A Whisper Of Destiny

by Monica Barrie

  “I would like to go on deck,” she told him.

  “’Tis sorry I am, but Cap’n says you stay in the cabin.” Kira stepped back. Whatever Captain Zachery had been before, he was still James Cornwall’s man. The guard started to close the door, but Kira stopped him.

  “At least leave it open so that I can breathe.” The sailor remained silent, but turned from her and stood facing outward, framed in the center of the door. Another prison, she thought bitterly.

  She stayed in the cabin and waited. Then, after long, sweltering moments, the bos’n’s whistle sounded followed by the creak of the ropes as the sails were hoisted. A few minutes later, the ship shuttered and moved and Kira knew her reluctant journey into exile was underway.

  “Sean,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER 19

  “In here. Quick!”

  Ruth’s breath caught in her throat from the hard run she’d made. At the sound of Sean’s voice, both she and the other man ducked into the narrow walkway between two residences. She leaned heavily against the bricks of one of the buildings, as Sean checked for signs of pursuit.

  “Clarke,” he said motioning the man to him. “Tell the Commodore I’ll be leaving tonight—also, watch the ship. I want to know if it leaves without any further complications.”

  “Yes, Captain.” The man nodded and left without a backward glance.

  “Ruth,” said Sean in a gentle voice, as he waited for the woman to catch her breath. “Walk slightly behind me, as if you belong to me.”

  They started out, Ruth keeping a distance of three feet between Sean and her. The stirring of a tremendous excitement surged in her head at the prospect of being united with her husband. She no longer felt the doubts or depression of earlier days and had to will her feet to maintain the same pace as her rescuer.

  When they turned the corner onto King Street, she saw Chatham standing on the top step by the door leading into the piazza. She lowered her eyes to the ground as several people passed them; they reached the first step as master and slave.

  “Go inside,” he said, half-turning to her. “Abraham is waiting.” Sean stepped back to let her pass, as did Chatham. She quickly reached the piazza, ran past the smiling doctor and into the doorway. When she crossed the threshold, she saw Abraham standing there, waiting for her. He looked the same as he had the day they had taken him away to sell him at the auction, but something was slightly different about him. He seemed to stand taller and hold himself with more pride. He’s shed the mental bonds, she thought with pride. Without another second’s hesitation, she went to him with outstretched arms.

  Abraham’s arms went around her, lifting her to him in a warm embrace. His lips pressed against hers, almost bruising in their intensity. Ruth felt safe, secure and, for the first time in recent memory, happy.

  When Abraham finally released her and placed her gently on her feet, she stared into his face, not yet able to believe that this was actually happening. Abraham took her hand and led her to the two others in the room with them.

  “Miss Bella, Jeremy, dis be Ruth, my wife,” he said in formal introduction. Ruth understood at once that these people did not know that she and Abraham were educated.

  “I be pleasured to meet y’all,” she responded, gripping Abraham’s hand tightly. Bella smiled at her, her lips parting in a greeting that showed only fondness.

  “Best you two gets up to da room. Docta say you be leavin’ soon. Ya’ll be alone for awhiles, too,” declared Bella, a flush darkened her face as she shooed the gape-mouthed Jeremy away.

  Abraham squeezed Ruth’s hand and then led her to the stairs. Anticipation roared through her body.

  <><><>

  “After this little escapade, I would think you’ve worn out your welcome in Charleston,” Chatham commented dryly. “Are you leaving tonight?”

  “I am.”

  “And of course I’ll have to deal with Cornwall. He’ll be curious about Abraham. After all, if Ruth got away, surely her husband would have also.”

  “Most likely.”

  “And of course, you’ll leave whatever story that has to be concocted up to me.”

  “Of course.” He could no longer contain his smile.

  “Of course! Certainly! Whatever you say! Damn it, Sean, you make messes and leave them for me,” Chatham yelled, slapping the arms of his chair.

