Around the River's Bend (4 page)

“I see.” Sabrina listened as her neighbor continued his speech, like a river going on and on and on. She noticed that the noisy crowd around her was full of gamblers. Most of the men appeared to be from the lower class. She saw the tavern keeper from the Red Lion, and she even saw chimney sweeps dressed in the top hat of their trade. There were all sorts of young dandies out for a grand time. The only women there were prostitutes, and there were few of these.

But the upper classes were represented, also. As she turned to scan the crowd, she saw her father and Charles Stratton up at the very edge of the ring in the best seats. They were smoking cigars and talking and laughing, and for an instant Sabrina had an impulse to go down and join them. This, however, would be far too risky, so she simply stood listening as the tall man continued to tell her about the match.

“This won't be much of a bout,” he said, waving his hand in a disparaging fashion.

“Why not?”

“Because, don't you see, it's Big Ben who's fightin'.”

“Who is he?”

“Why, he's the
champion
. Benjamin Brain. You ain't never 'eard of Benjamin Brain?”

“No, but as I say, this is my first visit.”

The tall man stared at her in amazement. “Well, I thought everybody in England knew Big Ben. He ain't never been beat, not 'im! I seen him take out four men one right after the other once over in Brighton. He can't be beat!”

“Who is his opponent?”

“The pug he's fightin'? Ah, he ain't nobody.”

“What's his name?”

“Got a crazy name. Zion Kenyon. Somethin' like that. Ain't that a foolish name, now?”

“Have you ever seen him fight?”

“Not me. But my mate, he's seen 'im. He says he's fast, but that won't help 'im. He can run, but he can't hide! Big Ben will butcher 'im!”

The sky was growing darker now, and large lanterns had been lit on the tall pilings around the barge. The crowd continued to grow until finally there was standing room only.

“There 'e is—there's Big Ben!”

Sabrina put her eyes on the bulky man stepping into the ring. He threw off the coat he had worn about his shoulders to reveal his muscular form. He was a broad man in every respect, at least six feet tall with swelling muscles. He slammed one fist into the palm of his other hand and said something to the two men beside him, evidently his handlers.

“Ain't 'e a daisy?”

“He looks very strong.”

“Strong ain't all. That poor Kenyon fellow, he's in for a poundin'! Look, I reckon that's him there.”

A handsome young man was stepping over the rope, accompanied by another man. The fighter glanced at the champion, who laughed at him and said something Sabrina couldn't make out. She heard the other men laugh.

“Blimey! Like a sheep to the slaughter,” the tall man sneered.

Sabrina took a good look at the man who was, apparently, supposed to lose this fight. His long, dark blond hair was tied into a ponytail in the back, and he looked short compared to the other fighter.

“He looks so small.”

“I reckon 'e is compared to Big Ben. I doubt if he weighs more than thirteen stone. The champ there, 'e weighs over fourteen. He's all muscle!”

Sabrina watched, and the proceedings took some time, but finally the two men came out to meet each other. The fighter called Sion Kenyon wore a pair of full-length blue trunks tied by a blue sash and a pair of black shoes. He was smoothly muscled and seemed to move very easily as he gave way to the advance of the champion.

Big Ben was a frightening sight. Even at this distance Sabrina could see that his face had been scarred by innumerable conflicts. He held his left hand out straight, and he held his right cocked. As she watched, he suddenly threw a tremendous blow, but the challenger simply stepped under it. The challenger responded with a solid blow to the side of the head as the powerful champion moved by. It had no effect on Big Ben, however, who whirled, and Sabrina could see the paleness of his eyes. He was a frightening sight indeed! A broad, brutalized face, little evidence of a neck, and not an ounce of fat on him.

The crowd yelled at each blow, and for a time it appeared that the younger man was making headway. He was very fast and seemed to be able to hit the champion easily, but most of the blows were caught on Ben's forearm. Finally Big Ben thrust his arms around the younger man and simply threw him down.

“Why, he didn't hit him, he just wrestled him!”

