Port of Errors (4 page)

The other children in the room managed to find their way out into the hall. But soon the room alone could not confine the flames, which raced into the halls and walls of the old building. The children didn’t know what to do and chaotically ran about in terror, unable to think clearly enough to find a logical way out.

Davy, still enraged, had to be brought to his senses. “We have to get out of here, now!” shouted Joseph, as he shook Davy vigorously.

As the fire spread, Father Whittaker helped the children calm down. After too long a time for his aged lungs, he was finally able to usher what he hoped to be the last of the children outside. But being frail in his old age, Father Whittaker had inhaled too much smoke and he promptly fell to the dirt, wheezing in and out in an effort to fill his lungs with fresh air. Mistress Riley kept the boys and girls in good order while Father Whittaker attempted to regain his health and composure.

Davy looked around and noticed that Emily was nowhere to be found. “Where’s Emily?” he cried. “Where is she?”

Mistress Riley was unable to contain Davy, as he hurried back inside without a second thought. He could hear Emily crying for help, as she attempted to crawl toward what she hoped was the exit. Her eyes burned as thick black smoke consumed the air around her and she couldn’t see. She coughed profusely as her lungs could no longer hold sufficient breath.

Suddenly, through the smoldering ash, Davy burst heroically through the darkness in a blur of excitement, calling out, “Emily!” Picking her up in his loving arms, he was able to carry her off to safety, where every child was accounted for.

Standing outside with the rest of the children, Grim kept his burnt hands close to his chest, wrapped tight within his water-soaked shirt. Elizabeth stood beside him. However, imprudently blaming Davy for this disaster, Grim and his sister gaped furiously as Davy and Joseph huddled over Father Whittaker, who lay helpless on the ground coughing and panting for air in a deep sweat. The townsfolk were too busy trying to put out the blaze to take notice of Father Whittaker’s condition and Mistress Riley really didn’t seem to care.

Giving-in to what he felt was God calling him home, Father Whittaker stopped trying to flush the ash and smoke from his lungs, knowing his body could take no more. Singling Davy out, he waved him near. Davy knelt at his side, with Joseph close behind.

“I don’t have much time. This may not make much sense now, but you must promise me, when you are of sound age, you will seek out an old priest called Father Morgan. He is a good friend and a faithful man of the cloth. He can be found in the Brier Wood, a small township hidden on the outskirts of St. Petersborough, if he still lives. Promise me you will chance to seek him out – promise me – you must!”

“Yes Father, I promise,” replied Davy unable to withhold his tears.

Father Whittaker took a few long breaths. It was difficult and agonizing to force the air through to his lungs, as he continued, “Father Morgan of the Brier Wood, indeed, Father Morgan it is.”

“But, why me?” asked Davy.

Father’s voice was fraught with pain as he snapped, “Just do as I say!” Moaning and wheezing, he endeavored to continue, “You promised.” Looking to Joseph, he warranted, “It’ll do you some good, Joseph, to do the same.”

“Yes Father,” answered Joseph.

Father Whittaker smiled with relief and faded off, peacefully passing away.

Now that Father Whittaker was gone and the old cathedral burnt down, something had to be done about the children, who were now without a home. So, the townsfolk took it upon themselves to feed and board the children, but this couldn’t go on forever. The people of this small town were quite poor and needed the sustenance for their own and any money spent for additional food and supplies could not be sustained for too long a time.

The St. Thomas Township Council, questioning what lay ahead for the young children, assembled together to resolve the problem. Following these precarious weeks of deliberation and with much reluctance the town council called on every willing resident of St. Thomas to attend a public meeting, of which the council would preside, to discuss and finalize their resolution.

“So, what’s to become of the youngsters?” asked one man within the throng of residents.

“And who’s to take care of them?” inquired a young woman from the back.

The Mayor stood at the front. “There’s no time to be wasting. We are all in agreement as a council and the good Lord himself knows the children are in need of a good home.”

“So, are we to kneel right here in prayer and ask him or do you offer a clearer resolve?” voiced another.

“We’ve resolved upon a public auction,” replied the Mayor.

The town hall exploded into whispers. “Is there nothing else we can do?” questioned another.

A council member then stood beside the Mayor. “Anything else will cost too much to delve into. We need a real orphanage with food, bedding and people to provide the needed care. Now, unless there is one among you, who is willing to volunteer all their time, we see no other viable means.”

As the meeting continued, a vote was cast. An auction was to be held two days hence. Within the coming days all the children were gathered and placed in the town hall until the day of the auction.

Each child was brought to the block one at a time. But, there were too many children and people in the crowd to manage with any real quality. In effect, each child was auctioned off cheaply to make certain and swift their sale to the highest bidder alone. Families of good-fortune and the cruel-minded, alike, came from near and far to adopt what would be their loving child or to buy a young slave. The children were unable to see the auction from within the town hall, where they awaited their fates.

Grim grew bitterer in his loathsome revulsion toward Davy. From that time forth, Grim truly felt, with unwarranted rationalization, all that had happened to him and his sister was a direct result of Davy’s actions.

Seeing the rage in Grim’s eyes, Davy stood up to confront him. But before he could speak, Grim unraveled the bandages from his burnt and scarred hands. “You did this to me and now we’re all being sold off separately and I may never see my sister again.”

“I’m sorry, Grim” replied Davy. “I don’t like you and I know you don’t like me. But I had nothing to do with this and I’m not going to let you blame me for something you started. I’m sorry, but I’m not at fault.”

Grim, vowing to one day have his revenge, resolutely asserted, “I’m not afraid of anyone, least of all you, and if I am sold off without my sister, not even the King himself could stop me from killing you and everyone you love, when next we meet!”

