The Crimson Prince: part IV

[caz2y5]

It was still early afternoon and the prison escape could not happen until after dark. Castiel doubted he could just sit in the house by the waterfront and wait and hope that Dean would be okay till they got to him. He stood and headed to the door.

“Where are you going Castiel?” Jo asked as she emerged from the other room. She was no longer wearing the dress, but it did not make her any less pretty.

“Why do you dress like a man?” Castiel asked before he could stop himself. He was worried he had offended her with the question and was about to apologize when she laughed at him.

“If I climbed the rigging in a dress Ash and half the crew would spend all day staring at my undergarments,” Jo chuckled, her arms wrapped around her sides. Castiel had to laugh too. It certainly made sense when she put it like that.

“I have to go and see Meg,” Castiel explained as he crossed to the door. His brain was so full of confusion and questions and he was hoping that she could at least help him answer a few of them. Or at least help him put his mind at ease before tonight.

“I will be back by sundown,” Castiel added as an afterthought.

“Good luck,” Jo offered before he pulled the door shut behind himself.

The streets were not that busy as he made his way back to the Market place where his horse was tied. Castiel stepped up into the saddle and let his horse lead most of the way home. His brain kept wondering through thoughts and notions. He just could not wrap his head around the dilemma that was forming in his mind.

Ever since that day in the hold of the Crimson Prince, when Dean had kissed him, Castiel’s mind kept going back to it. He kept finding himself brushing his fingers across the small scar across the bridge of his nose and thinking of Dean.
The stupid thing was he was in love. Castiel was engaged to be married to Meghan and he knew he loved her. But when he closed his eyes to think of her, all he could see now was Dean.

That was the problem in a nut shell. Castiel had fallen in love with Meghan but he had always been in love with Dean. He could see it now a little more clearly. When he had found out that Dean had died it was like some part of him died too.

Meghan had helped fill that empty spot but now that Castiel knew that Dean was alive, it changed everything. If only Castiel could figure out what to do. Part of him knew that if he left Meghan he would break her heart. But another part of him knew that if he did not help to rescue Dean and tell the man how he felt, and then his own heart would break. And how would it be fair to Meghan to wed with her when he knew his true heart belonged to another?

Castiel rubbed at the scar across his nose and sighed. Why did it have to be so complicated? All he had ever wanted was to be a naval officer and fall in love with someone and then live happily ever after. After all was that not what everyone wanted ?

Once he had arrived at the mansion, Castiel dismounted handing the reigns of his horse to the steward before heading inside.

The house was quiet and for a moment Castiel thought that perhaps the house was empty.
“Hello?” Castiel called out as he stepped through the door. “Meghan?”

“In the sitting room, James.” Her familiar voice drifted down the hallway and Castiel followed it until he found her on the sofa, working at embroidery again. Her dark hair glinted in the light where it coiled over her shoulder and he felt a surge of affection course through him. He loved this woman.

He just loved Dean more.

Castiel removed his gloves and placed them with his hat on a side table, then crossed the floor to greet her. She looked up as he approached and rose in a graceful rustle of skirts, dropping her work carelessly to the cushion and reaching for his hands. Her smile was welcoming and he felt the coil of tension in his gut knot tighter as he clasped her small fingers in his own clumsy paws.

She surprised him by rising to her toes to kiss him firmly on the mouth, seeming displeased when he stepped back.
“James?” There was confusion in her voice. Castiel cursed himself for a coward.

“Where is your uncle? “Castiel had hoped to find him here, as opposed to still back in his dungeon, doing God knew what to Dean.

“I... do not know. I have not seen him today. Is something wrong?”

Castiel let go of her hands and pulled one of the other chairs closer. Meghan frowned and then sat back on the settee. He waited till she had finished before he sat down opposite her.

He forced a smile. “It is nothing. I just wished to speak with him.” A deep breath. “As I do with you.”

“James, you are starting to upset me. Is this about the wedding? The arrangements have all been made. All you have to do is show up and kiss me, something I know from experience you can manage quite handily.” Her attempt at levity made him smile reflexively. But then he schooled his face. Dragging this out would only hurt them both more.

“It is about the wedding. I ...there is no easy way to say this. I am calling it off.”

