Master of Paradise (39 page)

“How do you know this?”

“I know because I was with them in the palace
at Zanzibar as they discussed it.”

“And what were you doing in the palace?”

“I was a slave. I was given by Lord
Breckenridge to the sultan.”

Several of the ladies in the galley swooned.
Others fanned themselves and sat straighter in their seats.

“What sort of slaves do you claim these men
are profiting by?”

“All manner of slaves. Slaves mostly to feed
the plantation economy of that region. Slaves for the fields,
slaves for the houses, slaves for the sultan of Zanzibar. The
sultan is...particularly fond of male slaves. Especially if they’re
of pale complexion.” His implication was clear.

“This is outlandish!” cried Hastings.

“How do you know all this, Mr. Ashton?”

Cullen tilted his chin up and looked the
barrister in the eyes. “I have firsthand knowledge. I can’t begin
to describe the horror of one’s life as a slave. In England, it
seems a remote concept, easy to ignore. But I’m here to tell you, I
was treated as less than human. I was initially kept in chains. I
was beaten, starved, forced to obey by all manner of torture. Soon
it became easier to comply. I was used—I became the favorite of the
sultan. No horror was so unspeakable that it wasn’t perpetrated on
my person, for the service or entertainment of the brute. And I
wasn’t alone. There were dozens of us.”

“I daresay your experience would break the
spirit of most men.”

“I’ve been a slave all my life, sir. I’ve
been a slave to my illegitimacy.” He glanced at Douglas, who
suddenly stood up with tears in his eyes. “And I’ve been a slave to
my own—and other people’s—expectations of me. But never like this.
The enslavement of human beings is a curse that must end. We must
wipe it from the face of the earth or before God, we’re as guilty
as those who lock the chains. That is the mission of Rodrigo Soro.
To ensure to all human beings the dignity that is our due.”

By now, there wasn’t a sound in the
courtroom.

“And how did you get here?”

“Lord Breckenridge sent an emissary to the
sultan before he left, explaining that he was going to accompany my
sister and Rodrigo back to England, and fight the passage of the
antislavery bill. I overheard the emissary saying this, and that
Hastings intended to see to it my sister and her pirate were hanged
without delay. As I said, they began by beating me into submission,
but I was a coward. Rather than suffer their torture, I soon began
to obey. Once the sultan realized I hadn’t the courage to run away,
he gave me a great deal of freedom. So I used that freedom to
escape, in the hopes that I might arrive in time to explain.”

“You escaped, then, and made your way to
England to testify at this trial?”

“Yes. I managed to stow away on an American
steamship.”

“It seems to me, Mr. Ashton, that a man who
has braved what you have for the sake of helping others is a man of
remarkable courage indeed.”

“I had to get here to tell the truth about
Rodrigo. I knew Hastings would never allow the true story to come
out.”

“And what
is
that truth?”

“That Rodrigo Soro turned pirate only to
fight an abomination against humanity. If you will indulge me, I
can prove that every ship he attacked was in some way connected to
the illegal slave trade.”

“You journeyed thousands of miles by yourself
to come to this court to give a testimony that must be humiliating
at best. There must be some reason beyond the commendable love of
your sister.”

Cullen looked into the eyes of his father,
who now had tears streaming down his face. “Maybe to prove that no
man’s fate is written in stone.”

Cullen and his father exchanged a long
look.

“Take courage, Father,” Cullen coaxed. “Do
what you know to be right.”

With a sob, Douglas went stumbling from the
room. Watching this, Gabrielle said to Rodrigo, “He’s running away
again.”

“Maybe not,” Rodrigo said.

Cullen left the stand and went straight into
the open arms of his sister. Gabrielle hugged him close, then
brushed his hair back off his face, the way she’d done when he was
a little boy. “I’m so terribly proud of you,” she told him.

Rodrigo just extended his hand and shook
Cullen’s, silently expressing his gratitude.

Noting Rodrigo’s protective arm on her
shoulder, Cullen said, “I always thought you two belonged
together.”

But a more intimate reunion would have to
wait, for the jury had been whispering among themselves, and the
foreman now stood. “My lord, we wish to hear the witness’s full
testimony—no matter how long it may take.”

