by Smith, Skye
Her toes were losing feeling. Her fingers were losing feeling. She must swim. She heard a voice calling and swam towards it. "Ahoy, are you fit? What was the scream?." She must swim, she must swim. Her Puritan smock had bubbled and was lifting her so she was not sinking, but it was also tangling her legs and stopping her from doing the frog kick. She was going nowhere fast. The cold water no longer felt like it was burning. It felt like it was stinging.
Something scratched her back and suddenly she felt like she was going backwards. She twisted her neck to see. The dory was following her and a man had snagged a bubble in her smock with a gaff and was pulling her towards him. She used her arms and her legs to push herself faster backwards than he was pulling, so she could loosen herself from the bubble. She twisted and twisted and finally she was free of the ruined smock.
Air, she needed air. She had been twisting underwater. Now without the floatation of the smock she was sinking. She could see the lantern on the bow up through the water. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. Her lungs were bursting. She used her arms, she kicked her legs like a toad and finally her mouth was above water. This time she remembered to breath out first. Then she started to pant. Oh, she was so cold, but now she was just in her silk slip. It clung close to her body, but allowed her legs to kick freely.
She struck out with arms and legs as she had been taught to swim. Long easy strokes, powerful kicks, moving quickly through the water and keeping her breath in time with her strokes. Her eyes stung and she could not see clearly which way she was swimming. She was so cold. She was going to drown. She did not want to drown. Not that. Not without seeing Jon again. Not without kissing Jim good-bye.
She saw the shape of the dory and she gave up. She had lost. She used the last of her strength to paddle close to it. She had no choice. It was those three piggy men, or drown. The frustration of it, the unfairness of it made her want to scream, but she could not. Her teeth were chattering too hard. She turned onto her back and floated, waiting to be grabbed and dragged into debauchery. Everything became very calm and surreal. The moon was just coming up out of the Atlantic. It was silver and formed ghosts in the mists.
A big hand had her by the slip at her chest and pulled her to the side of the dory. Another hand twisted itself into her braids. With a great heave the man pulled her into the dory and over on top of him.
"Are you a mermaid?" said a deep voice filled with wonder.
She opened her eyes and stared down at the man's face in the glare of a very bright fishing lantern. It was Bear. She tried to speak but she had no voice. She tried again. It came out as a squeak. "Bear, help me. Oh please, I am so cold."
Bear scrambled free of her and sat curled in the bottom of the dory as if terrified. "You are blue. Your lips are blue. Britta, is that you Britta?" He pulled at the lanyard around his neck and put the whistle that was hung there to his lips and blew it as hard as he could. Three long loud blasts. The sound seemed to give him courage for he sat up on the bench and pushed the oars out. He opened his oiled slicker and lifted the girl up onto the bench between his legs and hugged her close and closed the slicker around her. Then he started to row towards the Johan Bee.
Another dory was trailing them, running with a dim light. "Don't let them catch us Bear," she whispered. Bear dug the oars in deep and pulled with his full weight and the strength of his massive shoulders and the dory leaped forward. And then again and again and again he pulled, and they hurtled away from the other dory as if it were at anchor.
"Shit, Bear!" called a voice from behind them. "veer off quick!" Bear dragged and then pushed on both oars and then lifted one and pushed with the other. The dory swung wildly and crunched against something very big and solid and the oar on that side went flying. Bear lost his balance and fell sideways.
"Take her, take her! Warm her! She has blue lips!" yelled Bear. "I did not do it. It wasn't me."
"Take who? What are you saying?"
Bear pulled himself to his knees and ripped open the front of his slicker and the sodden limp form of a girl fell forward away from him.
"Ah Jesus!" came a howling cry. "Oy Britta, what have they done to you?"
Bear almost threw her into the old skipper's arms. There were dories heading towards the sloop from every direction. Three sharp whistles was a signal that no seaman would ignore. Bear tied off his dory and then half rolled, half pulled himself on board the sloop. He picked the near naked girl out of the old man's arms and then headed for the cockpit.
