Maya's Aura: The Redemptioner

by Smith, Skye

  Someone called her name and she drifted out of the past and into the present. She looked around. It was just one of the louts that came with Mr. Brown. Normally his sort would never pay the price to drink in this tavern. Mr. Greene was buying another round. She sighed.

  In the taverns frequented by louts, the ale wenches allowed themselves to be fondled for extra earnings. She straightened her bodice and walked over to see what the lout wanted. She stayed well out of reach. He abused her with his rough language and in a purposefully loud voice he offered her a shilling for a quick shag. She said nothing and suffered the embarrassment in silence until he ordered another jug of ale.

  "Mr. Greene," Britta said sweetly, "are you going to share his jug, or can I bring a special one just for him?"

  Mr. Greene smiled and the two lawyers sitting next to him began to laugh. The lout wanted to know what the joke was. This only made everyone laugh louder. The lout started to get angry, so in hopes of calming him, one of the young lawyers filled his pot from another jug. "The young lady thinks that you have already had too much ale."

  "Young lady," the lout snorted, "young lady is it. Come over here wench and I will show them how much of a young lady you are."

  Mr. Greene interrupted him by saying, "Go down to the dock and watch for sails. Come and warn us when the Hannah is close." The lout jumped to the command, but in his swagger to gain his balance he purposefully moved towards Britta and grabbed at her breasts. He was too slow. She used her tray like a shield and he stubbed his fingers against it.

  "Go, now." Mr. Greene raised his voice and the lout left quickly. Britta gave Mr. Greene a smile that warmed him to the heart. She walked away, but was back in seconds and leaned against him to place a tot of the best rum in front of him. He reached for his purse, but she stopped his hand by laying her own hand gently on top of his. The two lawyers beside him sighed in envy.

  * * * * *

  They could hear the wave of excitement moving up from the docks well before the door of the tavern ever opened for a man to yell in, "The Hannah is here. The Gaspee has run aground."

  The tavern cleared in an instant, and Britta was glad that she had collected payment as she served. Jon was glued to a window, so she waved him on, and he ran after them. It took her but twenty minutes to clean the tables and straighten the chairs, and another twenty to finish the washing up. She decided to have another eel pie and see what other memories the taste and smell would stir.

  She drifted in the happy memories of swimming, and running, and working with the folk of her island village. She remembered the warmth of the sun kissing her skin. Much of the work in the fens involved getting wet, and since skin dried faster than cloth in that climate, they wore few clothes when the sun shone.

  She remembered how she looked forward each year to the Mayday festival with all the singing, the dancing, and the costumes. She remembered staying up late and sneaking around the spring meadows to spy on the grownups that were coupling under the stars. After all, it was the spring festival, the festival of fertility.

  In the fens, women often chose new husbands each year according to how much the man would be home that year. There was no other way, because the men often worked away from the village sometimes for months at a time and sometimes would not return. In their village, the sea caused much weeping.

  How strange the rest of the English folk had seemed to her as they walked endlessly towards Bristol. Women had only one husband, or none. Children had only one father, or none. It was no wonder the women never looked happy and the children always looked lost. Her mother often told her that her favorite times were when two of her husbands happened to be home at the same time. She had never explained why, but Britta assumed it was because she enjoyed all the company, and closeness of being shared.

  She was woken by the slam of the door and the noise and smell of men entering the tavern. From outside the there was the noise of the beating drum of the town crier. She rushed to the ale barrels to begin filling jugs. When she looked up again, she was displeased at the number of men all arriving at once. She could not possibly cope alone.

  Even after Jon and James arrived, she was run off her feet. The crowd was excited, and happy, and angry all at the same time. It made for heavy drinking. They ran out of all pies immediately. They were forced to tap a new barrel with ale that was still a bit green. The noise level was so loud that Britta could not hear what her customers wanted even when they shouted.

