Love Me, Marietta

by Jennifer Wilde

  “I’m glad you don’t, Em.”

  “You’re so calm, so cool about everything. Haven’t sobbed once. Haven’t complained. Haven’t shown the least sign of fear. I like that. I noticed it at once. She’s going to survive, too, I said to myself. She’s got brains as well as beauty, and if you’re smart you’ll make friends with her, I told myself, so I made a point of gettin’ next to you when we started off this morning.”

  “And now we’re friends,” I said, squeezing her hand.

  We continued to trudge over the damp, spongy ground, avoiding the strands of eerie gray moss that hung from the cypress trees, avoiding the thick roots and vines, frequently moving around pools of stagnant green water. Birds cried out, fluttering away in panic as we drew near, and once a thick, greenish-gray log reared up and thrashed its tail and opened its jaws to reveal rows of razor sharp teeth. Em clutched my hand tightly, almost crushing my fingers. The alligator made a peculiar noise that was half-hiss, half-growl and slithered away into the long brown grass. We heard a splash a few moments later as the creature dove into the water.

  There was water all around us, horrible, fetid water covered with a thick coat of mossy green scum, fingers of solid ground reaching through it, dangerous patches of quicksand on either side. Only someone who knew the swamps well could have made his way through the treacherous labyrinth, and I understood why smugglers and pirates used the swamps for their nefarious trade. In places the cypresses and other trees were so thick, so festooned with moss and vines, that we could hardly pass through, and often we had to wade through several inches of muddy brown water. The six pirates forced us on with curses and shoves, and when any woman lagged she felt the lash across her shoulders.

  We finally stumbled into a small clearing covered with dry brown grass and fallen logs. Cypress trees surrounded it, their gnarled, twisted branches covered with Spanish moss. Vines with small, peculiar shaped purple and blue flowers twisted around the tree trunks. The pirate with the whip ordered us to stop, and the women sank gratefully to the ground and onto logs. Em was highly suspicious of the logs, kicking one cautiously before deigning to sit on it. I sat down beside her, shoving a tangle of hair from my cheek. The pirates began to distribute food and water.

  “It’s about time!” Em snapped as one of them stopped in front of us with a canteen and a sack full of parched com and dried beef.

  “Shut up, slut!” he snarled.

  “Oh, he’s a charmer,” she said, “but he does have nice shoulders.”

  The pirate looked at her with new interest. He was a hulking brute, his brown eyes sullen, his dark blond hair falling across his brow in short, ragged locks. He wore a red and black striped jersey and filthy black breeches. His black leather knee boots were scuffed and worn, and his belt sagged under the weight of his knives and gun. Em smiled at him pertly and batted her eyelashes at him.

  “Come on, luv,” she coaxed, “give us a little more corn, another piece of beef. You don’t want us to starve, do you?”

  “What’s your name, slut?”

  “Emmeline, luv, but you can call me Em.”

  “Why ’adn’t I noticed you before?”

  “You were too busy noticing that skinny Nadine. I saw you with her last night. I wouldn’t shriek, I promise. Truth to tell, I’d probably enjoy it—I’ve always had a weakness for broad shoulders.”

  While she talked he had been steadily pouring corn into her lap, and now he tossed her an extra piece of dried beef. Em smiled prettily, flirting outrageously. The pirate in the purple shirt who had taken her the night before came stalking over, his blue eyes hostile, the scar on his cheek a vivid pink slash.

  “Back off, Dobbs!” he ordered. “This ’un’s mine.”

  “Yeah?” Dobbs taunted. “Shove it, Ginty, or I’ll put a knife through your craw.”

  Ginty gave Dobbs a mighty push, snarling viciously, and Dobbs stumbled and dropped the bag of food. The two men began to fight like tigers, gouging and grappling with murderous intent until three of the other pirates pulled them apart. Dobbs’ red and black striped jersey was torn. Ginty’s jaw was badly scraped. Em perched on the log with an angelic expression, gathering up extra corn and tying it in a handkerchief, surreptitiously placing it in a hidden pocket of her skirt. She was going to survive, all right, and I was extremely pleased to have become her friend.

