Surrender to Love (9 page)

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A soft bed.  Plenty of food. And the fresh, clean smell of the outdoors.  Was it really so much to ask for?

It seemed as though she had spent a lifetime down here, but Patsy assured her it had been only three days.  Where was her hero?  Wasn’t there supposed to be a dashing rogue pirate prowling the high seas somewhere in search of distressed women to rescue?  So many times daring adventures and salvations had fulfilled Sabine in her treasured stories, but now she felt utterly abandoned, except for her companions and the solitary mean-tempered crewman who ventured by once a day.

The heavy thud of boots and the rattle of keys sharply drew Sabine’s attention.  With feeling mixed with fear and expectation, she turned to the sounds that grew near in the shadowed darkness.  The footsteps meant only one thing:  her daily allotment of over-boiled potatoes and bread, accompanied by ill-concealed harassment from her captors.

“Come on, you gals.”

She heard the growl of a voice above her, and Sabine raised her head in a tangle of curls.  What would be today?  As of late she had experienced a virtual spectrum of
indignations.  There were always the series of unconcealed gropes and pinches whenever rations were distributed, slop buckets emptied.  And every day she had kept her hands tightly clasped together for fear she would impulsively strike out against him, thus incurring the giant’s wrath.

“Where you
takin’ us,” Patsy shot out as the ugly hulk fumbled with a fistful of keys.

“Topside.  Get yourselves some fresh air.”

“’Bout time,” Mauda snapped.

Outside.  The thought seemed so foreign, but it stirred a strange excitement within her.  A shiver of anticipation rippled along her spine, and she rubbed the shill from her arms.  Fresh air. Sunshine.  The warm caress of a breeze against her face.  It was almost too wonderful to be true.

Her captor shackled the ankles of each of the women, their movements restricted by the short length of chain that suspended between their bare feet.  Single-file, they shuffled down the narrow walk space that stretched the length of the ship.

The cargo stacked in the hold was a pirate’s collection of ill-gotten gains.  Crates of French wine and a tower of wooden boxes haphazardly marked “SILKS” lined the arched walls.  Four more crude cells
oufitted with iron bars interspersed between the merchandise.

And musty odors, laced with the not-so-unpleasant smells of stolen spices, assaulted her delicate nose.  Cinnamon, Sabine detected amongst the sourness.  And cloves.  Christmas smells…in the middle of July.  They made her think of home again;
but the pangs that had once struck her heart painfully now resounded with only a vague, hollow reminder – almost as though it really didn’t matter anymore.

The powerful brightness of the sun struck her blind as she stood transfixed on the last ladder rung that led above deck, her eyelids screwed tight to ward off the burning glare that besieged her.  Pungent, salty air pricked her nostrils, reassuring her failing belief that she was truly alive, not simply an empty husk of a person.

“Get a move on.”

A callus-roughened hand shoved her from behind and Sabine sprawled unceremoniously across the deck.  She squinted, her eyes tearing painfully in the brilliance.  It hurt.  It hurt so fiercely she thought she might truly cry.  But it was sunlight…and a sense of freedom.

The rattle of chains invaded Sabine’s thoughts, and the tight pack of two dozen or so women closed around her, stealing away her fresh air and replacing it with the rancid familiarity of pressing bodies.  Pushing her way to the edge of the crowd, she filled her lungs with the precious salt air she had awaited for so long.

“What do you expect us to do now?” Patsy quipped saucily, her hands propped defiantly on her hips.

“I’ll show ya.”

A wiry, copper-haired youth smiled and winked invitingly, taking a step toward her before another grabbed him by the arm and jerked him forcibly to the side.

“You ain’t ta do nothin’,” the other snapped as he rubbed impatiently at the thin, jagged scar that ran the length of his cheek.  “Blackie’d have yer hide.”

“I was only
jokin’,” the smaller man whined as he slunk guiltily away from the group.

