Flames of Desire

by Vanessa Royall

  She was on the wooden floor of a small bare ship’s cabin. At sea. It was well after dawn. She was tied hand and foot, and so were Marinda and Roxanne. Roxanne stirred then, too, and opened her eyes.

  “Oh, no!” she wailed, and burst into tears. “We have been deceived. Oh, how did it happen?”

  “Because you little girls were too trusting,” Captain Jack smiled, stepping in from the passageway. “My, my. I guess we can untie you now. You won’t be going far, way out here at sea, now will you?”

  He was in good spirits, and he quickly untied the three of them. Marinda seemed stunned.

  “I guess Señora Celeste put too much powder in your milk, eh, Marinda?”

  “Celeste?” they cried.

  “Certainly,” he grinned. “Do you think she takes in run-away girls with no money for her health? Oh, no. She’s a shrewd businesswoman, and what an actress, too. Don’t you agree? She charged me a pretty penny for you three, but don’t worry. I’ll turn a nice profit when I pass you on. They’ll pay fine gold for young ladies like yourselves, exotic foreigners. Provided you’re well-trained.”

  The three women rubbed their wrists and ankles, shook the stiffness from their bodies.

  “Who will pay?” Selena managed to ask.

  “Whoever has the money,” Captain Jack responded, with that mocking grin. “I’m in business, you know. I believe those who disapprove of my vocation call it ‘white slaving.’ But, like all merchants, I merely provide a desirable commodity for those who can afford it.”

  “Where are we going? Where are you taking us?”

  “Bombay, my fine ladies. You might say you’re on the way to adventure in the Orient. Now, get up and get down to the galley. I want to get some food in you. Must be presentable at market, you know. Later, we’ll begin your training. Rotation system, I should think. One of you every third night.” Then he dropped his easy manner, and his eyes hardened. “But don’t think of trying anything funny,” he snapped. “It’ll go very hard with the one who does.” He looked directly at Selena as he spoke. “I’ve got good money invested in you, but don’t become overconfident. Some of the buyers like to see the marks of a little discipline on the skin of the commodity. It denotes spirit. But it certainly stings when it’s being administered, I can assure you of that.”

  The sailors, apparently, had been warned to leave them alone. After eating a breakfast she could neither taste nor remember, Selena went up on deck alone, and looked out at sea. The ship was pushing south, and off to port Africa glided by, a phantasm green as jade. She felt too dispirited even to be afraid. She felt stupid and worthless. She felt utter chagrin. The tiny voice began to mock her again: So you risked death aboard the Meridian because you would not serve Randolph and Roberta as a procuress, and yet you allowed yourself to be tricked into becoming the procured, you silly fool of a victim. You were too moral to participate in white slavery, so now you have become a white slave yourself!

  There is no escape this time.

  But it’s a long way to India. We have to round the Cape of Good Hope, then up across the Indian Ocean…

  Plenty of time to be well-trained, though.

  “No, I’ll not be,” she said aloud. “I’ll think of something,” and to underscore her resolve she struck the ship’s rail with her clenched fist, startling a one-eared sailor who was mopping the deck a short distance away. He scowled, ducked his head, and quickly turned aside.

  The three women were installed in the tiny cabin, and hammocks were provided. A trunk of old but suitable clothing had been shipped with them, apparently out of the goodness of Señora Celeste’s heart. (She prided herself on taking good care of her “girls.”)Trying the dresses on for size filled the time, and kept the three women from thinking. Finally, Marinda could stand the situation no longer. She burst into tears.

  “I can’t bear it. I can’t. The captain told me he wants me tonight. Why did Papá ever take us away from Spain? Oh, why…” and she was lost in her sobs.

  “Come now, it won’t be so bad,” Roxanne said, trying to soothe her. “If it’s got to happen, pretend he’s your lover, or someone else, and not Jack.”

  “But that’s just it,” Marinda sobbed. “I’ve never had a…”

  “There must be something we can do,” Roxanne said.

  “But what?” Selena doubted. “Even if we find a way to avoid Jack here on the ship, when we reach India…” Marinda wept, distraught.

