Born of Proud Blood

by Roberta C. M. DeCaprio

  “Then we cannot be reckless in any way. What we think, how we move, what action we take must be thought out and carried through,” he said, sounding like the men in his tribe who trained the warriors. Calling upon all his training, he went on to instruct Oliver.

  The boy had forgotten all about his sick stomach. As Gabriel talked and tutored, he had a feeling Oliver’s nausea was the last thing to be a bother. He hoped Oliver would be up to the mission that lay ahead of them. He also prayed Captain Cavendish and his men arrived in time to help, because Gabriel was not all that pleased to have an inexperienced, seventeen-year-old boy as his only alliance.

  “Ye need not worry, sir,” Oliver said, as if he read Gabriel’s thoughts. “I will stand beside ye and fight, ’ave yer back ’til the end.”

  “Let us hope it is not our end,” he said.

  “What I mean is whatever needs done, I will do. I’m not a coward,” he swore with conviction. “You can count on me. I will not let ye down. You ’ave my word.”

  “That is all any man can ask of another,” Gabriel assured him.

  “But I can’t guarantee that this time,” Oliver hesitated, and then lowered his tone, “my britches won’t be soiled when we’re through.”

  He chuckled. “That will make two of us, Oliver.”

  ****

  Riley squeezed her eyes shut against the smothering darkness, the thirst parching her throat, the pain coursing down her spine, and the strain of trying to hold a very full bladder. She knew she was sailing on the water, could feel the floor beneath her sway to and fro. Thankfully she was not one prone to seasickness, having traveled once across the ocean to visit a friend of Lucinda’s living in Paris, or else she’d have one more discomfort to battle.

  Then there was the ever-present and frightening thought of unspeakable things to come. The fear of the unknown was often times worse to handle. What would she be made to endure at the hands of her kidnappers and the clients they served? Where was she being taken? Would she ever live to see her home again?

  She silently prayed for strength, clutching desperately to her sanity. The last thing she needed to do was lose what little resolve she had. Taking a deep breath, she cast away the horrible images of what was to come and held on to any prospect of hope. But how could she not worry for her predicament? Would this be her demise? Or worse still, what lay ahead of her from this point on? Truth was, she’d rather be dead then suffer the humiliation and degradation these men could inflict upon her body and soul.

  She heard the portal open. Light steps entered the cabin, making their way across the creaky floorboards and stopping beside the trunk. A light filled the tiny air hole at the side of the large chest and shone in on her bound hands.

  Then the trunk’s lid opened, and the lantern’s beam was flashed into her gaze. She shielded her eyes from the brightness.

  “And ’ow do ye fare, miss?” a soft voice asked.

  She blinked to focus her gaze, then squinted up at a young girl. A head full of matted, golden curls framed a round, pale face, and down the side of her left cheek, a pink and raised scar marred her delicate features. Her dress was faded and too large for her tiny frame, and a tattered, thin shawl was draped over her shoulders.

  “Thought ye’d like to stretch yer legs a bit, make use o’ the privy...although ’tis just a bucket,” the girl added, large blue eyes locking with hers, “then ’ave a bite o’ bread and a draught o’ ale.” Timidly her lips curved into a smile. “My name is Leah Kent.”

  Riley sat up in the trunk and opened her mouth to speak, but no voice came forth.

  “Ah, ye are truly parched,” Leah said.

  She nodded and cleared her throat.

  “Well, coome then, and let’s get ye feelin’ better.” Leah placed a hand beneath her elbow to help her stand.

  As Riley straightened her knees, pain shot from her spine, down her thighs, and into her feet. She groaned.

  “Oh, aye, stiff as a board ye are,” Leah commented as she braced her frail body against Riley’s.

  “I don’t want to take us both down,” she said, struggling to compose her balance.

  “I’m a ’ardy one, much ’ardier than I look,” Leah said. “I won’t let ye fall.”

  Leah helped Riley climb out of the trunk and make use of the bucket. Trying to manage on her own was too difficult with bound wrists, and the younger woman was not allowed to break those binds. Riley forced a smile. “I thank you, Leah.”

