by Renard, Loki
Chapter Eight
Lizzy’s eyes were wide with fear, her pupils dilated as she clawed at thin air. In her panic she kicked and thrashed about, making it all the more difficult to keep a hold of her. She could no doubt feel herself slipping, even the slightest movement seemed to make her dip ever more towards the cold embrace of the water below.
“Don’t let me go!”
“I will never let you go!”
I spoke the truth. I would rather have fallen with her than seen her tumble on her own. A fall from that height into those pounding waves would mean certain injury if not death and there were two souls depending on my strength as I hauled back with every last shred of my energy.
My efforts alone were not enough but by the grace of the good lord strong hands came reaching about me as a group of sailors and officers took hold of Lizzy and pulled her aboard. Fresh hands pulled me away, hands belonging to Master Roake. He wrapped his arms about my waist and lifted me back as if I weighed nothing at all. That was no small feat as I was still attached to Lizzy; I refused to let go until we were both safely on deck. There it became apparent that the joints of my fingers had seized with the force of my effort. Kneeling next to me, Roake assisted in the slow prying of my digits off Lizzy’s arms. She was already beginning to bruise where I had gripped her with mortal fury, for which I apologized profusely.
Captain Morrow had been privy to events from his position by the wheel. He came and joined the small group of rescuers by the railing. I did not notice his presence at first for I was far too concerned with ensuring that Lizzy had not been harmed. I cradled her head in my hands and cried as she cried, great tears of anguish and relief streaming down her face. “You must never do that Lizzy, never.”
I did not catch what she said in return, for she was incoherent. Blankets were found and draped over her as she trembled from shock and I was relieved to see that several of the more sympathetic women had come to her aid, among them Mary Brawley. “Aye Lizzy, if anyone so much as looks at ye funny I’ll smash their teeth in,” she vowed as we made ready to take Lizzy back down below and comfort here there.
“Not so fast Miss Wilde.” Fingers caught in the neck of my dress, holding me back as the others went down.
I turned to see that Captain Morrow himself had detained me. He let go and glowered down at me, his handsome face contorted with conflicting emotions. “Impressive heroics, Miss Wilde,” he said. “If it were not an anatomical impossibility I would think you were the father of that bas… babe,” he corrected himself as my eyes blazed fury at him.
“Because protective instincts are only possible in the male?”
“Because you came within a hair’s breadth of sacrificing yourself for the pair of them.”
Roake was silent. His silence concerned me greatly for it was unnatural to him. I looked at him and saw that his expression was grave and wondered for a mad moment if he perhaps regretted rescuing me. It would probably be easier for all aboard the Valiant if Lizzy, her troublesome babe and I sunk to the bottom of the ocean.
“I cannot ascertain if you are excessively brave or excessively stupid,” Morrow lectured harshly.
“Perhaps you are excessively cowardly,” I replied, massaging my hands. I made the comment in an off-handed fashion; I myself was suffering from something like shock. To have been so close to losing dear Lizzy, to have just barely prevented yet more tragedy, it was a great deal for one mind to comprehend.
Morrow had no sympathy for my state of mind however. The captain’s look grew cold at my insult. “Three days in the brig, Miss Wilde. I’ll double it if you open your mouth again. Guards, take her down!”
In an instant I went from heroine to the lowest of all the prisoners. I did not have the strength left to fight the injustice of it all so I went quietly between the two burly guards who accompanied me down, down, down to the very bowels of the ship where an iron cage awaited me. The smell that far below decks was foul, no fresh breeze penetrated that deeply so the air was stale and breathing was an unpleasant necessity.
I was locked away and left to rot without so much as a lantern to keep me company. The cell itself was bare aside from a covered bucket, the purpose of which I could surmise by the residual smell attached to it. The darkness closed in and I sank down against the side of the ship with a soft sob. I had never been incarcerated in such a miserable hole before and my fragile spirits were swept into the very depths of despair. It was true what they said; no good deed ever did go unpunished.
There was a certain irony in it all. Lizzy had tossed herself halfway to the waves, but it was I who now languished below the waterline. The timbers at my back were surrounded by more water than my mind could fathom. The ocean swelled all around me and in my solitary state I felt the awesomeness of its power more keenly then I ever had looking out over the tops of the waves. A deep abyss waited to claim all those who dared sail the seas, a void almost unending. I shuddered in the darkness as the Valiant creaked and rode the water, holding together by a miracle of craftsmanship.
The minutes passed by into hours and time quite lost its meaning in that dark place. I slept a little and when I woke I did not know how long I had been out for. It was a miserable and disorienting punishment to be sure and I quite hated Morrow for imposing it. It seemed anything was permissible on the Valiant besides hurting the tender feelings of its captain.
The first I knew of a day passing was when a guard bought me water and biscuit and emptied the grimy bucket in which I had been forced to relieve myself. The conditions in which I was being punished were not suitable for an animal let alone a human and as I suffered into my second day I found my anger rising against not just Morrow, but Roake too. He was allowing this… this torture.