  Thankfully Mr. Greene and Mr. Brown arrived and called for order. Mr. Brown was a very big man. He was as rich as any gentleman, but he was not gentle. Any man that ignored him got cuffed by his big hands. It was soon more orderly but not quiet. Then the door opened and in walked a tall slim figure, Captain Lindsay of the Hannah. Immediately there was quiet, or at least as much quiet as fifty men in a room who were drinking ale could manage. The captain did not wait to be introduced, he just began talking.

  "His Majesties Schooner Gaspee has run aground on the sand bar at Namquid Point. The ship and crew are safe, but it will take a few days for the tide to rise high enough to float her off. She refused any help from the Hannah, including a tow line."

  Cheers circled the tavern until Mr. Brown's men called for order. The captain continued.

  "It is the opinion of my lawyer that the Gaspee is now on Rhode Island soil, and therefore all those aboard are also on that soil. Amongst the crew of the Gaspee is a fugitive from Rhode Island justice, one Captain Dudingston. Sheriff Brown, here, has a warrant for his arrest. I now ask, in front of all of you as witnesses, that the Sheriff make all haste to serve this warrant and capture this fugitive."

  There were some laughs at Captain Lindsay introducing John Brown as the sheriff rather than as the man that owned his ship, the Hannah. Most men were silent while they chewed on the merit of his words. Eventually the cheers circled the tavern until Mr. Brown's men again called for order. The captain continued.

  "As for my own crew, they are exhausted and they are in need of leave ashore, so I am going back to the Hannah to sleep and keep watch."

  The tall captain looked over the sea of heads in the room searching for James. He could not spot him but even in a crowded room you could always spot Britta. He motioned to her. She pointed towards the barrels. They met there and he put his lips to her ear so that he could speak to her without shouting. "Tell James that I have returned to the Hannah. Tell him to visit me there once this meeting of fools has broken up." She gave his arm a squeeze to show she understood and they walked together through the door into the relative quiet of kitchen shed at the back of the building.

  Away from the braggart din of the young fools, he could speak to the young beauty in a soft voice. "Britta, I fear that harm will come to you if you continue to work in this tavern. I have a small house here in Providence that is in need of a mistress, for I sleep there only two nights a week. You could make a good life for yourself living there."

  Britta stood closer to him and stood on her tip toes so that her face was close to his, "Captain, I am flattered, but my brother and I work in the tavern under a two year bond with James."

  He looked into her eyes. She was dirty and bedraggled from a day's hard work, yet she seemed so pure and clean. When she smiled so encouragingly back at him, it decided him to offer her more. He ... was interrupted.

  "Ben, oh, I do beg your pardon," said Jacob Greene. He closed the door behind him to block out the noise from the tavern.

  Britta pushed herself away from the captain but kept hold of his arm. She was sure that he had more to say, more to offer, perhaps paying her bond. Free of the bond, and with a small house to live in, her life would be far, far better than it had ever been. Such a change was surely worth the need to sleep with this gentleman.

  "Jake," Ben said after wrenching his gaze from her. "I am sorry that my plan did not work. It would have been much easier to capture Dudingston here in Providence while he was on my deck. I suggest that you send that mob home and tomorrow
come with, ugh, Sheriff, yes Sheriff Brown to the Hannah and I will sail you all to the Gaspee. Dudingston is a man who lives by the rules. He may surrender to the warrant if in return we float his ship without any claim of salvage."

  "I like that idea well, Ben, but your boss, Brown, has a different plan. He is stirring the young hotheads up as we speak. His plan is to use his right as sheriff to take a mob in longboats to the Gaspee this very night. He has already sent men to arrange for the boats. Now he is convincing the mob to man those boats. I fear that they will be armed and primed for trouble." Jake was interrupted by a sudden angry roar from the tavern.

  He sighed and continued. "The way I heard it, they will use tonight’s half moon to row to the point, and then wait for it to set before sneaking close to the Gaspee. My fear is that they will either do violence to the king's men or do damage to the king's ship. Either instance will surely bring charges of piracy which will override our local warrant, and lose me the Fortune for sure. Come and help me calm them down. Maybe you can get Brown to see reason."

