"Fish hooks," he said. "I noticed you were having trouble finding one this afternoon. If I had known you were such an avid sportswoman, Elise, I would have been better prepared. But I hope you'll find these satisfactory."
"I have never been able to understand how you Americans can regard hard tack and beef jerky as food," I retorted. "Surely in the midst of so much abundance—" I unwrapped the hooks and my mouth fell open. I swallowed hard and mumbled my thanks, unable to pull my eyes away from the paper the hooks had been wrapped in.
It was a cheap handbill, the kind they printed up by the thousands on traveling printing presses to advertise medicine shows, slave auctions, impromptu sales and offerings of property in the west by the United States Land Office. It was crumpled and faded into near-illegibility, but the words seemed to jump out at me: "Wanted for murder and inciting slaves to rebellion in Shenandoah County," it read. "Light-skinned octoroon known as Frenchie, eighteen years old, branded R on left shoulder."
There was more but I couldn't read it. Joseph reached over and took the thing out of my hands, and spreading it out on his knee he read it slowly. Then he dropped it in the fire and we watched as it blackened and turned to ashes. My mouth felt dry. My hands were shaking and my hot tea was spilling out of my mug. I looked at Garth. He was enjoying his meal, taking an occasional pull of whiskey to wash down the potatoes and fish, not even watching me. I sighed inaudibly and hoped I hadn't given myself away.
"More tea, 'Lise?" Joseph offered, taking my cup. "How about a tot of this whiskey here?" I nodded. "Yes, I think this tea would be improved with some liquor in it." He shoved the cup into my hands and I drank. My hands stopped shaking.
Garth stood up and stretched lazily. "I'll sleep on the boat tonight," he said. "We'll get an early start tomorrow, before dawn. Don't stay up too late." He moved away into the vast darkness that lay beyond the rim of cozy firelight.
"Why did he do that?" I whispered at Joseph when he had gone. "Why did he bring that thing here if he didn't suspect something? He—he might betray me to those people! I wouldn't put it past him. He hates me so—"
"Stop it," said Joseph sharply. "It was just a coincidence, nothing more. And so what if he did find out? He wouldn't turn you over to the slave catcher, 'Lise."
"You—you don't know him, Joseph," I said. "He'd like nothing better than to see me hang. Then he'd be rid of me for good. I—I wonder if he knows already! Perhaps he even put Georgette and Arnold up to it! I didn't think of it before, but he must have! Why didn't he come to the cottage that morning? Why was he in such a hurry to leave for Washington? Because he helped his wife concoct the whole scheme, and then he left before anyone could involve him. His money paid for everything, Joseph!"
"Why are you talking crazy, woman? I know he wronged you, 'Lise, but that's no reason to take on like that. Garth wouldn't sell you. He thinks too highly of you."
"Oh, Joseph, don't be ridiculous. Thinks highly of me? No, he's evil and cruel. He did it, I know he did!" I began to tremble again. "He hates me and wants me dead. And so do you, Joseph! You've brought me out here to kill me! Oh, God, what am I going to do?"
Joseph snorted disgustedly. "You're tired and upset by seeing that thing. Just go to sleep and forget this foolishness. Good night, 'Lise."
I fell on the sand and buried my face in my arms. I was badly frightened. Just when I had thought I was free Garth had managed to remind me that I wasn't. I was a branded fugitive, a murderess, a hunted criminal. I wasn't safe anywhere. I couldn't trust him. I couldn't trust anyone, not even Joseph.
I moaned aloud. What was the matter with me? I was losing my mind. Joseph was my friend, even if Garth was not. Joseph would protect me from Garth. And I would have to be watchful and protect myself.
My nerves were taut and strained. For the next two days I was silent and suspicious, keeping to myself, glowering at Garth and daring him to say something, anything that would give me an excuse to fly into a magnificent, glorious rage that he would never forget. I half convinced myself that he was responsible for my enslavement, and that his attitude towards me reflected his anger that I hadn't perished at the hands of my masters.
He returned my baleful looks, his light blue eyes shining eerily out of his deeply tanned face. When the weather was fine he shed his shirt and boots. The sun played on his tawny gold skin and on his smooth, rippling muscles. He looked handsome and threatening, like a demon prince, and sometimes I was amazed that I had ever desired him. I feared and loathed him now, and he felt the same about me.