Her dark eyes flew wide in shock. “Off? Do you mean postponed? I know that you have been nervous, but the guests, and the arrangements...” She regained her composure. “It will do our standing and your career no good to toy with people’s schedules in such a manner, James. There are people coming from England! Is this truly necessary? Perhaps we could discuss this, maybe ...some kind of family emergency...”

Castiel shook his head, causing her voice to taper off. When she was quiet he spoke again. “Not postponed, Meghan. Off. I cannot marry you.”

“Is it the dowry?” She asked in a small voice that broke his heart. “If it is that, you must know there is no one here who can offer more.” Her tone grew more strident, more the Meghan he had fallen in love with. She had never lacked for self-confidence, from his new perspective Castiel wondered if it was that spark of Dean he saw in her that had drawn his attention in the first place. “You will not find a better match in this colony, James. And it will be long years before you have the chance to go courting in England again!”

“I do not want to make a better match, Meghan. Your dowry is more than generous, but you must know I would have married you had you come penniless to the match. It was never about the dowry. I have ...met someone else, or met them again, I suppose.” He looked away from her. “You must believe me when I say that my proposal to you was genuine. Were I inclined to take a wife I would have no other but you.”

“Inclined too... you are throwing me over for some slattern you cannot even marry?!” He winced at the sharp note, but then she fell silent. He looked up to see an expression of calculation on her face.
“This does not have to be such an upset to our plans, James. I admit to a certain amount of ...surprise. But many wives have tolerated such indignities, when all else is to advantage. I would have to insist that your slut bear you no children, and that you are discreet. Perhaps the girl could work as a maid, that way there would be no creeping about or risk of loose tongues?”

Castiel was shocked, both at her words and at her mercenary assessment of their situation.
“I do not have a--,” he could not even say the word in her presence, “--girl. I wished us to marry for love. It has never been about standing or money. How could you think that of me?” he cried.

“What else am I supposed to conclude, James? You come in here out of the blue and announce you are calling off our engagement! I crossed the ocean for you! Do you have any idea how many matches I turned down for you? I will be the laughing stock of Europe for this! And you are throwing everything away for some woman you once knew and lost? Knew for how long? An hour? A night? She must have made quite the impression for you never have even mentioned her name!”

“He was not lost, Meghan! I thought he was dead! I would never have agreed...” Castiel shut-up abruptly at the blanched look of shock on her face as what he had said caught up to his ears. Merciful Lord.

Two bright spots of color appeared on Meghan’s cheeks. “He? He? This is about that horrible pirate, The Crimson Prince! The man kidnapped us James! Have you any idea what he put me through? And now you want to run off and ...what exactly is it you wish to do with that bit of human refuse, Captain?”

“Meghan...”

“No!” she cut him off. “I knew he was trouble as soon as I found out who he was. I saw the looks he gave you every time your back was turned. I prayed for his death every day since I met him and I can only hope Uncle Alistair--“She cut herself off, eyes wide as she took in the look of horror on Castiel’s face. She bit her lower lip in chagrin; delicate white teeth against the rosy plump of her lip in the past had always given him the irresistible urge to kiss her. Now it brought him as close to hitting a woman as he had ever felt in in his life.

“You hope Alistair will do what, Meghan?” His mind was flying over a conversation overheard the previous evening in the study. It had seemed odd at the time, but not relevant to anything. Just a family curiosity he had paid little attention too. But now...

“James,” she rose from the couch and knelt before him, one hand pressed against his cheek as he stared bewildered into the rich depths of her dark eyes. “I love you, I did it for us. So we can be together without any ...complications.” Her voice pleaded for understanding, but he was still trapped in memory.

His fiancée’s sweet voice “So uncle, how are your …lessons going?”

Alistair’s pleased rumble of reply, “Oh, they are progressing quite well. I have a very apt pupil in this one. I have to thank you, my dear. If it was not for you, I would have continued to think that I had lost him.”

“What have you done?” he breathed, jerking back from her touch like it was poison.

Her chin jerked up and the pleading tone fell from her voice. “What I had too, to protect us both. If you were any kind of a real man there would not have been anything to do in the first place!”

Castiel stood up abruptly, causing her to fall back as he moved. He looked down at her where she was sprawled back on the rug; heartache, confusion, and anger warring in his breast. In that maelstrom of emotion only one thing was clear. Dean. He had to get back to Dean before something horrible happened. He could not lose Dean again.

