Lovestorm

by Judith E. French

  The sickness that had gripped her for so many days and nights had passed, leaving her weary but clear of mind. Her appetite was returning little by little, and she felt almost as strong as she had when Cain had escorted her to Jamestown.

  Lady Baldwin had been concerned that Elizabeth might not be ready to endure the hardships of an ocean voyage, but Elizabeth had insisted that she was fit.

  “If I don’t sail with Captain Douglas, it may be months before I can find another passage. I must return home to England as soon as possible.”

  Traveling with Elizabeth and Betty was a recent widow, Mildred Wright, and her four-year-old son Robin. The prospect of sharing a cramped cabin with Mistress Wright and her whining child for six weeks or more was not a pleasant one, but Elizabeth knew all too well the discomforts of crossing the Atlantic. Already, Mistress Wright was complaining of seasickness, and Betty was below scrubbing the cabin floor with vinegar to kill the stench of former passengers.

  If I had my way, she thought, I’d spend the entire trip on deck. Coming from England, the Speedwell had carried horses, cows, and an assortment of other livestock. The cargo this time was tobacco, lumber, and animal skins. She hoped that the hold would be neither as noisy nor as smelly as it had been on the Speedwell.

  She shaded her eyes with her hand and gazed out over the blue-green water. She would not admit, even to herself, that she was looking for dolphins or for some dot on the waves that might be a dugout.

  Her memories of Jamestown were confused, as intangible as morning fog. Against her better reason, she clung to the notion that Cain had come to her bedchamber one night and that it had been raining. She distinctly remembered the rolling crash of thunder and a puddle of rainwater on the wide plank floor.

  “He did come, and he begged me to go away with him,” she murmured.

  Just beyond the wake of the ship, seagulls wheeled and screeched, diving into the foam for tiny fish. Their raucous cries filled Elizabeth’s ears and drowned out her whisper. Above her, sails snapped in the wind; the deck beneath her feet sighed and moaned like a living creature. The acrid scent of tar-soaked lines and spars mingled with the sharp bite of gunpowder and salt water.

  Elizabeth broke a biscuit into pieces and tossed it to the seagulls. Was I truly so far gone with fever that I thought to go with him? She sighed and blinked back the moisture that clouded her eyes. For three nights she had gone to the willow behind the house and waited until the first coral shades of dawn had tinted the eastern sky.

  I waited for you, Cain, but you didn’t come.

  One gull seized a bit of the bread, but the rest was lost in the tumbling waves. Elizabeth rubbed her hands together to rid them of the crumbs.

  Dreams had plagued her illness, some so vivid that she ceased to differentiate between what was real and what was imagined. At one time, she had conceived the idea that someone was trying to poison her. Lady Baldwin told her that they had summoned the physician in the middle of the night to calm her hysterical outburst.

  “Fever heats the brain, child,” the older woman had said. “You were near death. We cannot blame you for the madness of fever.”

  Returning to England and to her betrothed was the only sensible thing to do. Elizabeth knew it, and she knew that if Cain had come for her and they had run off into the wilderness together, she would have regretted it for the rest of her life.

  “But I waited for you anyway,” she said softly. “I wanted-”

  “M’lady,” Betty interrupted. “I did as ye bid me. I scrubbed ever’ inch o’ that nasty little cabin wi’ vinegar, but Mistress Wright is upchuckin’ all over the floor again.” The girl grimaced. “Her youngun is howlin’ his head off, and she says she’s gonna dee.”

  Elizabeth stared back at the calm water and shuddered. If Mistress Wright was seasick barely out of sight of land, on water as flat as a bathtub, what would she be like when they hit rough weather?

  “Ask her if you can bring the child up on deck. She’s probably scaring him into a tantrum.”

  Betty shook her head. “I asked her could I bring him up, m’lady. He ain’t a biddable lad, but he ain’t no bigger ′an a duck. I’m stronger ‘an him. I’ll take Master Robin fer ye, I says. But she says I’ll lose him over the side, and she’s a poor widder wi’out nothin’ but one chile, an’ they both started in again.”

  Betty shrugged one shoulder and waited, her face as bland as corn pudding.