We were caught in a violent storm when we were about thirty miles north of Norfolk. Our small schooner rocked and pitched violently in the high winds. When Joseph was wrestling with the wheel, Garth shouted at me to help him take in the mainsail. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him silently, making no move to obey his orders.
"I've tied the wheel down," shouted Joseph over the roar of the wind. He came over to us. "I'll help you—"
"No." Garth silenced him angrily. "She can help us or she can swim for it. You have a choice, Elise. Either pull your weight on this boat or—"
"Look, Garth," Joseph said reasonably, "I'm responsible for Elise. Don't—"
"This isn't a pleasure cruise, Joseph," Garth told him. "This storm is getting worse, and goddamn her, it's about time she did something around here besides acting like a goddamn queen bee. She can help out or she can go hang." I stiffened at that. "Well, Elise?"
I took a breath and prepared to tell him to go to Hell. A huge wave swamped the deck. I lost my footing and went tumbling over the side into the icy water. I went under immediately, then surfaced, gasping, then went under again. Tons of water pounded at me, twisting me around so that I quickly became disoriented and dizzy. Whenever I bobbed up to the top I gulped some air and looked around desperately for the Sea Demon, but I couldn't see over the waves. The water dragged at my skirts and when I tried to tread water I found that my legs were imprisoned. I tore at the clothes that entrapped me, but my fingers were already stiff and numb and the waves pulled my hands away from my garments whenever I got a hold on them. I shouted lustily once or twice, inhaling gallons of seawater with every cry. Soon I felt myself growing weaker. I began to slide under the waves into black, chilling oblivion, and I couldn't save myself. I thought wonderingly and a trifle sadly, "So this is how it's going to end."
Then I heard Garth's voice over the wind. "Elise, over here!"
I opened my eyes and saw him swimming towards me. He was only a few feet away. I stretched out my hands towards him, then the waves grabbed me again and sucked me down.
He reached me. I felt him tugging at my hair, pulling me out of the silence into the din once more. I clutched at him desperately and wound my arms tightly around his neck. He choked and we went under together, wrapped in each other's arms. When we came up again he was in back of me, gripping me tightly across the chest. With his free hand he ripped at my skirts and disposed of the tangle around my legs. Then slowly he started to drag me back to the boat. Joseph was shouting at us. I couldn't tell where his voice was coming from, but Garth seemed to know and to follow it. After an eternity we reached the Sea Demon and Joseph hauled us aboard. I lay face down on the madly tilting deck while Garth worked over me, beating the life back into me. I meekly muttered a protest which he ignored. Finally he eased up and helped me to sit while Joseph poured whiskey down my throat. I choked and vomited and drank more whiskey. It felt like fire and tasted like bile, but it spread welcome warmth through my frozen limbs. I shook my head and looked at Garth through bleary eyes.
"Go to Hell," I said before lapsing into semi-consciousness.
He picked me up and carried me down to the cabin. I was nearly naked, except for a short chemise that clung wetly to my flesh. He tore it off with a single sweep of his hand, then wrapped me in a rough blanket and tossed me none too gently onto a bunk. He went up on deck, and I could hear him and Joseph shouting at each other although I couldn't make out what they were
saying. I didn't care anyway. I felt bruised and exhausted, and I fell asleep.
We rode out the storm with no real damage to the schooner. When we reached Norfolk the next morning I was feeling almost normal again, although I didn't try to show my face above deck until Garth had gone ashore. When he returned a few hours later he glanced at me impatiently and made no reference to the episode the day before. His face looked drawn and weary.
"Our navy, such as it is, is gone," he said bitterly. "They were attacked by the British a couple of weeks ago and many of their ships were lost. The rest are under repair or on their way up the Chesapeake to Baltimore. There isn't anyone who can take a message for us, I'm afraid. Damn. We can try to get a crew, but I don't think we'll have much luck. I think we three will have to manage by ourselves."
Joseph shook his head doubtfully. "It's a long way, man. Nearly two thousand miles around Florida and up the gulf."
