Rainbow Hammock

by Becky Lee Weyrich

  Suddenly, one of the women went into frantic gyrations. She screamed and her body twisted and jerked in a most unnatural fashion. A second later, she dropped to the sand and lay motionless.

  Lilah caught her breath, then whispered, “Is she dead, Jeremy?”

  “Wait and watch.”

  An eerie silence descended. The drumbeat died away. Her partner circled her seemingly lifeless form, touched her breast, then scooped her into his arms with a wild yelp.

  “Loa is come to her!” he called out.

  Lilah held her breath and clung to Jeremy’s arm, fear churning her viscera.

  The woman’s body twitched suddenly in her partner’s arms. He set her gently down to the ground. She staggered for a moment, then stood motionless, staring with glassy eyes at the others. Then she whirled into action, ripping her clothes off. Naked, her ebony body gleaming in the torchlight, she began a slow, undulating motion that made the painted voodoo symbols on her skin seem to slither over her flesh. The drummer matched her rhythm.

  Lilah felt a burning flush creep into her face. She glanced sidelong at Jeremy and breathed with relief when she found his eyes glued to the scene. She had seldom seen a nude body, and never in the company of a man.

  “Vodu, the snake god, is come to her!” the possessed woman’s partner cried out, tearing off his breachcloth.

  Lilah gasped at the sight of his hugely erect penis. She dared not look at Jeremy now.

  The slaves’ attention focused wholly on the writhing woman and her mate. She fell to the sand and began a snakelike crawl around the circle, in and out among the legs of the others. Her male counterpart imitated her actions until they met in the center of the group. Black Mambo let her live serpent touch them both, then anointed their bodies with a few drops of oil. The blessing given, the drum rolled as if signaling to the possessed ones.

  The dusky male of the oversized penis fell atop his mate’s twitching body. She arched her back to receive his full length. They worked together to the steadily rising tempo of the drum.

  Lilah’s eyes widened, her body flamed. She’d never witnessed the act before. Had she and Steele actually performed these rites earlier in the day? Her head swam.

  She heard a groan from Jeremy, and he clutched at her frantically. But her own breath came so quick and hard now that she was aware of little else.

  Flashes of heat surged through her when she felt Jeremy’s hands fumbling at her breasts. She tried to push his insistent fingers away, but failed. He held her fast, squeezing hard, as his mouth covered hers and devoured hungrily. She tore away from his lips and tried to escape, but he clung to her.

  “Lilah, let me do it to you,” he moaned urgently.

  “No, Jeremy, you mustn’t! Let me go!” She tried to squirm away, but the soft sand sank in around her and held her prisoner for him.

  “Yes, Lilah, now, or I’ll go crazy!” Jeremy breathed into her open, protesting mouth.

  She struggled out of his grasp, fighting her skirts and the sand to put a safe distance between them. Staggering slightly, feeling disoriented, Lilah looked about for the buggy.

  “Come back, Lilah honey,” Jeremy called.

  She turned toward the beach at the sound of Jeremy’s voice. Her eyes went wide with horror at what she saw beyond him. Black Mambo stood with a hissing cat raised high above her head. In her other hand, she held a gleaming knife.

  “It’s Gypsy!” Lilah gasped. “The blood sacrifice!”

  Jeremy tried to catch her arm, but only succeeded in ripping her loosened bodice. She dashed away from him, headed straight into the circle of voodoo worshipers on the beach.

  “No!” Lilah yelled. “No, she’s mine! You let her go!”

  Jeremy stumbled and fell in the deep sand. He watched Lilah throw herself at Black Mambo. The old witch-slave lost her balance. Gypsy tumbled to the ground and disappeared into the dunes. But worse now, two of the men held Lilah, her arms pinioned behind her back, her bare breasts shining like polished globes of marble by the light of the blue-flamed fire.

  Lilah’s shrieks filled the night. Struggling to free herself, she seemed as possessed as the slave girl, and so Mambo pronounced her.

  The two men holding Lilah threw her roughly to the sand. Stunned, she lay motionless while the snakeman neared her. Lilah made no sound now, but the drums throbbed their frenzy once more.