He reached down and grabbed Meghan roughly by one arm, ignoring her squeal of surprise as he hauled her to her feet. She could not be allowed to tell Alistair what he knew. Not is if he and the pirates were to have any chance of rescuing Dean alive. But he could not bring himself to cause her harm either, he had loved her, and the fault was at least partially his. For not understanding his own heart, and for misleading hers.

Castiel dragged her, out into the hallway and towards the grand staircase. It was beneath her to shriek or kick, but her struggles slowed him down enough that he finally just grabbed her around the waist. He dumped her over his shoulder, bouncing her hard enough on her diaphragm that her invectives on his parentage cut off into breathlessness as he took the stairs two at a time.

A maid was dusting furniture in the hall, Castiel hesitated but then gave her his best approximation of Dean’s rakish smile as he ducked into the bedroom and kicked the door closed behind him. Meghan, he dumped on the bed.
She righted herself, hair tumbling over her face in a cascade of curls and pins as she clawed it free of her eyes. He rummaged frantically in the bedside drawers.

“What are you doing? What are you thinking? People will hear about this! There is going to be a scandal! When my Uncle--“

Castiel found what he was looking for. “Shut-up,” he suggested, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back up. She glanced at the dagger in his hand, one of the items he had taken from the drawer, and her eyes sparkled with genuine fear. Castiel rolled his own. “How can you even think that is for you.”

He pulled the sheet from the bed and began cutting it into strips. When he was done he tossed the dagger on the bed and grabbed hold of Meghan again. Castiel bound her wrists and then gagged her before he scooped her back up.
He carried her over to the massive wardrobe and shoved her in before she had time to do more than squawk in outrage. He leaned his full weight against it and shoved the key into the heavy lock, giving it a savage twist that snapped it clean at the metal plate.

He ignored the dull thudding as she pounded furiously on the stout wood. A rather more timid knock sounded on the door and he pulled it open to see one of the head maids giving him a stern look.

“My apologies for disturbing you Master James but I thought there might be something the matter. Is the mistress okay?” She gave a sidelong look at the wardrobe and raised one dark eyebrow. He was relieved to see the hint of a vindictive smile curl the edge of her mouth before she composed her expression and turned an expectant gaze on him.
Castiel had known the servants did not seem particularly friendly towards Meghan, but she had insisted it was respect for her station. In light of his recent revelations regarding her he had to wonder if maybe they had just caught on to her nature before he did.

He smiled reassuringly. “My lady needs a time out. A small lesson in propriety and ...respect. I assure you she is in perfect health and wellness, and will suffer no harm for a few hours in solitude to contemplate the errors of her ways.”
“The Master would not be pleased if we were to leave the mistress in any ...distress.”

Castiel ushered her out into the hallway and locked his door firmly behind them. To his satisfaction, with the door shut the noise from the room was barely audible. “I am unaware of any distress, madam. And I would take it poorly if anyone were to enter my room in my absence. I value my privacy, I am sure you understand.”

She watched him thoughtfully for a moment, gaze shifting between the door and his face. Then that little half smile crept back onto her face and she nodded gracefully.

“Of course, Sir. Master Alistair placed all of the servants at your disposal. We would never dream of disrespecting your orders.”

“Thank you,” Castiel smiled feeling a little more relieved than he had a moment ago. “I will not be back before dark. Have supper waiting.” Castiel just had to hope it was enough of a time frame to get things done before the alarm was raised.

Dean was not sure which was worse. When Alistair touched him or when he used one of his tools on him. At least he managed to keep the bile in his stomach from rising now. Dean was not going to give the man the satisfaction of knowing that he still made him sick when he touched him.

“Did I not tell you that you would come back to me eventually, Dean?” Alistair’s breath fanned warm over his ear. He was so close that Dean could feel the press of his clothing against his side. It made Dean feel ill again and he swallowed roughly, shuddering at the touch.

“Do not fight me, Dean.” Something trickled down Dean’s chest and Alistair’s tongue followed the trail it left. “Mmm… I told you torture was in your blood.”

Dean gritted his teeth to silence the sound that bubbled in his throat as fingers dug into his skin. His nerve endings were all raw and overstimulated which made it hard not to flinch or jump at every touch.