  Leah’s gaze moistened. “And I thank ye, miss, for yer appreciation. ’Tis not somethin’ I often get.”

  Leah, unwrapping bread and cheese from a cloth, placed the food and a mug of ale upon a crate, then sat beside Riley on the floor as she ate. While taking a sip of the ale, she surveyed her surroundings. The cabin was small, dark, and cluttered with wooden crates piled against the walls.

  “There’s nay a way to escape, miss, with a guard at yer door and the deep, cold river beyond that portal,” Leah said, pointing to the cabin’s only window. “’Tis best to do whatever they tell ye.”

  “Is that how you’ve managed?”

  “Aye. ’Twill be in yer best interest to do the same. They like quiet and obedient women,” Leah advised.

  “Do they, now?” Riley quipped, anger suddenly rising within her.

  “Please, miss, if ye give them trouble, ’twill be bad for us both,” Leah pleaded.

  She reached out with her bound hands to gently trace with a finger the scar down Leah’s cheek. “And is this what happens when you aren’t compliant?”

  Leah cast her eyes to the hands she held clasped in her lap. “It only happened once.”

  “Once is enough,” she said, caressing the girl’s cheek. “Look at me, Leah,” she urged. The younger woman’s gaze reluctantly met Riley’s, and in her eyes was something familiar. Where had she seen the same frustration, sadness, and sense of hopelessness? How did she have empathy for the fear, the strife, and daily exhaustion of living in such a hard circumstance? And then her heart was snared with the fact her childhood world somehow seeped into the cracks of Leah’s. This younger woman’s eyes mirrored her own. Riley once owned the very same visage while she cared for Anita. During her grandmother’s last year of life, she was the adult...feeding, cleaning, and caring for the woman who once did all that for her. Her job was to find food, keep the stove burning, and fend for their safety. What would she have done without Top Hat? How would she have been able to cope all on her own, like this poor mite? “How old are you, Leah?”

  “I am ten and seven coome next month,” Leah said.

  “And how long have you been with these derelicts?”

  Leah shot a wary look at the portal. “’Tis large ears they ’ave.”

  She lowered her voice. “Tell me how it is you’ve come to be with these horrible men.”

  “My own sweet mother died when I was but nine and not long after Papa married the widow Clairmont,” Leah replied in a hushed tone.

  Just nine, the age I was when I had to be an adult. But after Anita’s death, she had been saved by Lady Collins. Poor Leah has remained abandoned.

  “Before they wed, Augusta Clairmont doted on me,” Leah continued. “She was kind and carin’. Both Papa and I thought she’d teach me things a mother taught a daughter. But as soon as she moved into our ’ome in Dover, she didn’t want me, said I was too much for ’er to care for along with ’er own two boys. Whatever I did, Augusta found fault with, and her sons were always gettin’ me in trouble with there lies. My punishment was either a long, ’ard birchin’ or takin’ away meals. Soon, the daily discipline left my bum so raw and welted I couldn’t sit. One time I could barely walk. I grew thin and weak from lack o’ food. My father couldn’t stand my sufferin’ any longer, but ’e didn’t want to endure ’is wife’s wrath either...besides, ’e ’ad nowhere else to send me. Then Augusta said she knew o’ a well-to-do family livin’ in London needin’ ’elp with infant twins. My father agreed, and the next morn what little belo
ngin’s I ’ad were packed in a satchel, and me and Augusta set out for London. When we arrived, I soon learned there was never a family needin’ my ’elp. Instead, I was sold to a man named Lieutenant Beck and brought ’ere.” She shrugged. “In some ways I am treated better than I was in my own ’ome. As long as I don’t ask questions and ready the women brought on board, I am not beaten or starved.”

  Riley’s eyes moistened with pity and concern. “Has your father ever tried to find you?”

  “Papa’s but a poor farmer who reads poorly and wasn’t much for writin’ letters, and since I can’t do either, ’twouldn’t ’ave done ’im much good.” Her eyes filled with tears. “’Tis better ’e believes I am livin’ with a wealthy family and well takin’ care o’ anyway. Augusta is ’is wife now, and I’m only ’is daughter. ’Twould be ’er wishes ’e should abide by first. And to cause ’im further trouble would break my ’eart worse.”