  Jeremy, immobilized with disbelief for moments, came to his senses only partially. The savage sounds and sights about him thundered in his brain and pulsed in his groin. When he saw the great slave poised over Lilah, ready to possess her, Jeremy rushed at the man, knocking him out of the way. But, caught up in his own erotic fantasies, he himself took her there on the beach to the chanting of Black Mambo’s crew.

  Lilah, dazed from her fall, paralyzed with fear, and light-headed from the sweet-smelling smoke, realized little of what happened. Her awareness extended only to the weight of a body atop hers, the breeze on her bare flesh, a stab of penetration. Then blackness closed around her.

  She awoke inside the closed carriage. A blanket was wrapped snugly about her to hide the tatters of her dress.

  Jeremy, seeing her eyes open, asked, “Are you all right, Lilah?”

  His words swam in her head like so much flotsam in an eddy. All she could remember was the terrifying sight of those painted, brown faces leering down at her nakedness… and then the invasion of her body.

  “They all saw?” she asked, dreading his answer.

  “They’re only slaves, and they’ll keep their mouths shut. Not one of them will even admit to having been there on the beach. They know what Papa would do to them for practicing voodoo. When you ran down to save Gypsy, I went after you. It was all over so fast. I carried you back through the dunes to the carriage.”

  “But you saw, Jeremy!” she lashed out bitterly. “You saw me raped by a slave!” She caught his arms and begged on the brink of hysteria, “Promise me you’ll never tell a soul about tonight! Promise me, Jeremy, promise me!” She was sobbing.

  She didn’t see the slow smile play about his mouth.

  So, Jeremy thought, she really doesn’t know what happened tonight. How fortunate for my plans!

  He brushed her forehead with cool lips and whispered, “Lilah, darling, I’d no more tell what I saw on the beach than I’d tell what I know about you and Steele Denegal. These will be our secrets… binding us together.”

  The mention of Steele’s name, and the reminder that he’d left her brought fresh shocks of pain to torture her. Again Jeremy’s words seemed more threat than promise.

  “Let me out here, Jeremy,” Lilah insisted. “I’ll walk the rest of the way to the house.”

  “Whatever you say, darling,” he answered sweetly.

  But before he let Lilah out of the buggy, he pressed her back against the seat and forced her lips apart in a less than gentle kiss. His hands fumbled over the warm flesh inside the blanket.

  Lilah didn’t try to resist. She would never be able to refuse him again. Jeremy Patrick knew her darkest secrets. He could ruin her. She was now as much his slave as Rainbow, Fancy, or any of the others on the plantation. The thought terrified her.

  In her bed at last, Lilah cried herself to sleep. Would the world ever be the same for her? What a beautiful day it had started out to be… to end so hideously!

  “Why, Steele, why?” she sobbed quietly, as her brain’s anesthesia wore off and the pain engulfed her.

  Chapter 8

  A gray drizzle, which bore the promise of heavier rain to come, sealed over Savannah. Steele Denegal pulled his cloak more closely about him and ducked into the first tavern he came to on River Street.

  He took a rough seat at a table in the back corner of the seamen’s haven, and ordered ale before bringing out his writing materials.

  Savannah, Georgia

  November 1, 1859

  My darling Lilah,

  At this momen
t I should be holding you in my arms, showing you my love, instead of sitting alone in this sailors’ haunt, swilling grog with the best (or should I say the worst?) of the salty tars. I will leave soon and return to my room at the Waring House, where I hope to meet you in my dreams, dearest.

  As to what lies before me, I dare not speculate. I managed to book passage on a mail packet bound for Key West and leaving on the morning tide. I have paid the Isabel’s first mate, Groogan, double the regular fare. I’m sure. But this is the only vessel headed for my destination within the month. Should J wait for the next, I fear my mission might be in vain. My only desire, at this moment, is to be on my way as quickly as possible. For, the sooner I depart, the sooner I will be able to return and claim you for my own, sweet Lilah.

  Please forgive my hasty note of this afternoon, and know that had it been possible I would have come to you in person to explain my distasteful task and confide my love to you in the most appropriate fashion.

