Captive mistress, p.7
Captive Mistress, page 7
“Your sense of responsibility is commendable, madam, yet your naivety is appalling. Find a job and take care of yourself? Both are doubtful. Alone and unprotected, with your great charm and beauty, you wouldn’t get past the flesh peddlers waiting at the docks. You’d better make more positive arrangements or you may find yourself walking the streets looking for clients. In which case, I might add, I have no desire to gain my compensation by your roving from man to man.”
“And just what would you suggest I do, oh mighty liege lord?” choked Christy, filled with anger at him and at herself for playing into his hands.
Taking advantage of her stunned silence, the captain graced her with a response to her question. “Of course, my dear,” he said, lifting her chin with his hand so that she was forced to look him in the eyes, “you could always move in with me. I would take good care of you. You would be a welcome companion and you would find it a much more pleasurable way of repaying your indenture than working your fingers raw.”
Christy reached up and slapped his face as hard as she could. “Oh, you despicable wretch!” she seethed at him, nearly blinded with fury at his suggestion. She reached up to strike again but found her hand imprisoned in a deadly grip. Undaunted, she raged on. “I will never be your mistress! You’ll spend all eternity alone in a cold bed if you wait for me to sprawl beside you. I don’t need you or your clearcut, simple solutions. I’d take my chances with the peddlers before I’d ever submit to your lecherous pawing,” she declared as she vainly tried to free her hand from his grip. “I promise you you’ll get your blood money, but that’s allnothing more!”
Furious that she had struck him, both with her hand and with her words, the captain gripped her shoulders and shook her roughly. But anger only intensified her beauty. In a mixture of rage and passion, he desperately wanted to throw her on the bed and himself on top of her, and thus teach her who was master here. His conscience would not permit him that luxury, but at least she would not have the last word.
“Very well, my dear. The flesh peddlers can have you. I offer you a good, comfortable life with me, and ask little in return. I see now how disdainful the idea is to you. It seems you prefer the life of a slut,” he snapped and abruptly released her as if she were scalding to the touch.
Christy, however, did not see it the same way. “You offer me nothing more than the life of a kept whore!” she ? screamed back at him, still burning with anger.
“Call it what you will. It is better than what awaits you.
You are a little fool!”
“Better a fool with dignity than a whore with nothing but disgrace,” she flung after him.
He regarded her angrily. Did she have any idea just how close she was to being raped? Only sheer will and determination kept him from taking her. The door slammed behind him as he marched from the room, no longer trusting his rage, or his mounting desires.
Alone again and with the echo of his receding footsteps, Christy slumped in the corner and cried. He was a monster a man with no feeling or warmth. But despite her mental tirade against him, she was forced to admit that all he had said was true. What chance did a lone, penniless woman have in a strange, barbarian new world?
Six
A few days passed and Christy remained busy making her room as comfortable as possible. Though these activities kept her busy, they did little to dispel her doubts. She had not seen the captain, nor had he come to her room. She thought often of him and what he had said, and worried constantly about what would happen to her when they reached Charleston. Paddy had said she needn’t worry, he would help her find a place to stay, but as much as she liked and respected Paddy, she doubted he could be of much assistance to her. She was sitting in such a reverie of doubt and uncertainty, with the shirt she was stitching crumpled and forgotten on her lap, when a knock on the door brought her back to the real world.
“Look what I have here for you, lassie,” Paddy said, smiling as he held out cloth of bright green.
Christy stood looking at it in amazement. “Where did you get this, Paddy? It’s beautiful!”
“The captain went rummaging through all the boxes of fabrics and finally pulled this piece out. He told me to give it to you to make yourself a dress. He said it would go nice with your eyes.”
Christy’s expression was thoughtful. Why the sudden change in heart? Had the captain felt guilty for his rude behavior to her?
Christy’s first impulse was to send Paddy back with the fabric and tell the captain she wanted no gifts from him. But she looked longingly at the cloth and imagined how wonderful it would feel to have a dress again and look like a woman. And the cloth was so beautiful! She just couldn’t send it back to him. She would find some way to repay him when she got a job. But for now she would have to swallow her pride and accept the token of good will.
“Oh, it really is beautiful,” she said again as she held the cloth up against herself. “How do you think it will look on me?” she pivoted with the cloth draped around herself like a child with a new toy.
