Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry

by Hughes, Amanda

  She reached for some hardtack and said, "Come, you must eat, Darcee. You must have your strength back before we reach Providence."

  Darcy struggled to sit up on her elbows and looked around the hold. Aside from two women lying in their corners, the room was empty. "Where is everyone?" she asked.

  "Dead," Dominique replied.

  Darcy‘s eyes grew wide. The chains were empty and most of the straw was unoccupied.

  "The sickness took them fast. Many on the upper decks are dead also."

  "Crackstone?"

  "Crackstone lives, but Monsieur Villiers is ill."

  "If he dies, Dominique, will you be free?"

  Dominique shook her head, picked up her things and went back to her corner.

  When they had first become friends, Dominique had told Darcy, "When you are a slave, you must learn to hide your feelings.” Darcy knew that Dominique was hiding her terror. An uncertain future plagued them both.

  The next few days Darcy spent getting her strength back. One afternoon the hatch opened and Crackstone called her up on deck.

  "You're skin and bones!" he bellowed, as she stumbled onto the deck." God knows with everybody dead, we have more than enough food now. Weatherby!" he roared, "Get me a plate of food from the galley!" Turning back to Darcy, he said, "The captain gave me orders to fatten you up so you bring a good price."

  "Ugh, I sound like a prize cow," Darcy said frowning.

  "It's Bingley's responsibility to strike a bargain with someone in Providence who may be shopping for an indentured servant. I told him that you could bring a fair price. He gets a percentage of the profit," explained Crackstone.

  Weatherby handed Darcy a bowl, and she sat down on the steps of the companionway eating the fish stew. Crackstone disappeared down the companionway, and reappeared some minutes later with Dominique. He directed a crew member to take her to the stern to gather her clothing, Darcy asked, "Is Villiers dead?"

  Crackstone nodded.

  "What will happen to her?"

  "She's now the property of the family. I suppose they will return her to Charlestown or sell her."

  Darcy frowned, afraid for Dominique.

  * * *

  Over the next few days, as she gained in strength, Dominique weakened. She ate little and spent many hours rocking back and forth in her corner, refusing to speak. Only a few days were left before the ship would drop anchor in the New World. As each day passed, Darcy became more alarmed about Dominique's health and appearance. She noticed her tremors were increasing. Dominique would take sips out of absinthe, but the contents were low, and one morning when Darcy awakened, she found Dominique curled up on the straw, shaking uncontrollably.

  "Let me get you your medicine, Dominique. I'm worried about you.”

  "Go away. There is no more medicine," mumbled Dominique.

  There were dark circles under her eyes and tremors shook her body. Darcy reached out and brushed the hair from her friend's face pleading, "What is your illness? Tell me and maybe I can help."

  Dominique sat up and screamed in French, "Are you stupid! The absinthe is my illness. I need it to feel normal. Now get away from me!"

  Darcy retreated to her corner. She suspected that Charles Villiers supplied Dominique with the absinthe, and when he succumbed to typhoid fever, she lost her access to the drink forever. She was not optimistic about Dominique's future. The very advice she had given Darcy about presenting herself in the best light, she could not put into practice herself. Her prospects were grim.

  On several occasions Darcy attempted to help Dominique while she lay groaning in pain, but she was always met with a violent outburst.

  One afternoon the hatch opened, and Crackstone called for Darcy to go above to clean herself up. He placed a tub of water in Villier's empty cabin along with some fresh clothing and towels, telling her that she could use all the water she wanted because they were at destination's end.

  Darcy entered the cabin and bolted the door behind her. She wondered if it was her imagination or did Charles Villier's eau de toilet still linger in the air? She looked around at the luxurious room, running her hands over the plum-and-gold furnishings. In the middle of the room sat four mahogany chairs and a table with a tray attached to the top. Four crystal goblets and a decanter fit snuggly onto the tray. Darcy longed to taste wine from the delicate glasses. She touched the velvet curtains with tassels around the bay window and marveled at the built-in bed covered with a plum-colored spread and Turkish pillows.

  She took her filthy rags off, letting them drop to the floor. She eased herself into the water. Darcy washed herself briskly, scrubbing her scalp until it stung. To rid herself of bugs, she applied a tonic to her hair, which Dominique had given her some time ago, and after rinsing it out, stepped out of the tub. She toweled herself off, opened the window and tossed her filthy rags into the sea.

  After pulling a white shift over her head, Darcy stepped into the gown Crackstone had left for her and went to the mirror. She was delighted with what she saw. It was a modest gown, everyday attire for women in the New World, but to Darcy it was the most exquisite dress she had ever worn. The gown was cream-colored with pink, vertical stripes and blue embroidered cornflowers.

  The collar and cuffs of the white shift peeked out smartly under the muslin, and the large open sleeves displayed her shapely arms. Darcy ran her hands back and forth over the material, marveling at the workmanship.

  At last, she understood what Dominique had been trying to tell her. She must use every asset to her advantage. Her brains and her good looks must be exploited to their fullest if she was to survive alone in the world. Darcy was a long way from the sheltered life of Kilkerry. She must now rely on her wits and appeal. Every resource must be used to thrive in the New World, and she was determined to chisel out a satisfying life for herself.