  Prepare your trousseau, my love, for I intend to make swift work of my duties and an even hastier job of finding a minister upon my return!

  Yours with all love and affection,

  Steele Denegal

  Steele rose slowly from the greasy plank table. Taking a candle, which illumined the dark corner where he’d been sitting, he dribbled wax along the edges of the folded sheet.

  “You, girl!” he called to the tavern maid.

  The young woman set down several tankards of ale in front of a rowdy bunch just in port, and turned a wary smile on Steele. After measuring him up and down with tired eyes, and seeming to approve of what she saw, she came closer and said, “I’ll not be finishin’ me chores in the taproom for another hour or so, sir. And, of course, me employer makes me charge a wee bit, but if you like. I’ll bring you another grog while ye waits.”

  Steele frowned at the girl, barely in her teens, he judged, and already with the look of a poorly used whore. He shook his head and tried to smile back at her.

  “No. You don’t understand, miss. I only want to post this letter to Rainbow Hammock. I thought, perhaps, you kept a mail pouch about the place.”

  She looked from Steele’s face to the letter in his hand. Her smile faded.

  “I’m not a bad piece, you know. Bring in more trade than me two older sisters put together, I do. There’s some come in special, asking for me and no other,” she boasted. “I may be young, but I’ll wager I’m experienced enough to satisfy even the likes of a fine gentleman like yourself,” she added defensively.

  When she looked away, Steele thought he caught the glitter of tears starting in her gray-green eyes.

  “What’s your name, lass?” he asked gently.

  “Maggie,” she answered, her voice quivering.

  “Well, Maggie, I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s only that I have a girl already.”

  She looked up at him again, solemn now. “And is the letter for your love then, mister?”

  He nodded.

  “Then you’ll not have anyone warmin’ your bed tonight, if she’s far away on Rainbow Hammock,” she added hopefully.

  “Not tonight or for some time… until we’re married, and God only knows when that will be.”

  He started to walk away, but Maggie caught his arm. “Please, mister,” she whispered. “Don’t be thinkin’ me forward, but me boss man’s given his orders to me. If you won’t hire me services for the night, I’ll have to bed down with one of them.” She indicated the dirty, unshaven crew off the ship, in port for the first time in months. “They treat a girl real bad, mister. They ain’t gentlemen like yourself.”

  “Maggie, I’ll tell you what—suppose I go upstairs with you. I’ll pay whatever the tavernkeeper expects you to get. But you won’t have to do anything. I’ll slip out the back way, and you can get a good night’s rest. You can tell your boss I want you for the whole night. That way you won’t have to go up with any of the sailors.”

  Maggie hugged him quickly in gratitude. “Oh, thank you, mister! But there must be somethin’ I can do that would pleasure you, since you are payin’ and all.”

  Steele smiled and pressed his letter to Lilah into her small hand. “Yes, Maggie. You can post this for me.”

  “Maggie!” the gruff tavernkeeper’s voice boomed.

  She turned a cold, but submissive, gaze on him as she dropped Steele’s letter into the mail pouch on the wall.

  “Get your arse over here and serve the crew of the Jolly-O before I strap you, you worthless wench!”

  Steele felt his blood boil. The man reminded him of Lilah’s uncle. He put his arm around Maggie before she could move to the table of seamen, and replied, as he dropped several coins into Maggie’s hand, “If you don’t mind, I’d like Maggie relieved from her duties here immediately. I’ll pay her for the entire night, of course.”

  Hoots and grumbles rose from the table of sailors. The tavernkeeper took one of the gold coins and bit the edge. He smiled, showing uneven yellow teeth, and raised his hand to quiet the angry men.

  “First man to show me the color of his money buys the goods, mates. Business is business,” he growled.

  Maggie pulled Steele’s head down to give him a smacking kiss full on the lips as if sealing their bargain. Slipping her arm through his, she ushered him up the stairs at the end of the bar. The foul jeers from the taproom soon faded behind them.

  Steele noticed that as they neared the room at the end of the hallway upstairs, the girl trembled all over.