Fingers pressed to his lips and Dean would turn his head away if he could but he was pinned in place and could not move. Alistair’s fingers forced their way past his lips and brushed over his tongue, the coppery taste of his own blood seeping into his taste buds.

Alistair laughed out a rough bellow and Dean winced as Alistair’s tongue flicked out and dragged across the side of his throat.

“You are mine Dean,” Alistair practically purred with contentment. “And I will make you cry for me.”


Everything was ready and in place. The streets were dark and mostly deserted. There was only the occasional patrol and they really only passed once an hour. The watch called the hour as Castiel approached the Prison.

The tall prisoner he was escorting had his head down and his shoulders hunched as the two of them stopped at the large iron gate of Marshallsea prison.

Castiel knocked at the door glancing up and down the street, he brushed his fingers over the scar and tried to quell the nervous tension that still stirred in his gut.

Change of guard had occurred at least an hour earlier according to the Information Castiel had gotten from his earlier visit and there should only be two guards inside. Everything was set and in place. All they had to do was get inside and overpower the guards.

“Captain Novak?” Williams asked with surprise as he opened the door. He eyes Sam before grinning at Castiel. “You were not kidding were you, about bringing us more scurvy knaves?”

“I want the streets clean before my wedding. Someone needs to clean this place of vermin.” Castiel explained with a blank expression.

The sergeant moved back inside and Castiel put his hand between Sam’s shoulder blades and shoved him unceremoniously through the open doorway. Sam stumbled but he did not fall. He glared at Castiel through his bangs but kept quiet.

Once the gate was relocked, Williams took hold of Sam and led him through to the prison office. Castiel glanced around again before following. He would need to sign the prisoner into the ledger.

The room was the same as before only now there were two more soldiers making four in total. It was more than they had expected but they could handle it. They had too. Sam raised his head and looked around the room before he glanced at Castiel.

There was a lieutenant sitting at the table this time and Williams, Thomas and the third man were all armed with muskets. Williams shoved Sam up to stand in front of the table and Castiel moved to stand beside him.

“Name?” The Lieutenant asked, not looking up from the ledger. Castiel glanced around trying to discern what they were going to do. Sam’s hands were not really cuffed but there was the question of how the two of them could take out four guards without raising the alarm.

“William Tell,” Sam said and Castiel frowned; that was obviously a fake name. What was worse was that the lieutenant was obviously not aware of it as he wrote the name down in the book.

“Is there something going on?” Castiel asked glancing at Williams and hoping that there was nothing wrong.

“Nah just running late is all,” Williams replied with a smile. “Me and Thomas are headed to the cocks comb across the street for a pint. You are welcome to join us sir.” Williams offered.

“Crime?” The lieutenant asked. He seemed irritated like he had other things he would rather be doing.

“Breaking out of prison,” Sam said as he freed one wrist from the cuffs so he could use them to wrap around the Williams throat.

Castiel moved at the same time, shoving the table so that it flipped and landed on the lieutenant. Then he turned throwing a punch that connected roughly with the other soldier’s face. He grabbed the man’s musket yanking it from his grip as the man crumpled from the blow.

Sam used Williams as a shield. Thomas had aimed his musket at him but he was not willing to shoot his friend.
“Drop your weapons,” Sam demanded giving a jerk on the chain around Williams throat. Castiel pointed the rifle at Thomas although he knew that they could not afford to have any of the weapons discharge.

Thomas scowled and dropped his musket raising his hands in surrender. The lieutenant struggled out from under the desk, drawing his sword. But Castiel just turned and aimed the musket at him. The moment he saw that he stood alone against the two of them the Lieutenant surrendered too.

They led them through one of the corridors to the cells and shoved the four of them into the cramped little room.

“Alright now gentlemen. Strip!” Sam ordered them. The men grumbled but peeled off their uniforms. Castiel picked up the pieces of uniform and waits for Sam to lock the door.

“I suggest you boys be quiet or we will let the other prisoners have their way with you,” Sam threatened with a grin.
They locked the door and Sam changed into one of the uniforms while Castiel ran out to the gate and let Bobby and Rufus in.

Rufus and Bobby stayed in the office, changing into the extra uniforms. Sam carried the lantern while he and Castiel made their way down into the basement. There was a short corridor that ended in a small wooden door. The door itself opened onto a large room.