  "Why waste our breath. We are both Newport men," Ben replied, "Brown owns Providence. These are his men and they don't want to disappoint him. They will follow him no matter what we say."

  "Do you want me to start pouring strong rum?" Britta asked. "I could have them all fall down drunk within the hour, and unfit for any longboat."

  "A fine idea, child," said Jacob.

  "No, I forbid it," said Ben. "In fact, Britta, please go upstairs this minute, and stay away from the tavern until they have all left. Those inside are not your regular customers. They are drunken louts. I saw the way they were looking at you. If you serve them hard rum you'll be gang raped before this night is finished." With that he took her towards the steps and pushed her up the first one. "Go. James and your brother can close up. I am back in Providence in four days. We will talk some more of my house then."

  "He is right, my dear," said Jacob. "I will go back into the tavern and tell your brother that you are upstairs and safe."

  * * * * *

  She shivered and realized that she had pins and needles in her arm. She raised her head from the table in the kitchen shed and listened. It was quiet in the tavern. She stood and stretched. Someone had draped a heavy table cloth around her shoulders, so she folded it neatly and laid it onto a chair. It must have been done by one of the men who had come into the kitchen to melt lead for musket balls. She had stayed there to make sure that they left as soon as they were finished, and without any of the kitchen pots.

  She unbolted the kitchen door and walked softly to the back door of the tavern. She could hear soft voices. The tavern was a mess. Every table was filled with dirty pots and empty jugs. Some one had knocked over a bench and no one had righted it. James was sitting with Jacob Greene on the far bench, leaning against the wall and sharing a pipe of tobacco, though by the smell it was mixed with Indian tea, of the hemp variety, not the poppy variety..

  "Britta, love," called James softly, "you missed the party."

  She looked at the mess and groaned. Well it could wait until the morning. She would just open late. "Where is Jon?" There was no answer. She left them and went to her room. There was a drunk passed out on Jon's bed but it wasn't Jon. She looked behind the curtain. Her bed had not been touched. She rushed back to the tavern. "Where is Jon?"

  "Isn't he in your room?"

  "No, but you will have to drag a drunk out of it before I can go to bed."

  James stood slowly and stretched. He was walking passed Britta when Jacob spoke up. "He went with some of the young lads. Let's see, there was Brown's youngest and those two friends of his."

  "Ephraim Bowen and Joseph Bucklin," offered James.

  Britta spun James around by the arm, "No, you didn't let him go with those three ne'er do wells. He is only sixteen."

  "I was busy. I didn't see him go. You know how it is with young boys. They always want to tag along with the older ones."

  She slapped him across the face. "Ephraim was melting lead in your kitchen. He has his father's musket."

  James grabbed the hand that had hit him, and twisted it behind her back until it hurt her.

  "Stop it," yelled Jacob, "she need calming, not punishing."

  Despite the pain she twisted around so that she could see Jacob Greene. "Calming, calming," she yelled. "You let my only brother go out in a row boat at night with a drunken mob who are armed and angry and up to no good. And led by who? By John Brown the slaver. Don't bother to deny it. I have heard him discussing it with his captains. He trades his rum and guns in Africa for darkie slaves."

  "I understand your fears, Britta," said Jacob soothingly, "but what is done is done. We cannot undo it. They are long gone." Jacob had young daughters and knew what was needed. He stood and walked to Britta and put his arms around her to comfort her. James had released her and now she relaxed into Jacob's arms and began to sob. He said to James, "Throw that drunk out of her room so she can go to bed. She is so cold and tired that she is shaking."

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  MAYA’S AURA - the Redemptioner by Skye Smith

  Chapter 6 - June 10, 1772, the Gaspee Burns

  Maya dumped the armload of firewood near to the wood stove for later in the evening, and then she went back to her netbook and continued to read the Wikipedia article about the schooner Gaspee. Nana came close and looked over her shoulder.

