Wilde, Jennifer (7 page)

He
opened the door for me. I stepped forward to find myself on an elevated
platform at the side of the courtroom, waist-high wooden banisters on three
sides, the door behind me. The platform was perhaps four feet up from the
floor. The courtroom was dark and gloomy, paneled with varnished brown wood.
There were several rows of benches in front of another, much wider, platform
with three carpeted steps leading up. Here the magistrate sat behind an
enormous fumed oak desk, a clerk sitting in a chair to his right. Both were
immersed in paperwork, and neither looked up as they heard me enter. There was
no one else in the room.

I
studied the man in whose hands my fate rested. He was extremely thin, his
shoulders wide and bony. His lips were like two sharp slits, his nose a crooked
beak, his hard gray eyes half-concealed by lowered lids. He had the same sour,
pinched look as Lady Mallory, the same icy manner. The powdery white wig on his
head was slightly askew. The clerk asked a question, pointing to one of the
papers. Roderick Mann snapped a reply that caused the clerk to flush
uncomfortably.

I
gripped the banister in front of me. My chain rattled noisily. The magistrate
looked up with venomous eyes.

"Marietta
Danver?" he said harshly.

"That
is my name, sir."

"Lately
of number 10 Montague Square?"

I
nodded. I could feel the hope draining away. This man was cold and hard, a man
who thrived on hatred and had no knowledge of compassion or mercy. He gathered
up a sheaf of papers and waved them at me.

"Marietta
Danver, I have here evidence that you are guilty of a most grave offense."
His voice was like ice splintering. "These are sworn statements—from Lord
Robert Mallory and his wife, Lady Agatha, from Patrick Clancy and Bernard
Higgins, two men in my employ. They testify that you—"

The
room seemed to spin, and I gripped the railing tightly, losing track of his
words. All at once I knew that the hope I had been nourishing had been sheer
folly. The three of them had probably taken tea together, discussed my fate,
and decided upon it. There would be no trial; I would have no chance to defend
myself. This parody of justice was a mere formality. I was doomed, had been
doomed since the moment I first defied Lord Mallory. He and his wife and her
uncle were merely using the law as an instrument of vengeance. The magistrate's
voice went on and on, hard, unyielding, and I shook my head, knowing I had no
way to protect myself.

"—my
duty to pass sentence upon you," he concluded, "but before I do, is
there anything you wish to say for yourself?"

"I'm
innocent," I whispered.

"Speak
up!"

"I'm
innocent! I—the jewelry was not stolen. You know that. This—this is a mockery!
I want a trial! I—"

"Enough!"

"You—you're
part of it. She's your niece. You can't—"

"Silence!"

I
continued
to shake my head, and tears spilled down my cheeks despite my efforts to check
them. I felt faint, and had I not been gripping the railing I would probably
have crumpled to the floor. The room seemed to be filled with a fine mist now, a
mist that thickened, gradually enveloping me. It stung my cheeks, stung my
eyes, and I lowered my lids, moving my lips in a silent prayer. His voice
seemed to come from a great distance.

"It
is my duty... Newgate Prison, to be confined until... public execution on the
gallows at Tyburn Fields... to swing from your neck until dead..."

A
cloud of black wings rushed over me, closing everything else out, and I heard
him shout for the bailiff. The door behind me flew open, and strong arms seized
me before I could fall. The bailiff held me tightly, and gradually the wings
vanished. I was in a state of shock, and through the mist I could see the man
who had just condemned me. He tapped his long fingers impatiently on the
desktop, eager to be done with it.

"Is
she all right now?" he asked querulously.

"I
think so, your lordship," the bailiff replied. "I'd best 'old to 'er,
though, just in case she 'as another spell."

"It
is my
duty
to send you to Newgate and thence to the gallows," the
magistrate continued in a bored voice, "but as you have no previous
criminal record and as your employers asked the court to show mercy, that
sentence shall not be passed. Instead of hanging, you shall be transported to
His Majesty's colonies in North America. An article of indenture shall be
issued, and you shall be sold at public auction to the highest bidder, to serve
no less than seven years..."

