He nodded, excused himself and followed her to the other room.
“I’m glad yer here, love. It is worse than I could have ever dreamed.”
“What have you learned?”
Sarah paused and glanced about before leaning in. “After her mither died, she took a position as a maid to a man here in town. He provided bed and board and then told her she was his property to do with as he pleased. What she has gone through, it yanks the thoughts from my brain. Oh, Joseph, we must—”
A scream rang from the front room.
Sarah ran back, Joseph on her heels. The door to the front room stood open, and the constable held his hand to Aphra, who continued to scream.
Sarah pushed past the man to the girl and held her in her arms.
“Dunna let him take me, Mistress! Dunna let him touch me!”
“Sh-sh, it’s all right, Aphra. It’s all right. He won’t take you.”
Constable Miller, wide eyed, stuttered at Joseph. “But I must, you see. I must take her. Master Ferguson is waiting for her. He’s been searching for her.”
“No!” Aphra clung to Sarah.
Joseph put the pieces together. “What do you mean, Thomas, you must?”
“Why he came worried for her. He asked me to find her for him.”
Aphra shook her head. “No! He works for him. I told ye he has power. The constable takes a wage from him.”
Thomas Miller’s shook his head, over and over, terror in his widened eyes. “Ah, no. You can’t believe a girl like that. She’ll say anything.”
Sarah faced Joseph. He could read her thoughts, knew she would die trying to save this child.
She wouldn’t have to. No one would die here today. “Constable, we pay you your wage, our citizenry. It is to them you owe your allegiance. You will not take this child anywhere. You will, however, go with me to find our Justice of the Peace so that together we might arrest Eleazar Ferguson.”
“On what charge?” The man’s voice squeaked.
“What do you mean, what charge? He has kept this poor child a prisoner, forced himself upon her, and misused her!” Joseph had more than lost his patience.
“She is not his wife. She cannot claim wife beating.” Could the weasel hear himself?
Sarah reared tall, her voice menacing. “Ye mean to tell me that she must be wed to the beast before it is illegal to beat her? He forced himself on her. That is rape.”
Now the constable’s face turned so white, it was possible no blood flowed to his brain. “Rape?”
“Aye, rape. She is a child. He did not marry her. He kept her a prisoner. What would you call it?”
Constable Miller cleared his throat. “Might we speak in the hall?”
Joseph glanced at Sarah who waved him away. They moved to the hall.
“You do not understand what you are stirring, sir. Master Ferguson is a powerful man. It is best to do as he wishes. The results are not pleasant.” The mouse trembled.
“You can live with yourself, knowing what that man did, and allow him to continue after seeing that child in there?” Why must he point this out? Open your eyes!
“When it puts my entire family at risk, aye, that I can.”
Joseph stared, unable to grasp the depth of this man’s cowardice. “How can you live this way? How will your children think of you? You must stand for right. They will never learn unless they see you. Think, man. This is the job you agreed to. You must do it.”
The constable stared at the floor, shaking. “You think me a coward. I think the same. But I know the danger. You don’t know what you ask.”
“I am not asking. Let’s go.” Joseph shoved him out the door.
The man sputtered the whole walk to Master Waddington’s home. Did he think to change Joseph’s mind? There was no other recourse. They must stop this villain.
Once at the house of the Justice of the Peace, Constable Miller caved. His shoulders slumped, his gaze remained downcast. Joseph gave him a moment to knock, but when it didn’t happen, he did it himself.
The maid answered, leading them to the parlor. “I’ll get the master.”
Joseph thanked her and, after she left the room, took a seat. The wait was but a moment. Henry Waddington entered, smiling as if he didn’t mind the intrusion.
“Ho, Joseph, Thomas, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Hallo to you, Henry. I wish we were here on something of pleasure. Unfortunately, we are not.” Joseph stood when Henry walked into the room, Thomas had yet to take a seat.
Henry motioned for them to resume sitting as he chose a chair. “Have you learned the details of that O’Malley incident?”
Joseph shook his head. “No, it is another matter. We would like your backing to arrest Eleazar Ferguson.” Joseph scrutinized the man’s reaction at the mention of the name. If Henry took bribes too, this would be a tougher challenge.
“Eleazar Ferguson? I’m acquainted with the name. What has he done?”
“A young girl came to us today, asking to be our laundress. After spending time with my wife, she told her that Eleazar Ferguson had kept her locked in his house. She’d accepted a maid’s position, but he’s claimed her as property and misused her.”
The justice raised his chin and narrowed his eyes. “Misused? How?”
“She says rape.”
Henry Waddington’s features changed from passive to crimson and angry. “Rape? Are you sure? That is a serious charge.”
“Quite sure, sir. She is terrified of all males, even boys as young as my Jason. Her fear is real. Something has frightened her. Ferguson searched for her. He already approached the constable here to search for her and bring her back. Master Miller did not know about the claim before he agreed to do so.” Joseph glanced at Thomas. The man’s color improved. One could only hope that was true. The other possibility was far worse for him.
“Then let us be done with this. I will get my hat, and we will go arrest this beast.”
Now a weight lifted from Joseph. He didn’t want to think ill of Master Waddington, hoping the man was above bribery.