Shackles hung from the walls and numerous foul devices stood around the room. There was even a wheeled tray with an assortment of tools and even more implements of torture. Castiel felt his blood run cold and he had to stop and close his eyes for a moment to stop his mind from thinking of what Alistair had done to Dean in the week he had been held here.

Where is he?” Sam asked, the desperation in his voice matching the feeling growing in Castiel’s chest. Other than the tools of torture the room seemed empty, Dean was no were to be seen.

Castiel looked around the room trying to figure out where Dean could be. His eyes falling on the iron maiden in the corner and he felt his heart move up into his throat. As fast as he could, Castiel crossed to the maiden and wrenched the door open. His heart thumped in his ears every step of the way.

The metal spikes were frightening but the coffin shaped metal lady was empty. Castiel sagged with relief that Dean was not inside there.

“Where is he, Cas?” Sam shouted in frustration. Castiel had been so certain that Dean was here but the room had only the one door. One way in and out and the iron maiden was the only enclosed device that could hold a person.

Castiel had been so certain he had heard Dean cry out. He had to be here unless he was upstairs in the cells somewhere. He turned to look at Sam, his eyes still searching for some sign that Dean was here.

“I do not …” Castiel was torn between being glad that Dean was not in here and the fact that Dean was not there. But then his eyes were drawn to a metal grate in the floor. It was too big to be a drain but not big enough to be a cell.

He moved to the grate dropping to his knees as he looked down into the dark recess. At first he could see nothing and then he could make out the shape of someone curled up in the darkness.

“Sam, here,” Castiel called out as he began searching the ring of keys for one that would fit into the heavy padlock on the grate. Sam almost skidded before dropping to his knees beside him. The Bars on the grate were too close together to reach anything but your fingers through.

Dean!” Sam called down through the bars. When the figure below did not reply, Sam frowned at Castiel. Then he leaned down and pressed his ear to the bars. “He is alive. I can hear him breathing.”

“Damnation!” Castiel cursed with frustration. Only three of the keys fit into the lock but not one of them were able to turn in the lock. Sam shared his expression and looked around the room. He stood and made his way to a table of torture tools.

“Dean? Can you hear me?” Castiel asked in almost a whisper. He was beginning to think that maybe something really bad had happened that Dean could not answer them. “It is I, Castiel.”

“Cas?” A pair of bright green eyes suddenly peered up at him through the bars.

“It is I, Dean, Sam is here too,” Castiel told him feeling relief flood through him as he glanced over at Sam and then back at Dean. Fingers stuck up through the bars and Castiel curled his own fingers around them. “We are going to get you out of here.”

“Alistair has the only key,” Dean informed him, with a voice that cracks as Dean coughs.

“Go back down a moment We are going to smash the lock,” Sam explained as he came back and knelt by the grate. His hands were filled with a number of different tools from the table.

Sam began working on smashing the lock. Castiel could only sit there and look down into the darkness. It felt like it took forever but eventually the lock snapped open and Sam wrenched open the grate.

Both of them reached in and pulled Dean up out of the hole. It was not deep enough for Dean to stand at his full height or wide enough for him to even sit comfortably. Dean had to hold onto Sam to stand. Dean’s knees were too weak for him to stand on his own.

Castiel could not help but wonder how much of the dark stains on Dean’s skin was dirt or blood or bruises. But they had water for him to wash with and clean clothes to dress him in upstairs.


“So tell me, what is the plan?” Dean asked, His dry lips cracking as he spoke. Rufus offered him a bottle of rum and when Dean pressed it to his lips, Castiel saw him wince.

“Jo is waiting with horses out passed Fort Rupert,” Sam explained. The plan was pretty simple from here on out. The hard part had been getting in to the prison and finding Dean. “The Prince is anchored in Bull Bay.”

All they had to do was get past the patrols and ride the fifty miles to where the Prince was anchored.

“I am not sure it is a good idea to let Dean ride,” Castiel suggested with a look of concern as he took his eyes off of Dean to look at the others.

Castiel had not meant to be staring at the man, but he found he could not stop staring at all of the bruising and cuts on Dean’s torso and arms.

When they had pulled Dean out of the hole that had passed as his cell, Dean had been naked. They dressed him in the breeches from the lieutenant’s uniform before taking him out to the others. But Dean was still naked from the waist up.
None of the cuts were bleeding, although it was obvious that quite a few of them were fresh and probably made that afternoon. The thing Castiel was worried about most though was a dark bruise that started under Dean’s left nipple and curled along his ribs and down his side.