  Feeling elated with her new self-confidence, she combed her long hair and tied it up into a loose knot. She pulled a few wisps down to frame her face and put on a pair of soft, leather slippers. Except for special occasions, Darcy had gone barefoot and it was a curious sensation wearing leather around her feet. Footwear would take some adjustment.

  She opened the cabin door and walked onto the deck. Passengers lined the railing looking toward the bow of the ship, and she heard one of them say that they had entered the Narragansett Bay and were approaching the city of Providence. They stared at Darcy, clearly wondering why they hadn't noticed such an attractive woman onboard before. The very people, who recoiled from her this morning, admired her this afternoon.

  She leaned over the railing and her heart jumped. There it was! There was America! How pleased Father Etienne would be if he knew that she was about to set foot on the soil of his homeland.

  There was much commotion, and people were chattering with excitement as the ship drew near Providence. Darcy was amazed to see the size of the city.

  Her glimpse of America had been through the eyes of Father Etienne. He had lived on the frontier, but this was a busy bustling seaport city.

  "P--Pardon, Ma'am, but Mr. Crackstone is looking for you," stuttered Weatherby.

  When Crackstone saw her, his jaw dropped. He whistled and said, "I knew you was a diamond in the rough! I can't believe my eyes, girl. You will bring a fancy price indeed. Now understand, you are not to leave the foc's'l without me. Go over there and sit down. "

  Crackstone went about his work but continued to steal looks at her shaking his head in disbelief. It gave her the confidence she needed to face the uncertain future.

  The ship dropped anchor, and Darcy watched the frenzied passengers make preparations to disembark. It was heaven to see green trees again, smell the soil and see homes once more. She saw a black slave on the docks, and panic shot through her. Where was Dominique? She strained her eyes amid the throngs of people flooding the deck. The confusion of passengers and crew was overwhelming then Dominique stumbled out of the companionway onto the deck. She was in chains, bound to other prisoners be
ing led off the vessel by a crew member.

  "Dominique! Dominique!" called Darcy, but amid the shouting and commotion, she could not hear her. The prisoners moved toward the gang plank. Darcy bolted down the steps. She threw her arms around Dominique arms and cried, "You will be all right, Dominique! You will survive because you have the same healing medicine within you that I have.”

  Tears welled up in Dominique's eyes, but she could not speak.

  Suddenly, someone grabbed the back of Darcy's gown, yanking her away from Dominique.

  "You are coming with me," said Jonah Crackstone firmly. "It will be my ass, McBride, if you get away."

  Tears rolling down her face, Darcy watched Dominique walk down the gang plank and into the throngs of Providence. The crowds swallowed her up, and she was gone.

  "I beg you pardon, Madame," said a male voice.

  Wiping her eyes, Darcy turned and faced a tall dignified man of later years, in a British officer’s uniform. Darcy guessed that he held high rank. His hair was almost completely gray, and he had with vigorous build, which was unusual for a man of his years.

  Before she could reply, the Captain stepped up and said, "I am Captain Bingley. May I be of service to you, sir?"

  "Yes, Captain, I am Colonel Nathan Lawrence, and I have an appointment with Mr. Charles Villiers."

  Bingley's polite smile dropped, and he said, "Oh good Sir, I do have sad news. We had an outbreak of illness on the voyage, and Mr. Villiers succumbed."

  The Colonel looked sympathetic, but far from grief-stricken. "That is sad news although I must confess, I never met the gentleman. We had some business to discuss, but beyond that I knew him not."

  Colonel Lawrence turned to Darcy and said, "I wish to apologize for not introducing myself, Madame."

  The captain jumped in and said, "May I present Miss McBride. She arrived today from Ireland."

  “I too have recently arrived from the British Isles, Miss McBride. If I can be of any assistance," and he bowed slightly.

  "Forgive me, Colonel," said Captain Bingley. "But are you completely settled here?"

  "I have not even unpacked my trunk," he said with chuckle. "My dear wife attends to my housekeeping, but she will not be joining me here for some months."

  Captain Bingley saw his opportunity and suggested, "Might you be in need of a housekeeper? This lovely young woman has an obligation of indentured service to complete, and all the papers are in order if you are interested."

  The Colonel‘s eyebrows shot up, and he said, "You are an indentured servant? You certainly do not look the part."

  Darcy smiled and stared into his eyes boldly. She found this gentleman most appealing, and she knew that even though he represented everything which she hated, he might be her best opportunity for placement in the New World. She remembered what he had said about his wife not joining him for several months.

  Continuing to stare at Darcy, he said to the Captain Bingley, "May I speak further with her Captain, perhaps over some dinner?"

  "Of course, of course," said the captain eagerly, "Take as long as you want."

  The colonel offered Darcy his arm, and they started down the stairs toward the gangplank. Darcy saw Crackstone with a duffle bag on his back coming up onto deck. She excused herself for a moment and approached him with her hand outstretched.

  "Mr. Crackstone, I wanted to say good-bye and thank you for all of your kindnesses."

