Wilde, Jennifer (8 page)

"If
only it could be that way."

"Take
'eart, lass. A wench looks like you, 'as such a fine education an' all, she's
gonna fetch th' 'ighest price goin'. Anyone who 'as enough gold to pay for you
is bloody well gonna 'ave enough sense to take good care of 'is
investment."

Catching
hold of the lifeboat, I pulled myself to my feet. The ship rocked precariously,
and I stumbled. Jack caught me, holding me against his chest. I wrapped my arms
around his neck and tilted my head back to look up into his eyes. He smelled of
sweat and salt and tar, and he was not at all good-looking with his too-wide
mouth and sharp nose, but he was the kindest man I had ever known. My heart was
actually aching, and I could no longer hold back the tears. They spilled over
my lashes and made tiny wet trails down my cheeks.

"
'Ere," he said in a scolding voice, "that ain't no way to carry on.
Tears're for them weak, whinin' women who ain't got no backbone. You're strong,
Marietta. You got determination an' a will of iron."

"I
don't feel very strong at the moment."

Jack
wiped the tears from my cheek. "You're gonna make it, lass, just like I said.
No more cryin', you 'ear? Come on now, let's see a smile."

I
smiled feebly, but my heart wasn't in it. Jack held me tightly as the gray
disappeared from the sky and the clouds were tinged with gold. We could hear
the crew moving busily about their duties now, calling to one another in rough,
coarse voices. It was time for him to go. Both of us realized that.

"We'll
never see each other again," I said.

"Aw,
I don't know about that. Life's a crazy thing. Who knows? I ain't aimin' to be
a sailor th' rest of my life. I have a hankerin' to see somethin' of this vast
new country we're comin' to. In two or three years I just might give up th'
seafarin' life an' give the colonies th' once-over. Maybe we'll run into each
other."

"Maybe
so," I replied, without conviction.

The
sky was a blaze of pink and orange now, and for one brief moment the sea was
a-spangle with flecks of gold that danced and shimmered as the waves moved. I
looked up at the man who had been my salvation these long, misery-laden weeks,
and then, standing on tiptoes, I kissed that wide, amiable mouth, brushing my
lips tenderly against his. Jack gave me one last squeeze, an exuberant hug that
almost cracked my ribs. Making a fist with his right hand, he tapped me gently
on the chin, grinned his rakish grin, and sauntered around the lifeboats and
out of sight.

I
stood at the railing, gripping it tightly in an attempt to control my emotions.
I tried to believe what he had told me. I tried to believe that I would come
through it all with flying colors, that I was as strong as he said I was. I was
afraid of the future, now more so than ever, for with Jack I had had a respite
from the horror and humiliation. He had protected me, and now he was gone and I
had no one to turn to. I was desolate and feeling utterly vulnerable.

Heavy
gray clouds obscured the sun. The flecks of gold vanished from the water, the
waves a lead gray now, the air thick with mist. I could smell salt, and I could
smell land, too. In the distance there was the shrill, squawking cry of a gull.
I knew that I should go back down to the hull and gather my few things up, but
I lingered there at the railing to stare down at the swirling water that
slapped so viciously against the ship, causing it to crack and groan like some
ponderous brown wooden animal with canvas wings. The warm, wondrous glow that
was the aftermath of our lovemaking had gone now, and I felt cold, chilled to
the bone.

A
long time passed. The heavy gray clouds began to thin and separate,
evaporating, and I saw patches of steel-blue sky through the rift. Sunlight
spilled down in bright silvery rays that reflected in the water, and as the
gloom left the sea, so did it leave me. That hard core was still inside me,
still sustaining me, and the determination to survive was stronger than ever. I
had survived the sea voyage, and that in itself was something. Three women had
died, and the others were pitiful shells of humanity, dull, dispirited. If
anything, thanks to Jack's care, I was healthier than I had been at the
beginning of the voyage.