The
rest of his words seemed to fade away, and the next thing I knew, the bailiff
was leading me back down the corridors to my cell.

"You're
lucky," he told me. "Most thieves'd 'ang. Not you, luv. 'Is lordship
gave you a break. You oughta be thankful. You oughta get down on your knees 'n'
thank th' Lord that Roderick Mann 'as such a kind, merciful 'eart—"

I
'll never forget
my first sight of the new land, America, the wild and tumultuous country where
fate had brought me. I was standing on the ship's deck, surrounded by coils of
rope and wooden lifeboats, the clutter concealing me. I spent much of my time
there—anything to escape the foul atmosphere below with its filth, congestion,
and horrible odors. I wasn't supposed to be on deck, of course. It was
forbidden. We were given our "exercise" once a day, closely
supervised, and the rest of the time we were to remain below. This secret place
was my haven, shown to me by the strapping blond sailor who had befriended me
only a few days after the ship left Liverpool.

He
was a rugged, roughhewn lad with a merry smile and flashing blue eyes. Brawny,
illiterate, he had spotted me the first time I slipped up the stairs to catch a
breath of fresh air. He didn't turn me in. Instead, he led me past barrels of
tar and showed me this small area where I could take fresh air without being
discovered. I was exceedingly grateful. One of the other women had come up on deck
only the day before. She had been caught, had been tied to a mast and brutally
whipped as an "example." I had been willing to risk that, and young
Jack had admired my courage.

Naturally
he expected to be paid, I paid. His lovemaking was rough and energetic, yet
there was a surprising tenderness, as well. Afterwards he would hold me in his
arms, stroking my breasts, stroking my hair, as though I were some precious
object he had miraculously been given to relieve the tedium and rigorous
hardships of the voyage. I gave willingly, and I was not ashamed of it. This
crude, muscular sailor with his gruff voice and amiable grin showed me that
lovemaking could be wildly elating, could be satisfying to a woman as well as a
man. I enjoyed it, and I was grateful as well. After the treatment I had
received from Lord Mallory and the two thief-takers, I might well have
nourished some terrible fear about the act of love, might have connected it in
my mind with disgust and loathing, had it not been for Jack and his healthy,
robust attitude. He taught me a great deal. He also enabled me to survive the
voyage.

Not
all of us did. One of the women went insane and ran screaming up the stairs to
hurl herself over the railing. Almost everyone was sick from scurvy. Two of the
women died from it, teeth and hair falling out. The brawling, bickering group
of female prisoners who boarded the ship at Liverpool were soon turned into a
lethargic, dispirited lot who huddled on their narrow bunks like zombies,
patiently enduring the filth, the abuse of our "keepers," the
wretched, skimpily doled-out food and the horribly fetid air. The male
prisoners who were kept down in the hull on the other side of the ship fared no
better. There were beatings every day with the cat-o'-nine-tails, horror and
humiliation a way of life for all prisoners.

Jack
saved me from that. Not only did he provide me with a haven on deck, he also
had a "talk" with the three brutal guards whose duty it was to watch
over the female prisoners. Hands on hips, a lopsided grin on his face, he
casually informed them that he had a "special interest in th'
redhead" and added that any man who touched me he'd choke to death with
his bare hands and then toss overboard without a second thought. Since he was
well over six feet tall, with a bronzed, muscular body, he was formidable
indeed. The guards left me alone. Surly, sadistic, they took great delight in
abusing others, but I never tasted the lash, never had to endure the rutting,
grunting sexual assaults that were nightly occurrences for the other women.

Jack
also brought me food—beef, ale, decent bread, cheese, lemons and limes to
prevent the dreadful scurvy. I knew he was running a great risk, but he seemed
to enjoy defying his superiors and putting something over on "th' bloody
sods." Jack was a dandy fellow, popular with all his fellow sailors. They
knew about me, of course. There was no way they could help knowing, but while
they might envy Jack and make coarse jokes about his "private piece of
tail," they helped him keep it from the ship's officers. Had any of the
officers discovered his little escapade, Jack could have received fifty lashes,
could even have been hanged for associating with one of the prisoners. This
danger merely added another fillip of excitement as far as Jack was concerned.
He considered it all a jolly lark.