Castiel was not a doctor but he had once seen a sailor get hit hard in the chest with a swinging boom. He knew what the bruising of broken ribs looked like.

“I can make it,” Dean argued. He glanced at Castiel, a look that reminded Castiel of when they had been boys together and Dean would threaten to thump him if he did not do what he was told.

To prove his point, Dean pushed himself up out of the chair. The exertion of doing so was obvious in the bent way that he stood and his breathing became labored. ”Play me a tune … I will dance a jig if that is what it takes to get me out of here.”

Bobby picked up the remaining uniform and held it out to Dean as he stepped closer and gave the man an appraising look.

“Well, I cannot play you a tune. But you might want to put some more clothes on boy,” Bobby grinned. Sam frowned and started pacing the length of the office while they waited.

Dean dressed slowly, sitting back in the chair as he slid his arms into the sleeves of the shirt. His face scrunched up at the discomfort that such a movement caused. It made Castiel bite his own bottom lip to know that it was partly his fault that Dean was in such a state.

“Who did you leave at the helm?” Dean asked as he worked at buttoning his shirt, his hands shaking so much that Castiel wanted to step in and do the buttons for him.

Instead of answering Sam, Rufus and Bobby exchanged a look that gave Castiel the impression that none of them wanted to be the one to answer Dean’s question

“Please do not tell me you left Ash in charge of my ship?” Dean asked a little incredulous.

“Fine then, we will not,” Rufus told him with a shrug before he shouldered one of the muskets and headed out to wait for them by the gate.

Dean struggled slightly getting the jacket over his shoulders. Castiel stepped forward to help him but Dean shook his head and with one last tug had the jacket on properly. The four of them made a ragtag bunch that would fail a uniform inspection but it was better than nothing.

“We need to get going,” Sam said handing Dean the sword belt that the lieutenant had been wearing. The Prince was under orders to sail before the dawn tide and the four of them had a lot of ground to cover to reach her.

Dean strapped the sword belt around his waist a look of satisfaction crossing his features before he looked up and grinned.

“Where is Alistair?” Dean asked, making everyone stop in the middle of the open courtyard and turn to look at him.

“He is probably at home waiting for his supper,” Bobby offered as their best guess because the three of them did not really know for sure that, that was where Alistair was. Castiel was the only one that was hoping he was somewhere other than the mansion because if he was home then he may have found Meg.

Dean looked to the east wall like he could almost see through it and up to where the governor’s mansion was hidden behind the streets and houses that covered the distance between the two.

“No Dean. No!” Sam stated, stepping up to his brother and wrapping his fingers around Dean’s upper arm. “I know what you are thinking and we cannot Dean.”

“But we are so close,” Dean almost whispered as he stared directly at Sam. “We might never get the chance to get this close to him again.”

“I cannot walk away Sammy,” Dean’s eyes glinted like steel as they turned in the direction of the mansion again.
Sam snorted in derision. “Walk? Look at you Dean, you can barely stand.”

“He killed John,” Dean’s eyes snapped back to Sam, a hard edge colored his voice. “He killed your Jess.”

“Do you think that I am unaware of that?” Sam hissed, a flare of anger and hurt flashing over his features.

“Come on, lad.” Bobby moved close and stood beside the two of them and put his hand on Dean’s other shoulder. “Jo is waiting for us.”

“We will get our revenge Dean, I promise.” Sam’s expression turned grim to match Dean’s. “But we have to meet Jo and get back to the ship.”

“Please, Dean. Let us get you back to the ship and get a doctor to look at you,” Castiel added.

Dean lowered his head, closing his eyes a moment before he let out a long sad sigh.

“You boys ready to go?” Rufus asked, glancing hesitantly at the group.

“Yeah, Let us go rescue her from having Ash at her helm,” Dean said with a grin that relieved the heavy mood that had lowered over the group.

“Okay. Rufus, you check that the streets clear. Cas, you help Dean. Sam, you know what to do,” Bobby instructed.

Rufus turned and disappeared out through the gate. A moment later his whistle of all clear echoed over the wall and the small group made their way out into the street.

They had over a mile to cover to make it far enough down the peninsula to where Jo was waiting in a copse of trees with the horses.

more booty this way