The captain’s eyebrows went up, and he looked at Roberta, feigning fear. “‘A powerful friend!’ the lady says. My goodness. I’m all atremble. Are you all atremble, too?”
“I certainly am,” oozed Roberta. “My goodness. I quiver.”
“Who is it?” Randolph demanded.
“Royce Campbell.”
It did not work.
“You’re mad, my dear,” Roberta explained, after he recovered from his fit of hilarity. “Royce Campbell cares for nothing and no one, and I don’t believe you are traveling with the kind of money necessary to put the glint in his eye. Now, wait,” he added, thinking of something else, “are you another of those little lassies from bonnie Scotland who have been blessed by the great pirate’s favors?”
Selena was glad for the comparative darkness of the lamplit cabin. The blood rushed hot to her face.
“He’s no pirate, and what’s more he’s now fighting with…”
“The American rebels? Don’t be daft. Campbell cares for nothing and no one, certainly not for you. He’s to marry some woman from Jamaica. That was the news when last I was in America…”
Veronica Blakemore! Selena’s heart fell. That was the end of it. There was nothing left now. Except herself, and what little she had been able to make of her MacPherson honor, her Scottish fire.
“Kill me, then,” she spat at Randolph. “Kill me, because I’ll never serve you, and I’ll not be a whore…”
“Save for Royce Campbell, I expect,” Roberta smiled, and Selena squirmed at the man’s sure knowledge of the truth of her own body’s willful troth. Even now, learning that Royce Campbell was going to marry another, the pang was hot and sharp, the need still throbbing. Well, that was her own fault, too. But they were not going to hear of it. To be hunted was terrible; to be vulnerable, obscene.
Randolph snarled, and seized her throat again. “All right my sweet if it’s death you want…”
“No, wait,” Roberta soothed, removing his hands. “Let’s give her the wedding instead.” His eyes sparkled, delighted, malevolent.
Selena decided there was no longer any advantage in refraining from questions.
“What do you mean, ‘wedding’?” she asked. “And where is poor Slyde?”
“Ah!” exclaimed Randolph, as if he had thought of something delicious.
Selena had never dealt with people like the captain and Roberta before, had scarcely been aware of their existence. Even Darius McGrover, whom she hated and feared, was direct and predictable. His malice was badge, capote, and cockade: all he was. And one could count on it. She ought to have killed him when she had the chance, ought to have overcome that snake-charmer’s spell he seemed capable of exerting upon her. But she had not. Now, with these two men aboard the Meridian, her own sorry situation in the hold, combined with their shifting moods toward her, had kept her off guard. She did not have a chance to decipher the threatening possibilities arrayed against her, and thus the advantage had rested even more completely with the other two. If she meant to survive, she would have to do much better. She would have to perceive new conditions and people as they were, and analyze them correctly. If there was to be a future at all.
Still angry, but somewhat mollified by Roberta’s suggestion of the mysterious “wedding,” Captain Randolph left her bound in the chair throughout the night. It was a long one. Afraid of the unspoken fate that awaited her, and distressed by the exaggerated moans and sighs of Randolph and Roberta as they worked their will upon each other in the hammock, Selena tried to force herself asleep. On the sea, the wind was rising, but the heavily laden Meridian rode the swells, bearing Selena across history and time. She thought of rescue, safety, some kind of escape, and forced her bonds, but they would not give.
Come now, cajoled a part of herself she did not like. Come now, don’t be a silly fool. All they want you to do is take hungry girls off the streets. Certainly, later, these girls will be made to do for men, but would they not do so anyway, in their own time? What you will be doing, working for Captain Randolph, is not so bad. The girls will at least have food and shelter. It is better than being a scullery maid or an indentured servant, is it not?
And all she would have to do, right now, right here in the cabin, was to call out, to say, “All right, I’ll do your bidding. I’ll do it.”
And later, in America, she might be able to escape, to maneuver her way out of Randolph’s clutches.
