New home? Sayba? Where on earth is Sayba? I looked at Mam, stepping back in my panic, but she stared at the ground, too used to doing Father’s bidding.
“Stay where you are, Gabriella, it’s all agreed, so calm yourself and do as you’re told. You’re flushed, you know that makes you ugly—all those freckles! You will marry Erik van Ecken and be a good wife to him—be ready to sail on the tide.”
That’s three hours away. I looked at his eyes. Dark and wrinkled from working outdoors, there was no emotion there. He’d sold me to a stranger, was packing me off to God knew where, and he felt nothing.
“John!” Mam exclaimed, her shock overriding her fear. “You can’t, it’s too soon, she’s only fourteen!”
“Elizabeth!” Father thundered, his square jaw set, and I knew it was only the stranger’s presence that stayed his fist. “I’ve made my decision.” He glared at her, and her shoulders slumped in resignation. I gritted my teeth in frustration. Why can’t she stand up to him? Why can’t she stand up for me?
Tears rolled down my face—of anger, frustration, despair. I wondered when they would stop.
Chapter 2
Mam had been incapable of words since Father had silenced her at the docks. I looked at her in frustration; she was my mam, she should be standing up for me, not breaking down like this and allowing Father to do what he wanted with me.
I’d packed my few belongings myself, breaking off frequently to comfort her, but had finally finished.
“What’s going to happen to me?” I whispered.
She shook her head. “Just do as your husband instructs and make the best life you can—it’s all you can do.”
“Maybe I should run away.”
“Oh, Gabriella, where would you go? What would you do? A worse life awaits you if you flee. You have to do as your father instructs!” She opened her arms and I fell into her embrace. She stroked my hair and I knew I’d have a devil of a job to tame my wild, dark curls back into some sort of order. I shrugged. What do I care about that, now?
A knock at the door jolted us apart. I opened it to one of Father’s wharfmen.
“It’s time,” he said.
I nodded at him. He sounded upset as well. He came in, picked up my small chest, and we followed him. Mam was still crying. My own tears had dried. I couldn’t believe I had to leave her and all I knew, to live with a stranger as his wife. I still didn’t know what that would entail.
We walked through the Massachusetts Bay Colony in silence. I wanted to run, but heeded Mam’s warning. There was nothing outside the colony, just wilderness with all its dangers—unless I ran to the sea, and I could see no way of doing that.
Past the meeting house, the small wooden cottages of our neighbors, fields full of crops, woodlots and pasture. My heart leapt when I saw Peter. We’d known each other since we were babes and were best friends, but Mam’s hand on my arm stayed me and I could only stare until I’d left him behind.
“Gabriella.” Mam stopped and grabbed my arm. Words failed her again and, sobbing, she stretched her arms behind her neck and unfastened her necklace. I’d never known her take it off before.
“Your father gave me this—your true father,” she said, “the earl.” Mam had been a housemaid he’d taken a fancy to, then shipped off to the New World when she—or rather her belly—had become too much trouble. She’d met John Berryngton on the passage out.
She fastened the necklace around my neck and I looked down at the purple teardrop of amethyst, then held it up to the light. My own tears started to fall again and Mam hugged me.
“Get a move on! The tide won’t wait for you!” We sprang apart at Father’s words and Mam kissed me, then we continued our walk toward the docks—toward my future. I watched Father stride ahead and felt a glimmer of hope. My future could only be an improvement on my past.
*
He was there, my soon-to-be father-in-law; looking at his pocket watch, clearly impatient. He stooped slightly and wore a gray curled periwig over a face full of angles—nose, cheekbones, jaw. His clothes were of good quality, although of a cut that was unfamiliar, just like his accent—Dutch I assumed from his name, but nobody had bothered to confirm it.
“About time,” he snapped. “The tide’s about to turn, we need to on it be.”
“Yes, yes, she’s ready,” Father said. “Take her chest to that longboat,” he added to the wharfman. I watched him obey, though he avoided my eyes as he took everything I could call my own away from my home. I knew I’d have to follow. I turned to Mam and hugged her. I had no words, and joined her in sobs.
