Lorraine stared at him. She did not want to think about it. Too clearly she envisioned what her life would be like if Philip ever got his house finished. She would be up before dawn slaving away till after dark. Then through the night hours being stalked and overpowered by Philip. Lavinia was no fool. She would surmise what was going on. Lavinia would break in on them, find them locked in a desperate embrace, and Lavinia would take a whip to her. And by then she would be pregnant too. . . .
There was no hope for her.
“Let me pass, Philip,” she said in a hard voice. “Or I will scream to Eleazer Todd that you are trying to rape me!”
“Eleazer is not here,” he taunted.
“He is!” she snapped. “I heard his voice on my way upstairs.”
Philip stepped aside with alacrity. “I can afford to wait!” he called after her.
Mistress Bowman had heard that interchange from a doorway nearby. She drew Lorraine aside, bade her put down the pillowcases.
“I think you are right about your situation here,” she said in an altered voice. “Your only alternative is to be sold.”
“Philip would resist selling me,” said Lorraine with a sigh. “He has other plans for me.”
“So I heard,” was the older woman’s grim rejoinder. She thought for a while. “Is it true that this man in Barbados holds gold in your behalf?”
“Better than a thousand pounds,” confirmed Lorraine.
“I had been thinking that we would send a message to Barbados, but now I am not sure that it is prudent to wait. . . .” Mistress Bowman drummed her fingers. “The Dolphin is in Providence harbor bound for Barbados,” she told Lorraine. “My nephew John is her captain. He engages in the ‘triangle trade.’ ”
Lorraine nodded soberly. She knew what the triangle trade was. West Indian molasses was shipped to New England, where distilleries made it into rum; the rum was then run to Africa to trade for slaves, who were then sold into the West Indies to work in the sugarcane fields to make more molasses—a vicious circle. And Providence ships made the New England-West Indies run.
“My nephew cannot risk assisting a bondservant to elude her master,” said Mistress Bowman slowly. “But perhaps . . . yes, I think we might do it.”
“But if I am found missing, will you not be charged?” asked Lorraine anxiously, for she had come to love this compassionate woman who had lost not only her husband but also her two sons in the Indian raids.
“No, I am too quick for that,” chuckled Mistress Bowman. “Indeed”—her calm gaze met Lorraine’s—“I think Eleazer would breathe a sigh of relief to be rid of you. He fears Lavinia will publicly disgrace him.” Lorraine felt a surge of hope.
“I will speak to my nephew,” said Mistress Bowman with decision.
Together they devised a desperate scheme.
CHAPTER 27
Narragansett Bay
If the crew of the Dolphin noticed that their captain seemed unusually worried as one of a dozen new barrels was taken aboard just before they sailed, they did not mention it to each other. Not even his “Ho, there, that’s no way to hoist a barrel! Gently now!” caused remark, for he followed it immediately with an explanation. “That barrel contains dishes and other goods that are being sent to a lady in Bermuda. Careful you don’t break anything!”
The barrel was set down gingerly and, like the others, lashed to the deck, for there was no room in the hold.
“Did ye know, Cap’n, this one has a hole in the top?” asked one of the men who had just set the barrel down with great care. “The rain’ll get in.”
“We’ll see to it later. Over here now! Waste no time, lads, we want to clear the harbor, there’s a fair wind and it’s blowing in the right direction!”
Later Captain Bowman chose his deck watch with exceeding care. The sailor he named was a burly man and, like most of the seamen of his day, Duncan was superstitious. He believed in signs and portents; he would go to his grave believing he should beware of witches and demons. Captain Bowman was aware of these failings and hoped to exploit them if necessary. Duncan also had the strength of two men and was surprisingly agile up in the yards above them. For this night’s work, however, Duncan was blessed with an even greater virtue—he was slow-witted.
It was a moonless night. The captain thanked God for that as he strolled about the deck. “Look sharp out to starboard,” he had shouted to Duncan. ‘“For I thought I glimpsed a ship running without lights—and that could mean a pirate vessel stalking these waters.”
While Duncan was peering out across the dark ocean, the captain, praying Duncan would not turn around, furtively pried loose the top of the “barrel containing dishes” and with a finger to his lips beckoned to Lorraine.