Hastings charged the bench. “Matson, you
can’t let them do that.”

The judge looked over at the unyielding face
of the admiral, then, with a lift of his brow, commanded, “Lord
Breckenridge, you will kindly take your seat or I shall have you
forcibly removed from my courtroom.”

So Judge Matson was breaking with Hastings.
Watching him, Gabrielle saw her half brother take a step back,
survey the situation, then bolt from the courtroom.

Cullen turned to the admiral. “I think
Hastings is going to stop my father.”

“Stop him from what?”

“I think my father has gone to release his
block of votes. There may still be time to sway the outcome of the
antislavery bill. Hastings will try to stop him, even if it means
killing his own father.”

Gabrielle turned to the judge. “Free him,”
she called. “Free Rodrigo now!”

“I can’t do that,” the judge stalled.
“Nothing has changed in the prisoner’s status.”

Rodrigo stood, tugging on his chains in
frustration. He had to get out of there. He had to stop
Hastings.

Gabrielle turned to the admiral. “
Do
something! You must want this bill passed as much as we. Let
Rodrigo go and do what he can.”

“I’ll send soldiers,” he suggested.

“I can move much faster,” Rodrigo countered.
“I won’t let him escape me.”

Grasping the logic of this, the admiral came
to a quick decision. Relieving the bailiff of his keys, he said in
his most autocratic tone, “As I’ve stated, this man is a prisoner
of the Royal Navy and as such, it is in my power to take him under
my personal recognizance for a short time. I trust, Mr. Soro, you
will not abuse this privilege. I expect to see you back within the
hour.” He came forth and inserted the key in the lock.

“I won’t betray your trust, Admiral.”

As the last chain fell from Rodrigo’s wrist,
he bounded up on the table, leapt over the chairs, and was out the
door.

Gabrielle was right behind him. She heard her
name and turned. In a bold gesture, Cullen was unbuckling the
admiral’s sword. He took it in hand and tossed it through the air.
Gabrielle caught it, saluted her brother, and ran.

Outside, Rodrigo stood at the curb with his
hand cupped over his eyes, peering down the street. There, in the
distance, she saw that Hastings had mounted a horse and was
galloping away. Simultaneously, the crowd spotted them. “That’s
them!” someone called. “The pirate and his whore. Quick! They’re
escaping!”

Rodrigo grabbed her hand and backed away.
“We’ll never catch up to him. Think fast, Gabé. We don’t need an
idea. We need an inspiration.”

“The river!” she cried.

“Of course.”

They sprinted down the side alley with the
crowd of bellowing pursuers following close behind. The crowd
called out “Stop them,” along the way, and citizens, assuming they
were thieves on the run, joined the chase.

They ran past St. Paul’s to Puddle Dock.
There were a number of boats anchored close about, some barges and
a larger vessel or two. Raking her gaze over the waterfront,
Gabrielle spotted a steamer just distant. “That must be the one
Cullen came in on.”

They looked at each other and had the same
idea.

“We’ll take it,” Gabrielle said for both of
them.

They ran up the dock and boarded without
permission. Charging their way through the protesting crew, they
found the captain on deck. Gabrielle drew the admiral’s sword from
its sheath and pointed it at the man’s throat.

“We’re commandeering your vessel, Captain,
for a short voyage,” Rodrigo said. “Cooperate and neither you nor
your crew will be hurt. Choose to resist, and I can’t answer for
the consequences.”

The American looked from Gabrielle’s face to
Rodrigo’s. “Where do you want to go?”

“Palace of Westminster,” Rodrigo ordered.
“And be quick about it.”

Within a few moments the captain had fired
the engines and they pulled into the river, executing a wide turn
in the direction of the Parliament building.

Once they were underway, they swooped down
the Thames.

“You must have brought my brother over from
Zanzibar,” Gabrielle told the captain. “For which I thank you.” He
looked confused. “Oh, you probably didn’t know he was aboard. He
would have been a stowaway.”

“Ah,” said the captain. “I see it runs in the
family.”

She wasn’t up to banter. “Hurry,” she said.
“Make this contraption go as fast as it can.”