“Gabriella!” Father pulled me away. “It’s time to go. Don’t embarrass me, the van Eckens are important merchants. Don’t forget you’re representing this family! Now go.”
“No!” I tried to wrench myself free of him. “I won’t and you can’t—” His slap made me stumble before I’d finished my protest and I huddled on the ground, shocked. I raised my hand to my stinging cheek, but he grabbed my arm again and hauled me to my feet, then pushed me toward the boat.
“Goodbye, Gabriella,” Mam managed through her sobs. “Keep well and safe.”
I ignored her. Even now she wouldn’t fight for me. I turned at Mr. van Ecken’s hand on my other arm, and allowed him to lead me to the boat. What else can I do?
I looked out at the bay and the ships anchored there. Which one will take me away? I turned. “Mam!” I cried, and almost fell when Mr. van Ecken pulled me into the boat.
*
By the time we’d left the wharf, I’d calmed. Mam and Father were still visible on the quayside, but they were small now—far away. I was sure Mam was still crying, and shuddered. Father hated tears; Mam would not have a pleasant afternoon, or evening.
I watched Father grab her arm and pull her away, dragging her back to the house like a naughty child. I sighed and twisted on my seat to look ahead.
I looked up at the bulk of the ship we’d approached. I’d never been aboard one before but had spent hours watching them arrive and leave Massachusetts Bay, dreaming I was sailing away in one of them. My wish was about to come true. I’d just never imagined these circumstances. What will become of me?
*
The boat bumped alongside the larger vessel and a rope was thrown down to us. I stood up.
“Not yet, stay where you are, I’ll tell you when to stand,” Mr. van Ecken snapped. I sat back down. I had no fight left in me.
“Now, come here and on this sit,” he said a few moments later. I looked at him in surprise at his strange English, but supposed I’d get used to it.
A wooden plank, held by rope at either end, had been lowered to us. I looked at the basic seat, then at the hull, and pointed at the battens nailed onto the side like a ladder. “I’d rather use those,” I said.
“You’ll do as you’re told! Your father told me you obedient were, though I have not much evidence of that seen. Be warned—I do not tolerate disrespect.”
I looked at him in dislike, but I didn’t want to go back to Father, whatever that might mean for my future. I sat on the wooden seat and allowed myself to be hauled up the side.
A thin bald man with the most startling black eyebrows I’d ever seen offered me a hand to step onto the deck.
“Greetings, Mistress Berryngton,” he said, kissing my hand. “Welcome aboard Freyja, I’m Captain Edward Hornigold.”
“Enough of that, Hornigold, get this tub moving, I don’t time to waste have.”
Captain Hornigold nodded and smiled at me before walking away, shouting. His men scurried around the decks.
“This way,” van Ecken barked at me, and I followed him to a hole in the deck and below. I clambered down the ladder and kept following him—I think toward the back of the boat. I was nervous, my belly twisting. What does he expect of me? Am I really to marry his son, or was that a ruse?
Light flooded over us when he opened a door, and he stood aside for me. I walked into a cabin—a bank of windows in the back wall pr
ovided the light. There was a bunk, table and chair, my chest, and an African woman.
“This is Klara. She’s yours to do with as you will. Here.” He gave me a small silver-handled whip. “You might need this to remind her of that, though.” He turned and left. I looked at the woman in shock, but she kept her eyes on the floor.
“Hello,” I said tentatively. No reaction. A shudder made me step to one side as the floor moved beneath my feet, and I braced myself against the wall. We were off.
Chapter 3
I looked at the whip in my hand. It was heavy; heavy enough for the foot-long handle to have been forged from solid silver. It was decorated with images of horses, but this was no horsewhip. It had three leather lashes, each about three feet long and knotted at the ends. The last few inches were darker than the rest, and I realized they were stained with blood. I threw it onto the table and looked back at Klara. Her eyes darted to the floor. She’d been studying me as I’d studied the whip. I stepped closer to her and tried again, “Hello Klara, I’m Gabriella.”