  Elizabeth smiled at her, glad she had brought the wench along. Skinny and slow of wit, Betty was a good-hearted soul with no sign of seasickness. As far as Elizabeth knew, the girl had never been ill or complained once on the voyage from England to Virginia.

  Betty’s too-large cap was pulled down over her ears and tied tightly beneath her chin. Her stained and patched apron enveloped the once-blue bodice and tattered homespun skirt, drooping to cover the toes of sturdy, leather boy’s shoes. A pointed chin and upturned nose gave Betty the look of a starving fox, but there was no mistaking the contentment in her eyes. She was as happy to be going home to London as if she had had good sense, and no one, not even Mistress Wright, would diminish Betty’s excitement one bit.

  “There’s no need for you to trouble yourself with Mistress Wright anymore,” Elizabeth said. “Let her servant Walter come up from the men’s quarters and scrub her vomit. You may stay here with me if you can remain quiet.”

  “Yes, m’lady.” Betty nodded vigorously. “I kin. I kin be quiet as a mouse.” She plopped down on a coil of rope. “Ye won’t know I’m here, I promise.”

  Elizabeth gazed back at the spot where she had last glimpsed land. Goodbye, Cain, she cried silently. I’m glad I knew you.

  In the bowels of the ship a man lay, wrist and ankle chained to damp timbers in the malodorous darkness. The heavy irons cut cruelly into his raw flesh and prevented him from changing position. Cramps wracked his legs and arms and made it hard for him to sleep.

  There was little to do but sleep in this foul pit. He hadn’t been given drinking water in days, and the water that sloshed around over his back and lower body was little more than green slime. He would have to suffer far more thirst before he would consider drinking that.

  When Cain had realized that his captors meant to sell him to another Englishman, rather than murder him as their captain had ordered, he had been relieved. Now he wondered if a quick death might not have been easier to bear.

  No one had explained why the man Douglas wanted a prisoner or what he meant to do with him. The Englishmen had treated Cain with no more respect than they would a horse. They had forced him to his knees in a room full of men and laid hands upon his person. He had not been able to see, but his ears were open, and his heart felt shame.

  “He’s no good to me,” Captain Douglas had proclaimed. “Look at him. You’ve beat him to death.”

  “Nay,” Angus had replied. “Hard as oak, this one. All the blood deceives ye, but some is English. He’s in his prime and strong enough t’ lift an ox.”

  “He’s quiet enough now. Are ye certain he’s not dim-witted?”

  “Ask about, sir. Any what was there will tell ye this is one fightin’ son-of-a-bitch. He’s dangerous, I’ll gie ye that, but there’s nothin’ wrong wi’ his brain.”

  “Unless you’ve stove it in. I make no profit on ruined goods.”

  “No disrespect meant, captain, but did ye expect to buy a full-grown redman wi’out a mark on him? They’s savages, sir, wild as any woods’ boar.”

  Cain had knelt where they’d shoved him and pretended he was as empty as a conch shell. When the transaction was completed, other hands had dragged him out of the building and onto what he supposed was an English ship.

  Here he had been chained, and for all he knew, forgotten.

  In the hours and days that had passed since the battle beneath the willow, Cain had withdrawn deep within his inner self. There he did not hear the white men’s scorn or feel the pain of his untended lacerations. There he waited and cradled the
spark of his wounded spirit.

  When the ship moved away from the shore and Cain heard the waves slapping against the hull, he came close to letting go of the thin thread that held him to sanity. They are taking me away, he thought. They are taking me across the ocean, away from my homeland.

  It came to him that he could follow the example of injured animals and escape this horror in the easiest way—he would simply stop breathing. To die would be to get the best of this English captain who had paid silver for his living body. Death would be a welcome comrade. Cain knew he had only to beckon and the dark warrior would claim him.

  But he did not give the signal. Instead, he let the pain and terror cleanse his blood as a hot flame burns the evil from a festering wound. “N’dellennowi, I am a man,” he said in the tongue of his father’s people.