The second day passed and the third day came. I had abandoned myself to a depressed resignation. I had come to the conclusion that the reason for my initial outrage had been based on an erroneous supposition – that Roake cared for me at all. It was now plain that he did not, that I was simply another prisoner and my fate was my own to bear.
By the end of the third day I was quite desperate to escape the dark prison, so much so that I could have kissed the guard who finally released me. My return to the prison deck was met with laughter and a warm welcome that raised my spirits considerably. There had clearly been a great deal of talk in my absence and I was pleased to see that Lizzy seemed to be much happier. The tide of sentiment had shifted in the wake of her attempted suicide and my resultant incarceration and a spirit of comradeship seemed to be healthy and alive amongst the prisoners.
I had not realized how much my position as Roake’s assistant had made me separate from the other prisoners, but as several women embraced me and alternately expressed sympathy and made jokes at my expense I realized that the harshness of my punishment had served as a reminder that I was but one of them, as vulnerable to the capricious tempers of our captors as anyone else. The evening passed in quite a jolly fashion and I decided that I would no longer court the favors of those who kept us locked away. The next morning I did not go to Roake’s cabin, nor did I attend lessons. Rather I slipped into two consecutive groups for exercise, aided by my fellow prisoners who were pleased to assist my escape from the classroom.
Roake caught up to during the second exercise period and drew me up to the ship’s wheel to converse with me in relative privacy. “Where were you this morning?” They were the first words he had spoken to me since my incarceration and they were hardly sympathetic.
“I have no desire to seek out your company any longer,” I said stiffly. “You may assign someone else to the position of assistant.”
A maddening smile passed across his face. “Are you pouting as a result of your punishment?”
The anger that rose in me as he so casually made reference to three days of darkness and misery was difficult to restrain, but I managed it. “I do not pout, Master Roake.”
“You are looking at me as a duchess might look at a beetle crawled out
of her dinner.”
“I am looking at you as I look upon any man so lacking a sense of chivalry as to allow a woman to languish in a wet dungeon for days on end.”
“So you are pouting. Like a spoiled little girl.”
“Ah, Miss Wilde,” Captain Morrow said, coming up the stairs and interrupting our twosome. “Are you enjoying the air?”
I was horrified to see that he and Roake exchanged expressions of amusement. Far from having any sympathy for me, they were laughing at my expense. My response was bitter and sharp to say the least. “If I answer incorrectly will you have me keel-hauled?”
Morrow’s blue eyes twinkled. “Your short stay below does not seem to have hampered your tongue in the slightest.”
“Three days in the dark is not a short stay.”
“Oh, poor baby,” he said mockingly.
“Hell take you and your damn hat,” I spat, my temper momentarily flaring out of control.
Morrow’s eyes sparked with punitive instinct. “Careful, Miss Wilde. The brig is waiting if you are unwise enough to indulge in any further outbursts.”
I settled into tight-lipped silence, though my mind was bursting with choice words for both of them.
“Come, Miss Wilde, we have other matters to discuss,” Roake said. “Let us go before you earn the captain’s ire.”
“Of course,” I said, dropping into the most complicated curtsey I knew, which was rather complicated as it was from the French court. It took almost a minute to complete in its entirety and culminated in the pressing of my forehead to the ground before the captain’s shiny shoes. “I must beg your forgiveness, Master Morrow, for having insulted your bravery and worse still, your hat.”
Captain Morrow looked over my head and addressed Roake. “We do still have that cat o’ nine tails about the place, don’t we?”
“We do,” Roake said grimly as I rose from my curtsey with an impudent grin. My anger had faded for being able to express my scorn in passive yet aggressive fashion and I was feeling much lighter in spirit.
“You are very close to being thrashed like a sailor, Miss Wilde,” Captain Morrow informed me. “So take your cheek and find a more suitable outlet for it. My patience with you is nigh gone. You are surely one of the wickedest, most troublesome young ladies ever to have sailed on the Valiant.”
“Quite a distinction…” I stopped speaking as Morrow held up his hand.
“Another word from you and you go back to the brig.”
I sealed my lips promptly and he nodded, pleased there was some threat that I took seriously. “Be gone from my deck, you little rogue.” There was a slight twist of humor to his lips as he spoke, which left me confused. I had been certain that he must hate me to put me down below, but he did not seem to hate me at all, rather whatever affection he had did not effect the punishments he was prepared to impose. I found that very curious indeed.
“You must not agitate the captain so,” Roake said as he drew me down the stairs towards his cabin. “It begins to border on the unseemly.”
“Locking a woman away in the dark for three days straight, that is unseemly,” I countered as he ushered me into his private sanctum.
Roake released me and gave me a look I could not quite place. “You do not understand the effect you have on men, do you Miss Wilde?”
“I tire of your accusations of flirtation,” I said, my eyes narrowing as I folded my arms over my chest.
“And I tire of your obstreperous and dense wrongheaded behavior, but we all have our crosses to bear,” he replied.
“Is that why I am here? So you can snap at me for having spoken to the captain? You needn’t fear that he has any desire toward me, from what I hear he tends to take his conquests at the stern of the ship, not the brig.”
