by Aaron Galvin
Lenny sighed in relief. When he looked up again, he caught Paulo glowering at him. He knows what I did. Lenny realized. That Ellie’s lyin’ to protect us.
Oscar laughed. “Did you honestly expect a slave to admit herself guilty, Henry? Now who’s the fool?”
Henry traipsed to the whipping masts, his right hand drifting into his Selkie pocket. “Remember what I promised you, Ellie?”
Lenny straightened. No…
Henry drew his coral dagger free of the pocket, raised the blade above his head.
Lenny heard a loud crack near his ear. A second later, he saw Henry yanked off balance by the whip wrapped around his wrist. He pitched backward, losing the grip on his dagger. Lenny glanced to his left.
Declan held the whip, his face stern as he stared down his adversary.
“Seize him,” Fenton roared.
No! Lenny’s heart fluttered. Not Pop.
His panic melted when the taskmasters instead took hold of Henry. The Frenchman fought to free himself of their grip, snarling and raging.
“Ellie,” Fenton said quietly. “What did he promise you?”
“That if I didn’t agree with Chidi, he would…” Ellie’s voice cracked. “He would skin me like he did R-Racer.”
Lenny reeled at the admission. He imagined the innocent young catcher as he had last seen him at the jail, his eagerness to follow the plan and gain his freedom. Lenny’s thoughts drifted to Henry, peeling the suit off the deputy marshal, Richard Caspar, and felt his stomach twist at the notion Racer endured the same end. Lenny fought down the urge to retch and give Henry a point to argue his guilt.
“Is this true?” Fenton demanded.
“Aye,” said Henry. “I keeled ‘im. Eez eet not a penalty for runners to die?”
“I decide the penalties here,” said Fenton. “Guards. Take this fool from my sight.”
Henry shrugged free of his captors. “I ‘ave not been paid!”
“You shall receive it after the auction tomorrow.”
Henry glared at Lenny. “I would see ‘im punished first.”
“You forfeit that right when you slew the Lord Crayfish’s property without leave,” said Fenton. “Now go. Unless, of course, you would rather be tied to the masts with your crew?”
Lenny watched Henry glower at Fenton as he left, stopping only to jerk Chidi to her feet and drag her behind him toward the guesthouses.
Fenton waited until both had gone before continuing. “Declan?”
“Aye, boss?”
“Has Racer’s father, Ansel, been taken into your charge?”
“Not yet,” said Declan. “Sent some men to fetch him from the oyster fields already. Should be here soon.”
“Very good,” said Fenton. “See him brought to the gallows at first light.”
“Aye, boss.” Declan bowed away as Fenton addressed the crowd.
“All of you know full well the penalty for running. Each of you has been brought here to serve a purpose. To shirk your duty and abandon your fellows is to sentence them with death. Racer knew the consequences of such an act. He stood in our Lord Master’s sight and said the words. Should any slave not return—”
“Let my loved ones pay the price,” the crowd echoed as one.
Fenton nodded. “Tomorrow, the father will hang for the son’s crime. Let this be a lesson to you all.”
My crime. Not his. I’m the one who turned ‘em all loose. Lenny glanced at Declan, studied his features that he knew by heart. Imagined Declan being led to the gallows in his place. What’ve I done, Pop?
“Ellie Briceño,” Fenton continued. “Paulo Varela.”
Lenny listened to the chains of his crewmates rattle as they maneuvered themselves to look on Fenton. “Aye, boss,” they answered together.
“Your lack of vigilance allowed one of your Lord Master’s slaves to escape. The penalty is twenty lashes.” Fenton glanced away. “Taskmasters, to your work.”
Two men emerged from the crowd, freeing the loose ends of their whips from their coils. They paced ten feet away from Ellie and Paulo and stood their ground.
Lenny shifted. No…
“Boss Fenton.” Paulo called.
“Yes?”
“I’ll take it all, sir. Both my penalty and Ellie’s.”
“Paulo, no,” said Ellie.
I keep tellin’ ya to forget about her, Paulie, Lenny wanted to tell Paulo, despite knowing what his friend’s response would be. Can’t ask a Brazilian to give up on love.
