Swashbuckling in the Dark

Chapter Seventeen

For a person of unusual height, and, if his numerous admirers were to be believed, handsomeness, Sykes was adept at passing unseen. No one noticed the giant when he snuck into the governor of Port Royal’s private garden. Not a single maid spared him a flirtatious glance when he passed through the kitchen on the pretense of delivering goods.

He was almost insulted.

Setting down the crate he carried as camouflage, he stole his way from the kitchen into the main house. Sykes knew better than to admire the opulence around him, keeping his mind on the task at hand. The house was quiet now; he had patiently waited for the wedding party and its guests to depart, leaving behind only the servants.

The ease with which he crept through the house disappointed him; he’d wanted a challenge. The first mate cruised through the stately rooms, swiping what was valuable and leaving what was frivolous. Dodging the passing servants was no trouble, but he knew getting out was the issue.

He prayed that Dark hadn’t given in to his childish desire to spite Worthington and left. His captain was supposed to forewarn him should any trouble arise.

Lifting his bag of stolen goods from his shoulder, he gave it a sharp rattle. Confident that it held enough gold, jewellery and other precious items to pawn for a large sum, he pulled the string tight to seal it. Considerably more conspicuously than before, he trundled over to the window. It opened with a loud squeak.

He shot it a look of disdain. “Curse ye and your unoiled hinges,” he muttered, shoving the bag unceremoniously through the opening. It landed with a light crash on the ground below. Sykes waited to see if he had alerted anyone. He had dropped the goods at the back of the house, near the garden, so he was reasonably sure no one had heard the commotion.

Satisfied, he began to pull himself through the window head first. His broad shoulders hit the solid frame, preventing him from moving any further.

Sykes sighed in frustration. “Damn it all. Not fond of big windows, are ye, governor?” he asked the house’s absent lord. Next he tried exiting the window feet first, only to be caught once again, this time with his entire lower body dangling helplessly outside.

Grunting with exertion, he pulled himself back into the room, wanting very much to smash the window to pieces and be done with it. Sticking just his head out, he scanned the garden for any of the crew, Dark or Tallera. When he received no signal from the stone wall encircling the perimeter, he drew back.

There was nowhere to go but backwards. Making his way back downstairs was an ordeal; the household staff had seemed to double, as if they knew of his predicament. Hiding from a passing butler behind an oversized vase, Sykes thanked the lord that the aging man appeared to be half-blind.

He was chuckling to himself over the mansion’s laughable security and his monumental good luck when his feet crossed the threshold of the front door. No sooner had he left the house did hands grab his arms, restraining him. Struggling didn’t improve the situation; he wasn’t able to overpower his attacker.

“Thought you could fool me, did you?” an English voice sneered in his ear. One of the guards, obviously. Several of his companions swarmed in from the shadows, the black barrels of their weapons staring Sykes in the face. “Saw your little spectacle in the window, with your legs danglin’ out the bloody window for all to see. Ridiculous, you looked.” The man holding him chuckled, keeping a firm grip as he searched Sykes’s person with his free hand.

“Not terribly inconspicuous,” a second guard remarked with a grin. “But good for a laugh.”

“Nothing here,” the first man said. “Where is it?” he demanded of Sykes, giving him a firm shake.