Flames of Desire

by Vanessa Royall

  Already, men were working on Slyde, bringing him to. The poor wretch was choking and vomiting. Selena, knowing what was in store for him, almost wished that he had died beneath the ship.

  But what was in store for her?

  “Come along now, my dear,” Captain Randolph said, smiling. Gallantly, he offered his arm. Automatically, she took it, with a strange sensation that the arm under the fine cloth of his tailored uniform jacket was neither encased by warm human flesh nor filled with human blood and bone.

  “I do hope you’ll like my quarters,” he told her, and from the tone it was clear that he did not care if she liked his cabin at all.

  It was in the stern, high above the rudder, and both in its position and organization reminded her of Royce Campbell’s quarters aboard the Highlander. She did not have time to dwell upon the comparison, though, because as soon as Captain Randolph guided her inside and swung the door shut behind them, a strikingly beautiful woman stepped from behind a delicately woven Chinese screen.

  “Why, darling,” she smiled, “you’ve brought me company!”

  A sound like that of a distant rifle shot echoed down from the deck and into the cabin, and then a howl of sheer agony.

  “Oh, my dear, you’re using the cat again. Upon whom this time, may I ask?”

  “Slyde,” the captain said. “He brought aboard our pretty little stowaway here.”

  The woman’s gaze was piercing, disconcerting. She reached out and touched Selena’s face, and her eyes sparkled, worshipfully.

  “Oh, darling,” she said, “you’re so cruel and perverse. He doesn’t deserve the cat for that. But give him death instead, now, and end his misery.”

  Again, the sharp explosion of sound, the knotted leather lashes biting into Slyde’s back. And, again, his trapped, despairing cry.

  “You’re much too soft, Roberta,” Captain Randolph chided, in a curious singsong, a kind of parody of tenderness. “And, besides, it’s the principle of the thing. Selena must learn.”

  “Indeed,” Roberta agreed, “she has many things to learn.”

  With an understanding that was welcome, and a gentleness that was almost eager, Roberta saw to it that hot water was brought for Selena’s bath, and fragrant soaps, thick towels. But whenever one or another of the sailors came to the cabin door with what she had ordered, Roberta herself slid behind the Chinese screen. So, if any of the officers or crew knew of her presence on the Meridian, it must be the secret of a very few. Yet, it was puzzling. Randolph, as a captain, could scarcely have been a sterner disciplinarian, even judging by the harsh standards of the maritime profession. And yet, on his own ship, with a measure of discretion but certainly no great secrecy—all that fragrant soap? all that hot water?—he kept a mistress. Or was she his wife?

  On deck, Slyde screamed for a long time, then fell silent, even as the lashes cut his flesh. Then, after a time, he started screaming again, and finally stopped.

  Selena had been left to bathe in the tub, which Roberta pushed behind the screen for her privacy, and Captain Randolph spoke so quietly with the other woman that Selena could not hear. At length, when the flogging ceased, Randolph said he had to go up on deck and see what to do about the sailor.

  “Don’t be long, darling,” Roberta said, and the two of them kissed briefly on the lips, like an affectionate, long-married couple. The captain left, and Selena, in a lovely turquoise robe Roberta had given her, stepped out from behind the shield, before Roberta’s admiring gaze.

  “Oh, honey, let’s do have a look at you,” she said. “If you’d only announced yourself directly, you’d never have had to spend all that time down in the foul hold. We can’t have that, now, can we?”

  Selena received a sweep of impressions, most of them perplexing, and not a little strange. This woman, quite obviously, was more than hospitable. But not only was her very presence here on the ship disconcerting, it was a contradiction of what Slyde had told her: “The cap’n hates all women. He had a wife run out on ’im once.” Selena’s expression must have revealed her thoughts, because Roberta was quick to put her at ease.

  “Here, now, I know you’re wondering about all this, what’s going to happen to you. But just you don’t worry about it. The captain gives a threatening impression sometimes, doesn’t he?” She smiled, and guided Selena to a cushioned chair. “Don’t worry about that either, not even his talk of turning you in for a reward when we reach Boston. He won’t do that.”