  “See what I mean?” she said as the pirates moved away. “I have something special they all like. That Ginty, he was ready to kill, and Dobbs was eating out of my hand. These are small fry, luv, go-betweens. They don’t even live on the island. The important chaps will be on the ship that picks us up, and I intend to pick out one of Red Nick’s chief lieutenants and fascinate him out of his breeches.”

  “I’ve no doubt you will.”

  “You now, luv, you’re a bit too high class for these louts, too regal and high-toned to appeal to ’em. Your kind of beauty leaves ’em cold, which is just as well—none of them bothered you last night, I noticed, doubt they’ll bother you tonight. It’ll be a different story when Red Nick sees you. He’s an educated man, they say. They say he appreciates fine clothes, fine wine, fine women.”

  “Oh?”

  “He’s frightfully good-looking, too, I hear. Very tall and lean and hair the color of copper, eyes like blue ice. He’s a cold, merciless killer who’d as soon run you through as look at you, but he has a definite weakness when it comes to beautiful women.”

  “Where did you hear all these things?”

  “You hear a lot about Red Nick on the waterfront, luv. Here, take some of this beef and hide it. Is there a pocket on your skirt? No? Hide it in your bodice then—here, I’ll wrap it up in a bit of my petticoat. A few hours from now you’ll be glad we have these extra provisions.”

  Em tore off part of a petticoat ruffle, wrapped the beef in it and handed it to me. I thrust it between my breasts. Dobbs came stalking back to retrieve the bag he had dropped, but not before Em had scooped out several more handfuls of parched corn. She smiled sweetly and looked at him with admiring, angelic eyes. He scowled, handed her a canteen of water, and moved on to distribute food to some of the other women, cuffing Nadine viciously when she asked for more.

  “That one’s not going to last a breakfast spell,” Em remarked, indicating Nadine. “She has the brains of a peacock. I may not have much book learning—my schooling stopped when I was ten—but I learned how to take care of myself in tricky situations. A girl has to.”

  “I know, Em. I’ve been in a few tricky situations myself.”

  “I suspected as much, luv. You may look like a duchess, may speak with a high-toned accent, but you’ve had your share of rough times, too. I sensed that immediately. I could see it in your eyes. I don’t know how you happened to end up in a mess like this—I don’t pry, luv, I mind my own business—but I have a feelin’ a man was involved.”

  “You’re right, Em,” I said quietly.

  Em reached over and took my hand, squeezing it encouragingly. “Don’t you worry, luv,” she told me. “We’re in for some more rough times, I don’t deny it—it’s going to be scary—but you and me, luv, we’re going to stick together and we’re going to survive.”

  I nodded, giving her hand a return squeeze. This feisty little street sparrow in her ragged pink dress reminded me a great deal of Angie, the girl who had come to America on the convict ship with me. Angie had been feisty, too, with a face like an angel’s and a vocabulary that would have made a stevedore blush. I had learned a great deal from her, and those lessons had stood me in good stead during the years that followed. Em had already displayed her ability to make the best of things, and having her at my side was going to make all this much easier to endure.

  “The first thing we’ve got to do, luv, is make sure we end up on the island instead of in one of them houses. I don’t see it as bein’ a huge problem,” she added.

  “Neither do I,” I told her.

  “Now you’re talkin’, luv! If we don’t get eate
n up by alligators, we’re in business.”

  “On your feet, sluts!”

  The pirate in charge cracked his whip. He was a blond giant with a patch over one eye and a filthy blue bandana tied around his head. He wore an olive-green frock coat with silver buttons, the once-elegant garment frayed now, torn on one side. His name was Quince, and he wielded the whip with vicious authority, a sadistic smile on his lips as he lashed one of the women across the shoulders.

  “That one,” Em said, shuddering. “He makes my blood run cold. You want to watch out for him, luv.”

  “I fully intend to.”

  “Hurry it up!” Quince yelled. “Get movin’!”

  Dobbs and Ginty collected the canteens and lined us up again. A chubby, brown-eyed brunette in a blue dress saw a snake slithering toward her through the grass. She screamed and stumbled over a log, falling heavily on her stomach. Quince kicked her savagely and, seizing her by the hair, yanked her to her feet. The girl was in a state of shock, trembling uncontrollably. Quince slapped her across the face and shoved her into line, and we started through the thick grove of cypress trees, moving slowly of necessity, frequently tripping over the tangled roots.