“A noble gesture.” The old overseer’s eyes squinted at Paulo. “You love her, pup?”
“From the moment I saw her, sir.”
Fenton nodded.
“No.” Oscar stepped forward. “That’s not how it works. You can’t decide to take her faults on.”
Fenton cleared his throat. “Master—”
“I said no.” Oscar wheeled on Fenton. “My father owns you, slave. That means I own you too. Do as I command, else I’ll have you take their punishment and then some.”
Lenny watched the old Selkie wilt before the little beast. Damn you, Oscar.
Fenton lifted his gnarled hand then let it fall.
The twin cracking of whips came instantly.
Lenny winced as Ellie howled and hugged the mast, a thin line of red streaking across her back.
“Leave her alone,” Paulo shouted as the whips lashed again.
Lenny’s wrists and ankles pulled at the edges of his wooden confines. He heard Paulo grunt as the whips cracked a third time. Saw the brute try and lean himself nearer Ellie to shield her from the blows. The chains halted his goal.
“Harder,” Oscar ordered.
Another crack and Ellie cried out again.
Lenny watched Paulo stand on his tiptoes. The move allowed him to bend his wrists, grab the chains. His face turned red as another lash called sealskin and blood from his back. Paulie, whattaya doin’?
Lenny watched Paulo settle his heels back to earth. He gasped with the crowd as the product of slave owner selection inched forward, blood running from his wrists down his arms.
The mast top quivered.
“F-Fenton,” said Oscar. “What’s he doing?”
Lenny noted the aged overseer’s mouth hung open as the whips sounded anew.
“Paulo!” Ellie cried.
Paulo’s face turned purple. His shoulders trembled and he released a feral roar Lenny swore Bostonians could hear on the mainland.
The mast top shook and then leaned.
Paulo’s chains laxed and he fell across Ellie, shielding her with his girth.
Save for the sobbing of Ellie and Paulo’s mother, Lenny had never heard Crayfish Cavern so silent. He noticed the lack of cracking whips, the strips of leather hanging limply in their master’s hands.
Paulo’s back shuddered, a crisscrossed maze of red rising and falling in wait for the next blows to fall.
Son of a sea cook, Paulie. Lenny marveled at the tipped mast. His astonishment vanished when he saw Oscar stride toward the taskmasters.
“Lay on!” Oscar screamed. “What are you standing there for, idiots? I said lay on.”
“No…” said Fenton quietly.
“What?”
“Their punishment already given them will suffice.”
Oscar shook his head. “When my father—”
“I shall personally inform him of my decision, young master.” Fenton glanced at the mast. “Your father would not wish such an incredible beast ruined by more lashings.” Fenton whistled at the taskmasters. “Free them both and see them well attended, especially the bull. I warrant these two will make a fine pair for breeding. Their offspring should fetch our Lord Master quite a fortune.”
We all shoulda ran. Lenny thought as he watched them release Paulo from his chains. His crewmate remained conscious, though he leaned heavily on the taskmasters as they led him away.
Ellie stood without help.
Lenny thanked the Ancients for that little mercy, even as she cast a
sad glance at him before she too was led away. Take care of him, Elle.
“Now it’s your turn, nipperkin.”
Lenny stared down Oscar. I shoulda killed ya first chance I got. Henry too. Then we’d all be out there, free and safe, watchin’ each other’s backs.
But then it’d have been Pop in my place, his conscience argued. Paulie’s ma and some poor schmuck hangin’ for Ellie too.
“Aye,” said Fenton. “Captain Dolan, you’ve been accused of freeing your crewmates—”
“And releasing more than a few new slaves I caught for Father,” Oscar said.
“Do you deny these accusations?” Fenton asked.
“Aye,” said Lenny. “Why would I let anyone go? To come back and see my friends beat for it, huh? Have ya punish me too? They’re all—”
“You sniveling little liar.” Oscar said. “I say he’s guilty.”
“And I can find no fault in Captain Dolan’s reasoning,” said Fenton. “He completed the task your father set him and brought new slaves. The same twenty lashes will suffice.”
“No,” said Oscar. “My father said we were captains, but they always followed his commands instead of mine. They loved him more than me. I saw it in their faces, Fenton.”