"Not that far," Garth corrected him. "Fifteen hundred at the most."
"This is the worst time of year for this kind of trip," Joseph pointed out. "You know that."
"What do you expect me to do about it?" Garth exploded. "Fly my report by carrier pigeon? I'm not exactly looking forward to the prospect of a month's sail on this tub." He scowled at me. I tilted my chin up and faced him without blinking. "All I know is we have to reach New Orleans before the British do, and we don't even know how much time we have."
"You're crazy!" I told him. "I don't care what you do or where you go, but don't think that I'm about to go with you, because I'm not! I'm going to Philadelphia. Joseph, you promised me! I don't want to go back to New Orleans and I don't want to sail with you. I'll run away. I'll go to Philadelphia alone!"
Joseph said quietly, "You'd never make it past Virginia, 'Lise."
I knew what he meant. The handbills. The description. I would be caught and hanged if I tried to travel alone. As long as I was in this part of the country I was in danger. I had no choice. I would have to go with Garth to New Orleans.
"But—but the Sea Demon is too small," I protested. "Unseaworthy. We'll drown, all of us, and your precious papers will drown, too. Are you some kind of madman, Garth McClelland? Don't you know when a thing's impossible? We'll be caught. We—we need more men, a bigger ship!"
Garth sighed and shook his head, "You're all the extra crew I'll need, Elise, if you do what you're told and behave yourself. Surely being a pirate taught you something about boats, and I'll teach you the rest. And the Sea Demon is perfectly seaworthy."
I was trapped. I said despairingly, "I won't go with you! You can't force me. I won't go!" But I could tell from the set of his jaw and the steely glint in his eyes that argument was futile. I looked to Joseph for support. He was trying to look sad and sympathetic, but I could tell that he really wanted to go. The promise of adventure was just too tempting, too exciting. He was aching to strike at the British.
"Oh, you—you men!" I sputtered angrily. I stalked down the beach and cursed the waves and the sky and the madness that makes men want to be one with them. A vision of a month on that small schooner with Garth McClelland loomed in front of me. I knew what I was in for. Two men. A boat. The wide, wide Atlantic Ocean. And me. What a crew. What a stupid scheme. What a nightmare.
Joseph and Garth decided that the next two weeks would be wisely spent overhauling the boat, getting her ready for the trip to New Orleans. I did not suffer their madness in silence, but my complaints and logical objections meant no more to them than the bits of flotsam that floated around the pilings of the pier at Norfolk. I slept on the boat at night. Garth suggested that I might be more comfortable at the inn in town, but I was afraid of meeting anyone who might connect me with the Frenchie of the handbill. He had no reason to avoid civilization, however, and frequently spent whole nights away from the schooner and came back at dawn reeking of whiskey, cigar smoke and cheap perfume. I told myself that I ought to be grateful: as long as he was giving the local ladies the pleasure of his company he would be unlikely to bother me. But I still felt irritated and annoyed when I saw him returning after a night's absence.
"I thought you were in a hurry to get to New Orleans," I said one morning as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot that I kept on the campfire on the beach.
He sipped slowly. "I am."
"Then why don't you spend more time working on your boat and less with—with those tarts."
He looked up at me. "Angling for customers, Elise? I'm a charitable man. You should have told me you needed the money. I'm always glad to oblige a lady."
I flushed "How—how dare you talk to me that way? What gives you the right to slander me, Garth McClelland!"
He stood up, smiling. "What gives you the right to poke your little nose into my business, Madame?" He ducked and laughed as I hurled the coffee pot at his head. "Just let me know when you're available for business. What is it they say: charity begins at home? I would assume your rates are reasonable—"
I picked up a crowbar and charged him. He wrested it neatly out of my hand, and before I even knew what was happening I was lying on my back on the sand.
"You—you tripped me!" I fumed.
"And you tried to stave my head in. That makes us even." He offered his hand to help me up. "Truce?" he grinned.
I spat at him. He walked to the boat, whistling cheerfully. Soon I could hear the sound of hammering. Cursing, I got to my feet and collected the coffee pot and crowbar and wondered why I had started a fight with him so early in the morning. I knew damned well I couldn't win, and it just ruined my whole day.