  “Have any of these men touched you, Leah?”

  “Nay, not as yet, but I ’eard the captain talkin’ not long ago. Since I am gettin’ older,” she said, glancing down at her budding bosom, “’twon’t be long until I’m sold to one o’ their clients as well.”

  “I won’t let that happen. Somehow we’ll get away from these men, the two of us, and I will take you back to Collins Stead with me.”

  “Is that the name o’ yer ’ome, miss?”

  “Aye,” she said, picturing the comforts and security of the old mansion. “Lady Lucinda Collins took me in when I was orphaned at nine years of age.”

  “The same age I was when I left my ’ome,” Leah reflected.

  “Aye, an age a girl should not have to worry about adult matters. Lady Lucinda is kind, generous. She made me her ward, and I know you will be welcomed as well,” Riley assured her.

  Leah’s face brightened with hope. “Can you really promise me this, miss?”

  She nodded, repeating to Leah the last phrase Gabriel said to her. “You have my word.”

  Chapter Twelve

  As soon as the steamer stopped, Gabriel nudged a sleeping Oliver. “It is time to get into the empty crates.” He placed a reassuring hand upon the boy’s shoulder. “Remain as still as you can, take shallow breaths, and hold on to your dagger,” he advised. Not long after they were settled into their boxes, the footsteps of many men entered the cabin, and the crates were lifted and carried off the steamer. Gabriel could hear the complaints of the two moving the crate he occupied.

  “Bluddy hell, me back is about to break,” one shipmate complained.

  “Aye, me own ’tisn’t feelin’ so strong either,” his companion agreed. “Do ye know what’s in ’ere?”

  “I’ve ’eard some talk o’ them packed with liquor and weapons,” the first man said.

  “This one must be filled with bricks,” the second man joked. “Mayhap we should take a look-see at what we’ve got ’ere, lighten the load...’elp ourselves to a bit o’ the spoils.”

  Gabriel held his breath, sent a silent prayer to the heavens above, and tightened his grip on the dagger. Could he fell two men without being noticed? He concocted a plan of survival, should the lid be opened.

  “Nay, the captain would find out, and I need this job,” the other man said.

  In the end, to Gabriel’s great relief, the pair decided to incorporate the hands of a third man, and the crate was brought to its destination, which he calculated to be the back of a wagon. The men lifted, with great difficulty and several cuss words, the crate high enough to be placed on the platform. Then the wheels turned, and horses’ hooves clopped along an uneven path.

  He worried if Oliver’s crate had also been placed upon the same wagon, or if it remained aboard the steamer. When the wagon stopped, his crate was again lifted. The men walked only a few feet from the wagon before placing him down. As they unloaded the other crates, his calculations brought him to reason he was still out of doors since the cool night air bled through the wooden slats.

  Was Oliver nearby? He peered through one of the spaced planks to scope out his circumstance, but his efforts were met with only the site of another crate beside his. In spite of the back and leg cramps he endured from being confined in such a small space, he waited with forced patience while the men worked in close proximity to unload the wagon. Hopefully, if a guard was not stationed to watch the cargo, when the shipmates left he would be able to scout through the merchandise to find Oliver.

  While he waited, his thoughts turned to Riley. Where was she now? Still in the trunk aboard the steamer? And how was she holding up? Had these men hurt her? Compromised her? His questions tormented him, causing his stomach to clench, along with his fist at the thought of her alone and scared, suffering the worst sort of humiliation a woman could. The white agents who had taken over his village pillaged their women as well as their belongings and traditions. He knew of the maidens forced to do their bidding, their innocence ruined, their pride destroyed. And it broke his people, shamed the men who loved those women, left them powerless. Spirits were dashed of any hope to come.

  I am that hope. I am their only hope.

  He had to survive this ordeal, not just for Riley and the other women captured, not for Oliver’s sake or even himself, but for all those of his tribe who needed him.

  Taking a calming breath, he switched his concerns to his younger ally, just seventeen and impulsive. Would Oliver, tall and with a solid build, be able to suffer the cramped quarters without giving away his station?