The old man yelled to Bear's back, "I will get some blankets and fill some bottles with hot water. Lay her on the steering bench, I won't be long. Meanwhile rub her arms and legs to keep the blood moving."
There was a bump as another dory came alongside. The sloop rocked as another man climbed on board. "What is it Bear?" asked David. "Did you cut your hand again, or did a dog fish bite it off this time?" He came back to the cockpit and looked down at where Bear was sitting, expecting to see blood. Bear was rubbing the arms and legs of a young woman whose skin was a ghastly white. His father threw some blankets up on deck through a hatch, and David grabbed them and took them to Bear. Then he went back to be passed the hot bottles.
Together they wrapped her tight in blankets and shoved hot bottles down between her back and the blankets.
"It's no use. She needs true warmth, like from a fire," said the old man.
"Our brazier is useless for more than heating the water. The closest fire is ashore. It's too far. She won't make it. She is barely breathing," replied David.
"David," said the old man, "strip. Everything. Strip. You, Bear. Unroll her from the blanket and get her out of that wet slip." He spread out another dry blanket. "Lie here, David. Bear, lay her on top of him. Now hug her, David, like you are making love to her, and we will wrap you in every blanket we have and shove hot bottles down them." He started to wrap the blankets tight around the two young naked bodies. "And mind you, David. Keep your pecker out of her, else so help me I will whip you till you bleed."
Bear came up through the hatch with more hot bottles. He pulled away at the bottom of the blanket and pushed them against Britta's feet. He pushed another down from the top of the blanket, which was wrapped over both heads, and David grabbed it and pulled it down between them and then found her hands and held them to it.
Britta stirred. She wanted to scream. Her toes and fingers hurt, oh how they hurt. And she couldn't stop shaking. She felt a man holding her close. His skin felt hot, burning hot. She wriggled closer to him. "Jim, oh Jim you feel so good." She found that if she pressed her lips to his neck she could feel the warmth in them again. She felt his hard against her belly, throbbing. "Jim, you be good," she whispered and then all she could think of was the smell of fish.
"Who are you?" she cried out suddenly. This wasn't Jim. Where was she? Who was this? What had she done? She tried to fight but she could barely move her arms.
"Be calm, Britta," David whispered. "It's just me, David. We fished you out of the drink. I am just trying to get you warm again."
"Bear," she moaned.
"Bear is here. He has gone to get more hot bottles. You frightened him. He thought you were dying, and he didn't know what to do to save you."
Her mind cleared. She must get out of this blanket. She must see the Dartmouth. She started to squirm, to try to swim out of the blankets.
"Careful with that knee lest you ruin me for wife," said David. "You want to get out? All right, but we will have to be unwound by Bear. Be still till he comes back," She relaxed against his chest and he rolled them both so that he was on his back again with her on top. That loosened the blankets and let his full warmth flow up into her. Their heads were now almost free of the tight blankets.
She felt his hands move down her back and cup her bum. She did not stop him. She snuggled deeper into his warmth and tried to ignore the pervasive smell of fish. Too soon, Bear returned, and David called on him to unwrap the blankets. Once they were loosened, he crawled away from her so
that she was left with the warmest inner blanket. She rolled it tight against her again and then rolled herself onto her belly and kneeled up.
"David, can you see the Dartmouth?" she asked.
"Aye. They are dumping the tea into the sea. Been at it for more than an hour."
"Why aren't you collecting it?" she asked.
"Whatsay?"
"The tea. If you can collect any tea that is not yet wet," and then she added " and does not smell of fish, it is worth two shillings a pound."
"Two shillings a pound? Lads!" he yelled to the other dory men who were now alongside. " How can we collect the tea they's dumping without it being made wet or smelling of fish?"
"We've got those new staysails," said one of the men. "If we douse the lanterns and lay the new sails over our gunnels and then row about under where they are dumping, we will fill our dories with the stuff."
"Right you are. I'll fetch them sails quick like. Let's go trawl for tea."