  Selena tried to think. “Still, anything can happen.” She thought of all that had occurred since last December, all the strange, unexpected experiences, both good and bad. “Sometimes if you can just provide a bit of room in which to maneuver, or if you can find a way to postpone whatever is going to happen, why, sometimes that’s enough. The entire situation can change!”

  She adjusted her dress and headed for the door and the passageway leading up to the main deck.

  “Where are you going?” asked Roxanne.

  “To see the captain,” Selena replied, her mouth set firmly. “You try to comfort Marinda.”

  “It won’t be so bad. It won’t be so bad,” Roxanne was saying as Selena went up on deck.

  One of the officers took her to the bow, where Captain Jack was bent over a tablet, painstakingly mapping the African coast. He looked up in some surprise when he saw her, and grinned expectantly.

  “I’m glad you came up on deck to join me,” he began. “I’ve observed your beauty and spirit, and I must say I find it…”

  “How you find it is no concern of mine,” she interrupted. While she understood that little could be done to alter the situation aboard the Massachusetts, she had no intention of submitting willingly to degradation. “I am here to ask that you take me tonight, rather than Marinda.”

  “What?” He gave her a slightly astonished, patronizing smile. “I’m so sorry, my dear, but my plans have already been made. Marinda looks a juicy girl, but she will require tutoring. She is too retiring, at present. But I shall change that. I do believe, in all modesty, that I have the skill to stir the beast in her nature…”

  Selena gave him a contemptuous stare. The arrogance of the man! “You flatter yourself, Captain. Have you not learned that a woman responds but little to your type of man?”

  Captain Jack reddened perceptibly, but contained his anger. “Ah, my dear. You shall respond to me. And I am saving you for last. The best for last, as the saying goes, eh?”

  Selena laughed derisively, facing him squarely. She was aware of the risk she was taking by speaking to him in this manner, but she considered the risk worthwhile if Marinda might be helped thereby. She wondered whether she ought to tell Jack about his brother’s death. Judging by what he’d said at Señora Celeste’s, Jack had been close to Randolph. On the one band, the news might distract Captain Jack enough to cause him to leave the three of them alone. On the other hand, it might stir him to vengeful rage…

  She was staring at him, debating the question in her mind, when she caught a sudden flash of color out of the corner of her eye. Immediately, there was a flurry of consternation amidships, and moments later a sailor yelled: “Man overboard! Man overboard, off the starboard bow!”

  Captain Jack gave the necessary orders, but it takes a considerable amount of time to slow and turn a ship at sea when the ship is running full sail to the wind. Selena saw—or thought she saw—a last momentary flash of white arm, a roan-red fan of hair floating on the sea. Marinda had made her decision.

  “I didn’t know she was going to do it,” Roxanne wept. “She told me she was just going up on deck and…”

  “It’s all right,” said Selena, trying to comfort the French girl. “It’s not your fault. It’s his,” she added, looking hard at Captain Jack, who stood disgustedly at the ship’s rail, calculating the amount of money he had probably lost when Marinda went over the side.

  “What did you say?” he asked.

  “I believe you heard me clearly enough.”

  “That I did,” he gritted
, “that I did. And you had best be prepared for me tonight.”

  Not long after twilight, Captain Jack summoned Selena to his quarters. She had steeled herself for what must come, and she felt cold, hard, and calm. The captain’s cabin unnerved her somewhat because it reminded her of Royce’s quarters aboard the Highlander, but that, too, she shut out of her mind.

  “Well, my dear,” Jack said, taking her hand and drawing her into the cabin, closing the door behind him. “Would you care for a glass of wine first?”

  He was making an effort to be charming and solicitous, perhaps recalling her accusation that he did not know how to make a woman respond.

  “Nothing,” she told him coldly. “Do your will.”

  Jack hesitated for just a second. “I didn’t mean it to be that way, my dear, I…”

  “I mean it to be that way,” she said. She did not even look at him as she removed her dress and flung it to the floor. She did not look at him as she walked to the hammock, swung into it. She lay there, not moving, staring at the timbers on the ceiling. She said nothing.