“That's fair. Any way you can get a man down. I'll tell you, it takes something out of a man to get thrown down like that and then 'ave to crawl to 'is feet.” The tall stranger shook his head. “That young fellow's got more courage than 'e has sense. Why, 'e shouldn't be in the ring with the champ!”

As the bout progressed, time after time Big Ben either struck the young man in the head and drove him backward or else he simply grabbed him and threw him down.

Sabrina was appalled. The younger fighter's face was bloody, but he continued to get up. Looking around at the crowd, Sabrina saw no trace of sympathy for Kenyon's plight. The men were yelling and screaming, their faces red. The sight of blood seemed to inflame them. Sabrina had heard prizefighters described as beasts, but she thought grimly,
This crowd is the beast—not those two men out there. They wouldn't be fighting at all if these men hadn't come and paid their money
.

The fight went on interminably. Sabrina saw the young man systematically beaten to the floor of the ring again and again, and she wished she could leave. She could not see the attraction it had for these men. Finally the young man struck his head as he went down, and though he tried, he could not get to his feet within the thirty seconds.

“Well, that's it. Weren't much, were 'e? Didn't 'ave no business fightin' Big Ben. It looks like they could find a better opponent.”

Sabrina stood as the crowd began to fade away. She was watching the young man, who was still lying on his back. The champion gave him a contemptuous look as he passed him on his way out of the ring. Sabrina saw the man who had accompanied Kenyon and attended him during the fight, but he did not go to the fallen man. Instead, he left the barge and was standing on the wharf. He had taken his hat off and was talking to the spectators. Sabrina worked her way off the barge and as she passed the man, he said, “A bit for the loser, sir?”

She reached into her inner pocket and came out with a ten-pound note for the man. The man's eyes brightened, and he said, “Thank you, sir. You're a real gent!”

Sabrina nodded and then spotted her father and Charlie leaving. She turned back to see if someone was going to help the fighter, who was now beginning to stir. He came up on his hands and knees, and his face was a bloody mass. Slowly he rose and swayed.

Compassion came over Sabrina Fairfax then, a very rare thing for her. She watched the young man as he staggered toward the ropes and draped his body over them, apparently unable to go farther. Unable to watch, Sabrina turned. She had seen enough of bareknuckled prizefighting to last her a lifetime. She had to hurry now to get back to the inn, change into her own clothes, and get back home before her father did.

Sabrina was sickened by the spectacle and fled as quickly as she could. One thing she well knew, she would
never
go to another prizefight as long as she lived!

Chapter Three

The World Turns Upside Down

“You'll notice that the craftsmanship is the very finest, Miss Fairfax.”

Sabrina had been walking slowly around the small vehicle, and she ran her hand along the polished shaft that extended forward. “It does seem very nice,” she admitted. “I'd like to try it out, I think.”

The carriage maker, a big burly man with bushy whiskers and shoulders like mountains, nodded eagerly. “Of course. I have a fine mare. I am sure you'll be able to handle her. Everyone knows what a fine hand you have with horses, Miss Fairfax.”

Fifteen minutes later Sabrina was seated in the cabriolet and delighted with the mare and the feel of the small vehicle. The sun was still high in the sky, and a crisp breeze ruffled her hair where it had come loose from the pins. She leaned forward, urging the mare on to more speed, and at the same time was conscious that the small carriage offered a very fine ride indeed.

Finally she turned the mare around and drove back to the carriage shop. Crawford was the carriage maker's name, and he was there at once to hold the horse while Sabrina leaped to the ground without help. “I like it very much, Mr. Crawford.”

“It's a beautiful piece of work. The very finest materials.”

Sabrina laughed. “You don't have to sell me. I've been looking for a cabriolet for some time, and I like this as well as any I've seen. Even better. How much is it?”

Crawford's brow furrowed, and he shook his head as he said, “Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to have a hundred and ten pounds for it, Miss Fairfax. The materials were very expensive, and as you know, I used only the best. I know it sounds high, but—”

“It sounds like a fair enough price. I'll take it. I'll come for it tomorrow and bring the money.”