They sailed under a series of
bridges—Blackfriar’s, Waterloo—around the large bend in the river.
As they were coming upon Westminister Bridge, Rodrigo said with an
excited glow on his face, “This ship is fast. We could make it back
home in three months at this rate.”

“Would you care to book a reservation now?”
asked the captain dryly.

Rodrigo ignored this. “Just be quick about
it.” He’d no sooner said this than he caught sight of something and
dashed to the rail. Releasing the sword from the man’s throat,
Gabrielle joined him. “Tack in,” Rodrigo called back to the
captain, as if he were now master of this ship.

The American gave the order, but there was
nowhere for such a large ship to dock.

“What do you see?”

Rodrigo pointed in the direction of
Whitehall, where she spotted Hastings galloping up the street at a
breakneck pace. Then, glancing left, she caught sight of her father
climbing the steps of the rear entrance to the palace of
Westminster—avoiding the crowd that had assembled out front to hear
the outcome of the vote. Hastings was barreling down on him.

Rodrigo glanced about. They were too high up
to jump into the river. Just then they passed under the bridge. He
looked above, jumped onto the rail, and took a flying leap so he
grasped the bottom of the bridge just as the ship passed beneath
it.

“Rodrigo!” Gabrielle called out. “You’ve
forgotten the sword.”

But there was no time for him to turn back.
He’d made his way to the top of the bridge, surprising the foot
traffic along the way. Shoving them aside, he ran across the bridge
even as Hastings dismounted.

As the steamship came to a full stop at the
riverbank, Gabrielle heard Hastings shout, “Stop, Father! Don’t
take another step.”

From the top of the stairs, Douglas turned
and looked at his son. “You’ll not stop me from doing this,
Hastings. You no longer have any power over me.”

Gabrielle watched Rodrigo stop short as
Hastings raised his pistol and cocked the hammer. “Don’t I,
Father?”

As Hastings put his finger to the trigger,
Rodrigo was standing perhaps twenty feet away. Without moving, he
called out, “Cross, over here.”

Hastings kept the pistol trained on his
father, but his gaze drifted toward Rodrigo. Now he had a difficult
choice to make. Shoot his father and prevent the passage of the
bill, or shoot Rodrigo while he was so completely vulnerable.

He considered a moment, then shifted the
pistol toward Rodrigo and pulled the trigger. But Rodrigo, sensing
the outcome of Hastings’s dilemma, dove onto the pavement just as
the weapon discharged. The bullet grazed his left shoulder.

As Rodrigo lay dazed on the ground, clutching
his bloody arm, Hastings threw the pistol away, drew his sword, and
started toward his victim. At the top of the stairs, Douglas saw
his chance and entered the building.

Gabrielle looked around and grabbed a huge
coil of rope, struggling to drag it to the side of the ship. “You
have to help me,” she told the captain. She heaved the rope over
the side, holding onto the end. “I’m trusting you to hold this
while I climb down.”

“But my dear lady pirate—”

“There isn’t time. Will you help me or
not?”

Reluctantly, the captain took the rope in his
hands. He wrapped it around the rail and Gabrielle fastened the
sword about her hips and took the rope in hand. Carefully, she
lowered herself down the side of the ship, threw herself to the
ground, and hurried up the Westminster stairs to level land.

Rodrigo had managed to rise to his feet
before Hastings reached him. But his speed was off, and as Hastings
slashed with his sword, the blade nicked Rodrigo’s right shoulder,
giving him a second wound.

Clearly enjoying his advantage, Hastings
smiled and lunged again. This time, his victim quickly darted out
of harm’s way, but in the process, tripped sideways. In a flash,
Hastings was on him, kicking him with his boot so he went sprawling
to the ground. Hastings pounced on him, striding his chest, putting
the deadly blade of the sword to his throat.

“Farewell,
Roderick
. I almost think I
shall miss you. But not enough to—”

Just then Gabrielle came dashing onto the
scene. “Rodrigo!”

He turned toward her voice, cutting his
throat. His blood beaded like rubies against the skin of his
neck.

She didn’t dally. Knowing she couldn’t make
it to him in time, she tossed the sword to him. Rodrigo reached out
even as the confusion registered on Hastings’s face. Rodrigo caught
the saber in his fist and angled it up to force the blade from his
throat.