I
thought about Jack, objectively now. I was fond of him, and I would miss him,
miss his robust male body and the sensations it summoned, but, in truth, I had
merely used him. Like a prostitute I had traded my beauty, my body, for the
comfort and protection he could give me. I wasn't proud of that, but neither
was I sorry. I was a woman alone. I had youth and beauty and intelligence, and
I knew full well that I was going to have to use them again and again in time
to come. They were the only weapons I had, and I fully recognized the power
they gave me. There would be other men like Jack Reed, and each would be a
stepping stone to... what? I was down now, I would be literally a slave to
anyone who bought me, but I had a curious feeling that I wouldn't be down for
long.

I
heard one of the sailors high up on the mast give a loud, joyous
cry—"Land! Land ahoy!"—and I leaned against the railing, peering at
the shimmering violet-gray mists in the distance. For a moment or so I could
see nothing, and then the mists seemed to part and I saw a mound of brown and
green, barely visible, and I knew that it was America, the land of my future.
My earlier apprehension vanished completely. I felt excitement stir within. It
was a new land. I would have a new life there on that vast continent. There
would be hardships, and I was already handicapped, but as the mists parted even
more and the land loomed up out of the water like a huge, slumbering sea
monster, I felt a distinct challenge.

Life
had dealt me many hard blows. I had been thrown out of my father's home. I had
been brutally raped by a dissolute aristocrat and framed for a crime I hadn't
committed. I had been subjected to incredible humiliation that would have
broken a weaker person... but that was all in the past. I had learned several
valuable lessons about life, and I was eager to put them into practice. I might
be coming to this country as a prisoner, a slave, the lowest of the low, yet it
still seemed to beckon to me now, seemed to hold a promise of fulfillment and
success.

Always
interested in the new world, I had read everything I could find about it over
the years. I knew its size was staggering, the English colonies stretching up and
down the seaboard and separated by huge areas of untamed wilderness filled with
savage Indians and wild beasts. The French were there, as well, and the
Spanish, and there were hundreds of thousands of miles to the west still
unexplored. Of course, the Americans were little better than hooligans, rough,
illiterate, crude despite the scattering of elegant cities they had hewn out of
the wilderness. They were a wild, defiant breed, but they were ambitious,
always striving, always reaching out. A young, determined woman would have
great opportunities in a country like that, even if she did arrive as a common
criminal.

Hearing
footsteps behind me, I turned, thinking perhaps Jack had returned. It wasn't
Jack. It was Angus Blackstone, one of the guards, a huge, hulking brute with
short-clipped black hair and savage brown eyes. He wore sea boots, soiled tan
breeches, and a rough leather jerkin over a coarse white cotton shirt with the
sleeves rolled up over his forearms. He gripped a worn leather riding crop in his
right hand. I had seen him use it on several of the women, beating them into
submission, but I had also seen him cringe with fear and cowardice when Jack
spoke to him. I stared at him defiantly.

"Figured
I'd find you 'ere," he said. His voice was thick, guttural. "Thought
maybe your fine sailor boy'd be with you, 'avin' a last go-round 'fore we
land."

"Jack
has duties to attend to."

"So
'ave I, wench, so 'ave I. I gotta get you sluts ready to land. You come on with
me an' get your things together before we put th' shackles back on ya. Don't
give me no argument, now. I ain't laid a 'and on you, but I 'ave to confess I'm
spoilin' to. It'd do my 'eart good to give you a taste of my lash—"

I
moved past him with dignity, my chin held high. Blackstone made a grimace, but
restrained himself, his fear of reprisal being greater than his desire to put
me in my place. I went on down the dark, narrow stairway to the congested area
lined with wooden bunks. The other women were stirring about, lethargically
gathering up their belongings like lost souls preparing for hell. When we had
first boarded the ship so many weeks ago, they had fought and scratched at each
other like vicious caged animals. The contrast now was extraordinary.

Angie
was the exception. Like me, she had found a way to better conditions for
herself during the journey, and she too looked healthier than she had at the
beginning. Angie had the bunk next to mine, and she kept an eye on my things
while I was with Jack, else they would have been stolen immediately.

"
'Ave a nice time, luv?" she inquired.

