Dark Journey Home (2 page)

Logan
could hardly
believe that he was free now, though weak, stumbling, hungry, and badly injured,
but he was free!

Those hellish years, hopefully behind him now, could
never completely erase his hope of some day starting his own cattle spread.  It
didn’t even have to be the biggest one around, just workable, with a cool
rippling stream all his own.  He’d probably run about three-thousand head of
prime beef, and keep them on the sweetest grass in the valley.  They’d fatten
for several years, then the best of them to be driven to market, with the help
of a few hands working for him. 

Logan
had to keep his
mind working, alert and thinking, though weariness and pain was setting in, he
knew he couldn’t hold out much longer.  Shelter had to be found quickly, before
he gave in and passed out completely. During his years of captivity, he had
traveled port to port, country to country, island to island, always in mind,
along with the other captives’ thoughts, to watch for the chance to jump ship. 
A hanging offense, but after so many years, many captives were willing to take
the risk.  A few mates took chances at the wrong time, though.  The rest
learned by their mistakes, and were more careful.  The men were chained during
stops for loading, and carefully guarded.

Captain Devlin had referred to the captives as his
bondsmen, and none of the legitimate crew members dared question him.  He was a
big burly man, and completely without feeling.  He dealt out punishment just
like he were swatting a fly, though that was long behind Logan now, and he
tried to keep his mind on the present situation.  He labored to breathe, while
he also blessed the recent rains of which thus had ensued the heavy fog, this
was his godsend, and he hoped that the other three captives were able to
successfully escape too.  They had pretended to be already chained when the mate
had come below as the ship entered the harbor, and the three had overpowered
the mate, who was also a guard of the captives, tied him up, and stuffed a rag
in his mouth.

The jump from that height, into the swirling dark
waters of the inlet, had been dangerous and risky, but Logan had taken this one
and only chance, and then jumped, taking a heavy bruising to his left shoulder,
along with a bang on the head, from some object that had been in the water. 
He’d even swallowed a mouthful of the briney stuff, gagging it up immediately. 
Freedom didn’t come easy.  His shoulder hurt, and he sported a bloody gash to
the left side of his head, that throbbed causing a painful headache.  But he
knew he’d live, hopefully a free man.

He’d planned to meet the other three escapees in the
small town of Freeman, Wyoming, in about three months, that is if they were
successful in escaping too.  They’d told him that they were all three
experienced hands, older men, and had worked cattle together, before being
shanghaied together nine years before.  So Logan had agreed to hire them on. 
Their names were Jim Reynolds, Mack Parsons, and Gable Johnson.  When he’d told
them of his plans, they’d looked forward to getting back in the saddle again.  Also
Logan hoped his money was still safe; he’d deposited over Twenty-thousand
dollars in that Seattle bank.  He couldn’t wait to get back to American shores.

Now moving with even more caution, he was sure that by
now after about twelve hours of his freedom, that Captain Devlin was furious
and had men scouring the docks for him and the three others.  Devlin had had
fake bond papers drawn up, signatures forged, fake names, the whole works.  So
legally Logan belonged to the Captain.

In his weakened state, he mistakenly reached out to
grab a handful of the heavy fog for support and almost fell. He needed to
steady himself, the effort was wasted.  He was to the point of no return.  Just
then, after what seemed like miles he had gone, though was probably only a few
blocks, Logan spotted a very dim ghost of a light coming from a doorway which
led into the narrow alleyway through which Logan had been stumbling and
staggering.   It appeared to be a small back entrance to a large warehouse, a
more than weathered stone building, though an apparently sturdily built
structure.  He then gave one last struggling effort to reach the doorway, his
giant, though gaunt frame shuddering as he reached the opening, then his hand
reached out to grasp anything for support, succeeding in clutching ahold of a
handful of some kind of roughly woven material, as he gazed upward from his
slouched position.  The material appeared to be the dark green and gold of a
plaid skirt, long and pleated, hugging shapely yet narrow hips.    Raising his
eyes even higher they fastened onto the most frightened, wide-eyed,
silvery-blue eyes he’d ever seen.  He promptly fainted.

Beckford
Manor, England

May,
1858

Twenty-five year old Olivia Worthington, niece on her
mother’s side to the much titled Lord Claude Beckford, pushed the final latch
closed on her large decorative steamer trunk, then shoved back a loose golden
curl which had escaped her usually tight smooth bun.  The two steamer trunks
along with a medium-sized valise and one small carpetbag had been very closely
sorted through one last time, before closing them. 

With a satisfied smile, the golden-haired Olivia
glanced at her personal maid, and friend, Amelia Blackstone, as she firmly
stated.  “Well, my friend, I do believe that is everything I shall need for my
journey across the ocean.”

Amelia, an older and very prim woman in her middle
forties, hugged Olivia tightly as a tear escaped from the corner of her
friendly brown eyes, and she managed to reply, “I still wish you’d stand up to
that uncle of yours, and refuse this foolish journey, but at least take a few
of those nice ball gowns you have.”

“Really Amelia, they would be of no use to me in that
vast wilderness of the Americas, and certainly even less on those tropical
islands we plan to visit later on.  My serviceable clothing will be sufficient
for my needs during my travels and sightseeing with Uncle Claude.  Besides he
insisted on my bringing heavy clothing for the winter months too, as we’ll be doing
a lot of traveling during those months.  I did throw in my galoshes, heavy
gloves, umbrella and a heavy woolen shawl.  How much more room could I have
left in those trunks?”

Amelia brushed a teary cheek as she sputtered, “Well,
child, I will certainly miss you, after all these years.  Now he just suddenly
pulls you away.  I certainly hope you know what you are in for.”

“It
won’t be so bad, and you’ll have a lot of rest now.”