Sabine ignored their arguing
and closed her eyes against the warmth that bathed her tired face.  She didn’t want to think of them.  And she was unwilling to allow these men to spoil her precious moments in the sun.  She stubbornly refused to hear anything, but instead focused fully on the rhythmic rising and falling of her breathing and the breeze that ruffled her hair.

From behind the crowd came the sudden outburst of raucous male laughter, followed by the terrified squeal of a panicked voice.

Felicity.  Oh, God, came Sabine’s frantic thoughts as her eyes flew open.  Where was she?

Sabine spun as a blur of blue cotton dashed past her.  Loose hair streaming about her face, the girl clamored awkwardly atop the ship’s railing, clutching desperately at the coarse hemp ropes that rose above her.

Felicity.

Two burly men rushed to recapture her, and a scream of terror sprang from the young woman’s throat.  Heart racing, Sabine tried to look away, but couldn’t; she just couldn’t – no matter how passionately she willed herself.  Her ears filled with the panicked screams, the rattling chains, the din of murmurings that surrounded her.  And her eyes continued to fix themselves
unmovingly on the girl who clung desperately to the ropes.

“You
git down from there,” the man with the thin scar demanded as they advanced cautiously.

Felicity shook her head fiercely, a sob escaping her as her hands held fast to her rough lifelines, her balance wavering dangerously.

“Come on,” the red-haired man coaxed soothingly, his hands outstretched.

Sabine watched, her heart pounding, her breath arrested within her lungs as the two men approached the hysterical young woman.  Please, she prayed fiercely as her hands intertwined with the threadbare cotton of her tattered skirts.  Please, Felicity, come down.
  Come down safe, and everything will be all right.  I promise.  I promise to make everything all right.

And she wanted to.  Suddenly, passionately, Sabine wished she could run to Felicity and throw her arms around her – comfort her and assure that nothing bad would happen to her ever again.  Then they would return to New Orleans and forget the entire ordeal had ever existed in the first place.

The persuasive coaxing of the two men reached her ears once more.  Sabine’s eyes riveted to the scene, tight hands of fear squeezing every ounce of breath from her body.

As they advanced closer, Felicity let loose another panicked shriek.  In the midst of her terror, her feet slipped on the ocean-sprayed wood of her tiny precipice.  Arms reeling, she struggled to maintain her balance.  But her attempt was unsuccessful, and she plunged overboard, blue skirts twisting, screams echoing.

“Felicity!”

Sabine’s voice shrilled over the commotion around her.  Eyes wild, she ran to the side, fighting the masculine hands that reached out to recapture her.

“Felicity!”

She prayed that she might see the young woman clinging to the side, but two hands grabbed her roughly, crushing her bones with their strength.  Sabine fought savagely as they forced her away…but not before she saw the crazed panic in her friend’s eyes as she surfaced once, twice in the rolling waves, her arms flailing in a futile attempt to swim.

Shouts of orders were given, ropes thrown overboard.  But she did not emerge – did not return from the blue depths.  Felicity was gone.

Numbly, Sabine stood apart from the others on the deck, a hot flood building in her eyes as her gaze remained transfixed on the spot Felicity had stood only moments before. 
She did not release the tears.  And she had no desire to be with the other women who huddled together in a frightened mass behind her.  Pauline’s sobbing reached her ears, but she did not turn to the sound.

“What the hell is going on?”

The coarse shout, clipped with the undeniable accent of the British, came from above, followed by a string of violent curses.  He stood there – dressed in black; long dark hair neatly slicked back from his face and captured with a strip of red ribbon.  And beside him, held firmly in his grasp, was Arianna Covington, decked out in a sumptuous gown ostentatiously decorated with countless yards of lace and bows; her hair, sculpted in ringlets, draped across her naked shoulders.  For a fleeting second her gaze locked with Sabine’s, her dark eyes hard, mean.

“Well?”