I
nodded. Angie made a face as Blackstone approached us.

"
'Urry it up, sluts," he growled. "They'll be comin' to put th'
shackles back on any minute now."

"Piss
off!" Angie hissed.

"
'Ere, you lookin' for trouble?"

"Don't
touch me, you bloody sod!"

She
glared at him fiercely, and although he made threatening noises, Blackstone
backed away. Angie sighed as though he were merely a bothersome insect she had
brushed away, then turned her attention back to me. Barely seventeen years old,
Angie was small and thin with long, silky blond hair and enormous brown eyes.
Pale golden-brown freckles were scattered lightly across her cheeks, and her
full pink mouth curled down at the corners with disgust and resignation. Although
she looked like a fragile, vulnerable child, that impression was highly
misleading.

Angie
had been a prostitute since the age of twelve, living like an alley cat in
squalid back streets of London, selling herself for pennies, stealing food in
order to survive. Angie had been convicted of thievery just as I had, her crime
snatching a handful of coins from a shopkeeper's till. On our very first day on
board she had picked out one of the three guards and played up to him
shamelessly, and although she had had to service him regularly, patiently
indulging his somewhat unusual whims, she had never been assaulted, nor had she
ever been beaten. The guard had watched after her just as Jack watched after
me. Tough, scrappy, Angie was a natural survivor.

"Well,
I guess it's almost over," she said. "God knows what's gonna 'appen
to us now. We'll probably end up in some 'ore'ouse. There're men who pick out
women at th' auctions, you know. They buy 'em, fatten 'em up, an' then sell 'em
to 'ouses. 'Appens all th' time."

"It
may not be that way, Angie. We—we both might be lucky."

"I
ain't countin' on it," she said grimly.

"As
soon as you're put on the block you'll probably be snatched up by some sturdy
young farmer who's been looking for a girl like you. You'll have him wrapped
around your little finger before a week goes by."

"Like
'ell—knowin' my luck, I'll be stuck out in th' fields to pick cotton alongside
th' blacks. You, though, I ain't worried about
you.
In a few years
you'll probably end up ownin' 'alf th' bloody country. If you ain't scalped,
that is."

"Scalped?"

"Them
Injuns—that's what really worries me. Cliff Barnes 'as been tellin' me all
about 'em. They're roamin' all over th' place, just pantin' to get 'old of
white women, an' do you know what they
do
when they get one? Cliff told
me all about it. 'E said—"

"No
doubt he was merely trying to frighten you."

"Bleedin'
sod—'im an' 'is back-door 'abits. I'll be glad to see th' last of
'im,
I
can tell you for sure! Still, I guess 'e served 'is purpose."

"We've
both been lucky," I said.

"We
damned sure 'ave—just look at th' rest of these cows. It's been nice 'avin' at
least one friend on this stinkin' tub. Christ! 'Ere comes Barnes, an' 'e 'as
that look in 'is eye. 'Ere's your things, Marietta, safe an' secure—"

She
cut herself short as Cliff Barnes joined us. Barnes had flat gray eyes and
tawny gold hair that fell about his head in lank strands; he was a large,
brutal man built along the same lines as Blackstone. Wrapping one huge hand
around Angie's arm, he pulled her to him. She sighed, wearing a bored, resigned
expression.

"We
'ave time for one more trick, luv," he said, leering.

"Yeah,
sure." She sighed again and let him lead her away.

I
began to rearrange my things in the shabby valise Angie had been guarding. We had
been permitted to bring a few personal belongings with us, and before we
departed, Millie, the maid, had risked the wrath of Lord Mallory to bring me
some of the clothes I had left behind at the house. The girl had picked out the
most elaborate, expensive gowns I had, garments that would be of little or no
use to me in America. Once on board, I had traded them for more suitable
things, exchanging one of them for a sewing kit, as well. Thanks to Jack, I had
been able to have the new things laundered, and I had spent hours altering them
to fit me. They were a motley collection, true, but they would serve me much
better than silks or bronze taffeta.