  Sean knew his friend was not bothered as much by the necessity of making up a believable tale as he was by the fact that once Sean left he would be cut off from both Sean and Francine. That, and the fact that he would have to proceed cautiously in order to stay in the good graces of James Cornwall.

  “Use Commodore Finch for anything that is necessary. He has orders that everything is to be at your disposal—whenever, whatever you need. And Robert,” said Sean, as he stood and walked over to his friend, placing a hand on Chatham’s shoulder, “I will make sure that Francine is safe.”

  Chatham said nothing and Sean continued. “As for Abraham’s ‘escape,’ write Cornwall a note and have it delivered tonight, before he sends someone here looking for the woman. Tell him that you sent Abraham to the market, but he disappeared. Ask him to be on the lookout for a runaway slave, and say that he might be coming to get Ruth.”

  “That sounds plausible, but what about my blaming him for the whole thing? Maybe I should go there, outraged that the slave he’d recommended to me had run away. Possibly demand my money back,” said Chatham.

  “Good. While you’re there, we’ll leave. You know my itinerary?” he asked, but it was more a statement than a question. Chatham nodded and smiled.

  “I know you’re embarking on a mission for our country.” Chatham’s light blue eyes bored into Sean’s, his tightly set lips showed the intensity of his feelings. “But Sean, to a friend, admit it’s more a journey of desire.”

  Sean smiled at his friend. “You know me well, Robert— almost too well. My journey will start as soon as I make sure Ruth and Abraham are settled in Charlottesville. I’ve already written a note for my father and asked that he make sure they are settled at my mother’s home.”

  Chatham’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He still keeps it staffed?”

  “Yes. When she and Louis died, my father decided he would maintain the property and keep it as she would want.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “No one does, except for Francine and myself,” admitted Sean.

  “He loved her greatly.”

  “She bore him his first son. Even though illegitimately.” A knock on the study door interrupted them.

  It was Jeremy. “Dere’s a man wantin’ to see da docta,” he informed Chatham.

  “I’ll be right out.” Chatham turned to Sean. “I’m building a good practice here. When this is over, I may stay.”

  Sean smiled at his friend and waved him out of the study. He leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes, and thought of many things; two things, especially, loomed large in his mind. His revelation to Chatham about his father and, above that, Kira.

  <><><>

  The sudden calm woke Kira.

  For the past ten days, ever since they’d passed Barbados, they had been buffeted by winds and rough sea. The threat of a storm was constantly at their backs. Now the calm seemed strange. Kira rose from the bed and lit the candle on the desk. She was not tired, although she had not slept overly long. The enforced rest in her cabin was causing her body to rebel. Even the exercise that she forced upon herself twice daily did little to cure her restlessness.

  At the beginning of the trip, Captain Zachery had given her orders to stay in one of two areas of the deck. These areas were restricted—the crew was not allowed on them when she was there. The seamen had only been ashore two days, barely enough time to satisfy their basic desires and visit the prostitutes near the market before returning to duty. Zachery warned Kira to keep to herself.

  Stifling in the small cabin, she bent and retrieved the cape that Ruth had placed on the top of one of the trunks f
or just what she, Kira, had had in mind—a nighttime walk on the cool deck. Most of the hands would be sleeping.

  Kira unbolted the cabin door; and, pulling the cape tightly around her, made her way to the deck. She stood by the port railing, the cool ocean breeze dancing across her face. The salty air lifted her hair and refreshed the back of her neck.

  The stars filled the nighttime sky with their jeweled magnificence in such numbers that they took Kira’s breath away. How she wished Sean were here to share this beauty with her! The sea breezes whipped her cape open and bathed the skin not covered by her nightdress. She shut her eyes, and allowed herself to imagine the touch of Sean’s hands on her. Then, she pulled the cape tightly around her again. The fingers of her right hand found the object that was still secured under her breast and she held it to her longingly.

  “Evening, Mistress Cornwall,” Captain Zachery said. Kira turned to him and smiled, as Sean’s image slipped away.