  “Lehelechejane, n’matschi. I draw breath, and I will come home again.” He swallowed, trying to draw moisture from his parched mouth, and kicked futilely at a rat that scurried across his bare legs. “On the love I once bore for Eliz-a-beth, I swear it.”

  Chapter 12

  Because of dependable winds, the eastward crossing from Virginia to England was much shorter and safer than the route to the American Colonies. The Lady Jane was a stout ship with an experienced captain and crew, and the voyage was blessed with fair weather. Elizabeth was well aware of her good fortune on all these counts, but it did little to lighten her mood.

  Her cabin mate, Mistress Wright, continued to be seasick, so that she was rarely a guest at the captain’s table during the first two weeks of the trip. She, Elizabeth, and Betty were the only females on the ship except for Mistress Maude Pierce, the wife of an official returning to England after a two-year stay in Jamestown.

  Elizabeth and Mistress Pierce customarily took meals with Captain Douglas and four gentlemen passengers in the captain’s cabin. Since Maude Pierce was sixty-two years of age and hard of hearing, Elizabeth found little enjoyment in her company. Samuel Pierce, Maude’s husband, was somewhat younger but equally boring.

  Captain Douglas was a man of indeterminate years with the speech and manners of a gentleman. A proclaimed bachelor, the captain made no secret of his admiration for Elizabeth.

  “You have made this voyage a delight, if I may say so, Lady Elizabeth,” he said as they sat down to a late-evening supper of roast duck and pickled tongue. The cabin boy poured the captain a goblet of wine, and Captain Douglas raised it gallantly. “To the loveliest and most gracious lady it has ever been my fortune to convey.”

  Elizabeth smiled at him. “Thank you, sir. You are too kind.”

  “Not at all,” Samuel Pierce chimed in, helping himself to a generous portion of eel pie. ” ‘Tis but the truth, Lady Elizabeth.”

  Mistress Pierce glanced up from her plate. “Eh? What did he say, Samuel?”

  “Yes, yes, indeed.” Samuel patted his wife’s hand. She looked around absently, then began anew to chew her food.

  Elizabeth wondered for the hundredth time how she would survive the voyage with such company. Bored, she let her gaze wander around the cabin.

  Despite the rich paneling and the stained-glass window, the captain’s quarters were cramped. A built-in bunk and an inlaid walnut writing cabinet were the only furniture, save for the table and chairs. The master’s elaborate oak armchair was bolted to the floor at the head of the table in the same manner as the writing cabinet. One whale-oil lamp hung over the table, and its twin gave light to the desk. The floors were bare, and the bed linens worn thin. The cabin smelled of rum, tobacco, and musty wool.

  “Doubtless Lady Elizabeth will be a welcome visitor at court,” Robert Hammond said. Hammond was the eldest son of a wealthy London merchant, traveling on business for his father. Although he wore a long, curled, black horsehair wig and affected the latest fashions in dress, Hammond was obviously a raw boy overcome by the opportunity to sit at the same table with an earl’s daughter.

  The captain passed a dish of dried peas to Elizabeth and let his glance linger on her bosom. “Have you been a guest at Whitehall already, m’lady?”

  “Yes, I have,” she replied, ignoring his lecherous appraisal.

  She was accustomed to such behavior from men. As long as he did nothing but look, and offered no disrespect by word or action, she would not take offense. It was common knowledge that all mariners had a reputation for being rakehells among the ladies—except for those who favored their own kind. Since the Lady Jane’s cabin boy was buck-toothed and popeyed, Elizabeth felt certain Captain Douglas was free from that proclivity.

  The boy shoved the plate of roast duck under her nose. She accepted several small slices and a wedge of cheese. Shipboard food was not to her liking.

  “You’ve been presented to King Charles?” Robert Hammond asked.

  “I’ve had the pleasure of meeting their highnesses several times,” Elizabeth replied.

  “Have you seen the South Sea Islanders?” Hammond’s pale eyes widened with excitement and he leaned forward over his plate. “I’ve heard that Lord Walston has a splendid matched pair of natives and brings them to suppers at Whitehall.”

  “I’ve heard that too,” Elizabeth said, “but I’ve not seen them.”