  "Best of luck to you, McBride," he said with a broad smile, "I want you to know that I've decided to pay an extended visit to Mrs. Crackstone and the little ones."

  "I think that Mrs. Crackstone is a very lucky woman,” she said smiling.

  She returned to Colonel Lawrence's side. When they stepped off the ship, Darcy's head began to spin, and her knees buckled. Colonel Lawrence steadied her and laughed. "You must get your land legs back."

  He guided her through the noisy streets of Providence, and Darcy's senses were bombarded with the hustle and bustle of the thriving port town. The streets were crowded with merchants and sailors. Men were loading huge barrels of rum and molasses onto carts, and putting timber onto ships bound for England. Shops lined the streets and vendors hawked their wares. They passed a platform where a crowd gathered and Lawrence told Darcy a slave auction was about to begin. He said that Providence was one of the largest slave ports in the Colonies. Darcy’s stomach churned to think Dominique may be sold here. She searched the crowds for her but without success.

  The fresh air and sunshine gradually renewed Darcy's strength. It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago she was in the filthy hold of the ship, and now she walked through the streets of Providence on the arm of a gentleman. Yes, he is a British officer, but this is the New World, not Ireland.

  As they approached a two-story tavern, Darcy looked up at the sign swinging overhead and said deliberately, "Welles' Oyster House."

  Colonel Lawrence looked startled. "You read?"

  Darcy said with a shrug, "And write."

  The tavern was dark and filled with smoke, there was a bar lined with fresh oysters and clams where a bartender in a white apron dished up delicacies. Darcy had never seen so many fine clothes. The establishment was filled with people drinking and laughing, and Colonel Lawrence took her to a table in back where it was quieter. Darcy had never dined in a tavern before, and she watched him closely, mimicking his manners. The colonel did not seem to notice. He was too busy studying her physical attributes. His eyes traveled from her dark hair, over her face and shoulders and down to her round breasts.

  The owner fussed over their table like a mother hen, disappointed when Darcy declined the oysters. Even with the coaxing of Colonel Lawrence, she refused the stuffed quahogs. They reminded her too much of the old days scouring the beaches of Kerry for food. She decided that the mutton pie was a better choice instead. Pushing a mug of ale over to her, Colonel Lawrence started the conversation. "Now to business, is the indentured service to pay for ship's passage?" he asked.

  "No, I'm a convict," she said, jerking her chin in the air.

  His eyes narrowed. He wasn‘t sure he liked this new information. "A convict, what was your crime?"

  "Smuggling goods to the French," she replied.

  "It seems a light sentence for such a crime. You are very lucky."

  "Oh, I'm very lucky," she said sarcastically.

  He shook his head. "I have heard of this occurring on the west coast of Ireland. Was that your home?"

  "It was.”

  He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. "The west coast is exceedingly poor. How, then, did you learn to read?"

  "We smuggled a Jesuit priest into our town. He taught me to read and write."

  The Colonel chuckled and took a pull off of his ale. In spite of her rebellious nature, he found Darcy extremely engaging. He did not want to be saddled with a professional courtesan or an adventuress though, so he asked, "Have you been a housekeeper for a gentleman before?"

  Darcy knew what he meant. "I may be a convict, Colonel Lawrence, but I'm not a whore," she stated.

  Lawrence smiled slowly. He was satisfied, and as the evening passed, he found his interests in her heighten. They discussed many things over dinner. He found her intelligent as well as physically desirable. He told her that he would be in Providence only a short time before taking command of a fort in upper Massachusetts Colony.

  "Should I purchase your service, you would be venturing into a very dangerous area. It is unsettled and extremely rugged. I don't need a woman who will be a burden to me."

  Darcy lifted her pewter mug, took a drink of ale and said, "Colonel Lawrence, I assure you I have survived more privation than you can ever know, and you'll find that I am far from a shrinking violet although I guard my independence jealously."

  "I would not call being an indentured servant, independence." he argued.

  "True, I do not have my physical independence, but there is no man who will ever own me."

  Colonel Lawrence raised
his eyebrows at her cheeky response. He enjoyed her saucy attitude, and he decided that he must have her. He stood up, took her hand from the table and lifted her from her seat saying, "Come, we have papers to sign."

  They returned to the ship, and a most delighted Captain Bingley produced the papers for Colonel Lawrence to inspect. Darcy was curious about the terms of the servitude, and she leaned over Lawrence's back to read the document. She scanned it and was about to look away when she saw the day's date inscribed on the bottom of the page. The line read, "The city of Providence, April 20th, 1757."

  She shook her head and chuckled. This was indeed the final insult. Today was her birthday.

  Chapter 17

  Darcy stretched on her luxurious bed in the temporary quarters of Colonel Nathan Lawrence. She was not expected downstairs until nine, and she had plenty of time to drink in her new surroundings. Modest quarters had been provided for Colonel Lawrence on Benefit Street in Providence, but to Darcy they might as well have been Versailles. She ran her hand over the cream duvet that covered her bed and reached up to touch the curtains which hung in thick folds at all four posters. The highly polished hardwood floor felt cool to her bare feet as she stood up to look out the second-story window.