I clenched my teeth and tried to gentle my voice. 'I haven't the strength to beat you, Nance, even if I wanted to. If you don't want to drown, you will untie me, and I will take you out of here.'
Her hands came down. 'How?' She sniffled.
'I will think of something. Please.'
She watched me fearfully for a few moments, then she stumbled back to the bed. I rolled over to give her access to my hands.
It took a long time. Nancy picked at the tight knots and sobbed under her breath. Her tears dropped onto my bleeding hands, stinging them. She cried that she could not do it. I bullied her until she was incoherent with weeping.
At last the knots loosened. I tugged at the bonds until one broke, and I quickly unwound my hand. I tried to push myself up, but my fingers were wooden, lifeless, and would not support me. I heaved with my legs and shoulders to roll over again and finally raised myself to a sitting position.
I leaned against the wall and cradled my hands in my lap, closing my eyes as hot pins and needles spiked my flesh. I would have to wait until my fingers became deft enough to untie the cords that bound my ankles.
The act of sitting up had nearly drained my strength. I wondered how the devil I would get both myself and Nance off the boat and all the way to shore.
She rubbed her nose on her sleeve. 'If you'd only took what I offered, we'd not be in this fix.' Her eyes filled. 'I'd not have chased you, and I'd not have believed them when they told me I could have you. You'd have been mine, and I'd have done you so good, you wouldn't have wanted to go to no one else.' Her throat worked. 'I'd have taken care of you and not complained when you knocked me about, and I wouldn't have gone to no other man unless you said I could.' Tears spilled from her eyes. 'I'd a done anything for you. Why don't you want me?'
I suppressed a sigh. She still could not understand that all this was about more than desire. But she was hurting, and afraid, and I was responsible for dragging her into this danger.
I gave the bed beside me a clumsy pat. 'Nance. Come and sit here.'
She shot me a distrustful look, but she shuffled to me and sat down. The bunk sagged, spilling my leg onto her thigh.
'I've told very few people this, Nance,' I said. 'Once, long ago, I had a daughter.'
Nancy looked surprised. 'Ya did?'
'Yes. When I was very young, I took a wife.' The word choked in my throat, and I had to swallow and wait before I went on. 'And we had a daughter. One day, my wife-she took my daughter, and went away.'
The words hurt. Oh God, they hurt.
Nancy stared. 'She left you? The old cow. Was she mad?'
My temper heated to hear that white and gold girl from long ago called an 'old cow,' but I reminded myself that Nancy did not and could not understand. 'She disliked the army and following me about. I don't blame her; it was a hard life, and she was of a delicate nature.'
'So where is she now?' Nance asked, frowning. 'And your little girl?'
'I don't know. They went to France, long, long ago, and I never was able to find them. I don't even know if my daughter is alive or dead. But if she is, she'd be, oh, about as old as you.'
She stared at me, fascinated. 'Did she have black hair, like me?'
'No. Her hair was fair as a field of buttercups. Like her mother's. When I last saw her, she was only two years old. She could barely say my name.'
My heart wrenched, and the intensity of the wrench surprised me at little. I'd thought that all the years between had taken away the worst of the hurt. Perhaps the opium in my veins had broken down the shield I usually kept over that memory.
'You don't know even if she's alive?' Nance asked.
'I wonder sometimes, if she is. And whether she is safe, with friends who care for her. Or if she is…'
'Like me,' Nance finished. 'A game girl. Having to go with flats that are as likely to knock her about as pay her for kicking her heels to the ceiling.'
I touched Nancy's matted black curls. 'Yes. And when I look at you, I think of her. And wonder.'
'If she's like me?'
'Yes.'
'So poking me would be like poking your daughter? Some coves like that.'
I pretended to ignore that revelation. 'I want nothing to hurt you. You are so young, and yet, I've seen girls like you die when they're not much older than you. I want to keep you safe.'
Silent tears spilled down Nancy's cheeks. 'You can't keep me safe. If I don't go with flats, me dad whips me 'til I bleed.'
'You have to let me try.' I continued stroking her curls. 'What color is your hair, really?'
Nance dashed the tears away with the back of her hand. 'Brown.'
'I'd like to see it. Let it grow back without dying it.'
She snorted. 'A right fool I'd look. With half of it a different color.'
'Cut it off, then. Some ladies of fashion still lop off their curls.'
She gave me a look that told me I was hopelessly old and likely insane. 'Ain't much I can do about it here. How are we going to get away, then?'
She sounded a bit like her old self, and some of the feeling had returned to my hands. I leaned down and worked loose the bonds that held my feet. I rubbed my bare ankles, wincing as the blood flowed its way to my feet. This took a long time, and Nance fretted with impatience.
I doubted I could stand or walk or fight or swim. But I would not sit and tamely wait to be killed. The boat was quiet, but the occasional thump of footsteps on boards outside told us Denis's men still inhabited the decks.
I managed to stand at last, though my legs shook like new branches in a spring breeze. I refastened the buttons that Nancy had opened on my trousers, my fingers still clumsy. 'Give me the candle,' I said.
Nance retrieved it from the floor and handed it to me. The light was little more than a rag soaked in grease, twisted into a wick at the top. The feeble flame burned blue and did not give off much light. But the rag was soaked, enough for my purpose.
I hobbled to the rickety wooden door. My left leg buckled, pain throbbing through it, and I had to pause three times, easing my weight from it, before I could resume.
I rubbed my hands in the grease, and then onto the doorframe, near the latch. I repeated this several times, being careful not to douse the lamp, then I touched the flame to the wood.
The grimy doorframe sizzled, and a thin band of smoke rose and stung my eyes. I held the flame to it, rubbing on a little more grease. The wood grew warm. The grease melted. After a long time, the flame crawled up the damp wood, found fuel, and clung there.
'What are you doing?' Nance cried.
'Setting the door alight.'
She sprang to her feet. 'Are you mad? You'll kill us.'
'I imagine Denis's men will not want to remain on a boat that is going up in flames.'
'No, they ain't stupid. They'll light for shore.'
'Not if they have no way to get there. They will not want to go down with us.'
'Why don't we just duck out the skylight?'
'We will. But Denis's men are out there. And maybe you're right.'
I tossed the candle to the bunk. The flame nearly went out, then it caught on the dirty sheet. The linen crackled and smoked.
Nance stared at me, round-eyed. 'Right about what?'
'That I am mad. Up you go.'
I caught her 'round the waist and boosted her toward the skylight. She pushed on it. 'It's fastened.'
'Pound on it, then. The wood's old.'
'You should have done this before you set us on fire.' She beat her fists against the frame, but to no avail.
I lowered her to the floor. I stripped off my coat and wadded it around my hands. While she hunkered in the corner farthest from the bunk, I reached up and slammed my hands, at the top reach of my arms, against the slats