  “Their skins are lighter in color than a blackamoor’s,” Captain Douglas explained.

  Samuel wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You sailed the Pacific, captain?”

  “What?” Mistress Pierce inquired loudly. “A blackamoor, did he say? Plenty of them in the Colonies.”

  The captain shook his head. “My experience has been on the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, but I saw several South Sea Islanders two years ago in Venice. They were huge men, over six feet tall.”

  The ship rocked and Elizabeth captured her goblet before more than a few drops of wine escaped. She was well aware that King Charles’s court considered the natives to be a rare oddity, but the idea that men could be owned and exhibited as animals had always been repugnant to her. She always felt uneasy around slaves. She had never believed herself particularly devout in religious matters, but surely even the least of humans had souls. And if they had souls, it must be a sin to treat them as beasts.

  “Lady Elizabeth.” The captain turned toward her. “In your stay in Jamestown, did you see any savages?”

  She stiffened. Hadn’t Captain Douglas heard of her shipwreck?

  “Why, the Lady Elizabeth—″ Samuel halted in midsentence as Elizabeth shot him a withering glance.

  “I was a guest of a councilman, sir,” Elizabeth replied lightly. “One does not meet too many redmen in the governor’s circle of acquaintances.”

  “Then perhaps you would enjoy seeing one close up.” The captain smiled triumphantly and rose to his feet. “It happens that I am transporting a redman on this ship.”

  “Upon my word!” Samuel said. “Are you serious?″

  “God’s wounds!” Hammond cried. “I never thought to lay eyes on one. Is he alive?”

  Captain Douglas beamed. “I should hope so, as much as I paid for him. I’m transporting the creature for a gentleman, and likely he intends to exhibit him at Whitehall. I see no reason why you may not all take a look beforehand.” He looked down his long nose at Robert Hammond and cleared his throat. “In case you should be forced to miss the court appearance.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t believe I—”

  “Nonsense, there’s no danger. You’ll all be perfectly safe, I assure you.” The captain waved to the cabin boy. “Tell Mr. Quinn I wish to see him at once.”

  “What’s amiss?” Samuel’s wife demanded.

  “Nothing wrong, dear,” her husband assured her. “The captain has an Indian on board.”

  “Bored? Utter nonsense.” Mistress Pierce smiled, revealing broken, discolored teeth, and tapped the captain’s wrist with her fan. “The duck was excellent. I’d like to have the receipt for our cook.”

  Samuel rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You’ll have to forgive my wife. She has a slight
problem with her hearing.”

  “No need to apologize, sir,” Captain Douglas said, rising. “My own mother suffered from the same affliction. Deaf as a post, she was, from childhood on.”

  Excusing himself, he stepped out of the cabin for a minute, then returned to his seat. “Jack has an excellent plum flummery for us. Then after supper, we’ll all go out on deck and take a look at the savage. Mr. Quinn is going to wash him down, out of consideration to the ladies.” He chucked. “Mr. Quinn tells me that the hold stinks like a pig sty.″

  Elizabeth tried to suppress a shudder. Whoever the prisoner was, he would be better off throwing himself over the side of the ship into the sea. Indians carried to England almost invariably died of disease within months. They seemed to have no resistance to measles, smallpox, or cholera. A quick death by drowning would be kinder than a slow, agonizing one from illness.

  “I believe I will go and see how Mistress Wright fares,” Elizabeth said. “I really don’t want to see—″

  “I insist,” Captain Douglas said. “To view a creature such as this one at close distance is an experience of a lifetime. I won’t let you miss it.”

  Samuel Pierce offered Elizabeth his arm as she stepped from the hatchway onto the moonlit deck. Just ahead of them Hammond carried a lantern and the captain guided Mistress Pierce. Captain Douglas was shouting something into her ear.

  Elizabeth paused and tightened her grip on Samuel’s sleeve. “Sir,” she said softly. “I know that you are aware of the tragedy that befell me in the Colonies.”

  “Of course, but—”

  She raised her finger to her lips for silence. “The Sommersett family and my betrothed, Lord Dunmore, would consider it a great personal favor if the unfortunate tale remained in Virginia.”