Joseph stood, motioned for Thomas to precede him, as they followed the Justice of the Peace out of his home.
* * *
Eleazar Ferguson rang the bell for tea. His housekeeper didn’t do as good a job with it as Aphra, but soon the girl would be back. Maybe he would keep her on, just to make his tea. That is unless the O’Malley girl brewed a good cuppa.
But, Aphra knew things. And that she hadn’t returned to him right away only proved she could not be trusted. He must get rid of her.
Hopefully that stupid constable would bring her back. He’d been vague enough, and generous enough, that the man should get the meaning without having a prick of conscience to bother him. After pulling out his watch, he decided to give the man one hour more before he encouraged his progress.
A knock sounded at the front door. No need to rise, his housekeeper would handle it.
“Sir, there are some gentlemen here to see you.”
“Show them in, show them in.”
Eleazar stood, tugging his cuffs, a ready smile to greet his visitors. Few came unannounced. Not many dared. But the way his housekeeper said “gentlemen,” he wondered if it might be a social call.
The parlor door opened to the constable and justice of the peace.
Eleazar’s smile increased.
Then Master Crockett brought up the rear.
Eleazar’s smile vanished. It was not a social call, he knew. Still, he could play the part. “To what do I owe the honor, sirs?
The constable’s face betrayed him as he appeared to fade behind the justice. This was not good.
Justice Waddington stepped forward. “We are here because charges have been made against you, Master Ferguson.”
“Charges? Against me? What charges might those be?”
“Do you know a girl who goes by the name Aphra?” The justice was all business. He was not to be dissuaded.
“Aye, I d
o. I’m concerned for her well-being. She said she was looking for customers, that she wanted to expand her laundry business. But then she did not return. I began to fret, I confess. So, I asked Constable Miller to investigate. Has he found her?” His heart pounded in his chest, but he was not about to give them the satisfaction of showing fear. He did not show fear.
“Aye, she’s been found. Please come with us.”
Now he was confused. Had something really happened to the girl? Was she dead? Did they blame him? “Why? Why do you need me to come? Where?”
“Master Eleazar Ferguson, you are under arrest for the rape and abduction of the girl Aphra.”
The blood left his face. She had told. How much did she say? He couldn’t afford to go to jail. They might learn everything. Then a darker thought hit him. They wouldn’t have to learn more. Rape was a capital offense.
No, he wouldn’t hang, not for that piece of trash. “I will go with you. May I get my hat?”
The justice nodded.
Eleazar moved to the hall, put his hat on his head and picked up his walking stick. He could feel the men’s presence behind him, following him from the room. Turning, he called over his shoulder. “Mary, put the tea on hold—”
He swung out with his stick, dropped it, and raced through the door. At the first step he was tackled from behind, knocked down the porch stairs. The other person held him fast.
Everything in his nature clawed, swung, punched, kicked. He must get away. He heard a whuff as his assailant’s breath was knocked from him.
Eleazar grabbed his opportunity. Scrambling to his feet, one step, two, someone yanked his leg from behind, pulling him flat to the ground. He landed face first. A weight smashed his back.
“Constable, do you have anything to bind your prisoner?” It was the voice of that Crockett man, puffing as he spoke.
“Aye. A set of manacles.”
Moments later Eleazar felt the metal clamping his wrists before they dragged him to his feet.
“Let us to the jail.” Master Waddington slapped Eleazar’s hat on his head and led the way. Masters Miller and Crockett walked on either side, lugging him.
Jail. What was he to do? It wasn’t the first time he’d faced death, but this was the tightest situation he’d met. He must think fast, starting now.
* * *
“Och! What happened to ye?” The shock of seeing Joseph with a split lip and swelling eye brought Sarah running. “Oh, love, does it hurt?” She touched his cheekbone.
He winced. “Aye, it hurts.”
She pulled him to the kitchen, making him sit on the stool while she gathered a rag and basin of water.
He chuckled until she put the damp rag to his lip. “Ow!”
She stopped, rag in the air. “What happened, Joseph?”
“Aphra won’t need to worry about Eleazar Ferguson. He was arrested and taken to jail.”
Sarah exhaled and sat on his lap. “So, she’s safe.”
“For now. He still goes to trial. She will need to testify.”
No! She hopped up. “Oh, Joseph, I don’t think she can.” Shaking her head, she imagined the look of terror on the poor child’s face. “What will happen if she canna testify?”
He took her hands in his. “She must testify. If she refuses, he goes free.”
Chapter Eleven
The winds blew strong enough the boatswain made Maybe stand down. She used her time to watch the waves from the rail. Might she jump in?
How was she so stupid? All she had to do was stop him. He was drunk. Drunk differs from sober. She didn’t hold it against Willie.
Still, he hadn’t bothered to speak with her all morning. He was up before she. Strange. Coupled with his drinking, that was stranger still. She’d overheard Mr. Cox and Mr. Swain teasing him about holding his liquor. He must be too embarrassed to talk with her.
Well, that made two of them. She wasn’t eager to look him in the face yet either.
She’d hoped Cookie would call her to help, but he hadn’t.