“Thank you very much, Miss Fairfax. I'm sure you'll be satisfied. If you ever have any problem, bring it back to me, and I'll make it right.”

Sabrina smiled and turned to get back into her own carriage. It was a large affair requiring two horses, and she thought with pleasure how nice it would be to simply fly along behind in her new cabriolet. She spoke to the horses, and they leaned forward against their collars and broke into a trot.

Sabrina drove the horses hard, as she usually did, and when she finally pulled up in front of the house, Caesar was there at once. The tall black man with enormous hands apparently knew all there was to know about horses.

“I'll put your animal up, miss.”

“Thank you, Caesar. Oh, and tomorrow I'll be bringing back a cabriolet. I think I'll ride Lady in, and then I won't have two horses to worry over.”

“Yes, miss. I'll have her ready any time you say.”

Sabrina went inside the house and went at once to her father's study. She found the door shut, which was rather unusual. She hesitated before knocking. “Father, are you there?”

“Come in, Sabrina.”

Sabrina stepped inside and found her father seated at the desk. Before him was every sort of paper imaginable, and his eyes were troubled as he looked at her. He ran his hands through his hair and then suddenly slapped the desk. “I hate paper work!” he exclaimed.

“You always did.” Sabrina kissed him and then indicated the mess of papers on the desk. “What are all these?”

“I'm trying to make sense out of the business, and I can't do it. I'll have to take all these blasted things down and let Smith put them in order.” He rose and went to the window. He stood with his back to her, staring out for such a long time that Sabrina walked over to stand beside him.

Putting her hand on his arm, she turned him around and said, “You're worried about the business?”

“It's such a mess! Oh, what a tangled web the business world is.”

“I don't see why Smith can't take care of it. That's what you pay him for.”

“Well, to be truthful,” Fairfax said, his mouth twisting in a cynical fashion, “he can't manufacture money. That's the problem.”

“What do you mean, Father?”

“I mean we've been going downhill for some time now. Smith's been complaining about it. He's having to shift money from one account to another. Robbing Peter to pay Paul, as he put it. But he told me this morning that he had done all the arranging he could. Said we'd have to have fresh capital.”

Sabrina stood there quietly. In fact, she understood little of business. She knew much more about balls and horses and dresses than she knew about the stock market. “Couldn't we sell something?” she asked timidly.

“I'd sell in a minute if I could.”

“Well, this house must be worth a fortune. We could sell it and get a smaller place.”

Fairfax shook his head. “We could if it weren't mortgaged already. As a matter of fact—” He walked to his desk and picked up a sheet of paper. “I have a letter here from the man who owns the mortgage. I've missed several payments, and he's threatening foreclosure.”

A chill swept through Sabrina. “You mean we might lose this place?”

Fairfax looked up quickly and formed his lips into a smile, although the rest of his face didn't cooperate. Sabrina saw this, but he made the most of it. “I don't want you worrying about this. It's
my
problem. But I will ask you not to be spending any large sums of money until we get this straightened out.”

Sabrina opened her lips to mention the cabriolet she had just agreed to buy but knew she could not worry her father when he was already burdened down. “Of course not, Father.” She hugged him and said, “We'll get through this.”

“Of course we will. When the
Sabrina
gets to America with that load of slaves, we'll have cash in every pocket.”

Sabrina was aware that her father was an optimistic man swayed by his moods. He could be as happy as a bird when things went well, but the next day he could be down deep in depression if he suffered a heavy loss at the gambling table. As she stood beside him, she realized suddenly that for all of his high family connections and the trappings of wealth he had inherited from his father, Roger Fairfax was a very unstable individual. He was basically a gambler at heart, not a businessman.

Now Sabrina pushed those thoughts out of her mind, not wanting to be disloyal to her father. She hugged him again and kissed his cheek. “The
Sabrina
will make us rich,” she nodded with a laugh. “It can't miss with a name like that, can it?”