All action abruptly halted as the ship’s captain scrutinized the persons below.  Tension and hostility crackled through the air, riding on the breezes that snapped the crisp sails.

“Everything’s under control, Blackie,” assured the bearded hulk who had escorted the women topside.

Blackie did not reply, but his cold, steely eyes settled on Sabine, and she returned his gaze unmovingly, the muscles in her jaw twitching angrily.

“She’s gone,” the red-headed youth replied as he popped his head over the outside of the hull.  “Gone.  Not even a trace.”

The ugly giant turned on him savagely, sending him a look of pure hatred.

“Who’s gone?” Blackie demanded as he quickly descended to the ranks, dragging Arianna behind him.

“Felicity,” Sabine told him, her voice cold with the icy hatred that flooded her heart.  “Felicity is gone.”

He roared out in anger, curses exploding from him as grabbed the torn shirtfront of the man nearest him.

“These women are to be watched every second,” he snapped, the clipped British intonations of his voice more pronounced.  “Do you think we’re sailing for holiday?”

The group of men shuffled uncomfortably under his close observation, their gaze averting to the uneven planking beneath their feet.

“These women are not to be touched. They are to be
watched,
” Blackie said slowly, his voice growling in the uncomfortable silence.  “If the merchandise is damaged, it won’t bring much money.  And if they’re
dead,
” he bellowed, “they won’t bring a damned
cent!
  Get them out of here.  I don’t want to see them again until we dock in Havana.”

Sabine stumbled as a rough shove propelled her from behind, but her gaze did not leave the violent stare of the man who captained this vessel; behind him, the glittering eyes of Arianna watched with contempt.

As Sabine plunged into the fetid darkness, she tore her eyes away, and looked at the fatal spot where Felicity had stood.  A pained sickness came to her heart once again as it filled with loss.  Felicity.  Poor, frightened Felicity who had wanted nothing more than to go home.  Felicity, who had never been strong enough to rise above the situation, no matter how hard she’d tried, now lay in a watery grave somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico.  She would never see the Louisiana countryside again, nor would she ever fill her lungs with the smells of the outdoors after it rained.

Why did it have to happen?  The question rolled over again and again in Sabine’s mind as she shuffled through the sour obscurity below deck.  It shouldn’t have.  And it was all
his
fault – that man who called himself Blackie and captained this godforsaken ship.

The iron grate slammed behind them with a resounding finality.  The frightened wails of Pauline echoed throughout the cell, but Sabine didn’t feel anything.  No pain.  No sorrow.  Nothing.  And it frightened her.

Had she become nothing more than a shell of the young woman she had once been?  Her feelings, her emotions – all had deserted her.

The child was gone, Sabine supposed bitterly as she stared at the vacant spot Felicity had once occupied.  She had been left behind somewhere in the lost innocence
of her youth.  Forgotten.  And Sabine wondered if she would remain hidden away forever.

Chapter Six

Sabine bolted upright, her brain fuzzy from sleep.  Her heart pounded frantically as she peered into the blackness.  Something had suddenly roused her to consciousness.  A shout?  A thud of feet?  Perhaps it was merely her imagination- false images induced by the fretful dreams that plagued her each time she closed her eyes.

“Get your asses up, you lazy pack of whores.”

“What the hell do you want?”  Patsy snapped angrily.  “Can’t a girl get any sleep around here?”

A harsh laugh pierced the darkness.

“Ain’t gonna be sleepin’ much at night where you’re goin’, so you better get used to it.”

The door
swung open with a loud protest or its iron hinges.  Swallowing the lump of foreboding that rose within her, Sabine watched cautiously as the shadowy bulk strode purposefully into the confines. The pale rays of his lantern swept over the faces of each of the women.  Patsy and Mauda watched their captor’s movement with the intensity of cornered prey, their gazes hard with hatred.  Only Pauline huddled in the corner, her eyes dangerously welling with tears, her lower lip trembling.