  “Aha! I know what you’re up to!” Jack growled, pleased at his sagacity and knowledge of women. “A challenge, eh? You want me to stir you, isn’t that right.”

  Selena said nothing. She did not move.

  Nor did she move when Jack joined her in the hammock, after frenetically divesting himself of breeches, boots, and shirt. And she did not move, either, after he had entered her.

  Captain Jack tried hard to arouse her, but Selena lay cold as stone beneath him. He kissed her on the mouth, on the neck. He kneaded her breasts with his hands and caressed her nipples softly. He pumped her deep and hard, then very gently. Selena did not move, or respond in any way.

  “Dammit,” Jack groaned finally.

  “Are you through?” Selena asked.

  He was not, of course, but the question, contemptuous as it was, goaded him. Grunting, he made another furious assault upon her body, taking his pleasure.

  “Are you through now?” Selena asked, as he lay sprawled upon her, panting.

  “No, you little bitch,” he hissed. “No, not by a long shot, as you’ll be learning on many a night. Now get out of here. You’ve done the thing for which a woman’s made.”

  Selena put on her dress and left the cabin. She said nothing. She did not look at him.

  And he did not send for her again.

  Days went by. Weeks. Sailing the Cape of Good Hope was terrible, the roiling sea far wilder than the fray from which Royce had rescued Selena. Every wave seemed to hold death like a giant sledgehammer just over the tip of the bending mast. By contrast, the Indian Ocean was calm, the wind warm and unceasing. Early one morning in August, Selena and Roxanne were standing on deck, savoring the cool of dawn. Far ahead of them rose the gigantic red ball of the sun. But this morning it did not rise out of the timeless sea. Instead, it appeared above a vast, yellow, shimmering expanse of land.

  Ancient India. Patient. Waiting. They trembled and did not look at each other.

  The Creator

  I won’t let this defeat me either, Selena tried to convince herself. I’ll talk to the first European I see. Even if he’s British. Maybe…her heart balked at the absurdity of it…someone will have heard of Sean Bloodwell.

  Captain Jack paid them a farewell visit in their cabin, and quickly disabused her of that illusion. He was in good spirits again, now that the difficult voyage was over.

  “You didn’t think I’d be so clever as to land in the port of Bombay itself, did you now?” he sneered sarcastically. “Oh, it could have been done safely, I suppose. The British East India Company is none too strong in the state of Maharashtra. Most of those clerks and fortune hunters are over in Bengal, in East India. You won’t find any redblooded saviors over on this side.”

  He laughed, happy to deflate a last hope.

  “Then where are we putting ashore?”

  “Daman,” he said. “North of Bombay, at the mouth of the River Narbada. I’ve delivered some lovely cargoes here previously, and the bids always run high. Very clean deals, too, and I’ve never heard a word of complaint later. Neither from client nor commodity. So I assume they found one another mutually compatible, or some agreement decidedly more terminal was reached…” He laughed again, deliberately contemptuous, and motioned them to follow him up on deck. Roxanne, as was her nature, seemed calmer than Selena, if not resigned. “It’s death or life,” she told Selena as they had dressed earlier that morning. “Life is much sweeter, as long as you can bear it.” Now, climbing the gangway one last time, the wild, ripe smell of India already flooding around them, she whispered, “Do not worry, Selena. Do not think of it. There is a scale of justice in the world, and Captain Jack will have his head crushed by it.”

  Selena started to laugh, broke it off in time when Jack turned to give her a suspicious glance.

  “Listen well, my dears,” he told them magisterially when they were on deck. “There are two things about India that you ought to know. One, it can eat you alive…” he snickered, pleased with his little entendre “…and, two, nothing is ever what it appears to be. I learned those things on fifteen voyages here and, moreover, I know exactly how to treat the natives. Dominance and respect are what matter. That’s why the British will eventually triumph over the Dutch and the Portuguese and the rest. We know how to colonize. We know how to treat the Wogs.”