That’s the way to survive, spoke the dark voice, insistently, persuasively. You’ve got to live, too, just like those faceless girls. You’ve done nothing to harm them yet. Now, be intelligent. Tell the captain you’ll give in to him.
And then a sound from the creaking hammock, Roberta gasping, “Oh, darling! More, darling, more,” and Selena’s tempter slunk away into the night. These were people with whom one must not reach accords. The truth of words spoken into air, written in ink on paper, or on flesh in blood meant nothing to them.
“No,” Selena murmured to herself, “I will not give in. No matter what!”
And if they keelhaul you, like Slyde? The tiny, peeping voice again.
Well…
And if they tie you to the mast and cut you to ribbons with the whip?
Now…
And what of this strange wedding?
Selena shook her head to clear it and to drive away the doubts, and then she knew what to do. Her mind left the ship, and she was back in Scotland again, standing down along the shore of the North Sea. And far above her, inland where the land rose and the moors began, she saw the walls and towers of Coldstream Castle riding against the sky. “Like a great ship that has carried us through the centuries,” Father had said. But this night, this one night, was the only ocean she needed to travel now, and Coldstream was the ship to do it with. Growing calm, she fell toward sleep, and generations of MacPhersons gathered on the hills of Coldstream to guide her into peace. Believe, they called to her. Believe. Do not give in. And, at their backs, she saw the strong stone walls, just as, in their faces, she felt the hundreds of years of struggle that had made them what they were. We are with you, so do not give in, they spoke. Even death is not irrevocable, when we are with you.
She slept, content with that knowledge.
But in the morning, after being dragged up on deck by Captain Randolph, she was certainly afraid. Roberta, newly gowned that morning in a dress of white satin, with sequined bodice and hem, expressed great dismay that, because of his “position” aboard ship, he could not attend the “wedding.”
“Twenty-eight bridegrooms,” he hissed silkfly. “My, how you are going to enjoy all that.”
Selena knew then, and on deck her worst fears were confirmed. Several bales of blankets and coats, a part of the textile cargo in the hold, had been placed end to end on the Meridian’s main deck, and around this improvised bed the crew was gathered. A sacrifice: her flesh to their rapacity. A few of them crowded close and tried to grab her, but Captain Randolph held them back with a curt order.
“In due time, in due time,” he drawled. “Pleasure increases in direct proportion to the time it is prolonged. As long as one knows that the ultimate pleasure is a certainty. Isn’t that right, my dear? Does your friend, Royce Campbell, share my theory?”
Selena lifted her chin and said nothing. Then, steeling herself, she stared directly at each man in the crew, one by one. Some were transfixed. Some leered. Not a few were slavering openly at the windfall treasure of lust that was about to be theirs. But she could find no pity on the faces of any of them, and lust, already tumescent in their bodies, hung like hot fog around the mast.
Captain Randolph enjoyed the scene immensely, and spent much time tormenting the men by slowly drawing up a list of who was to have her first, who last, how long. And then, laboriously, pretending to reconsider, and change the order again and again. Selena forced herself not to look at any of them now. She would not cry out for as long as she could; her body might be ravaged but her mind would not give in. Instead,
she looked out across the ocean and the sky. The sea was high today, and the wind strong, and high waves came in serried, white-flecked ranks. The ship was moving very fast. There was nothing on the horizon, neither sign nor symbol of any other existence in the world except this ship and those on it. She tried to imagine a ship out there, passing by the random chance of fate, and once or twice she almost thought that it was true. But then the Meridian would plunge and rise again, and the horizon was a blue-green haze.
“Fine day for our sport, eh?” Randolph bantered. “You won’t even have to do much work. Unless, of course, the men demand it. I would advise you, then, to adhere to their wishes. They can be very nasty when displeased.”
Selena looked right in his eyes. And spat in his face.
The crew of sailors let out a collective gasp, and Captain Randolph struggled to stay in control, wiping his face with a silk handkerchief. He nodded to his second in command, who came forward and grabbed Selena. She saw the mica-flecked glint in his eyes, and then he flung her down onto the bales.