  “It’s a lovely night. I’m glad the sea calmed.” Kira noticed that the captain’s manner with her was very reserved, and she was glad of that. Whatever memories she’d had of him were those of a child’s infatuation. She was pleased he seemed to feel the same.

  “It gives the men some rest. These last days have been hellish.” He shook his head, but he did not appear tired. Perhaps he was one who slept even in rough weather. “Would you care for some wine?” he asked, a smile on his lips.

  “No, thank you, Captain. I would just as soon stay out here and enjoy the night.”

  “You would let a lonely man drink alone?” His tone was jocular, but Kira sensed a strange undertone.

  “Wine this late at night gives me headaches,” lied Kira in an effort to be polite.

  “Strange, it gives me strength, makes my blood run faster.”

  Watching him carefully, Kira realized the undercurrent she sensed in him was due to the effects of alcohol already imbibed. He was deep into his drink, but holding it well. Kira pretended a yawn which she covered with the back of her hand.

  “I must return to bed. I’m feeling tired now. The fresh air has done its job well.” As she turned, his hand grasped her shoulder.

  “Stay, Kira. Stay with me and remember the day we first met.”

  “I was a girl then, Captain. I am a woman now. My feelings and mind are different.” She spoke without rancor but her intention was firm as she removed his hand from her shoulder and returned to her cabin, leaving him standing alone on the deck.

  Kira secured the bolt on the door, threw off her cape, and paced the room liked a caged cat. What is it that make men react that way? She thought about the possibilities of using Captain Zachery to gain her ends, but then dismissed the idea. After all, she had promised herself she would win her independence with her mind, not her body; and also, the man was so obviously controlled by her uncle that she knew no matter what happened between them, her uncle’s orders would be carried out.

  Kira sat on the chair and stared into the flickering orange flame of the candle, shivering slightly as a chill passed through her body. She hugged herself tightly, wishing that it were Sean’s arms, not her own, that held her.

  “I will be strong!” she told the candle. It was the same chant she had spoken to herself daily since her departure. “I will be strong! I will win out! I will burn brightly like you, little candle, but I will not submit,” she promised. Then, rather than face the total darkness of the cabin, she let the candle burn and returned to bed and sleep.

  A heavy crash woke Kira for a second time that night. Instantly she sat up, trying to see in the darkness. The candle had gone out while she slept. Again, the sound bounced through the room, and at the third crash, the bolt on the door broke free and the door swung inward, ricocheting against the wall before it trembled to a halt. Kira saw the silhouette of a man in the archway and she pulled her covers higher.

  Under the nightdress was the leather handle of Sean’s knife, and she grasped it as the figure at the door stalked closer, stooping once to retrieve the candle. He lit it, and Kira saw the face of Captain Simon Zachery.

  “You should not let a man drink alone!” he shouted. The candle’s flame made him look evil and domineering. His jacket was open, revealing a partially open grayish shirt and hair that sprouted in an unruly mass on his chest.

  “Damn it, you high and mighty piece of trash, you’re going to finish what you started five years ago. You’re going to make up for the insult I’ve endured at your father’s hands.”

  “The only insult you’ve received, you imagined!” declared Kira in a cold voice. “Get out of my room, Captain Zachery.”

  “This is my cabin and I’ll not leave. Not until I have what I want.” For some reason, Kira felt no fear. She watched him place the candle on the desk and begin to undress. Kira moved her hand subtly, so that he would not see, and placed the knife beneath her.

  “Leave me,” she said in a whisper. “Do not do this! It will be you who suffers most!” He responded with a derisive laugh and turned to her, bare-chested, his ragged breath making his chest heave in harsh movements and exaggerated by the candlelight. Kira could not help but think how the moon had played on Sean’s body so invitingly the night they had spent together while the candlelight on Captain Zachery’s body gave it a sinister, almost skeletal appearance.

  He reached the side of the bed in two short steps and bent to her. His breath reeked of drink; it was sour and acrid. She quickly averted her face and felt his searching lips near her ear instead.