  Roberta sounded very certain, but in Selena’s mind was the further question: then what will he do?

  “We’ll maneuver around him, just the two of us,” the other woman said. “Now let me ring and get you something from the galley. You must be famished, and you’re so beautiful. You must keep working on your looks, and they will be put to fine use one day.”

  Saying that, she touched Selena’s face—it was difficult not to draw back—and stroked her gently, as one would a lover. Roberta sensed her alarm, but did not seem offended.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, moving away, gazing at Selena with eyes that were…what? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unnerve you, it’s just that…”

  Whatever it was, she left the explanation unspoken, and yanked a pull rope near the door, which sounded a signal bell. In moments, a sailor stood outside the door, and Roberta passed him a message for food: bread, grilled lamb, red cabbage, and a bottle of port.

  “Yes, lamb,” she smiled, at Selena’s questioning look. “Captain Randolph brings live sheep onto his ship, and slaughters them as the need arises. He is not one to give up his pleasures merely because he has chosen a lonely vocation.”

  There was no denial of the fact, Selena thought, watching Roberta, beautifully coiffed, expensively gowned, perfumed. She was a part of the pleasure. The sailor soon brought up a tray of food, the lamb juicy, hot from the galley spit, and the wine sweet and strong. Selena began to eat and drink ravenously, then remembered the unfortunate Slyde.

  “What’s happened to him? Will he be allowed to eat? Is he alive?”

  Roberta’s face darkened. “Child, let me tell you how things are on this ship, and how to have a pleasant time here, in spite of the situation. The first rule is: Ask no questions. Never. When Captain Randolph tells you something, ask no questions, even if you do not understand what he is talking about. And the second rule is: Obey him. He may wish…ah…certain things that seem odd to you, and you must acquiesce. But I will tell you, too, that if you do not question him, those demands will seem—after a time, anyway—to be perfectly reasonable.”

  “But the poor man was horribly maltreated, and here I am…”

  Roberta lifted a finger and pressed it to her lips, smiling and shaking her head gently.

  “No questions. No questions. Eat well, and then you may rest. Tonight, after we have dined, the captain and I will discuss plans for you…”

  Plans? There was an ominous sound to the word, even though Roberta made it sound natural as the dawn.

  “…and I am sure you have nothing to fear, a smart lass like you. Tell me,” she added, “is it true that you were really of the nobility?”

  There seemed no point in denying it. Selena nodded.

  “Ah! That is fine, indeed. And because of it, you may be sure Captain Randolph will give you every opportunity.”

  Opportunity for what? Selena asked herself, but she adhered to Roberta’s earlier instructions, and did not give voice to her apprehension. Roberta was staring at her now, in a manner not unfriendly but not entirely amiable either, and those eyes were…were out of place! That was it! Roberta’s eyes were out of place in her face. Too old, or…or something…

  But the food and, most of all, the wine did their work, and in spite of resolutions to stay awake and alert, Selena began to feel the toll of the past week in the hold, at sea.

  “That’s right,” Roberta soothed, and walked her to the large hammock on which she and the captain slept. “That’s right you sleep now. There is nothing to worry about
and when you awaken, all your questions shall be answered. Now you just…”

  And she helped Selena into the hammock, adjusting a pillow for her, drawing up rich blankets of patterned plaid, Highlands’ wool. Roberta’s hands were very gentle, Selena thought drowsy and falling, gentle as they passed and down her body, adjusting the blankets. Too gentle, she realized, but it was too late for more. The warmth of the blankets, the swaying hammock, the slow, steady roll and pitch of the Meridian: all conspired against consciousness. Outside the portholes, the sea was blue and white toward all infinity, and the air was brilliant the sky decorated with wind-driven clouds. Wind slanted steadily into the massive white sails of the ship, and drove her into the horizon, silently onward to the New World, like a knife slashing through water.