She raised her eyes to mine, but said nothing, and I stepped back again under the force of her glare.
“Um, could you help me unpack, please?”
Again she said nothing, but turned to my chest and started pulling out the few gowns I possessed.
*
I lay awake on the small cot whilst Klara lay on a mat on the floor. I couldn’t possibly sleep. On the one hand, I was sailing away from Father, and his stinking harbor, but I was also leaving Mam and Peter behind and had no idea what I was sailing toward—my future was blank in my mind. I wondered if I’d ever see Mam again. I missed her already, missed Peter, and missed having a friendly face smiling at me. I was terrified of the woman who lay on the floor, knowing she hated me.
I turned onto my side to study her in the gloom. I couldn’t see her well but pictured her slim yet full body; wild black curls escaping from her headscarf; full mouth and nose. I’d heard about the dark-skinned people from Africa, but had never seen one before today. The way people talked, I’d thought they were ugly and dull-witted, little more than beasts, but this woman was beautiful. Intelligence shone out of her eyes in the way she glanced at me, full of appraisal and cunning when she thought I wasn’t looking. I caught a flicker of movement as those eyes opened and I rolled over; for some reason ashamed to have been caught watching her. I vowed never to underestimate her.
I was startled by a knock at the door.
“Just a moment,” I called, flustered. Who could be asking for entry to my cabin at this time of night?
Klara rose and lit a lantern, and I pulled on my robe. She waited for my nod, then unlocked and opened the door. A young sailor stood there, probably in his early twenties—maybe a couple of years older than Klara. He was very handsome—or would have been had he been cleaner. I could smell him from across the cabin.
“I beg your pardon, Mistress Berryngton,” he said with a French accent. “I am Cheval, Freyja’s quartermaster. The captain sends ’is apologies, but ’e would like to see your slave in ’is cabin.”
“Very well,” I said, confused. What does the captain want with Klara? But it was none of my business.
Klara shot a hate-filled glare at me, then followed the sailor out of my cabin to the one next door. I sat back on the cot in relief once the door had closed behind them, glad to finally have a bit of time to myself. I realized I couldn’t remember my selected husband’s name, and tears began to roll once again. “Oh Mam,” I whispered to the empty room. “What’s going to happen to me?”
*
My sobs quietened, and I realized I could hear more cries. It must be Klara—as far as I knew, we were the only women aboard the ship. A man cried out as well, though in pleasure, and I finally understood why Klara had been summoned. And I had given my consent. I raised my hands to my mouth in shock; no wonder she hated me. Now I’d proved myself deserving of her contempt.
I covered my ears as the screams and grunts rose in volume and my sobs restarted. I wasn’t sure whether I cried for Klara or myself. Presumably Mr. van Ecken condoned this. What will my life be like as his daughter-in-law?
*
I didn’t sleep that night, and lay alone in the dark until dawn slowly lightened the cabin. The door opened and Klara entered.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
She nodded, but didn’t speak and limped to her sleeping mat.
“Your eye!” I exclaimed. It was bruised and half-closed. She gave me her hate look again, but now I didn’t blame her. She lay down and curled into a ball with her back to me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t know.” Nothing. Once again, no reaction. I stared at the ceiling. Will my husband do that to me?
Chapter 4
I was thrown against the cabin wall hard enough to wake me, and lay on the cot for a few moments trying to work out where I was and what was happening.
Oh yes: aboard a ship; sold into marriage to a stranger; shut inside a cabin with a woman who hates me.
Everything moved far more than it had yesterday and the ship was rocking violently from side to side, which is what had woken me so rudely. There was more noise, too: the sea as we crashed through it; thumping from overhead; as well as the creaking of wood and cracking of sail. I was thrown against the wall again and grabbed the edge of the cot, then looked up. Where’s Klara?
I pulled myself to sit on the edge of the bed. She wasn’t in the cabin. Fresh salty wind, a relief after the stinking air of the harbor, blew my curls over my face and I realized the door to the ledge outside was open and Klara was leaning over the rail. I jumped up and staggered toward her, bracing my hands against the ceiling to stop myself falling.