  "These men that I am meeting in the dreams, like, they really existed," Maya told her, "It's kind of spooky to see them mentioned on the Web."

  "I would have thought it more spooky to see them in your dreams," Nana replied.

  "Hmm, maybe, yeh I guess that's it. It's just that like, for these bios and photos of portraits to be on the web means that someone saved all of that stuff from the olden days. That means sons of sons of sons over hundreds of years kept these people's memories alive."

  "I think you are underestimating the high level of civilization of that era," Nana told her. "Just because they didn't have cell phones and laptops doesn't mean they were illiterate. Quite the contrary. The English of the day was a flourish of compound phrases, very unlike the six word sentences common today. When men got old, too old for heavy work, they often sat down with pen and paper and wrote things down. Every town, and even many villages had a local newspaper."

  "I know. I have seen them being read in the crystal dreams."

  "Perhaps that is a clue to how New England became so powerful, so quickly. Religious sects like the Puritans put a high value on education and encouraged their children to read and write, much as Chinese immigrant families do today, much as Jewish families from all over the world have always done."

  Maya went quiet. She had hated school and had barely made it out of High School. She had always felt threatened by how well read her great grandmother was. "When you make notes about my dreams tonight, Nana, make sure you write down any names that I speak out. They seem to be the best triggers for remembering the dreams after I wake up."

  "So what did you remember?" Nana sat down beside the girl and put a fresh piece of paper in front of her. "Do tell."

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  Britta went to her door to unlock it when she heard Jon's voice. Her shrieking scream on seeing his horribly bruised face, brought James and his wife and most of their boarders bounding down the stairs from the house. Jon's first words to the lot of them were, "The customs schooner has burned to the waterline, and her captain has been shot and may be dead by now."

  James spun on his heel and told everyone coming down stairs behind him to go back to bed, then pushed the door closed in their faces. His wife was racing back up the stairs to fetch a new dressing to replace the one that had been covering Jon's raw and bloody cheek. Most of the boarders had ignored James, and instead left to walk down to the docks to hear the story first hand from the others from the adventure.

  "No!" James exclaimed once Jon finished the full story of his adventures.
"I don't believe anyone could be that stupid!" Only he and Britta and Jon were in Britta's room. It was just seven in the morning, and they wouldn't be opening the tavern for hours yet.

  "So you were in Captain Hopkin's longboat with Joe Buckin and Ephe Bowen, and Joe borrowed Ephe's gun and aimed it at the skipper of the Gaspee?" confirmed James.

  "Well we didn't know it was the skipper," said Jon, "but that didn't matter to Joe. He just wanted to shoot someone. I grabbed at the gun, but he hit me in the face with the butt of it, and then took his shot anyway. It wasn't until later that we found out that Joe had shot the skipper.

  The shot caused the navy crew to muster, and we were sitting ducks to their guns. Captain Brown called for a truce and ordered us all to lower our weapons and to not speak anyone's name and to keep our faces in the shadows. It was about then that we found out the skipper had been shot, and that was when Captain er, Sheriff Brown starting bargaining with the Gaspee crew to go aboard, cause we had a surgeon with us who could maybe save the skipper's life."

  "Which is how you got on board the Gaspee?" asked Britta.

  "Yeh, Captain Hopkins ordered me to board her so that the surgeon could see to my face. It's not as bad as it looks. The surgeon said it would look horrible for a few weeks but it would all heal so long as I keep it clean."

  "Well we can see some truth in his words already. It looks absolutely horrible," complained Britta.

  "Anyway, the skipper was in a bad way in his cabin when I found the surgeon, and Captain Brown was there calming the waters by offering to put the crew up in um, that village near the point."

  "Pawtuxet," James offered.

  "Yeh that's it. All unnecessary men and weight were to be taken there in the longboats in preparation for refloating the schooner. Oh yeh, refloating the Gaspee was part of the agreement."

  "So that all seems reasonable, considering, so I don't understand why the schooner burned." said James.