* * * * *
David stayed behind with the skipper. He told them that he would run up some sail on the sloop and help the skipper to bring it close in to the Dartmouth to shorten the row back for the men. It was a good story because it was true, but the real reason he stayed behind was because he wanted to stay close to Britta.
"How are we going to store the tea once we get it aboard?" asked David. "The hold reeks of fish. Even the quarters down below reek."
"Dump out all of our clothing chests. Dump out the fresh water barrels. Hell, use all the fire buckets. Anything that will hold the leaf and keep it dry," said the skipper. "Oye, that's strange. Come have a look with your young eyes. What are those men throwing overboard?"
"Looks like rum kegs." replied David, "Could be brandy. No, maybe not. They are floating too high. Look, there is a dory gone to have a look."
"Who is it? Bear?" asked the skipper. "I hope he doesn't get too close. Stupid bugger's likely to get himself conked by one of them kegs."
"It's not Bear. It's not one of ours." said David.
Britta roused herself from her exhaustion and hobbled over to the men in her blanket. "They are John Brown's men. Up to no good. It was they that abducted me. They were going to use me and then sell me to a Newport brothel."
"We could swing over there and have a better look," suggested David.
"Not likely. Why look for trouble?" said the skipper. "But we should put on some more sail and get closer to our own dories. Jump to it, boy."
The sloop came around and started to gain speed. The skipper slacked off the rudder to slow her down. Britta sat with him beside the great wheel. She never took her eyes off Brown's dory. Brown's crew were pulling keg after keg out of the water and into the dory.
Now they seemed to have finished pulling kegs in, and had turned and two men were rowing. There was no sign of the third man. The skipper pointed to the dory. "You'll get your wish soon. On that course they'll pass close by. You'll have a good look." He stood to see better. "Take the wheel Britta, while I go for'd for a closer look."
Britta slid along the bench and grabbed the wheel. She could tell that the rudder was slack, not in trim with the set of the sails. David and the skipper were amidships talking. "Dammit, no. They are not going to get away with it." she said to herself. She spun the wheel and felt the rudder dig in, the sails fill, and the sloop leap forward.
David caught the skipper and stopped him from falling. Then holding onto him, he sat down on a hatch cover to assure his own balance. He could hear the mast straining and creaking. He looked back at Britta. "What are you doing?" he yelled.
"Cutting through some flotsam!" she yelled back.
David looked forward to see what flotsam she was talking about, just as the bow carved through a dory. He saw three men jump for their lives into the cold sea. The crushed dory began screeching and tearing as it rolled over and over underneath the sloop. Parts of it were floating aside, now truly flotsam. Around the sloop an occasional keg bobbed to the surface. Some were split and shattered and bobbed up only to fill with water and sink again.
Both David and the skipper raced back to the cockpit and the skipper grabbed the wheel from Britta. David yelled out, "There's men in the water! Turn her into the wind so I can pull my dory up and get to them before they drown."
Britta was about to say, "let them drown," but swallowed her words. Instead she reached behind the wheel and unhooked the hatchet that was kept there for emergencies. She loosened her blanket a bit, so she could waddle with her legs to follow David. By the time she caught up to him, he had pulled his dory alongside and so she jumped in.
"No, get out. You'll get cold again."
"I'll steer, you row," she said.
"I just saw how you steer," he said. She pouted at him and he relented. It was always faster to row when there was someone on the rudder. You could put your whole body into the oars without worrying about balance and heading. He had hardly started rowing when he heard the bump-bump noise of flotsam running along the hull. She told him to brake with the oars and he did so.
She reached over the gunnels with a fish gaff and pulled a floating keg closer, then she lifted the hatchet high and slammed it down on the lid. The wood split and the seals broke and the lid came loose. She used the gaff to push it under water, then she watched it, just to make sure it sank. It did, slowly to be sure, but it sank.
David meanwhile was searching around for heads. He thought that was why she had asked him to brake. The men should be hereabouts, close to all this flotsam. He watched Britta reach out with the gaff and bob another floating keg towards her. Again she hit it with the hatchet and sank it.