“You will refrain from that kind of speech, Miss Wilde,” Roake growled at me. He really was most displeased. “You and I have other matters to discuss.”
“Such as?”
“Such as what you were doing leaning over the railing after I expressly told you not to go near it.”
For a moment I was too confused to answer him. Was he really taking me to task for having not let Lizzy kill herself?
Roake cast a dour eye over me. “Do you remember what I told you on your first day on deck?”
I confessed that I did not.
“I said if you were to lean over the railing again you would be punished for it.”
“Lizzy was going to die!”
“She was holding fast to the railing. She could have been rescued by someone else.”
“You do not know that.”
“You are not a man, Miss Wilde,” he said, stating the obvious with passion it did not seem to warrant. “You are a woman. You are to stay safe.”
“So a woman is supposed to watch her best friend in the world kill herself – condemn herself to hell. Suicide is a sin, Master Roake. It was not just her body and babe I saved, but their souls too.”
His dark eyes flashed as he took my hand and clasped it between his own. “You will not put your life in danger. You are too precious.”
I was taken aback by his rare display of emotion. “Am I?”
Roake sighed deeply. “Can you truly not tell that I have a certain fondness for you?”
“I can tell you have a certain fondness for beating me, that I can certainly tell. And I can tell that you had no issue with seeing me confined in the depths of the ship for days on end.”
His lips twitched with some small humor. “You would not be pleased to know that those three days were among the most restful I have had since you set foot on this ship, Miss Wilde. For the duration of that time I knew precisely where you were and I could be certain you were not getting into any more trouble. Your instinct for impulsive and ill considered actions is worrisome.”
He was correct. It did not please me to know that he had enjoyed a relaxing vacation from care due to my incarceration below decks. “Do not worry about me, Master Roake. In a few short weeks you will set me ashore along with the rest of my peers and set sail once more.”
“You will be set ashore, that is true enough. But for this time you are in my charge and I will see to it that you are indeed landed safely.”
“What if I don’t care to be landed safely? What if I find your concern for my safety to be sickening in the extreme? Do not feign care for a convict Master Roake. We are little more than cattle on this ship, cargo fetching a pretty price for Captain Morrow and all his crew. I know all too well that you are paid for taking us and that you should lose payment if we are not to arrive. So please, do not insult my intelligence. This is a matter of economics, not care.”
I turned in a great swooping circle of skirt and made to move away, but Roake caught me by the arm and drew me back so roughly I was pressed against his body, his lips indecently close to my ear. “Your arrogance and innocence makes you blind to the natural empathy between woman and man.”
“Stop!” I gasped and tugged away, my eyes wide with disgust. “How dare you… proposition me!”
He was close, looking down at me with an intensity that made my flesh quiver. “Have you ever been kissed, Miss Wilde?”
“That is not any of your concern!” I drew myself up, my haughtiness a barrier protecting me from his lechery.
He smirked darkly. “I thought not. You have not awakened to your full womanhood, strange for a woman your age.”
“What would you know of full womanhood, Master Roake?” I threw his insults back in his face, spitting and hissing with pure fury. “Do you fancy it all kisses and illicit affairs? Or is this how you mean to tell me that you prefer a pinafore to a pair of britches?”
“Careful Jane…”
“That is Miss Wilde to you.”
“Careful, Miss Wilde. Your tongue is getting the better of you.” He cocked his head and gave me a searching look. “But perhaps you are aware of that fact.”
“What are you accusing me of now?”
“Perhaps you li
ke my attentions,” Roake purred in a voice that made my stomach twist and turn. “Perhaps you are not so innocent to the pleasures of a man’s touch, but you know it would not be proper to give yourself to me, so instead you provoke me into taking your body in my hands. Is that it?” He was charming me with his low drone and I was so horrified by what I was hearing that I could not move. “Do you wish that I would take you right now, Miss Wilde? Put my hands on you and strip you of the clothing that separates your body from mine?”
He drew so close I could almost taste him on my tongue, saying terrible things that impugned my honor and stirred my senses. If I had been a lesser woman I would have become flustered under his accusations. As it was I raised my good right arm and struck him soundly across the cheek with open palm.
The slap echoed through the cabin, a ringing sound that seemed to go on and on and on in the silence that followed it. His head had not moved at all, but his dark eyes were focused on me more intensely than ever before. “That was a mistake, Miss Wilde,” he said, grasping me by the forearm.
I opened my mouth and almost made an apology, motivated not by genuine contrition, but by the deep fear that suddenly struck me. “I…I…” I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Roake’s mouth was in a thin line, his jaw set hard and grim. There was not a hint of mercy anywhere in his gaze as he drew me across the room, sat himself on his chair and pulled me over his lap. I went like a sack of potatoes, temporarily paralyzed by the enormity of my own stupidity.
“You have done many foolish things in the time I have known you,” he said, his words echoing my own silent sentiments. “But that was possibly the worst of them all.” He was not idle whilst he lectured; his hands were busy with my skirt, lifting it out of the way. His fingers settled on the ties of my undergarments and I knew that he intended to bare me.