  The eerie, gray Spanish moss dangled down, brushing our cheeks, and swarms of insects filled the air, mosquitoes lighting on us with a soft, feathery touch that quickly turned into a painful sting. The cypress trees thinned out, and we moved alongside a stagnant green lake, greenish-gray logs resting in the muddy bank, frequently stirring to slide into the water. Em gripped my hand tightly, eyeing the alligators with considerable alarm. Turning away from the lake, we moved through another dense forest of trees, vines hanging down in treacherous loops, the ground damp and spongy. The mosquitoes were still with us, but one soon learned to ignore them, just as one learned to ignore the horrible, fetid smells.

  We had been moving along for perhaps three hours when Quince yelled for us to halt. The forest had given out, and we were on the edge of another body of water, neither lake nor river but a sprawling green mass dotted with small islands covered with more trees. The pirates dragged three large, flat wooden boats out from under the shrubbery and ordered us to climb into them, Quince cracking his whip in the air, lashing it across the shoulders of any woman he felt moved too slowly.

  “I’m not going to like this part,” Em confided. “Never have trusted boats, luv, and these look mighty leaky.”

  “Step lively!” Quince roared.

  Em and I climbed into one of the boats, sitting down on the wooden planks in the center. The skinny blonde named Nadine climbed in after us, as did the plump brunette in blue and two more women, one a terrified Negro girl who couldn’t have been over fourteen, the other a lass with pale brown hair and sky-blue eyes that looked curiously empty. She was still in a state of shock. Dobbs clambered into the front of the boat, wielding a long, narrow pole. A pirate named Tremayne stood up in the rear, pushing us off with a similar pole.

  “Careful there, luv,” Em told him, “you don’t want to tip us over. These waters are full of alligators.”

  Tremayne merely scowled at her. He was considerably younger than the other men, surely not more than twenty-five, a tall, muscular lad with dark brown eyes and sun-streaked brown hair. He wore high black boots, clinging gray cord breeches, and a blue and gray striped jersey that accentuated his powerful shoulders. A dark blue scarf was tied around his neck. He stood with legs wide apart, perfectly steady as the boat swayed in the water. Dobbs stood in front, using his pole with skill.

  “How deep is this water?” Em asked.

  “Not more ’n six feet,” Tremayne growled. “Relax, wench, you’re not gonna get wet.”

  “If I fall in, will you rescue me? I don’t swim, you see.”

  Tremayne pretended to ignore her, but I could see him stealing looks at her as he and Dobbs poled us past one of the islands. The boat rocked alarmingly in the stagnant, greenish-brown water, the prow cutting through layers of scum. Nadine brushed pale blonde locks from her cheeks and rearranged her sky-blue brocade skirt, revealing the elegant lace underskirts beneath. Although the clothes were filthy now and deplorably tattered, I could see that they had come from Paris. The girl had a sharp, thin face and light green eyes, her pink mouth full and pouting. She spoke with a French accent.

  “Where are they taking us?” she exclaimed.

  “Far, far away,” Em informed her. “Don’t get so riled up, Nadine. You might tip us over.”

  “But I don’t belong here! My father is an aristocrat. He’ll pay a fortune to get me back! I’m not like the rest of you! I’m not a whore!”

  “No?” Em said. “You could have fooled me. If you’re so bloody high and mighty, what were you doing on the waterfront?”

  “I was visiting a friend. He—he happened to be staying in one of those dreadful inns down there. I begged him to find better lodgings. I told him I couldn’t keep going down there.”

  “I’ll wager Daddy didn’t know about your little visits, luv. If there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s a bloody hypocrite. At least I’m an honest whore, luv. I’ll bet you didn’t even charge.”