  As time droned on, the shipmates’ voices and laughter faded into the distance. When the right moment finally arrived, he used his dagger to pry open the lid from within and peeked over the crate’s ledge.

  By this time a full moon afforded him a bit of light, allowing his surveillance to take in the row of crates stacked alongside his. Further scrutiny proved the haul had been placed at the edge of a forest.

  Gabriel stood with caution, climbed out of the crate, and replaced the lid. Then he crept around to the other wooden boxes, knocking on their lids and whispering Oliver’s name.

  The fourth one he came upon knocked back and answered with, “’Tis about time.”

  He smiled to himself and sighed with great relief as he helped Oliver from the crate. While he replaced the lid, the younger man stretched life back into his legs and surveyed their surroundings. “I don’t see Miss Riley’s trunk amongst the cargo.”

  “My guess she is still on the steamer,” he said. He gestured to the crates littering the ground. “It is much wiser of them to remove the merchandise cargo first, have it secured and ready for wherever it is to be shipped, before transporting the human cargo.”

  “Aye, I see...better to keep ’er locked away and silent while their mind is on other business,” Oliver concluded.

  Gabriel nodded. “And though we cannot see civilization from where we now stand, I am sure Lands End is inhabited to some extent. There must be a town or village nearby that these men do not want alerted to their activities.”

  “Do ye think, should the townspeople discover what these rogues are doin’, they’d do somethin’ to stop them?” Oliver moved to stand nearer to Gabriel.

  “That is hard to say.” He took an audible breath. “You must remember these men are the authorities. Many have grown accustomed to their dealings, have come to trust them, and believe they are enforcing law and order to the land. And then there are those who might fear them and turn a blind eye to save their own hides,” he explained.

  “So, it is doubtful we can expect any kind o’ ’elp from the locals,” Oliver said.

  He combed his fingers through his hair. “I would not count on so many, if any at all, coming to our aid.”

  “Then I pray Captain Cavendish coomes with ’elp real soon.”

  “He is a good and honorable man, and I believe his word is worth much. I just worry he will not make it in time.” He glanced south to where he believed the waters flowed. “The ship from the Isle of Wight could arrive soon or even be docked now
, for all we know. Since we do not have the schedule they follow, Riley and Lady Wellington could be made ready to sail to the island as we speak. Then from there, they will be sent to the Indies, as Top Hat Tom suspected.”

  Oliver’s dark eyes grew fearfully wide. “Once out o’ our sight, we chance never findin’ them again.”

  He nodded. “That is why we will have to find a route back to the river, discover a way to board the larger ship, and sail with them.”

  Oliver, clasping a hand over his mouth, groaned.

  ****

  To Riley’s relief, neither Captain Langley nor Lieutenant Beck interrupted the small meal Leah provided, but another officer did. He introduced himself as Lieutenant Addison Gray. She recognized the name, having heard it earlier when Beck referred to this man as Naomi’s lover.

  Gray’s visage was pleasant. Dark, golden curls falling to the nape of his neck, framed an arresting face. She could understand why Naomi would be taken with this man. Casting a timid smile, Gray, with his light brown eyes bordering on a shade of honey, assessed her with efficiency.

  The warmth of a blush crept into her cheeks. She rose to her feet as dignified as one could under the circumstances and challenged his gaze with her own.

  Gray cleared his throat and removed a knife from the sheath attached to his belt. Nearing her, he cut the rope that bound her wrists. “I’m sorry, Miss Flanders, for your inconvenience.” His tone was even. “Has Leah brought you enough to eat and drink?”

  “Aye, she has,” she said, rubbing the circulation back into her fingers. Under such duress it was hard for her to swallow even a tiny morsel, but she knew she had to keep up her strength if she was to best these men. Now it wasn’t just her welfare she had to look out for, but Leah’s as well.

  “Then I will give you a moment to collect yourself before I take you ashore,” he said, glancing down at her hands.

  After studying him briefly, she decided he was not as crude as Beck, nor as diabolical as Langley. Still, he worked with the other two, helping them kidnap women, so he wasn’t exactly upstanding. Yet, if she were able to turn him against his companions, perhaps he’d be more likely to look to her favor. She started to hatch a plan.