As fate would have it, Grim was the first to be sold. After only a few quick bids, a large drunken middle-aged man with no name simply placed a few silver pieces into the palm of the collector’s hand and it was done.

Sweating profusely, this man smelled of ale, as if it were coursing through his veins. He appeared angry and abusive, taking Grim by the arm in an overly aggressive manner. The only thing of real value seen upon his person was a rather large silver ring with a very rough engraving of a cross at the center. While his overbearing and barbaric new guardian hauled him off, Grim looked back and saw Elisabeth innocently positioned on the auction block. She looked confused and afraid, gazing longingly toward Grim, who fought to free himself while screaming out in his prepubescent voice, “Lizzy!”

His adoptive father fervently back-fisted Grim across the mouth with an unexpected blow. The man’s ring left a sizeable mark on Grim’s cheekbone, which began to bleed down the side of his cheek. He seized Grim by the shoulders, shaking him ferociously. “You’ll do as I say boy! Now stop your scrappin’ and come with me!”

Elizabeth scrambled for her loving brother, but was held back by Mistress Riley, who had been escorting each child to the auction block. In an anxious panic, Grim frantically reached out toward Elizabeth. “She’s my sister!”

Grim’s adoptive father smacked him even harder, knocking him insensible, cracking the bridge of his nose. The corner of his eye now began to bleed. As Grim went completely limp, his disgruntled new father chortled drunkenly, “You have no sister, Boy!”

Hundreds of people were gathered as witness yet did not a thing. Under English law a man could do as he sees fit, concerning his own child or wife, save murder only. This cruel man pulled Grim, by the wrist, dragging his unconscious body across on the coarse, gravel road. Soon they were out of sight, already forgotten by most.

Elizabeth gasped vigorously for words that would not come to her paralyzed lips. She could hardly breathe, choking on her emotional anguish as she watched her beaten brother being yanked away. She broke free and sprang toward her Grim. Mistress Riley quickly darted forward, snatching her by the hair, heartlessly pulling her back to the platform.

“You’ll stay there ‘til you’re bid is come!” said Mistress Riley, as she raised Elizabeth to the top of the auction block. “She’s a strong one, she is! And she’ll make for good hard labor, she will!”

Seeing her lively spirit, Elizabeth was sold within minutes. The buyer turned her over to one of his men, who in turn carried her off to his ship. It was almost certain that Grim and Elizabeth were now and forever separated.

Seeing this separation unfold in front of their eyes, as they peeked through a crack in the door, Emily grew uneasy, asking Davy, “Will I ever see you again?”

“One day you will. I promise.” They looked sorrowfully upon one another. With a quick innocent peck on the lips they were unexpectedly ripped apart. Mistress Riley opened the door and took Emily by the arm, prompting Emily to shriek out in pain. And through the door they went. Davy felt nauseous and could do nothing but watch as she disappeared from his sight through the doors. Joseph could scarcely stand to see Davy this way and found a seat next to him. They cried silently together unwilling to think that even they might not see each other again.

Emily stood on the auction block in a frightful quiver. Immediately, a scrawny young man smugly shouted, “I bid three pieces of eight and no more do I bid!” He looked over the crowd with a deathly scowl and sniffed quick and pompous. Emily was worth so much more but no one dared contest, for it was known that this man was the cruel quartermaster in a ruthless crew of merciless pirates, who went by the name of Avery Shaw
.
Without a challenge to his bid, he paid the sum and carried Emily off to his ship, where five other children awaited.

Davy was sold for seven pieces of silver to Count and Countess De Paul, an upstanding, wealthy older couple. Very proper and sociable, they were a family of proud tradition and honor. Count De Paul already knew the woman Davy was to marry, the likes of which marriage would bring together a respectable future for both esteemed families.

Count De Paul learned of the auction a few days prior and surprised his dear wife as they traveled a small distance to St. Thomas for the occasion. They had previously lost their one child, who was only three years of age, to the Black Death.

As the proud couple ushered Davy through the crowd, Joseph was being escorted up to the auction block, contemplating the worst possible outcome. A small hand reached out to Joseph as he progressed closer toward his fate. The procession was allowed a brief pause, thanks to Count De Paul. With that same old tattered cloth used to wipe away Davy’s tears upon his arrival at the orphanage years ago, Davy consoled Joseph, wiping a tear from his soiled face.

“Davy,” acknowledged Joseph, as they each burst into a flood of heartrending tears.

Referring to the tattered old cloth in his hand; the cloth Joseph had once used to wipe away Davy’s tears; the cloth he had kept for all these years, Davy instructed, “Grab hold of it and don’t let go.” As they both held tight, Davy slowly pulled, ripping the cloth in two, until both of them held their own invaluable piece of memory.

Neither lad could bring himself to say good-bye. Davy’s parents took him gently by the arm and with a delicate understanding led him away. Moments later, Davy looked back to find Joseph standing on the auction block; he hadn’t an expression on his face.

As Davy and his new parents continued on toward their carriage, they passed a sweet young couple,
Charles and Roselynn
Stirvin
,
who gazed longingly upon Joseph. Countess De Paul caught Roselynn’s eye and smiled as she passed her by.

Charles and Roselynn had struggled to conceive a child for years without success. Though they were much too poor to afford an adoption, they had a small hope.

Joseph carelessly looked over the crowd, with no pride or passion and it clearly showed. The auctioneer handled Joseph harshly, turning him shamelessly about. All the orphans were indeed dirty but Joseph was the filthiest. The auctioneer forcefully opened Joseph’s mouth, baring his yellow teeth, two of which still needed to grow out. Amazingly, they were not yet rotted through.