Captive Splendors (17 page)

Bascom Stoneham stared back at her and said, “Lower your eyes, sister, while I pray for your soul. Never look upon me as I preach, for I am the Lord's emissary. You are but a poor sinner and have no right to gaze upon me as I spell out God's Word. Sinner!” he shouted. “You're all sinners, and I've been sent to save your souls! And I will save them! Pray with me now and ask for forgiveness. Sister, I won't tell you again to lower your eyes. If you don't, you'll be punished at day's end.”

Wren giggled. How could the likes of him punish her? Such a skinny, scrawny, ugly man! How could the Lord pick such a man to do His work? Evidently his mother was wondering the same thing, for she raised her eyes and met Wren's. If she recognized the girl, she gave no sign but lowered her eyes again, a look of outrage and disgust on her face.

“Now,” Bascom continued, “repeat after me: We are all sinners and must ask for forgiveness and also for punishment so that our souls can be purged and we can walk among decent people and do God's work.”

Wren was beside herself. This time she raised her head and spoke loudly. “What if we haven't sinned, but have been sinned against?”

“Who is that who dares to speak while I say the Lord's words?”

No voice answered the preacher's question. Wren lowered her head and folded her hands into a pyramid, a smile parting her lips. Hypocrite, she said silently. Punish me, will he? Damnation, her knees hurt. If this was what this trip was going to be like, she had best get herself out of there, and quickly. She would ask the next seaman she saw to send Caleb to her. She'd rather deal with Caleb than with this devil standing before her.

“Every sinner in this room, stand up and tell the Lord what you've done, and I'll forgive you and pray for your soul!” Bascom shouted, his eyes blazing and spittle forming in droplets on his mouth. Wren looked up. Everyone was standing but her. She knew in her heart she wasn't a sinner, and she'd be damned if she'd stand up. And if that insane man took it into his head to punish her, she'd give him what for in a hurry, just like she had given Caleb, although, from the looks of things, he wasn't endowed with Caleb's manly attributes. She giggled at the thought and felt a viselike grip on her arm.

“You dare to laugh when I'm preaching the Lord's words and asking for purging? You dare to make a mockery of what I'm doing for these poor souls who have sinned against the Lord? Just this noon the Lord favored me with another visitation. He told me to be wary of those who refused to repent and to cast my eye upon them. You are a sinner, sister,” Bascom declared loudly. “By the set of your jaw and the defiant look in your eyes I can see that you were the one the Lord was talking about. You must repent now, before it's too late. Together”—he waved his arms around the hold—“we will save you.”

“I haven't done anything, and I don't need to be saved. I'm here by mistake. Captain van der Rhys is my brother. I'm Wren van der Rhys. I was expelled from school along with your sister, Sara.”

Every head in the room turned and then immediately snapped back; all eyes were downcast. Wren ripped off the white cap and her hair tumbled free. She swirled the dark tresses about her shoulders and shook his arm away. “I've decided I don't like it here, and I'm leaving. Now,” she said adamantly.

“Every sinner says he's done nothing and has no need to be saved. Yes, I recognize your name, and that's why I'm going to devote myself entirely to saving your soul. The others are well on their way to being purged through my mighty efforts and my daily visitations. And we'll hear no more of your going topside. You'll go on deck only when I say so. For now, you will do penance and ask the Lord to forgive you for talking to me in such a manner. But first,” he said, dragging her to the front of the flock, “you will tell your brothers and sisters what your sin is. Then we will all pray for you.”

“Damnation!” Wren spit. “Well, if you must know, I play cards.” As an afterthought, she added, “On Sunday.”

“Heathen woman!” Bascom admonished, aghast at her words. “If you promise to mend your ways now, this moment, in front of my flock, I will not have you punished at day's end.”

“But why should I do that? I always win. I don't want to give up my evil ways. I enjoy a good game of cards and a glass of wine. That doesn't make me a sinner and I don't wish to repent. Call my brother and let me out of here,” she demanded.

“All in good time. All in good time.” Bascom rubbed his hands together. “For now, you will kneel and pray. I shall go on deck and speak to your brother myself. I shall tell him of your wicked ways and that I'm going to purge your very soul and welcome you into the Lord's hands.”