The
stars were fading and dawn was about to break that last time we were together.
He had made a nest of blankets under one of the lifeboats, and he held me
loosely in his arms, idly caressing my breasts. I felt warm and secure, loving
his salty, sweaty smell, his large, muscular body. I had grown quite fond of
him, and I hated to think that I would soon lose my protector. Jack sighed,
wrapping his strong arms around me, pulling me closer against his sturdy frame.

"We'll
be landin' today," he said. "I reckon it'll be sometime this
afternoon—early on, I figure. Should be able to see th' shore soon as it gets
light enough."

"I—I
hate to think about it," I confessed.

"You've
grown kinda fond-a Jack, ain't-ja?"

"Of
course I have."

"Makes
me feel right proud. I've 'ad my share of women, but I ain't never 'ad one like
you, wench. Strange, ain't it, us meetin' like this? I reckon you wouldn't give
me a second look under normal circumstances. No, you'd be a 'igh 'n' mighty
lady, much too good to even speak to th' likes-a me."

"That—that
isn't so," I lied.

"Aw,
no sense pretendin'. I've been bloody lucky an' I know it. Crude chap like
me—gettin' to 'ave a wench like you. It's a bloody miracle. All my mates're
green with envy. Ol' Jack really landed in a pot o' jam this time, they say.
Not one of 'em wouldn't give every-thin' they 'ave to be in my boots right
now."

"They
never betrayed us."

"Naw,
they wouldn't. Wouldn't dare. Know I'd 'ave their 'ide if they so much as 'inted
to any of th' officers what was goin' on. I could beat any man jack of 'em to a
pulp an' they know it. They're good chaps, though, my mates. They wouldn't-a
told even if they wasn't afraid o' my fists."

"The
stars are almost gone," I said quietly.

"Yeah,
in just a few minutes th' sky's gonna turn all pink an' gold an' orange. I'll
'ave to be gettin' about my duties. I reckon we won't 'ave a chance to see each
other again."

"I
suppose we won't, "I said in a sad voice.

"No
use bein' grim about it," he replied. "We still 'ave time for one
more round. Come on, lass, let's say goodbye to each other in th' best possible
way."

Later,
Jack rolled off me and climbed to his feet, buttoning his breeches and
fastening his belt. Reaching for his jersey, he pulled it over his head. The
cloth strained and stretched across his powerful shoulders and chest. Shoving
the damp blond locks from his brow, he stared out across the railing. The stars
were gone. The sky was a faint, misty gray with a barely perceptible touch of pink.
The ship rocked. I could hear waves sloshing against the hull, hear the creak
and groan of wood. I sat up and adjusted the bodice of my dress, feeling sleepy
and satisfied and extremely sad. This man had come to mean a lot to me. I might
very well owe him my life.

Jack
turned to look at me. His expression was grim.

"Don't
you fret none, lass. I know what you're thinkin'—you're thinkin' of what's to
come. It's gonna be rough, no doubt about that, but you're gonna make it.
You're gonna come through it all with flyin' colors. You got strength an' you
got character, an' nothin' is gonna hold you back for long."

"I—I
wish I weren't so frightened. They're going to auction us off like—like African
slaves. We're going to be sold to the highest bidders. I—I've tried not to
think about it, but—"

"I
know, lass. I ain't never 'ad much ambition, ain't never 'ad any desire to be a
rich man, but this is one time I wish I 'ad me a whole stack of gold. If I 'ad,
I'd jump ship soon as we land. I'd go to that auction an' buy you myself. We'd
set out across America together, regular pioneers we'd be. We'd love and we'd
fight an' even though I'd set yuh free, you wouldn't want your freedom. You
wouldn't want nothin' but Jack Reed—night 'n' day."