“The captain was right, missy. It sure will look nice on you and match those green eyes of yours. He’s not such a bad man after all, lassie. Just a little moody and hard to understand at times.”
Christy could only agree with the latter. He certainly was moody and hard to understand. But right now he was her knight in shining armor for he had sent her a bit of salvation. “I’ll get started on it right away. I know just the type of dress I want,” she said with genuine enthusiasm.
“Well then I’ll be going so I won’t be in your way.” He turned again and looked at her beaming face. She should be a grand, rich lady with servants and maids to wait upon her instead of being poor and having to beg for every little thing. ‘Twas not fair not fair at all. He smiled at her again and softly closed the door behind him.
Christy was glad to have such a pleasant task and worked on her dress all day. The next morning when she ‘ awoke the weather had turned cold and the sea was terribly rough. Paddy said they were heading into a storm . and everyone was busy lashing things down, checking sails, and making everything as safe as possible.
Christy worked again on her dress, but the rough seas, rocking ship and whistling winds made her task difficult. By late afternoon there was no doubt that they would be heading directly into the storm, hitting the worst of it very soon.
The prospect of such a violent tempest caused Christy ‘ much anxiety. Even as a little girl she had run with fright into the arms of her mother, seeking protection from the lightning and thunder that seemed to strike her very being. Now, surrounded by an angry mass of frothing o fury, there was nowhere to hide and no one to comfort or protect her.
She paced the floor uneasily, wringing her hands in despair. When Paddy came to collect her dinner tray a short while later, he found it untouched.
“Why, lassie, you’ve not touched a bit. What’s the trouble?”
“Oh, I just wasn’t very hungry, Paddy,” she lied.
“You’ve got to eat or you’ll not fit into that pretty. dress you’re making. Have you tired of working on it already?” he asked in concern.
“Oh no. I enjoy the sewing. It’s difficult, though, to use a needle with the ship bouncing so. I pricked myself more times than I cared to, so I decided I’d better put it away till the storm passes.” Her face was white and she wrung her hands again despite her efforts to appear ,
” brave. Paddy turned to go when her faint, childlike voice stopped him. “Will it be a very bad storm, Paddy?”
“I’m afraid so, lassie. Looks black out and the winds are frightful. But,” he went on, seeing the fear in her eyes, “don’t you worry none. We’ve weathered many a storm. This is a good, sturdy ship. We’ll make it through with no problems atall,” he comforted, hoping his words sounded more confident than he felt.
Not wanting to lie, and anxious to avoid any more of her frightened questions, Paddy made a hasty excuse. “I’ve got to be off now. There are many things need done to batten down the ship. Will you be needing anything else now, lassie?”
“No. I’ll be fine.” She gave him a smile and he rather. hastily departed, looking guilty but relieved.
“I’ll be just fine,” she said again to herself as the ship tossed and rolled in the murky darkness. She sat down on the bed but was up and pacing again in seconds. Time ‘ seemed to stop as the storm grew more and more intense. She didn’t want to be alone in this little room. Terror was rapidly taking hold of her. She must fight it. If she kept busy it might take her mind off the anguish of the storm.
Determined to be of use somewhere, she opened the door of her room and peered out into the dark hallway. The ship pitched back and forth dizzily she found her way with difficulty to the captain’s room. It was dark and empty. The ship suddenly leaned precariously to one side, groaning in protest at the storm’s abuse. A scream escaped Christy’s lips and she was knocked into the wall.
Without further hesitation, she set off down the dark hallway. She was brutally jostled back and forth against the walls, but little else mattered to her now except finding someoneanyone.
Reckless with terror, she pushed ahead despite the rocking ship, not knowing where she was going but unable to stop. She was totally unfamiliar with the ship except for the captain’s cabin, her own room, and the hold. Both the captain and Paddy had warned her that walkingabout alone might be courting trouble, so she had remained in her little cell. Paddy had installed another latch on her door with strict instructions that it was to be kept locked at all times. She had smiled at his unwarranted concern, but obeyed his request. Now alone in the dark, tossing hallway, she regretted her lack of knowledge or direction of the ship’s layout.