She was so stiff from her cramped position in the barrel that she could hardly move, and he had to help her out of it. After all, it had been many hours since she had run into the woods while Mistress Bowman distracted Lavinia. In the woods she had been met with a cart containing empty barrels. Lorraine had made her trip through the ruins of Providence inside one of those barrels, which had then been hoisted aboard the Dolphin. Several hours had passed since their sailing, and every muscle protested as she was helped over the barrel’s side.
The captain beckoned silently toward the open door of his cabin and Lorraine nodded. It had all been discussed. She was to creep alone across the deck whilst Captain Bowman distracted the deck watch. Cursing herself for not having remembered to take off her shoes, she was tiptoeing across the deck lest the tap-tap of her heels give her away, when the deck watch suddenly turned and looked full at her.
Duncan’s eyes bulged at the sight of a wraithlike figure with long fair hair streaming over a dark cloak.
“Gor!” He sucked in his breath.
But Captain Bowman was equal to the occasion. “Out there, a sail!” he bawled, leaping forward so that his body was between Lorraine and the deck watch. “Look, you fool! D’you not see it?”
Duncan turned around to stare at the empty sea, and in a trice the captain was beside him, striking the rail with his fist in mock disappointment. “ ’Tis gone!” He turned to Duncan. “Did you see nothing?”
“I saw ... a lady!” Duncan turned to point. “There!” The captain turned. To his relief, the deck was empty, his cabin door closed. “Bah, we’ve no time for visions, Duncan! I meant on the water, man!”
Thus admonished, Duncan sighed. “No, not on the water.” His eyes must be playing tricks on him, he decided.
“Well, keep at it, lad. For ’tis a night that bears watching. That’s twice I thought I saw a ship out there.” He clapped Duncan encouragingly on the shoulder and walked back to his cabin.
“That sailor saw me, Captain Bowman!”
“Naught to fear, he thinks he saw a vision.” Captain Bowman was as matter-of-fact as his aunt, indeed he looked much like her. They had the same steady blue eyes and square build, but while her hair was gray, his still retained its sandy hue. “We’ve one more shoal to get over. After that it will be up to you. Meantime, you can sleep in that corner, where you can pull blankets up over you if someone should burst in. And when the cabin boy knocks to bring food—I will tell him I’m hungry so there’ll be enough of it—you can hide in yon sea chest with the top open and I’ll pile my shirts in on top of you to make it look merely untidy. There’s some food left on the table. Eat it and rest on my bunk until I get back.” He gave her the same calm smile she had seen on Mistress Bowman’s pleasant face. “Be of good heart, Mistress London. We’ll get you to Barbados yet!”
Lorraine ate quickly and climbed gratefully into the captain’s bunk. She fell immediately to sleep.
She awoke to his shaking her and the sound of a knock. “Into the chest with you, Mistress London,” he muttered. “That’s the cabin boy knocking.”
Lorraine went into the chest thinking: How like his aunt he is! He never once woke me, just let me me stay there in his bunk all night! And how like another captain . . .
&
nbsp; But she must not think of that now.
The cabin boy reported to the cook later that the captain was in good appetite. He had eaten four eggs for breakfast!
It was a dangerous situation, that could not last. Calm and even-natured though he was, Captain Bowman breathed a sigh of relief when they reached Bermuda, where they would take on fresh water for the long journey to Barbados.
Before they sailed into St. George’s harbor, back into the barrel went Lorraine—and even that took some doing, but it was accomplished just before dawn under cover of a fog bank.
“Don’t worry, mistress. I’ll get you ashore as soon as possible,” was Captain Bowman’s last whispered reassurance as he fitted the barrel’s top back down.
After that it was another bumpy journey, over the side, into the boat. And then once more she was traveling through town by barrel—only this time the town was St. George and her destination was the Crown and Garter on Duke of York Street. She felt the barrel thumped down in what she guessed was the common room, heard Captain Bowman’s rumbling, “Mistress Pym? I’ve a barrel of goods for you from Rhode Island, which I promised a lady I’d deliver to you personally.” And Mistress Pym’s excited, “Whatever can it be? Oh, do help me open it. Pym, come and see!”
