Page 94 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
“No, they aren’t.” Mr. Hayward pointed at a blank spot.
The chant for keelhauling grew louder.
Horror setting in, Cedric dropped the cannonball and flung his body at the door, tearing at the cracked wood and carving up his fingers.
“Stop!” Mr. Hayward dragged him backward. “I have an idea. Wait a moment.”
“She doesn’t have a moment!”
“And yet you’re wasting time arguing with me.”
Cedric held up his hands, acquiescing.
Mr. Hayward strode to the bed, leaned over, a reddish tinge crawling into his face, and yelled, “Mrs. Parker! Can you hear me?”
“What are you doing?” Cedric asked, crossing the room.
Mr. Hayward glanced back, the red color deepening. “It appears that when you are loud in this portion of your cabin, a person in my cabin can hear all the… uh… sounds quite clearly.”
“And what did you hear?”
“Yes, Mr. Hayward,” a muted voice replied. “I can hear you.”
“Go into the corridor and tell me why the captain’s door won’t open.”
“What exactly did you hear, Mr. Hayward?” Cedric stopped his first mate, grabbing his upper arm.
“I think both you and Mrs. Dubois enjoy each other’s company.”
“And?”
“Nothing else, Captain.” Mr. Hayward shrugged. “I’d never assume to know your mind.”
It was infuriating when Mr. Hayward behaved exactly as he was supposed to, as if he only acted this way when he wanted to irritate Cedric.
“Mr. Hayward?” Mrs. Parker called through the door’s cracks. “I’ve discovered your issue.”
“And that is?” he asked.
“The door is tethered to the outer door. There’s a rope stretching between the handles.”
“Mutiny?” Mr. Hayward murmured.
“Don’t mention that word aboard this ship,” Cedric hissed, then leaned forward, calling out to Mrs. Parker. “Is Mr. Johnson in his cabin?”
“Just a moment.” Mrs. Parker scurried down the corridor, and another door creaked open. Less than a minute later, she returned.
“He’s sleeping.”
“Drunk?”
“Quite.” She fell silent, then asked, “What are they yelling?”
“Keelhaul,” Cedric replied, attempting to convey the depth of the danger Alana was facing in that one word.
“What does it mean?” Mrs. Parker asked, a slight tremble in her voice.
“It means they’ll kill Mrs. Dubois.”