Britta was looking around but she wasn't looking for heads. She was looking for kegs. After a few minutes more, and some fits and starts on the oars, she had sunk five. She could see only one more. She pointed it out to David so he could start rowing.
"You're right Britta. There is a man using it as a float. Well at least we can save one of them."
Britta was silent. She steered the dory up beside the keg. The man was holding onto it for dear life. He looked up at her. She raised her hatchet high above her head. His eyes registered the move and he screamed in terror. The hatchet came down hard, but missed his fingers, and split the keg. It started to fill with water.
David held an oar out to the man. All he had to do was leave go of the keg and grab the oar and he was saved. His head disappeared beneath the next wave. He did not let go of the keg. He went down with it. David was angry and frustrated. He had not been able to save a single man.
Britta smiled. It was done. The kegs were gone. The opium was gone. She gave up fighting sleep and curled up beside the rudder.
* * * * *
* * * * *
MAYA'S AURA - Destroy the Tea Party by Skye Smith
Chapter 27 - Cleaning up after the Party
When she woke again she was back on the Johan Bee and it was under sail. There was a line of dories strung out behind them and the dory men were sat all around her in the cockpit. She could barely open her eyes, whereas they were singing and passing around a jug of home-made rum.
David sat her up and forced her to swallow some. "You said two shillings a pound? Well ,we think we have a thousand pounds of dry tea. We are trying to figure out how much that is in pounds sterling but we keep coming up with a stupidly big number."
"A hundred pounds."
"That’s the number," said David as he forced her to take another swig.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Back to the town dock, of course. We need to be first to the market with this tea."
"But it is stolen," she exclaimed. "They will arrest you and confiscate it. You must land it in secret."
"No lass. It's salvage. It's ours free and legal. Ya know that shop of yourn. Do you have room to store a thousand pounds of tea there?"
"I suppose, though I don't usually buy it by the hundred weight. Bear, give me another try at that jug," she said.
* *
* * *
David was first off the sloop when it berthed. "I must take Britta back to the shop. Her brother will be frantic and I must make sure that Winnie is safe." He stood on the dock next to the cockpit. "Here Bear, hand her to me."
"She's sleeping, David, so I will carry her." The giant man stood and ever so carefully swept the blanket roll of girl into his arms as if she were an infant. "You lead, I follow."
The streets were empty, yet it was not late. Still not ten. "Everyone must be at the tea ships," said David. When they got to the Anchor, there were lights on in the shop. David left Bear by the door and went to a window to look in.
Bear did not wait. The door was not latched. He walked in, carrying the sleeping girl. A group of men and Winnie stared at him from beside the fireplace. He recognized Winnie and he started walking towards her.
John Hancock saw the size of the man coming through the door and assumed it was John Brown. He hissed "There you are, you fiend. What have you done with the girl?"
The angry words made Bear hesitate. "It wasn't my fault," he said. "It was some other blokes. She is warm again now, but she drank too much rum. That wasn't my fault either. She liked it."
* * * * *
"Never have I seen such a simple plan so fouled up and in ruins," said John Brown to Paul Revere. It was barely a half hour after first light, and they were walking together along the shore near to Griffin's Wharf. "The plan was to dump the tea at first dark. Five o'clock. The ebbing tide at that time would have taken the tea into deep water."
He looked along the shore. Much of the tea had floated back to shore. Some of Revere's men were trying to sink it by stepping on it and pushing it down into the water with brooms. Others were unsuccessfully trying to keep a thousand scavengers from scooping up any tea that was still dry. "The plan was to destroy the tea. All you had to do was get it wet. Was that so difficult?"
"I wasn't here until later," said Revere. "The men we sent came late, after the tide had almost stopped ebbing. They were a bit befuddled by then and didn't understand that when tea is to be shipped long distances, it is first compressed into bricks. It wasn't until it started to float into shore with the first layer wet and ruined, but the upper layers still dry and good, that they sent for me."