“Let’s find a cozy wee place and ‘av a go, like yer been wantin’.”
His shoulder pressed to my back and I stumbled forward, too afraid not to. His hand crushed my mouth and I tasted his sweat on my tongue. I looked back and forth, frantically searched the teeming rain.
No one. Solitude was no longer my haven.
He steered me toward a tarp that had been tossed over some wooden crates. With a sinking sensation, I knew it would hide us well. He shoved me forward and I fell hard to my knees. The pounding rain muffled all sound and screened us from anyone who might happen out in this deluge.
His short breaths burned into the back of my neck and my gut responded with a gurgle of fear.
“Turn over,” he ordered, the words harsh and slurred. The knife was briefly lifted as I complied, then quickly replaced.
I stared up into the corpulent face of O’Flynn. Animal excitement oozed from him, slackened his jaw.
His hand still trapped my mouth. “I’m going ter move my hand and yer better keep dat bleedin’ hole shut. Got it? Any noise and I slit dat pretty throat.” I felt the point of the knife. I inclined my head slightly and his hand left my mouth. Hunger burned in his eyes. Clammy fingers trailed across my face and down my neck.
The tarp sheltered my upper body while Sean O’Flynn straddled my legs, oblivious to the rain that pelted his back. Pale eyes devoured me. Sausage-like fingers twitched with want.
I shook badly but I grit my teeth to keep from crying.
Unable to contain himself any longer, he pawed at my bodice. Abruptly his brow furrowed and he grunted, “What de feck’s this? Where’s dat little white number yer been teasin’ me with?”
“I... the captain gave this to me... because my nightdress was...” I jumped violently as he exploded.
“I don’t like it!” he growled. Without warning, he sliced through the sodden material, the cold blade skimming my breast. The ruined bodice gaped wide, exposing me from shoulder to waist.
I snatched at the frayed ends but he swiped my hands aside.
The pig-eyes glazed over. “Ahhh Jaysus.” Pressing the knife to my throat, he dipped his head.
Greasy strands of his hair clung to my lips. The heavy odour of his unwashed body choked me. I felt my nails bite into my palms and the sweet of blood fill my mouth as I bit down on my lip. My cheek pressed the smooth wood of the deck as I strained away from the filth above me. Thick lips fastened onto the tip of one of my breasts and his tongue slathered my skin with a voracious hunger. A mewling started deep in my throat then escaped from my lips in a strangled cry.
Sean lifted his head, pale eyes narrowed. “Shut yer bleedin’ hole! I ‘av no problem feckin’ yer dead as alive.” He raised his eyebrows. The blade tapped my throat as he waited for my response. “As long as yer are still warm. Though I would miss the pantin’ in my ear.”
I cringed and nodded then scrunched my eyes tight, dragged Heath’s face to the front of my mind and swallowed hard.
I will survive this! I will!
I bit down hard, felt my upper teeth meet my lowers through the flesh of my lip, then opened my eyes.
“Ahh, luk at them tears. Yer are breakin’ my heart,” he leered. With a stubby forefinger he smeared the tears across my cheek. I jerked away, snapping my head to the side.
“Just gie Sean O’Flynn a minute or two at yer and you’ll be grinnin’ like an eejit.” His brow wrinkled for a minute.” Oh wait. Yer are an eejit!” he chortled, slapping his thigh, his giggles lost to the drumming rain.
As his laughter faded, his eyes trailed down, gliding across my torso with an intimacy I could feel. I stared at the face of the lecher who straddled me. Four red furrows, delivered earlier by my own hand, spoiled the doughy expanse of his jowled cheek. Perversion fevered his eyes. But the skiff of fear that frosted my belly began to thaw as I stared up into those eyes. Terror that had paralyzed me a moment before melted away and anger began to simmer, rapidly boiling to white-hot outrage.
I can live through this. I can live through anything for my son, I vowed to myself.
“Be done with it then, ye bastard,” I ground out, “if ye think ye can,” I added with a small smile.
The grin slid from his face and I felt the jab of the knife. His lips glistened and his tongue darted out to moisten them again. “Oh ‘av no fear, I can and I will.” Wasting no more time, he fumbled with the buckle of his stained britches and my smile was short-lived. Then I felt the pressure of the knife lessen as he struggled.