“Now…” Randolph said. “Are we all here?”
No one said anything. Selena could hear them breathing.
“That being the case,” said the captain theatrically, “if anyone here assembled has cause as to why this woman…” he indicated Selena with a lazy gesture “…and these men shall not today be united under the sight of heaven and the North Atlantic, speak now and then forever hold your peace, because it doesn’t matter in the least.”
Some laughter from the crew, but not much. They were too far gone with passion. And they knew the captain’s jests could turn to cruel taunts against them.
“So? No one to speak? Then, there being no objection…”
Selena forced her nerve and spoke: “Where is Mr. Slyde?”
There was a stunned silence, as the crewmen shuffled and looked at one another. Captain Randolph, however, seemed pleased at her question.
“Slyde, of course,” he said. “I knew there was someone missing. And, since he was doubtless your first husband among the crew of the Meridian, we ought to defer to him, don’t you think?”
The sullen crew said nothing. It would mean further delay. But they understood that the captain’s animosity toward Slyde postponed, for a while, the inevitable moment when he would turn on one of them.
“That is, if Slyde is up to it.”
A coarse cackle of male spite.
Selena realized she had made another mistake, which would cause poor Slyde even more pain and misfortune. She had merely wanted to know if Slyde had survived the savage punishment Randolph had inflicted. Now, apparently, there would be more of it.
“I know,” exclaimed the captain, “let us have the bride escort her first groom to the wedding bed!”
Selena was yanked to her feet, and in moments the captain and a few of his officers were shoving her along passageways below decks. She still wore, incongruously, the lascivious, scarlet gown Roberta had given her in mocking humor. The hem caught on a nail, which ripped it to the knee.
“No matter,” Randolph said. “You won’t need it anyway.” At which comment the others laughed.
Slyde was tied spread-eagled in the bow of the ship, exactly where he had tried to hide Selena. But he had been denied such amenities as a hammock or a ship’s bag to keep away the wetness of the timbers. His entire body was a mass of ugly welts and open wounds. They had apparently given him a body flogging, not restricted to the back and shoulders, and where the skin had not been slashed away, it was black and deteriorating. He was more dead than alive, but his head, slumped down on his chest, moved a bit sideways when he heard them coming, and he moaned.
“No more,” he grunted then, “no…more…”
“I’ve a surprise for you, this time…’’ Randolph began in a hearty, familiar voice.
But he broke off, and stopped. And Selena stopped, too, and the other officers.
Because in the dimness of the hold they were now close enough to Slyde to see, clinging to his shoulders and the back of his neck, and eating of the tattered flesh therefrom, a huge, insolent rat, flicking its tail petulantly at this interruption of his meal.
“My God,” Captain Randolph cried, truly alarmed for the first time since he had come upon Selena and Slyde in the bow. “Rat bit. If the damn thing has rabies…”
For the next minutes, they all but forgot about Selena. A detail of frightened sailors went down and dragged the moaning, semiconscious Slyde up on deck.
“What’ll we do with ’im, sar? Toss ’im over?”
“Yes, yes,” the captain agreed abruptly. But just as the men were hoisting Slyde over the rail, he changed his mind.
“No, wait. He spent time with the wench. Something might have passed between them, even before. We can’t take a chance. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to deprive you men of the consummation you were so eagerly anticipating…”
The crewmen, shrinking from Slyde, fearful of disease, fearful of themselves running half-mad about the ship, frothing at the mouth and attacking one another with their teeth, no longer seemed so desirous of Selena. She suppressed an impulse to bare her teeth and snarl at them, but she would have had she not been so scared.
“We’ll unite them another way,” Randolph decided. “Put them in a dinghy and lower it over the side.”
Gingerly, several sailors did as they were told, and placed the battered body of Slyde, dressed only in canvas breeches, into the small boat.
Captain Randolph approached Selena, hand on the butt of a pistol at his belt.
“I’d suggest you accompany your friend.”
“You are putting the both of us to sea, with no water? No food?”