The moment the hatch had closed on Bascom, Sara was at Wren's side, her mother with her. “I see you and I hear you, but I don't believe it,” Sara said coolly. “How could you hold me up for ridicule before everyone and say I was expelled from school? What are you doing here and why are you dressed that way? I thought by now you'd be married to Malcolm and that both of you would be living the life of leisure and luxury.” She felt ill as she waited for Wren's reply. She had to know what had happened to Malcolm.

“Malcolm is . . . was . . . actually, Malcolm is . . . dead,” Wren began lowering her eyes in chaste Puritan fashion “He developed some sort of . . . of pox and just . . . he just died. In my arms,” she added hastily. “I decided it was time for a little adventure, and the . . . opportunity to sail on Caleb's ship came up and I jumped at it. As for these clothes, I've always had a secret desire to dress like this. Is there anything else you want to know, Sara Stoneham?” Not for the world or for every ounce of silver in all of England would she tell what had really happened. She wouldn't bare her soul to anyone. Sirena had always told her to carry her hurt in her gut and maintain a serene face. That way you could look at the world and let it look at you, and only that deep core within knew how wounded and hurt you really were. And she was wounded and she was hurt, but she couldn't dwell on it; otherwise it would eat her alive.

“That's a baldfaced lie if I ever heard one,” Sara snapped. “Malcolm was all right several days ago. How could he have developed a pox and died?” Please, God, don't let it be true, she cried inwardly.

“And you called
me
a scatterbrain! I loved Malcolm, you know that, with all my heart. Do you think I would be sitting in this rotten hold dressed the way I am and listening to that—that—ass of a brother of yours if my dear Malcolm were alive? Well, do you?” Wren shrilled.

“Malcolm couldn't die like that. I know him—he would have fought the disease, had the best physicians Why are you doing this to me? I thought we were friends!”

“He did fight it . . . like the man he was, and I am your friend; that's why I'm telling you what happened.” Wren forced a tear to her eye and let it trickle down her cheek. “I've lost him forever.”

Sara wasn't about to give up. “I heard no word of an epidemic before we boarded. Poxes are passed from one person to another. Bascom would have said something. Your brother wouldn't have let us sail if there was a chance any of us might catch the disease. After all, Malcolm was in contact with all of us at the Sinclairs'.”

“I know. You shouldn't sit so close to me, Sara. I held Malcolm in my arms before he . . . before he . . .” Another tear found its way to her eye and dribbled unchecked down her cheek.

Sara rocked back on her heels, her face ashen. “It can't be . . . it just can't be. Someone so alive as Malcolm can't be . . . dead.”

Wren felt a brief stab of remorse, but it was short-lived when she remembered what Sara had said about her affair with Malcolm. While she hadn't believed it at the time, she knew now that it was the truth. “You'll live, Sara. I'm living with my grief, and if you ask that dotty brother of yours to pray for you, he will. He loves to pray for all us sinners. And you're a sinner, Sara,” Wren said virtuously.

Oh, God, it can't be true, it simply can't be, Sara repeated to herself. Wren wouldn't lie to me. She must be telling the truth. Why else would she be on this Godforsaken ship bound for America? Now, what was she going to do? And what if her suspicions were right and she was pregnant? That was all Bascom needed to know. He would have her cast out of the community, a marked, evil woman.

Wren watched Sara and her mother return to their former places and lie down on the plank floor. Her eyes closed, almost as if she were praying. She leaned against the wall and waited for Caleb to come down the ladder to take her topside.

While Wren waited, Bascom sought out Caleb in the wheelhouse and promptly told him of his sister's plight.

Caleb was stunned. “Let me be sure I have the straight of it, Stoneham. Are you telling me my sister is in the hold, dressed like a Puritan and claiming she plays cards and cheats at them—on Sunday? And that she's tired of her devious little trick, so she says, and wants to come topside? You think you can save her from her evil ways with prayer, and you don't want me to intervene? Now, is that the straight of it?”

“Every last word, Captain van der Rhys. I know I can save her. It will take time, but I'm confident that when the Lord visits me tomorrow, He'll have answers for me. Answers for your sister, too.”

Caleb threw back his head and laughed. Bascom was shocked at the captain's mirth. This was certainly no laughing matter. Sara had told him van der Rhys was prone to fits, so what could he expect?