  Selena barely heard him, stunned to speechlessness by the alien scene. She had anticipated a seaport much like those in England and Scotland, a bustling, orderly port, different only in that it would be filled with brown-skinned people. It took only moments for her to see that this land to which she had been carried against her will was more remote and incomprehensible than she could ever have imagined. A wide brown river, its brown banks packed with animals and filth and humanity, emptied slowly into the muddy harbor, itself packed with ships and sails and smaller craft. Men worked on water-rotted, sagging docks, unloading or loading ships, babbling, unmindful of the chaos. The din of voices was persistent and vaguely frightening. And beyond this waterfront confusion was nothing that Selena would have called a city. Instead, as far as the eye could see, there were shacks and hovels and shelters of stick and tattered cloth, over which waves of heat shimmered. Thousands of people were pouring into the filthy river, chanting and gesticulating, scooping water into their cupped hands, letting it fall upon them, then retreating to the reeking shore, where another flood of humanity waited to enter the water. The blasting heat of the sun was wet with tropical humidity; the very air stank of beasts and human sweat, and a hundred kinds of offal. The land, yellow and sickly green, looked flat and sad.

  “There she lies,” Jack told them, with a proprietary sweep of his arm. “India. Just as I told you. Nothing is what it appears to be. You take those stupid Wogs, jumping up and down in the river over there. What are they doing? They are bathing. Ah, but the water is filthy, you say. Of course it is. They are not bathing to become clean—they have never been clean in their lives, don’t even know what it is—but to purify themselves. The Hindu bastards. It has something to do with religion. Purification is merely symbolic, so they can do it with water that would kill a good sturdy Yorkshire hog in the space of five seconds.” He laughed, pleased with himself. “With brains like that, they might even qualify for Christianity.”

  The Massachusetts was being unloaded now. Large crates were craned out of the hold, swung onto the docks by diminutive, chattering men. Roxanne expressed a thought that had also crossed Selena’s mind.

  “We know that you are a superb merchant, but who in this pitiful town can buy us?”

  “Don’t worry. The rich don’t live in hellholes like this. You will be taken to a place out in the country, to be observed. I have no doubt someone will find you suitable. Being French may stand you in good stead. Even way out here at the edge of the earth there is many a lusty rajah who craves the French method…”

  “You filthy…” Roxanne spat, and rai
sed an arm against him. He caught it easily, twisted it behind her. She cried out in pain.

  “Leave her alone!” Selena shouted.

  “All right,” Jack gritted, releasing her. “All right. But let me give a word to the wise. That uppity European stuff doesn’t work out here. If you want to live, you’ll do as you’re told. Had you tried that splenetic little stunt on a maharajah—and I hope to sell you to a maharajah, they pay well—he’d have had you stuffed full of hot peppers, pressed into a wall of spikes, and flailed to death with bamboo.”

  Roxanne rubbed her injured arm and said nothing. The view of Daman, the propinquity of an unknown fate, worked away at her spirit, minute by minute.

  “I can understand why Marinda jumped overboard,” she said quietly.

  “Hey-o!” Captain Jack cried. “Here comes Haruppa. We’re in business now.”

  A wizened man in a filthy loincloth trotted up the docks, and spotted the Massachusetts. His thin, reedy voice humbly besought permission to board. It was granted.

  “Haruppa’s a contact agent. He represents the principals. Sold a girl named Gayle through his offices last trip. Spirited girl, too. Probably a lot tamer by now, though.”

  Selena hated Haruppa on sight. A slimy, scraping, ingratiating little man, he grinned like a monkey and let his eyes roam her body like a dirty hand.

  “Haruppa, you stupid, filthy Wog,” Captain Jack said, demonstrating for them his commanding manner with the natives, “I’ve got two for sale this trip. Had three, but one wasn’t quite up to it. What do you think? Any interest?”

  As if the words were an invitation, Haruppa stepped over to Selena and Roxanne, and reached out as if to touch Selena’s hair. She stepped back in instant revulsion. Just as quickly, his thin, surprisingly hard hand cracked across her face. She cried out in pain, her head spinning. Haruppa was grinning.

  “I told you,” said Captain Jack, “the rules are different here.”