.” His eyes challenged Archer to share the joke, and his voice was strong and clear. “Well done, Mr. Archer. Better luck next time.”
    The cane came down hard. No set number, and the bosun put his full strength into every blow. Archer only felt it secondhand, and that was bad enough. It went on and on; he lost count around 30. He could see that the punishment was breaking through Marshall’s resolve; his gasps were very nearly sobs by the time it finally stopped. “Will,” he hissed, “for God’s sake don’t antagonize him. How will we escape if you can’t move?”
    Thank God, Captain Smith must have had the same notion. In the quiet after the last stroke fell, his voice cut like a sword across Marshall’s labored breathing. “Hold your tongue, Mr. Marshall.” Smith turned to Adrian. “I do not usually take pleasure in seeing a man hang, sir. But in your case I shall make an exception.”
    “The sentiment is hardly original, sir,” Adrian said mockingly. He strolled over to inspect his handiwork.