“That is the general idea, my dear.”
“Even though you are scum, you are also the master of a ship. No man who knows the danger of the sea would do such a thing.”
“You have a lot to learn,” Randolph replied. “Mr. Slyde may be a sick man. You have been in consort with him, if I may use such an elegant word. And I have a ship and crew to think about.”
“And money.”
“Yes. That, too.”
She stared at him for a long, bitter moment.
“I will take my revenge against you, Randolph. One day. Sometime. And it will be complete.”
The force of her words briefly unnerved him, but he covered his reaction with his usual icy humor.
“Selena, I shall look forward to such a stirring consummation. Now get in the dinghy before I have you tied into it. And if you row hard, you might be able to attack the Meridian.”
Defeated, she climbed into the small craft, and in moments they were out over the side, sliding down the hull. The waves, which had appeared to be of considerable size from the deck of the ship, now seemed huge. Immediately, she and poor Slyde were borne away from the merchant ship, tossed high on rolling swells, then dropped as suddenly into troughs. Walls of water spun around them, fifteen to twenty feet high. Slyde was groaning; already the Meridian was gliding away, her white sails billowing. And then there was another, smaller flash of white. It came from the porthole in the stern. Captain Randolph’s cabin.
It was Roberta, in his lovely gown. Waving good-bye.
The ship moved away, driven by the steady wind. Slyde passed into unconsciousness, his body curled on the floor of the dinghy. Selena clung to the gunwales, and howled to whatever God there was.
Summer Solstice
Wave upon wave crested, driven by the powerful northeast wind, and carried the dinghy again and again to the white and foaming summits of roiling water. At the moment of each crest, Selena possessed two thoughts: Would the craft overturn this time, as the ocean dropped it down between the waves, with an empty, plummeting, heart-stopping roar? And was she spinning, somehow, or why did the M.S. Meridian appear to be turning on the face of the deep?
She tried to hold onto the perception as once again the swell began. The wall of water came in at them from the side, tilting the b
oat. Slyde, jammed between two seats, lying on his back, was washed along the length of his body by the seawater that poured over the gunwales. Still unconscious, he coughed involuntarily as the life-force in him fought against oblivion. Then the wave gathered force, came beneath the dinghy, and lifted it, raised it, threw it like a piece of tinder straight into the sky. And Selena, clinging desperately, once again saw the Meridian.
And it was turning.
Her heart leaped, then, seizing any possibility, no matter how implausible. Captain Randolph had changed his mind. Roberta’s heart had softened. After all, the two of them were erratic, and had passed through several moods and attitudes even during her short time on the ship. Or had the crew taken control? Seamen themselves, they would be conscious of the unwritten law of those who go down to the sea in ships: disaster requires all ships in the area to come to the rescue. This chance of salvation, frail as it was, gave her strength as the ocean withdrew its support. Then it was as if the pillars upon which the earth is founded suddenly fell away, and Selena called out in alien cry as the dinghy dropped to the floor of the sea. Curtains of water curved above, shutting out the sky; shimmering spindrift laced and dazzled in the very air.
Waves lifted them again, as upon a whale’s back, and again she sought the ship. Now the turn was definite, and she saw sailors working frenetically in the rigging, adjusting the sails to the new direction of the wind. But the Meridian was not moving toward her! Rather, Captain Randolph had executed a turn of roughly one hundred and twenty degrees, commencing a wide sweep around the place in which she and Slyde had been cast adrift. Did Randolph, in his sadistic way, wish to see her flounder there, and drown? Did he want to make certain that she was gone?
Selena didn’t know, but almost simultaneously, as wind and water carried her back up into the sight of the sky, a form shaped itself in her brain and an image mirrored in her eyes. Mirage, she told herself. Phantasm. Ghost ship of spindrift and wind. But then she remembered her own wavering perception aboard the Meridian, her suspicion of another ship on the horizon, which she had dismissed as a hallucination born of terror. And she almost dismissed the perception again.
Flames of Desire Page 21