I reached the balcony door and clung to the frame. The sea had changed from a beautiful calm blue to a forbidding dark gray, and I shivered.
“Klara!” I called.
She looked up at me, then leaned over the rail again and retched. I sighed in relief; she was seasick, not trying to jump, although I didn’t understand why she was ill now. The fresh air had quietened my own stomach.
“Are you well? Can I help you?”
She shook her head. “Leave me,” she said.
I hesitated. They were the first words she’d spoken to me, but I didn’t want to leave her alone in such misery.
She retched again. “Leave me!” she repeated, more insistently.
I went back into the cabin. She’d been humiliated enough in the day I’d known her: once when van Ecken had given me the whip, and again by Captain Hornigold. I would not humiliate her further.
I crossed to the jug and bowl on the table and poured out a small amount of water to wash myself. I noticed the table had a wooden rim built into it to prevent the china falling, but I’d poured out too much and water sloshed everywhere. I washed my face as best I could considering I needed one hand to hold on, then turned to find something to wear.
Klara had laid out an emerald-green gown, which went well with my dark hair and pale complexion. I stripped my nightgown off and pulled a clean shift over my head. It wasn’t easy with one hand and a moving floor. I picked up my stays and looked in the glass, wondering how I would tie them, when they were taken from me.
Klara wrapped the garment around my middle and I adjusted it so the wooden supports were as close to comfortable as possible. She pulled on the strings and I gasped in pain. She loosened them slightly and I thanked her; she nodded. Progress. We finished my dressing in silence and I sat down. I noticed the whip had gone from the table and didn’t care—I hoped she’d thrown it overboard.
A loud explosion startled both of us, and we looked at each other in horror. We could see nothing but sea behind, were we being attacked?
“I’m going to find out what’s happening,” I said to her with a bravery I didn’t feel.
“No!” She bowed her head, then added, quieter. “You’d be better off staying here, out of their way.”
“I need to know what’s
happening, and if Mr. van Ecken or the crew don’t have the courtesy to inform us, I’ll have to go and ask them.” I couldn’t stay blind in the cabin; I had to know.
I stumbled to the door, unlocked it, and went out. What had yesterday been a dark, quiet deck was now filled with light and men. Holes in the side had been opened, and I now saw the deck was full of guns; each with its muzzle pointing out through one of the gunports. I didn’t like this, but I couldn’t slink back to the cabin and Klara after my show of bravado.
There were posts at intervals supporting the ceiling, and I made my way from one to the next; managing not to fall until I reached the ladder van Ecken had led me down yesterday. I climbed up, kicking my petticoats out of the way to find every foothold.
Up on deck, wind whipped at my face and body, and I stumbled to the empty rail to hold on. The rail on the other side was full of men shouting and making an awful noise, and I saw another, bigger, ship a few yards away.
Musket fire sounded above me and I looked up. Men were in the rigging and crowded small platforms up there, firing at the ship, and a blood-red flag streamed above them.
I gasped, I knew what that meant—pirates! Father had put me aboard a ship of pirates!
I screamed when my arm was grabbed, and van Ecken shoved his face in mine. “What are you doing? Get back to your cabin; this is no place for my son’s wife!”
“But, but, but . . .” was all I managed. It didn’t seem worthwhile to point out that I hadn’t met his son, never mind married him.
He pulled me roughly back to the hatch in the deck.
“But, what’s happening?” I managed.
“Business,” he said. “Just business.” He stood over me as I scrambled back down the ladder and followed me to the cabin.
“These men were hired by your King Charles as privateers. Now the wars are over, what are they supposed to do? You can’t blame them for continuing a trade in which they excelled, and I’ll that ship and her cargo have for a very good price—business.”
The Valkyrie Series: The First Fleet - (Books 1-3) Look Sharpe!, Ill Wind & Dead Reckoning: Caribbean Pirate Adventure Page 12