“Very well, Stoneham, I will not intervene. If my sister has embraced your religion, then she should be free to make her own decisions. You're probably right, and all she needs is prayer, an abundance of it. As for that wicked card playing, you have to break her of that. Why, her whole life could be ruined!”

“She said she wins all the time,” Bascom declared piously.

“I'm sure she does, and she probably cheats, too. You have to keep a sharp eye on women these days. You're right, prayer is the answer. Good luck to you, Stoneham, and if there's anything I can do, just call on me. Give my sister my warm regards and tell her I hope she mends her wicked ways before the journey's end.”

Caleb watched Bascom wind his skinny body down the ladder to the hold, and then he doubled over in laughter. “Well, Preacher,” he addressed Stoneham's back, “I don't know which of you has met your match, but this should prove to be interesting, if nothing else.” He laughed again, his white teeth gleaming.

In the hold, Wren sensed Bascom's presence before she opened her eyes. “Why are you standing there?” she demanded. “Take me topside to my brother.”

“Your brother has asked me to deliver a message to you. He said to give you his warm regards, and since you have embraced our faith, he knows you will mend your wicked ways with prayer. Your brother is a sensible man, even if he takes fits.”

“Fits! What are you saying? Take me topside or I'll go myself!” Wren shouted, getting to her feet, only to be pushed back onto the hard planks.

“Don't you understand? You aren't going topside at all. You're to remain here with us so we can pray for you and purge your soul. Your brother does not want you up above. Now, do you understand?”

“I understand, all right. It's you who doesn't understand. Isn't it time for the Lord to pay you another visit? You better get ready while I leave. You can pray and purge someone else.”

“You're worse off than I thought. Make up your mind that you aren't leaving here. If necessary, I'll have you tied up by some of the men.”

For the first time since boarding the ship, Wren felt a stab of fear. This crazy man meant every word he said. Perhaps when he slept, she could sneak up the ladder. After all, her passage had been paid for; she wasn't a prisoner. That's what I'll do, she decided. I'll give in to him now, and as soon as he falls asleep, I'll leave.

Almost as if he could read her mind, Bascom told her, “If you have any thoughts of sneaking away while I sleep, you can cast them from your mind. Members of my flock will guard you. This is for your own good, and your brother agrees, so you might as well come to terms with our decision. Now, let me get my Bible and we'll read aloud—together.”

Angry beyond words, Wren lashed out with her arm, which was immediately pinned to her side, Bascom's face within inches of hers. She smelled his stale breath and saw his limp, stringy hair hanging down his cheeks as if through a magnifying glass. His eyes took on a glassy look, like that of the card players to whom Malcolm had lost her. She felt his hand move up her arm to her shoulder and then down to the swell of her breasts. He moaned slightly as his breath caught in his throat. “Are you a fallen woman, too?” he asked hoarsely, saliva moistening the corners of his mouth.

“Not till now,” Wren said through clenched teeth as she forced his hand from her bosom. “I think your calling is prayer, and you can leave the lovemaking to those who know how to go about it.”

The blow Wren received was hard and fast, coming straight across her face. Her head reeled as she tried to bring her eyes into focus, and she was amazed to see that not one of the preacher's flock was looking at them. They were like trained animals, she thought wildly as she again fought off his searching hands. No one would ever touch her body again unless she permitted it, and this perverted man of God was not going to lay a finger on her. She cupped her hands together into one large fist, and aiming directly at his chin, sent him sprawling backward. Like a cat, she crouched quickly over him. “If you ever touch me again with so much as a finger, I'll kill you.” She lowered her voice to a bare whisper. “I've killed before, and I'll have no qualms about doing it again. Now, do we understand, Preacher? If my brother doesn't want me topside, that's all right, but that doesn't give you the right to think you can take liberties with my person. You can pray till the moon is full, but don't expect me to do the same. And as for your flock members, remember this. Once you kill one person, it's easy with the others. Now, if you'll excuse me.” She grimaced, then made her way back to her own secluded corner. When she sat down, she was trembling from head to foot. God in Heaven, what had she gotten herself into? Damn you, Caleb, she muttered to herself, all the while keeping her eyes on Bascom Stoneham. Her stomach churned and her breathing was rapid, her pulse quick. Old Lottie had told her about men like Bascom when she was a child, and she had never forgotten. They were sick in their heads, Lottie had said. Visits from the Lord, indeed! Wren sniffed.