  Strange, Selena thought strange, but not knowing why, and then, bereft even of wonder, sleep took her like a lover on the high, lonely lanes of the North Atlantic.

  You are not defeated until …

  At first, darkness. Suppressing an instinctive fear, Selena then sensed movement the now familiar sea roll, and remembered that she was on the ship, in the hammock, but…

  She was not in a hammock now! She was sitting upright somewhere in darkness. Wait be careful. Raise your hand and reach out. Touch. Her arms did not move. Lean forward, slowly. Some kind of bond stretched around her waist. Just as she was about to cry out, she heard the sounds. Something much like a moan, and an answer that was…that was a giggle!

  The Meridian moved in steady rhythm.

  Gradually, Selena’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cabin, and her situation became clear, if inexplicable. She had slept far longer than anticipated, even into the night; Roberta and the captain had moved her from the hammock, put her in the cushioned chair, and tied her into it. With relief, she noted that her gown was still on; she could feel it beneath the blanket spread over her. Thus assured, she did not know whether to make her presence known or not.

  On the hammock, the two bodies were entwined, deep in lovemaking. Iridescent in the dim sheen of sea light, Captain Randolph clung to Roberta on the hammock, deep in a kiss. Selena saw Randolph’s body clearly; Roberta’s was obscured. The captain had a long back, and angular, almost perfect shoulders, but the legs and arms suggested an unsettling delicacy, in spite of the musculature. Then, quite naturally, the two of them turned on the hammock, seeking a position, still clinging, still touching and giving forth the tender, moaning cries of physical love, which are almost the sounds of pain. Delicious in sweet agony, they moved, and Selena could not tear her eyes away, although she tried. Then she could not even try, as the enormity of the vision struck her with the force of a blow, like the cutting sting of McGrover’s riding whip. Captain Randolph turned Roberta in the hammock, and came up behind her. And Roberta offered herself in that fashion. Which was also necessary, because it was the only fashion of which Roberta was capable.

  Because Roberta was a man.

  “Oh, my God!” cried Selena, before she could stop herself.

  There was a deathly stillness in the cabin. The wash of the sea along the hull whispered to them from far away.

  “I told you we oughtn’t have,” Roberta whispered then.

  “Set me free!” Selena ordered tentatively, her voice quaking.

  Another silence.

  “Well, she would have known sooner or later.” It was Captain Randolph, his voice cynical and matter-of-fact. “Care to join us for a romp, Selena?”

  “Don’t you ruin her, darling,” Roberta interrupted. “Of what good will she be then?”

  The two bodies, motionless,’naked, gleamed before her, faces white against the night sheen.

  “She has two choices, anyway,” Captain Randolph told Roberta, as if Selena were not even there. “Either she does as we say when we reach America, or, after what she’s now seen, we must have a special wedding for her, right here on board the ship.”

  “Oh, a wedding would be exciting,” Roberta giggled, “but we must think of the future.”

  “Later. Let us think of now.” And, there before Selena’s troubled, disgusted eyes, each of them fulfilled his desires upon the other. The shock of it was almost strong enough to keep her from thinking about what they had said. A wedding? What on earth did that mean? But this was not the time to ask, even if she had not remembered Roberta’s instructions.

  After the spectacle was over, the two men got up and threw on robes. Captain Randolph lit a sea lantern, and hung it from an iron hook imbedded in an overhead support beam.

  “Well, Selena, so you know. But do not expect that such information will do you any good. You are in no position now, and I will see to it that you will never be in a position, to let yourself be well served by such tidings.”

  “I don’t care what filth you do,” she spat.

  “Oh, ho,” cried the captain, delighted at her fire.

  “Shall I set her free?” asked Roberta.

  “Of course. It was only to keep you safe, Selena. We meant you no harm, but we had other uses for the hammock, as you observed.”

  “You’re disgusting. I’ve never met such a…”

  “Spare me,” the captain chuckled, as Roberta loosened her. “Wine? Or are you hungry?”

  “Nothing. I want…”

  “Ah! What is it you want?”