  “I really meant what I said, Maggie,” he tried to reassure her. “The money’s a gift. You don’t have to do anything for it”

  She stopped and turned to face him, a look of terror in her eyes. “Mister, it’s just, you don’t understand. If them fellers downstairs don’t hear the bedsprings squeakin’, they’ll be up here like a shot to see what’s goin’ on … or why nothing’s goin’ on. So could you stay for a while? If the boss comes up and finds you gone, he’ll only let me out to one of them others for the night.”

  Steele thought longingly of his clean, comfortable bed at the Waring House. He’d picked Savannah’s best hotel especially because he knew this would be his last night of comfort before many nights at sea. But the look on Maggie’s face convinced him.

  “All right, lass. I’ll stay with you for a while. But I have to leave in time to pick up my belongings and catch an early boat.”

  She threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, thank you, mister. And should you be changin’ your mind about the deal we struck, I’ll admit I wouldn’t mind bein’ bedded by the likes of you at all!”

  Steele disentangled himself, and scolded, “Maggie! That’s no way for a young lady to talk! You can’t just throw yourself into a man’s arms and beg for his body. My God!”

  She backed off, a pout on her full lips. “Beggin’ your pardon, I am, sir. I intended no offense.”

  “None taken,” Steele assured her softly.

  Quickly, Maggie turned and scooted into the small, depressing room that awaited them. Steele watched, amazed, as she jumped into the middle of the bed and proceeded to bounce up and down on her hands and knees until the sagging springs set up a regular chorus of squeaks, groans, and thumps.

  “See, they’ll be hearin’ this downstairs and never know the difference,” she laughed.

  Steele took a seat on the one rickety chair in the room and watched Maggie, bemused. After about ten minutes of this, she stopped and sat still on the edge of the mattress, staring at Steele with a grin on her face.

  “There!” she said triumphantly. “They’ll be thinkin’ you humped me good and we’re both restin’ right now.”

  “Maggie!” Steele voiced his shock again.

  “What now?” she asked, slightly annoyed.

  “Such language! Where were you brought up, in the gutter?”

  She looked him straight in the eye and answered matter-of-factly, “Yes.”

  The rancid odor
of decaying garbage wafted in the window from the alleyway below. Steele realized that Maggie spoke the truth. That very filth-strewn gutter had been her playground when she was younger. She knew only that and the scurrilous language of the dockside tavern.

  “Tell me about yourself, Maggie. Were you born in Savannah?”

  She was back on her hands and knees, rocking the aged springs. They sang their erotic song while she talked.

  “No, I be an Irishwoman, born in Belfast. Me mind’s all but forgot the place by now, but me heart remembers.” She smiled, then laughed aloud. “Me stomach, too! It never knew but hunger ‘til we left in 1852. There wasn’t no work, hardly no pay if a body could find honest labor, and no food to buy if you had a quid or two. Pa left us for a spell. A regular spalpeen, he was, roaming the country looking for work. But then when Ma took the typhus and died, he had to come home. Wasn’t long after that he packed me and my sisters aboard one of them coffin ships and we set off for the ‘promised land.’” Maggie laughed bitterly, then went on. “Took us six weeks in the crossing, most of it standin’ and sleepin’ straight up. Wasn’t enough space to have a good shit.”

  Steele made a disapproving sound.

  “Sorry,” Maggie answered. “Anyway, Pa up and died on the ship, leavin’ me and my two sisters with only the name of a friend of his in Savannah. That be Mr. Quinn, the barkeep.” She looked at Steele thoughtfully. “It ain’t been a bad life… not really. Leastways, I’m still breathin’. Would have been cold in the grave, all of us, had we stayed on in Ireland. The other innkeepers about claim ol’ Quinn’s got it all over them ‘cause of us girls. I don’t like the work that much, but then I can’t complain either. Mostly, the men don’t treat me too rough… I guess ‘cause I’m the youngest.”

  “How old are you, Maggie?” Steele asked with interest.

  “Oh, I’ll be seventeen any day now,” Maggie answered too quickly.

  Steele leveled a hard gaze at her. “You’re a poor liar, Maggie girl!”