“Ha, who needs it, along with the worry lines I’ll be
havin’ while you’re gone.  Mercy, you were just a babe of ten when you and that
brother, Garth, of yours were just literally dropped on the doorstep for your
uncle Claude to raise.  His Lordship bloody well knew next to nothing of little
ones, and how you two led him on a merry chase those first few months.  I saw
the gray hairs popping out all over his head.”

Olivia sighed in remembrance, “I know, Amelia dear,
but he soon learned to love us as his own, though he did put up with a lot,
didn’t he?” She swallowed, and gave Amelia an emotional hug, as she added,
“Never having had children of his own, it’s a wonder Uncle Claude put up with
our antics, but he claims we two scamps were his salvation.  Salvation from peace
and quiet maybe.”  She laughed in fond memory now.  “But then my brother Garth
with his active and ambitious ways tried so hard to fit into this well-run
manor with its many antiques and perfection, so many servants and so many
rules, it’s a wonder he didn’t leave before he did five years ago.  I know
Uncle Claude misses the rogue, just won’t admit to it.  I suppose Garth is
still captaining his own cargo ship in competition with Uncle, as if Uncle
Claude really cares.  It’s rather a standing joke to him anyway.  Well, cheer
up Amelia, the time will pass quickly. Uncle Claude has so looked forward to
this vacation; I can’t disappoint the old softie.  He’s made the trip many
times himself, and he does own the liner anyway.  He can always have it turned
around and head back if he so chooses.”

“Certainly,
Miss, and pigs fly too.”  Sniffed Amelia.

Laughing, Olivia said, “We need to have this baggage
toted down to the carriage now, and then see if Uncle is ready.”

“I guess we packed everything we could think of Miss. 
Oh, did we remember to put in the sewing kit, and knitting needles?  I did pack
a few skeins of yarn.”

“That we did, and a few books in the bottom of the
largest trunk, along with my favorite book of poetry.  As it is, I’ll probably
sink the ship with all that weight.”

Amelia shuddered, “It’s well you’re taking enough
necessities, as I doubt you’ll be able to purchase any replacements for
anything in that heathen country of the Americas.  I’m still against your Uncle
Claude hauling you halfway around the world.  I heard that land is full of
savage Indians, just about a hundred different tribes, and countless thousands
of them.”

“Oh, Amelia, for heaven sakes,” Olivia chided softly,
“Uncle has assured me that the land is mostly civilized, and they have large
cities there too, nothing the size of London though, but mercy, look at the
unsavory characters that roam the streets of London.”

“Well,
Amelia sniffed, “I’ll believe all that when you are safely home again.”

Lord Claude Beckford sat at his heavy oak antique desk
in his well-carpeted study, on the first floor of the Beckford manor.  He
tapped the ashes from his pipe into the copper ash tray, which had been an
import from India, as he sighed deeply, then leaned back in the comfortable
leather chair.  “What else can I do?”  He thought to himself, “My niece is
twenty-five years old, and never seems to approve of any of the young men I
have introduced her to.  Her brother, the infamous rogue that he is, will never
settle down to running my vast holdings for me.  He just wants to roam the
universe himself, seeking his own fortune.  It will be up to Olivia to wed
someone of means, who is experienced in running such vast holdings of which I
have acquired during my lifetime.  Lord, am I making the right decision in
insisting she accompany me on this excursion around the world, with the hope
that she will then meet someone she approves of?”

Lord Beckford was a much traveled man himself, but
then his position required that he be away from England for at least part of
every year.  This would be Olivia’s first trip on the high seas.  She had been completely
happy to spend her years as a young spinster living at the beautiful country
estate, foregoing all future involvements with young men.  There had been one
young man, Henry Jefferson Adams III, an ambitious sort of character, who
practically had insisted that Olivia become betrothed to him, and would not
take no for an answer.  Lord Beckford had his background thoroughly checked and
found him to be an imposter, as well as virtually penniless, possibly needing
some of the Beckford holdings to help him maintain his extravagant lifestyle,
along with a large dowry that would come with wedding Olivia. 

That had been five years previous, just before Garth
had taken off for places unknown.   Beckford, with Garth’s able and willing
assistance, (not to mention gleefully intimidating), had the young imposter
literally thrown from the manor during his last and final visit with Olivia. 
Olivia hadn’t been interested in matrimony then, as now.  Lord Beckford knew
there were many eligible young men of means however, but short of arranging a
marriage for her, as some of his associates had done with their stubborn
offspring, there wasn’t much he could do.  Well, this trip would last six to
ten months, at least show Olivia a bit of the outside world. 

Beckford Manor, located in the beautiful fertile
countryside, five miles south of London, included around five hundred acres of
land, with several small lakes and a running stream.  Several buildings housed
the servants and their families, also a carriage house, and barn, made up the
estate, not to mention the Manor itself, which was a masterpiece in
architecture.  Another property was a nearby farm, which employed a family of
workers to provide the produce.   

Olivia’s uncle, the honored and titled Lord Claude
Beckford, also possessed title to several large estates around England and was Olivia’s dear departed mother’s brother.  A stately gentleman in every
sense of the word, the white-haired well respected Lord ran a worldwide
shipping industry which had been in the family for generations, along with many
factories in other countries specializing in goods for importing, also the
liner they would be traveling on was owned by Lord Beckford. Claude proudly knew
that Olivia adored her world-traveled uncle with all her heart, as for over
fifteen years he had been the only parent for herself, and brother Garth,
though Garth had had many ‘growing’ pains during his ten years at the Manor,
and being five years older than Olivia, had left to seek his ‘fortune’, also to
continue being the ‘rogue’ that he was fast becoming, while at the same time,
leaving behind a trail of disappointed lasses, and numerous broken hearts.