  “No…please, don’t!” she cried. In answer, he cruelly gripped her face, his fingers digging into her cheeks, forcing her resisting muscles to yield. Then he pushed his lips against hers. They were leathery and tough, cracked from years at sea. The bile rose in the back of her throat as he continued to force his mouth to hers.

  Then his weight sank on the bed and his body pressed near hers. She reached beneath her, gripping the handle of the knife tightly just as he pulled the cover from her body. At the same moment, he tore his mouth from hers. He stared at her, trying to see through the thin cotton of the nightdress, his tongue hungrily circling his lips. Grasping the neckline of her dress, he tore it from her.

  Simon Zachery paused, fastening his eyes on the two full mounds of her breasts with their peach tips. He licked his lips again and smiled just before he noticed the sheath.

  “What…?” he began in surprise, at the sight of the leather strap that ran beneath her breasts. Before he could move, Kira had the razor-sharp blade against his neck.

  “I warned you,” she said, her tone an icy melody in the quiet room. Everything was still but for the creak of the ship as it moved in the water. Kira moved the knife slowly, turning it so that its point bit into the man’s neck. Zachery remained frozen.

  “When I tell you,” said Kira, as she pressed the point further into the leathery skin, “you will stand up slowly and move only when I say to. I will not hesitate to use this!” she warned and saw belief register in the man’s eyes. She paid no attention to the small stream of blood that ran down the knife and onto her hand. “Now!”

  He stood slowly and Kira moved with him, pressing the blade harshly against his skin. She stood at his side in a way that he could not get at her.

  “We’ve only a short time left on board together. Do not try my patience again. I swear, if you so much as touch my hand, I will kill you. If not then, after!” Before Kira released him, she assessed the damage to the door. She noticed the two brackets on either side.

  “Where is the crossbar?” she asked.

  The upward flicking of his eyes was all she needed for an answer. Pressing the knife once more against his neck, she coaxed him toward the door. When they reached it, she stopped.

  “Do not treat me lightly, Captain. I am not one of your port whores.” With that she pushed him out of the room and slammed the door, securing it with the crossbar. Only then did she return to bed. Oblivious to her nakedness, she sat silently, taking large gulps of air. Wh
en she was able to breathe normally, and her seething thoughts had quieted, the truth of what she’d done began to sink in. Her body trembled, but after a few minutes she controlled that, too. Then her eyes went to the blade she still clutched in her hand.

  Almost half its length was covered in shiny red blood. Carefully, she took her torn nightdress and cleaned the blade. Then, almost lovingly, she replaced the blade in its sheath. When that was done, Kira dressed for the day. It would soon be dawn and, after this night’s misadventures, her mind was charged with apprehension.

  <><><>

  The changing rhythm of the ship warned Kira of journey’s end. She estimated they’d been sailing for four weeks, but because she had been confined so much, she wasn’t sure of how much time that had passed, as the days blended into each other. But with the shouting of orders and the creaking of ropes as the sails were furled, her thoughts were confirmed that her shipboard captivity was at its end.

  Kira went to the door, removed the bar, and opened it to look out. The sailor that had been stationed there every day since the night the captain had attempted to have his way with her was still there. She had been a complete prisoner, allowed out of her quarters only to empty the bedpan and to bring in fresh water with which to cleanse herself. All her meals were brought by the cabin boy.

  “Are we docking soon?”

  He nodded.

  “Tell the captain I would speak with him.” The sailor nodded again, but stayed where he was. Kira shrugged and slammed the door. This time she did not bar it.

  Kira went to the desk, picking up her hairbrush and vigorously going to work with it. She pulled the brush through her red mane of hair, removing the knots and stroking it to a glossy sheen. She thought this would make her feel better, but when she finished, she was still enraged. She threw the brush angrily at the wall over the bed.

  “Bastards!” she yelled and then, unbidden, tears began to flow. They were the tears of her rage and sorrow, of her frustration at being a prisoner and her inability to do anything about it. She buried her head on folded arms and gave herself over to the pent-up emotions of the last days.