The knife!
It was my only chance. Ever so slowly, I inched my hand toward my throat, my eyes trained on his face.
The sky continued to empty. An opaque wall of rain drummed against our canvas shelter. Hundreds of drops splattered my bare shins, trickled between my toes. The musty odour of mould blended with the stench of the animal on top of me.
Holding my breath, I edged my fingers toward the knife that O’Flynn now held forgotten at my neck.
“Bleedin’ ‘ell!”
I froze, afraid to breathe.
O’Flynn continued to struggle with the buckle, his head bent in concentration.
He glanced up at me. “Don’t get any ideas, girl.” He set the knife on the deck, beside his thigh and, with a triumphant grunt, released the clasp.
The breath I’d been holding, rushed, a ragged sob, across my lips. Defeat coiled tight in my belly. The knife lay just out of reach.
O’Flynn shimmied his hips until his breeches slid down, setting loose his gelatinous belly. He flailed about until one hairy leg was set free.
My chance of escape was racing away.
He kicked the breeches aside and straddled my hips, the knife once more nudged at my throat. With his free hand, he fondled and squeezed my breast, pinching and twisting the tip. He bent again and I felt the hot tongue, slobbering, slaking, violating. Small gasps of excitement burst from him.
Hysteria clawed its way up from my gut and a moan vibrated in my throat.
He mistook my revulsion for pleasure. “Ah hah. Feels good, don’t it?” he mumbled wetly against my screaming skin. He worked his way down my torso as panic scurried across my skin. As he reached my belly, he lifted his head and peered blearily up at me. The lust that glazed his eyes brought hot sick surging up my throat. The knife glinted dully as he sliced off the remainder of my gown.
I lay naked, utterly exposed. “Ahhh.” His breath gushed from him and his lips stayed open, sagging with hunger. Screams erupted silently in my mind and I bit down savagely on what was left of my lip, determined to swallow my hysteria. Squeezing my eyes tight, I willed the vision of Heath’s tiny new face, Duncan’s blue, blue eyes.
God let me stay alive for my family. Please! I prayed.
I clenched my hands tight, pressed my knuckles to the floor of the deck as O’Flynn’s fat fingers kneaded my flesh. The hair that poked from his thighs chafed the skin on my hips. Blood pumped into my mouth as I shredded my lip.
Abruptly the groping fingers stilled.
“Feck! Feck, Feck, Feck!”
I opened my eyes cautiously.
O’Flynn stared down at himself, his curls dangling over his face. My eyes followed his line of vision.
The wrinkled tip of his cock peeked from the matted bush that sprouted between his legs. His stubby member hung flaccid, its helmeted head hung in shame. The hysteria that I’d fought erupted from me in a shriek. Giggles bubbled uncontrollably from my mouth.
Sean’s head snapped up and his watery eyes impaled me.
“Don’t yer laugh at me, you feckin’ kont!” He pinched the tip of his member between thumb and forefinger and stretched it taut, until it resembled a purple worm, just the right size for a Robin’s breakfast. The thought brought new peals of laughter that were silenced as he shook me until my eyes rolled.
Thrusting his hips into my face he screeched, “You think this is funny? You think this is funny?” It’s your fault, yer bleedin’ halfwit!” Furious scarlet erased
the pasty white from his face.
His pinky-ring gouged my cheek as he backhanded me. The force of the blow sent my head reeling and I no longer laughed. White stars exploded before my eyes then gradually fizzled, faded to grey.
From far away his voice cut through the grainy haze that sifted, like sand, before my eyes.
“Did yer hear me? This is your fault!”
My lids were heavy as I tried to focus. Something scraped my hand and I closed my fingers around it. It was sharp and felt good as Sean’s bloated face mooned back into focus.
His sodden curls stuck to his sweating face and his eyes bugged as he shoved his crotch at my mouth.“Yer did this! Now fix it! Diul mo bod!”
I gaped up at him. My Irish Gaelic was none too good but I was pretty sure he had just ordered me to suck his cock. I clamped my mouth tight and turned my face away.
“I said fix it ye bleedin’ ‘oor!”
I closed my eyes and gradually Sean faded. He was replaced by the long, smirking face of Sloan McBain. I could hear his voice as he bragged of raping Hannah. Then he dissolved and was replaced by Deirdre, a sly smile upon her lips as she clutched Heath to her sagging breast.