Maybe if ya weren’t such a brat.
“Young master, please.”
“They would follow him anywhere. I know they obeyed him in this.” Oscar said. “He planned it, Fenton! He’s always planning something.”
Like how I’d love to strangle ya? Lenny stared down his owner’s son.
“Master Oscar,” said Fenton. “That is hardly a reason to wish him—”
“I want him punished!” Spittle flew from Oscar’s mouth. “Not locked in the stocks. Not twenty, not even one hundred lashes. I will see his little feet dance in the air as he pulls at the rope, begging for one last breath. I want him hanged!”
Lenny watched Fenton weigh the option of continuing his argument. Noticed the overseer’s shoulders sag.
“Very well,” Fenton sighed. “He will hang.”
Lenny watched Oscar grin smugly.
“But not by the neck.”
Lenny’s face paled.
“What are you playing at, Fenton?” Oscar asked. “That’s the only way to hang a slave.”
“No, young master,” said the old overseer. “There is another way.”
CHIDI
Henry shoved Chidi across the threshold of the guest quarters lent to them.
She retreated into the corner while her owner paced the floor, raging in French of the terrible things he would do if Lenny Dolan were in his charge. For now, she remained silent, fearing Henry’s fury would only heighten when she relayed the message the half-blooded Nomad, Ishmael, ordered her give.
She watched Henry pluck the cork stopper from a rust-hued bottle of grog and toss it. He placed the lip to his mouth and upended it. Chidi listened to him guzzle it down. She had rarely seen him drink, but when he did…
She recalled with distinct clarity it wouldn’t be long before he looked to her as an outlet for his madness. Her eyes searched the room for a place to hide. A door to wedge behind until Henry tired or passed out from the liquor.
The bottle shattering on the driftwood floor made her jump. She spun and caught Henry leering at her. He wiped the last traces of alcohol from his lips with the back of his hand and started toward her. Please, no…not again.
A knock came at the door and it opened without the guest waiting for an answer. Tieran stood in the entryway. He grinned slyly. “This a bad time?”
“Oui,” said Henry. “Get out.”
Tieran strolled in. “Sorry, mate. Just come from the testing pit, I have. Impressive new lot you and the nipperkin brought back.” Tieran helped himself to the liquor stores and poured a shot. “I’ll warrant they’ll fatten all our purses tomorrow. Might even be one or two make it a month on the reef circuits.”
Chidi watched Tieran take the shot down easily, then pour himself another.
“I’ve come to pick up those extra suits you brought back.”
“Buy,” said Henry.
“Sorry?”
“You’ve come to buy the suits. Not pick up.”
“What do you take me for, Henry?” Tieran feigned offense as he took the second shot. “Always been fair with the trade, I have. So come on, let’s see ‘em.”
Chidi slid away to the opposite wall as Henry took the hooded suits off the bed and unrolled them across the dining table. Tieran picked up the silvery suit, a twin to the hooded garment Henry wore.
“A Leper suit, eh,” said Tieran, unfolding the suit to inspect it. “Don’t see these much outside the capital. Who’d you kill for it?”
Wotjek. Chidi thought back on Zymon Gorski’s brave protector.
Henry narrowed his eyes at Tieran’s question.
“No offense, mate,” Tieran chuckled nervously. “Don’t matter to ol’ Tieran where you got it, now does it? How much you want for it?”
“A thousand anemonies,” said Henry.
Tieran whistled. “A pretty price for a pretty suit, that is. Don’t suppose you’d do four hundred and I’ll toss in this ol’ thing?” Tieran tugged at his worn Common Seal hood.
Henry stepped closer. “A thousand.”
“All righ’, all righ’.” Tieran backed away. “No need to get nasty. Can’t blame ol’ Tieran for tryin’ now, can you? As it happens, I know just the pup for this coat. With a suit like this, he’s sure to earn his keep.”
Chidi saw Tieran give a sideways glance to the other two suits.
“How much for the pair a Lions?”
The thought crossed Chidi's mind to mention both already belonged to the Crayfish. The one Racer’s, the other Chidi remained certain Henry had picked up after she had escaped at the jail.
“Four ‘undred,” said Henry. “Each.”