  Nadine gave her a sullen look and glanced around apprehensively, gnawing her lower lip. The plump brunette was still trembling. I took her hand, gently squeezing it. The girl’s hands were rough and red. I guessed that she had been a scullery maid, a sturdy, uneducated girl who clearly came from peasant stock. Her name, I knew, was Bessie, and I was almost certain she had been a virgin when she was abducted. I held her hand and smoothed hair from her temple. After a while her trembling ceased, but her large brown eyes continued to stare straight ahead seeing nothing but remembered horror.

  Dobbs and Tremayne poled us past another of the islands and then guided the boat through a narrow opening among the trees and down a finger of water not more than twenty feet wide, muddy banks close on either side, tree limbs forming a moss-draped canopy overhead. The light was dim here, only a few pale rays of sunlight able to sift through the limbs. Strange birds cried out, and the moss floated in the air like thick smoke. We continued down the watery tunnel for at least an hour before turning down another, one boat ahead of us, the other following close behind.

  A peculiar calm possessed me. I no longer heard the explosion and saw the puff of smoke and the violent orange streak, no longer saw the man I loved staggering backward, falling off the pier into the water, and I no longer felt the anguish that made life itself unendurable. That was locked up tightly inside of me, and there it would remain for the rest of my life, an integral part of me. One day, perhaps, I would allow myself to remember and feel the anguish again. One day, perhaps, I might even allow myself to cry, but that luxury would have to wait. Now there was room for nothing but this steely resolution to survive and take my revenge on Roger Hawke.

  The horror I had experienced since that night had had no effect whatsoever. I had endured Will Hart’s brutal embraces without a murmur, without a struggle. I had deliberately removed myself from the stark reality, had been cool and passive even as he thrust inside me repeatedly, exhausting himself in a frenzy of lust only to begin anew a short while later. I had told myself it was happening to someone else, and I seemed to observe things from a great distance, aloof and untouched, removed. That feeling of calm detachment had remained when he turned me over to the pirates, haggling with Quince over the price and finally accepting far less than he had anticipated.

  All the while the resolution had grown inside me, and I could feel strength building steadily. I had survived horror before, and I would survive this, too. I had already found a strong ally in Em. My first objective, as was hers, was to avoid being shipped to South America with the rest of the women. Life on the island would be rugged indeed, but it would be better than its alternative, and escape would be a much greater possibility, particularly if we succeeded in making our captors believe we were resigned to our fates and intent only on making the best of things. I had no doubt Em would be able to fascinate the man she s
elected as her protector, but would I be able to fascinate the notorious Red Nick? I certainly hadn’t fetched the price Hart had been expecting, and none of these men had shown the least interest in me, preferring, the plump Bessie, the thin and haughty Nadine. Em said my beauty was too refined to appeal to this particular group of men. Would it appeal to Red Nick? If it didn’t, I was in a great deal of trouble.

  “Don’t even consider it,” Em said.

  “Consider what?”

  “Failure, luv. You’ve been sittin’ there so silent, thinking, and I saw doubt in your eyes just now. You think he might not fancy you. There’s not a chance of that, luv. The minute he sees you he’s going to be hooked good and proper.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Nadine asked sharply.

  “Nothing that concerns you, luv.”

  “You’re planning, something, I can tell. You think you’re so smart, both of you. You think you’re going to escape. You haven’t a prayer, but when that Red Nick person finds out who I am he’ll turn me loose immediately. Daddy will reward him handsomely.”

  “Dream on, luv. You’ll soon be spreading those skinny legs of yours for a flock of foreign-speakin’ gents who couldn’t care less who your daddy is. If they have any sense, they’ll put a sack over your head first.”

  “You bitch!”

  Em ignored the insult. Nadine sulked petulantly, her mouth pursed most unattractively, her light green eyes full of hostility. The men poled the boats out of the watery tunnel and across a sea of wavy gray-brown grass, the water not more than two or three feet deep here. Directly ahead of us, perhaps a quarter of a mile away, a strip of solid land stretched as far as the eye could see. It was heavily wooded, tall palm trees towering over the others. We reached it a short while later, and Dobbs and Tremayne leaped out, dragging the boat out of the water and ordering us to get out. Soon we were trudging through the trees. The horrible fetid smell was gone now, and the air was laced with a salty tang. The ground beneath our feet was solid, no longer damp and spongy. The swamps were behind us, the coast somewhere up ahead.