Something inside of me gave way and I slowly opened my eyes.
O’Flynn loomed above, his pitiful member cradled in his hand, his hips thrust forward in expectation.
I carefully closed my hand, looked into his eyes and smiled.
I enjoyed his momentary confusion. Then I swung my hand up and buried the jagged shard of the mug he’d broken earlier that day, deep into his left eye.
With ruthless intent I wrenched the broken glass free, then plunged it home once... twice more.
Sloan. JAB! Deirdre. JAB! Sean. JAB!
Agonized screams dragged me back and I gaped up at the wreckage in silence.
His deflated eyeball hung by a thread from the empty socket. Blood streamed through the nail-tears.
All was silent save the rush of the rain and the gentle lap of the sea at the sides of the ship.
With a cry of outrage, he ripped the shard from his eye and raised it over his head.
As I raised my arms to defend myself, he grunted and his remaining eyeball rolled up into his head. The broken glass slipped from his limp fingers, fell to the deck by my shoulder. He slumped forward, heavy on my quivering chest.
I dared not breathe. I dared not move. Had I killed him?
Cool rain trickled between my toes.
Then as though in a dream, I focused on a carved handle that jutted from O’Flynn’s back. Next, Rabbie’s white face peered over my attacker’s shoulder.
“It’s all right, Miss Meara.”
Everything blurred in frenzied movement as Rabbie grabbed O’Flynn by the shoulders and savagely jerked his body from mine. Flinging him aside, Rabbie knelt and awkwardly gathered me into his arms.
“Oh Rabbie. Rabbie... he was... I used his mug... it was broken and I...” I babbled, my words blubbering together.
He smoothed my hair and peered fearfully into my face. “Miss Meara, did he...?”
The unfinished question hung for a brief second as I struggled to pull myself and my tattered gown together.
“Nay Rabbie. He... he tried.” My body betrayed me then, trembling and quaking. Rabbie helped me to my feet and slung his arms fiercely about my body.
“It’s all right, Miss Meara. He’s dead. I think I killed him.” Rabbie’s voice cracked as he nudged the crumpled form with his toe. “Let’s get ye out of here, lass.” My legs would not cooperate and Rabbie supported me as we turned to leave.
I stumbled along the slippery deck, holding fast to Rabbie’s arm with one hand and to the front of my gown with the other.
“Feckin’ banshee!”
We spun around.
Sean’s ruined eye flopped almost comically against his cheek. The rain had washed clean the initial gush of blood and now only a diluted trickle meandered through the damage. His face seemed to glow in the dark and a demonic grin peeled the lips back from his teeth as he faced us, bare from the waist down. He clutched Rabbie’s dirk in his hand, jabbing it at us in challenge.
Then raising the weapon above his head, he launched himself at us with a roar.
A deafening shot cut through the night and O’Flynn stopped dead. Then his legs buckled and he fell to his knees. In disbelief he gaped down at the blood that spread like a macabre, blossoming rose, across the front of his peacock jacket. He lifted his head and his good eye found me. Blood frothed from his mouth, dripped from his chin. With a gurgle of outrage he collapsed, his head bouncing off the deck boards.
The whisper of rain slowed to a spit and pattered softly on the white buttocks of the body that lay at our feet.
A hunched figure, with bandied legs, shambled from the gloom. With deceptive nonchalance, Captain Duff caressed the gleaming barrel of his deadly Murdoch pistol. “Och, it’s a bit o’ fortune for me that this lump o’ shite has already paid his passage in full.” He inclined his head at Sean before slanting his eyes at me.
“But it looks as if you, wee lass, have cost me a bit in the way of gowns now, wouldna ye say?”
I nodded dumbly.
He tipped his head and took in my appearance, his eyes softening. “Did the dobber hurt ye much?”
I shook my head, tears pricking at my eyes. “Nay,” I whispered, “not too much.”
A gnarled paw reached out and patted my shoulder. Then his gaze fell on Rabbie and his bright eyes slashed silver. “Och, my knife-weldin’ young friend, gi’ me a hand would ye? The sharks are waitin’ for their supper.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across Rabbie’s pale face. “Aye, Captain.”