  “I want to get away from here.”

  Both men laughed.

  “That could be arranged,” Randolph said pleasantly, pouring a mug of wine for himself from a silver decanter. He held it toward Selena, but she shook her head. “However, I recognize a potential profit when I see it, and, since you’re awake, let me put the proposition to you now.”

  Proposition? Immediately, Selena was wary.

  “And there will be great profit in it for you, too, my dear,” Roberta put in. “Several years of hard work, and you may well have enough money to set yourself up as an American princess.”

  “I don’t want to be an American princess, or an American anything,” Selena cried. “I just want to be…”

  “Scottish nobility again, eh? Forget it. You’re alone now. We’ll teach you the ropes, though, and you’ll do as you’re told. We could turn you in and have you hanged, you know.”

  “Or we could have that wedding,” snickered Roberta.

  Captain Randolph raised his hand for silence. “I want you to work for me, Selena,” he said. “In fact, you will work for me. You haven’t any choice.”

  “Work? For you?” On this ship? she was thinking. Doing what?

  He saw her puzzled look. “Oh, I am much more than a merchant captain. I have many enterprises, and there is one in which your services would be most advantageous.”

  “You would be marvelous,” Roberta agreed.

  “Selena,” said the Captain, moving closer and looking down at her, “I don’t know what you’ve heard about America. Probably a lot of talk about the democratic rebels there, trying to get up the nerve to declare their independence.”

  She nodded. “And I hope they do. England is…”

  “Forget politics. Who cares? It is never going to happen anyway. Even so, America is a lie. People are coming overseas, seeking freedom there, and a good life in the New World. But what do they find? I’ll tell you what they find. Poverty. Corruption. Hunger. And the involuntary servitude of indenture. Even the so-called Massachusetts rebels, for all their fire, will permit only property owners to vote.”

  “But what does this have to do with…?”

  “With you? A great deal. As it does with me. You see, many a fine young girl arrives in the New World only to learn, suddenly and sadly, that the streets are not paved with gold…” Randolph seemed quite pleased with his observation, and Selena learned why.

  “…so they are scared and disillusioned and vulnerable…”

  “Just like yourself,” Roberta explained.

  “…and I put them to work. Pretty young women, especially. Do you see what I mean?”

  “I am never going
to be…” she began, but Roberta’s insinuating laugh stopped her.

  “Oh, not you, darling, except perhaps once in a while, for a special customer. You see, we want you for your fine appearance and your ability to inspire trust.”

  “You will take in unfortunate young women,” Randolph continued. “They will be distressed, needing food and shelter. You will provide them with it. They will learn to trust you. In due course, they will be put to work.”

  “That’s white slavery!” Selena exclaimed, sickened. “That’s…”

  “Oh, come now. Let’s don’t be childish. Do you think I wish to spend my life hauling cargoes of cloth around the world? That is merely my cover. In Boston, with your help, we will assemble a cargo of finer stuff, blond like yourself, and sail for Asia, where such looks bring high prices.”

  “After proper training,” Roberta put in.

  Captain Randolph nodded.

  “You’ll have a fine house, and everything you need. As long as you bring me…ah…subjects. Otherwise…”

  He did not have to finish. Otherwise he would turn her over to the British.

  “Never!” she vowed.

  The other two were silent for a cold moment, then Captain Randolph’s viselike grip clamped down on her throat. Choking for breath, Selena tried to think of something, anything, to dissuade him, short of promising to do his will. The necessity of giving herself to Slyde in the tavern had triggered something inside her being, and she had learned the hard way that yielding in will was as bad—indeed, was often worse—than yielding in body alone. To have your will compromised by circumstance or actual cowardice was worse than a beating, which could only make your body cry out. But it was hard to think bravely with your breath cut off.

  “I think she’s trying to say something,” Roberta observed, his man’s eyes peering out from behind the sooty lashes. Randolph snorted, and released his grip. Selena gulped the air.

  “I have a…powerful friend…in America,” she stammered. “You had best not threaten me.”