Captain Bowman’s impressive figure protected the barrel as he said, “I was told the contents were personal and should be opened by you alone in some private place.”
“Very well. Have your man bring the barrel back to my bedchamber, do! How exciting!”
And Lorraine felt herself once again carried along and thumped down none too gently.
When the lid was tugged off finally, Lorraine came up like a jack-in-the-box. Mistress Pym staggered backward in shock with a slight scream.
“Oh, please don’t scream, ’tis only me!” cried Lorraine, leaning out of the barrel. “Oh, Mistress Pym, you must help me,” she entreated, “or I’ll be living in this barrel all the way to Barbados!” And her whole story came pouring out.
Mistress Pym listened intently and then entered into their plans with the boundless enthusiasm of the true conspirator. Captain Bowman had hoped only for Lorraine to be allowed to hide there at the Crown and Garter during their short stay in Bermuda, but Mistress Pym had a better idea. She pointed out that a ship from Bristol, the Magpie, had been wrecked off Sandys less than a fortnight ago. Only a handful of survivors had made it through the wild surf to shore, and among them had been several young women who had since departed. Why not have Lorraine claim to be a survivor of the Magpie disaster? It would explain her lack of luggage when she went back aboard the Dolphin, her need to get quickly to her “guardian” in Barbados.
Soon Lorraine found herself eating fish chowder and Hoppin’ John and shark pie washed down by cedarberry wine. She enjoyed listening to gossipy Mistress Pym detailing the remarkable “progress” in education her sister was making under Charles Hubbard’s excellent tutelage. Hubbard seemed quite content. Mistress Pym said, now that things had settled down at Cedarwood. It was sad that Trinity was dead, but maybe it was for the best.
Lorraine forbore to tell her good friend that Trinity was very much alive and probably at that moment enjoying married life in England with Jeb!
When Lorraine reembarked on the Dolphin it was not in a barrel but like the other passengers—via longboat. It was far more comfortable and there was only one rough spot to be got over,—Duncan, the sailor who had seen her fleetingly the night Captain Bowman had first gotten her out of the barrel.
When Lorraine came aboard in the sunshine, Duncan was on deck. He stared at her openmouthed, and took a step backward.
“Let me handle this,” murmured Captain Bowman, and went over to Duncan, who was standing transfixed.
“I seen her before,” Duncan gasped, pointing a shaky finger at Lorraine. “She’s the one I seen that first night out of Providence! You remember, Cap’n, I told you I seen a lady crossing the deck—looking just like her!”
Captain Bowman peered into Duncan’s face, hoping he conveyed an impression of awe. “You’ve had a visitation, Duncan.” He managed to sound impressed. “For this lady was shipwrecked off Sandys the very night you thought you saw her!” Heartily he clapped Duncan on the shoulder. “You have The Sight, lad! ’Tis a gift to be proud of!”
Duncan, round-eyed, would later embroider on the tale. He had the Sight, he would stoutly maintain in waterfront taverns and inns. On board the Dolphin one dark night he’d had a vision. He’d seen a woman float out of nowhere—from the air she must have come, for she was all ashimmer and her pale hair had given off a strange light. She had floated two feet above the deck planking and then swirled upward into the rigging and vanished! And that same night the Magpie had been ground up by the reefs off Bermuda with that very woman aboard her! That story was to buy Duncan many a free drink in ports around the world.
But now, aboard the Dolphin, Captain Bowman turned with a deprecating cough to Mistress Hurst, the ship’s only other female passenger.
“Duncan is a good lad,” he said, noting that the seaman was now out of earshot. “A little slow, unfortunately. Imagines he sees things. Best to humor him.”
Mistress Hurst nodded conspiratorially. She turned alertly to Lorraine. “Did the captain say you’d been shipwrecked?” she asked.
Lorraine glibly recited a tragic story of shipwreck that she had rehearsed with Mistress Pym. Mistress Hurst, a widow from Boston, still in her weeds, on her way to join her wealthy brother’s family in Bridgetown, listened intently as Lorraine explained how a storm had driven the Magpie off course and the ship had broken up on a sawtooth reef off Bermuda.