Rabbie gingerly snagged the splayed feet and the captain, clenching the chewed end of his pipe between his teeth, took hold of the arms. With a collective grunt, they hoisted the body up and over the railing. I listened for the splash as O’Flynn descended into his watery grave. Rabbie stooped over, retrieved the breeches and tossed them over the side as well.
Seemingly unfazed, the captain wiped his hands on his breeches and draped his arms around both our shoulders. The fragrant smoke of his pipe was welcome and cleared the stench of the Irish bastard from my nostrils. The captain swung his head from Rabbie to me, his jagged scar gleaming silver. “Well me mates, shall we pay a visit to my cabin and find ye another gown?”
******
The captain’s cabin was sparsely furnished. The varnished walls gleamed dark in the twinkling lamplight. He gestured toward two chairs as we moved into the room.
“Ha’ a seat. I’ll see what I can find for ye, lass.” Thankfully, I sank down onto the chair. He lifted the lid of a worn trunk and rummaged through the contents, tossing several garments to the side as perfume wrapped its cloying arms around us.
“There now, how’s this lassie?” He held up a pink gown with more ruffles than I had freckles. “The lass that wore this had a wee bit o’ trouble keepin’ it on when she visited ol’ Duff. But her loss is yer gain, am I right lassie?” He grinned at me, squinting against the curl of pipe smoke, and held up a pair of matching satin slippers. “Poor lassie, darned if she didn’t go and leave her shoes behind.”
My lips felt as though they were made of wood as I attempted a smile. I didn’t want to know anything else about the previous owner of the gown. Gingerly, I accepted the dress. It seemed clean enough and I was in no position to be picky in any case. Captain Duff directed me to his bedroom and I slipped in and closed the door. His deep voice penetrated the thick oak door and I shamelessly listened to their conversation as I changed.
“Well now, lad, what am I goin’ to do wi’ the pair of ye?”
“I’m sorry Captain but he was hurtin’ Miss Meara and I had to do it. Ye can punish me, but the lass, well she’s been through enough.” Rabbie’s voice was surprisingly strong and only cracked once as he defended me.
“Ye misunderstood, lad. I dinna gi’ a flyin’ fiddler’s fuck about that Irish dobber. He h
ad it comin’. If ye hadn’t found them when ye did the lass probably would be dead the now. He wouldna let her live once he was done wi’ her, ye ken.” There was silence for a moment.
My mouth had gone dry. I tried to swallow and felt my legs wobble beneath me.
“Ye saved her life, lad,” the captain added.
Rabbie didn’t answer but I could imagine the lad blushing furiously as he realised what he’d done. I owed my life to Rabbie, two times over now.
“Aye, laddie, I sorely underestimated that son of a bitch. I’ve only done that once afore and that fucker left his mark right here.” I heard the creaking of a chair and the shuffle of feet and assumed he was giving Rabbie a closer look at the scar that split his face. “Shoot first, ask questions later. That’s my motto the now.” Another groan of wood as he settled back in his chair. “Bloody gob o’ shite!”
A heavy silence followed. Tremors riddled my body and I tried to hold myself still. I stepped into the gown and pulled it up over my hips. The fit was close to perfect, but the frothing lace and overabundance of bows was absurd.
“I have an acquaintance in the Canadas, Rabbie, an old friend, John Carleton. He’s already paid Sarah and Molly Burnett’s passage. Miss Sarah was to be governess for his two young children. I’m sorry to say but I dinna think she’s goin’ to survive the rest of this voyage. She’s in a bad way, lad. The bairn’s takin’ everythin’ she’s got and that’s no much.”
I knew Sarah had been unwell but sadness filled me as I thought of the young mother and her children. So much death, so much loss. What would happen to wee Molly if her mother should pass?
“John told me on my last trip that he’s lookin’ for a lad to tend his horses. He owes me a favour lad. I could probably fix it that you and Miss Meara go work for him together. Would that suit ye, providin’ ye ken a little about horses?”
Rabbie barely let the captain finish, “Oh aye, Captain! That would suit me verra well. I thank ye kindly! I just need to stay wi’ Miss Meara and protect her, ye ken.” There was a short pause and Rabbie cleared his throat. “Might I ask another favour of ye, Captain?”
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