“You drive a hard bargain, mate. But it’s your lucky day.” Tieran removed a leather pouch from his waist, untied it, and reached in. He produced a handful of coins and pocketed them. Then he tossed the pouch to Henry.
Chidi heard doubloons jangle against one another as her owner caught it.
“His lordship told me to pay whatever you asked.” Tieran grinned. “Told me to keep the lot left over.”
Henry sneered. “Give me the rest.”
“That’s not how deals work, mate,” said Tieran, as he gathered up the suits. “’Specially not down here. I’ll give you another tip though. Only seems fair after what you done for me.” Tieran jiggled his pocket to make the coins rattle. “You’d do well to take what monies you still got, that lass a yours, and light outta here while you both still got suits on your backs.”
“Why?” Henry asked.
“Your girl’s a beaut, she is.” Tieran nodded at Chidi. “Nomads round these parts are known for ravaging pretty lil’ Silkies they fancy. You got one of the worst with his mind made up on having her.”
“Ishmael…” Chidi whispered.
“Aye,” said Tieran. “Champion of the reef circuit pits, he is. Won me a fair bit a coin when I bet on him in the capital arena too. He’s one a them Bull Sharks. Their lot’s worse than Whites, to my mind. Whites are bigger, sure, but pound for pound, there’s nuthin’ like a Bull in a fight.”
“’Ave you ever been in a fight?” asked Henry.
“Mostly bet on ‘em. That’s what I do. Done all righ’ for meself too, I don’t mind sayin’ it.” Tieran grinned. “So you can believe it when ol’ Tieran tells you, there’s no Bull like Ishmael neither. I heard it said the Nomads took him as one of their own, even on account of his Merrow mother’s blood. They call him Red Water. Don’t have to be a smart one to figger why. After you done seen one of his fights, it’s all that left behind.”
Chidi thought on the scars Ishmael had shown her. She glanced at Henry, knew him smart enough to recognize he would be outmatched in a bout with a Salt Child like Ishmael.
“Anyway.” Tieran shifted his focus to Henry
. “Run into him on the way over, I did. Said he gave your lil’ bird a message for you. Told me to give you the same if’n I saw you first. Says he’ll be taking her off your hands, mate. Next time he sees you, that is.”
Chidi shivered.
“Might be I’d be willing to run her over to him, if you like,” said Tieran. “If the price is right, that is.”
“Where eez ‘e now,” asked Henry.
“On his way up to the Lord Master’s mansion, I’d guess. The Crayfish loves to entertain his guests the night ‘fore an auction, especially the ones what are here to buy. I’ll warrant those half-bred Nomads want to see this new lot fight ‘fore they pay. Blood ‘em early, that’s what the Crayfish’ll tell ol’ Tieran tomorrow. Anything to drive the price up.” Tieran laughed. “You’ll be staying for the auction too, I expect. Won’t you?”
Why does he care? Chidi wondered. She thought the Crayfish’s auctioneer seemed jittery when Henry did not answer. She watched Tieran step to the threshold. She thought he meant to exit, but then he paused.
“I take it you won’t have me escort your lil’ lady to Ishmael then?”
“Get out!” Henry threw the empty bottle of grog and missed Tieran’s head by an inch.
“Will do, sir. Can’t blame ol’ Tieran for tryin’ now, can you?”
Chidi hated the way the Crayfish’s auctioneer looked on her before closing the door. A man like that knew only greed, she knew, and Chidi harbored little doubt he had not come for the suits alone. Her owner seemed of the same mind. She watched Henry pace to the amber-colored window. Peek out to watch Tieran’s departure.
Henry’s lip curled and he muttered curses in French. He sat down upon a rickety chair that wobbled under his weight, produced his coral dagger and a whetstone from his Selkie pocket. His hand flashed back and forth and Chidi tried to control her breathing as the dagger’s edges sang, each note making it sharper. She swore Henry struck his blade against the stone harder every time he glanced at the door, almost as if he awaited Tieran’s next entrance.
She could not say how much time passed before he stopped, but estimated near a half-hour. Then Henry tucked both dagger and stone away and stood, unconcerned that the chair tipped over and cracked its back in two.
“We are leaving.” Henry stepped to the door.