“Oh, you poor thing!” cried Mistress Hurst, thrilled.
She kept repeating “Poor thing, poor thing!” as Lorraine explained that her parents had died in Cornwall and her guardian had removed to Barbados. She had been en route to New York to visit a school friend when the storm had blown the Magpie off course, but now had to sail straight to Barbados instead, to inspect her new plantation.
“And I shall arrive in Barbados to see my guardian with no clothes, all my luggage gone—”
“That you will not! You may borrow what you like of mine to wear! Oh, poor thing, poor thing!”
So the “shipwrecked heiress,” as Mistress Hurst called Lorraine importantly to the other passengers—for none but the wealthy could afford to dash across oceans to visit school friends or casually have plantations bought for them! enjoyed as much attention and gallantry on board the Dolphin as she had suffered ostracism on board the Lizard. The bachelor Captain Bowman went back to eating light, and no one remarked it. Like the rest, he paid gallant court to the “shipwrecked heiress”—as was expected of him.
Philip was beside himself with anger when he was told Lorraine could not be found. He turned on Lavinia, backing her against the kitchen wall. “You have got rid of her, admit it!” he cried.” Tis your insane jealousy! By God, I will shake the truth out of you! What have you done with her? What?”
Philip seized Lavinia by the shoulders and shook her so violently that her hairpins came loose. Lavinia, thus unjustly attacked, spit like a cat and tried vainly to claw at her lover’s face. “I have not done anything with Lorraine!” she screamed. “Although I should have! You were always after her!”
Philip flung her against the wall so hard she bounced away from it. He stood glaring down at her, breathing hard. Lavinia burst into tears.
There were several witnesses to this demonstration, among them Mistress Bowman, who spoke up.
“Lorraine may have tried to go overland to Connecticut,” she sighed. “I warned her not to attempt it.”
Philip sneered, “More likely she’ll to Providence to try to wheedle some ship captain into taking her aboard.”
“A search of the town should find her then,” remarked Mistress Bowman, content in the knowledge that the Dolphin had already sailed. “But Lorraine confided in me that she would go to Connecticut to escape Philip. That was the day h
e cornered her in the hall and pressed his unwanted attentions upon her.”
Philip reddened to the hairline. “I did no such thing!”
Mistress Bowman regarded him calmly. “Lorraine was bringing linens to me that day. I was witness to the whole encounter.”
“You are a slanderous old woman eavesdropping around corners!” Philip’s jaw thrust out threateningly. “After Lavinia and I are married, you will not be welcome in our home.”
Mistress Bowman shrugged. “I am grieved,” she said shortly.
“There will be no marriage!” shrieked Lavinia, stamping her foot. “Our bethrothal is at an end!” And she threw the new betrothal ring Philip had given her in his face.
Meanwhile, in Virginia, much had happened.
Raile had not lied to Lorraine that last morning in Jamestown. He had found his experienced boatman and gone upriver just as he had said he would do, but he had missed his man again. As he began his journey back downriver, he saw coming toward him a boat carrying the very man he was looking for, accompanied by a woman whose red-gold hair flamed in the sunlight.
“Ho, there, Rory!” Raile called.
The pair in the other boat stopped rowing at sight of him and stared in amazement.
Moments later both boats were beached on the shore of the James and all three had disembarked. The brothers shook hands.
“How are you, lad?” asked Raile heartily. “Laurie Ann.” He acknowledged her presence for the first time. “Has this young brother of mine been treating you well?”
Laurie Ann was a little ruffled by the indifference of his tone. “Well enough,” she said shortly. “Save that he leaves me alone too much!”
“She didn’t like my going off with Bacon to the Dragon Swamp,” Rory laughed. “I figured she’d be getting restless in the cabin, so as soon as we won, I hurried back. But on the way home I met someone who told me Laurie had left me again, so I went down to Jamestown to rejoin Bacon. That was where Laurie Ann found me. I decided it was best to take her back upriver before she could stray too far!”
To Love a Rogue Page 33