So, she watched the waves, imagining them washing her clean again.
“You are quiet today, Maybe.”
She startled. The boatswain arrived without a sound.
“Not really. I’m only watching the water.”
“Oh. What do you see?”
She glanced back at him. Was this a test? “Water. I ken there’s life in it, but right now it’s churnin’. Like wind from beneath blowin’ around.”
He smiled. “Aye, me too. Reminds me of my faith. I know God is there, even when I can’t see Him. That gives me strength to go on.”
She cocked her head and mulled his words. “Ye sometimes dunna want to go on?”
“Everyone gets that way some time. It is what you do with the feeling that counts. Me, I believe I was put here for a purpose. It isn’t my job to decide when it is over or even what it is. So, when I’m discouraged, I remember the water.”
It made sense. When one was on speaking terms with the Almighty. But what if one made an unchangeable mistake? “I thank ye. It is somethin’ to think on.”
He patted the rail, appearing as if he wanted to say more. Then, shaking his head, he pushed away and moved on.
Maybe liked Boatswain Johnson. There was something fatherly in his ways. If he had been her stepfather, none of this would have happened. It made her wish she might come clean and tell him her secret, or at least the one that got her onto the ship.
The other one she couldn’t reveal to anyone. Ever.
* * *
It was Willie’s turn at the wheel. As a rule he liked this part, but today the sea foamed and frothed. Mr. Cox had made more than one check with the chip log, and Boatswain Johnson had double checked the numbers and his compass. Something told Willie change was coming.
He’d developed a skill early on which served him in embarrassing situations. He deflected remarks, firing out retorts that made the other person the butt of the joke. A skill at which he excelled. Only today, nothing witty came to him.
Today he must take it. Every elbow, every twitter.
Because they had no clue just how badly he had messed up.
And he could never tell without betraying Maybe.
But then, isn’t that what he did?
“Mr. Stewart, we’re heading for Port Royal.”
“Nova Scotia, sir?”
“Aye. This water isn’t stirred just by the depths. A storm’s on the way. A bad one. We need to make for Port Royal. Change course, port forty degrees.”
“Aye, sir.” Willie made the change while the boatswain went out to supervise the sails.
Port Royal. How long before they got there? How long would they stay? Maybe wanted to get to Ireland.
Oh, now his mind was concerned for what she wanted. He should’ve remembered that when it meant something. What a dolt he was! He needed to talk to her, tell her he was sorry. Yet a part of him wasn’t sorry. That was what was so awful. His feelings for her ran deep. If things were different, he might court her. But he had no right to do what he did. He stole from her. How could he face her?
Still, that was what he must do. He must tell her.
There was no private place aboard this ship—unless you counted the jolly boats, and he would never do that again. If he wrote her a note, she would know. He needed to speak to her. Privately. Would she even trust him enough to be alone with him?
A wave splashed over the deck. He watched the sea growing chaotic. Just like his life. Well, at least if he were busy helping keep the ship afloat, he wouldn’t have his mind on Maybe. He shook his head and tried to put his focus back on the wheel.
The top priority now was to get to Port Royal. Then they might go walking, talk. At the nine knots they were sailing, they’d be there sometime tomorrow.
Now he needed to pray they would make it.
* * *
“Sir, don’t you want me up top to help with the shrouds?” Maybe had done her part with the pirates. Surely he trusted her work no
w. She was needed.
“No, I want you below to help Cookie with the galley. If the seas get any more rough before we reach the port, he’ll need your help.” Boatswain Johnson pursed his lips before turning back to the rigging.
She made her way to the galley. Cookie, at least, appeared happy to see her.
“Ho, laddie, we’re in for a ride an’ that’s a fact.”
“Do ye think it’ll get worse, Cookie?”
“I’ve seen it get worse. and I’ve seen it calm out of the blue. There’s no way to tell until it happens, so we’ll just prepare for the worst and hope for the best.” Though he waxed philosophical, he summed up her life. Hoping things improved, but worrying about what might go wrong. Because the go-wrong part always won.
She sighed. “What would ye have me do?”
“Start o’er there. Seal and weight the bins.”
Maybe got to work. Once she completed one job, there was another. She and Cookie worked to protect the stores and prepare food for the men. The crew ate their meals in shifts, coming in groups of two or three.
After awhile, Willie arrived at the galley. She portioned out his serving, handing it over without letting their gazes meet. But then his hand touched hers. She had to look.
“Willie…”
He leaned close to her ear. “I know. We need to talk. We’re heading for Port Royal, should be there no later than midday tomorrow—maybe even sooner with this wind. We’ll talk there. I promise.”
She nodded. Afraid to use her voice, she ran her sleeve over her face and got busy with the next meal.
He wanted to talk. Perhaps that was good, if he loved her that was. Perhaps it wasn’t, if he thought her loose. Had he decided she wasn’t worth his efforts?
There were too many hours between now and Port Royal. The clock needed to move a lot faster.
* * *
Sam Johnson felt things in his bones. It was more than just an impression. Some days he knew something would go wrong on board or he sensed the weather about to change. This time his bones whispered about Maybe. That something was wrong.
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