Finally we were ready to sail. Garth remodeled the cabin, enlarging the space somewhat and building storage lockers under the bunks. The hold, forward of the cabin, and lockers were stuffed with dried meat, potatoes, apples and oranges, flour, salt, sugar, tea, coffee, whiskey, gunpowder in waterproof tins, blankets, warm clothes, and small casks for fresh water. The Sea Demon was even armed: Garth had found a small cannon, a twenty-pounder, which he had mounted in the prow. I had armed myself with a fine dagger and sheath that I bought from a peddler in Norfolk with money I borrowed from Joseph, who had to borrow from Garth. I couldn't bring myself to ask Garth for it, and even so he had great fun calling me Madame Buccaneer and offering to teach me how to throw my knife. I made a point of wearing the weapon at all times, jammed in the waistband of the tight-fitting cord breeches I had made myself for the journey.
Garth had equipped himself with compass, sextant, and other navigational tools, and with charts of the coast down to Florida. He studied these diligently and marked what looked like good hiding places. He would stick close to the coastline most of the way in order to avoid meeting any enemy ships on the open sea, where we would have no hope of outrunning them. We would have a better chance of escaping them if we were close to the dangerous shoals and shallows that they would wish to avoid. And we could easily put into shore at any time for fresh water and game.
We left Norfolk and sailed into the Atlantic on a misty morning in early October. Word had reached us of the attack on Baltimore, and Garth was sure the British would head for the Gulf Coast next. I soon learned that tempers on board the Sea Demon mirrored the mood of the sea. When the skies were clear and a brisk wind from the north carried us swiftly down the coast towards New Orleans, we were buoyant and cheerful. Garth was inclined to overlook my shortcomings as a sailor, and I managed to temper my dislike of him enough so that an uneasy truce existed between us. But gathering clouds dampened our spirits, and in heavy winds and high seas emotions rose accordingly.
Joseph was caught squarely in the middle. He tried his best to act as counselor and mediator when Garth and I squabbled, but his success was usually short-lived.
"Damn it, Elise, don't let that boom swing around like that," Garth shouted at me one day when he were bucking a strong headwind and I was fighting with the foresail.
"The rope slipped out of my hands," I retorted. "It wasn't my fault."
"It's always your fault whe
n something goes wrong on this boat," he snapped. "Don't let the rope slip out of your hands. Why can't you hang on to it?"
"Because I can't!" I yelled. I could feel my cheeks growing red, as they always did when we quarreled. "It's not as though I haven't tried. My hands are rough and bleeding from trying. Look, look if you don't believe me." I shoved my upturned hands in front of his nose. "I have cuts and splinters and bruises on every part of my body. I hate this wretched boat and I hate you. Why did you make me come? I know why! So you could torture and browbeat me! If I didn't loathe you so much I wouldn't make mistakes!"
"By all means blame your clumsiness on me," he said with heavy sarcasm. "I'm only trying to teach you."
"Teach me!" I flung my head back. "What a joke! You couldn't teach a fish to swim."
"So I'm a miserable bully because I don't give in to your whining and sniveling," he snorted impatiently. "I have better things to do than pander to a woman who thinks everything should be made easy for her because she's—" He swallowed the word, turned his head and spat into the ocean.
"Beautiful?" I finished for him. "Is that what you were going to say? Don't make me laugh, Garth. I've paid for my beauty every day of my life since I met you. I've paid and paid and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of men and I'm sick of you. You have the impudence to sneer at me, Garth McClelland, because you just happened to be the first man to take advantage of me. Bravo, McClelland, for getting there first. Bravo! For being the first in a long line of greedy—pigs!" I hurled the word at him.
We were breathing hard, both of us. I watched his face go pale under his new growth of beard, then dark with anger.
Just then Joseph strolled over, moistened his forefinger and held it up between us. "I thought I felt a little squall blowing up," he said. "Strong winds and fifty-foot waves. But I think it will pass, don't you, Garth?"
Garth and I glared at each other. Then he laughed humorlessly and turned his back on me. My face was burning. I took a breath and was about to shower him with insults when Joseph rested a warning hand on my arm. I looked up at him, and he shook his head gently.
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