She turned the corner and was confronted bya short rampway which led to another dark hallway, and a closed door. Not wanting to go down into the darkness, Christy pushed the door gently, but it would not budge. A sudden gusty draft swept through the passageway, carrying loud, strained voices. The sound was music to her ears. Without hesitation she threw her weight against the heavy door. There were men on the other side.
She heaved again. Suddenly the door burst open and she was flung through it. Just as suddenly the door slammed shut, leaving her trembling on the open deck as rain and wind whipped mercilessly about her. A sob rose in her throat at her folly. Her thin shirt whipped around her shivering body as rain pelted against her face. Violent gusts of wind threatened to knock her to her knees.
With slow, painful efforts, she forced herself to turn and lunged for the door. Her hands clutched the knob in a deathgrip. She yanked with all her might. The door remained immovable. She yanked again. It would not budge! Horror rattled in her throat. She was trapped! Her meager strength was no match for the ravaging wind. It held the door shut like a giant vice.
She stood clutching the railing with both hands. Through squinted eyes she looked through the rain and howling wind, hoping to catch sight of one of the crewmen. If someone was there, however, she could not see him through the gale.
“Help! Help!” she called out, but the wind tossed her cries back into her face.
Her grip on the rail began to slip as rain seeped between her icy fingers. Tears mixed with rain as the wind caught her breath and whipped it from her. How much longer could she hold on? “Please … please … someone help me!” she sobbed aloud as the wind knocked her down on one knee.
With new determination, she struggled to her feet. She shut her eyes and whispered a silent prayer. Her life was hanging on a single thread. Slowly, ever so slowly, she eased her way to the railing end. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she reached out and gripped the doorknob with one hand. Rain made visibility nearly impossible. It was strictly guesswork and luck that helped her reach her target.
Both hands were wet and cold as ice. But now came the crucial test. Inch by painstaking inch she slid the hand on the railing as close to the door as possible. Gently, ever so gently, she pried her fingers loose from the railing. At the last second she released the railing and lunged for the doorknob. A thankful sob rose in her throat as she felt . the metal against her palm. She clutched the knob with two trembling hands.
She paused a moment, trying to gather her strength and brace herself against the wind and rain. Ready at last, she gripped the door tightly and pulled with all her strength.
At that precise moment the door came flying open. Unprepared for the sudden thrust, she lost her balance and slipped on the rainsoaked planking. The ranting wind caught her unbraced body, sweeping her headlong across the deck and toward the raging, angry sea.
“My God!” cried the captain as he watched the small gray form skid across the ship about to be swallowed by the sea. His heart in his throat, he dove after her with lightning speed. Three more feet and he’d have her!
He lunged at her flailing armsand missed! Her foot slipped over the rail. A scream rose from her very core. Wind and rain blurred his vision. Again his arm stretched beyond endurance to reach her. Another inchonly one more inch. Suddenly his fingers locked about her wrist. With superhuman strength he snatched her from the clutches of the raging sea back onto the rocking ship. Her arms flew about him and she clung to him in desperation.
Battling the wind and rain and the constant pitching of the ship, he guided her slowly and with immense difficulty back across the deck and thrust her roughly through the door and back into safety. Protected once again from the ravaging tempest outside, his relief at saving her immediately erupted into anger. “What the hell were you doing out there? Are you trying to kill yourself?” demanded the captain as he glared down at her.
Christy began to cry, sobs racking her shivering body. Her hair was plastered to her pale face. The frightening ordeal, coupled with the still raging storm and the captain’s wrath were just too much to handle. She squeezed her fingers into fits, trying to choke out an explanation.
“I … I was looking for you … I… I got lost.” Her ‘ shoulders shook and her words came in short, choppy gasps.
“Your thoughtless actions could have gotten you drowned, and me along with you, you silly fool. What the devil did you want with me that couldn’t wait? Can’t you see I’m busy?” he shouted angrily above the roar of the storm.
Christy could sense that the captain’s anger matched the fury of the tempest as the ship continued to roll and pitch precariously in the angry water. She was, however, far more frightened by the storm than she was by the captain’s anger. “I … I just wanted to help, Captain. I… thought maybe I could do something,” she sobbed.
Suddenly a flash of lightning lit up the hallway with terrifying clarity. A loud crash of thunder pierced their ears. It was too much for the petrified girl. She gasped in horror and flung herself into the astonished arms of Captain Lancer.
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” she cried, burying her face into the folds of his heavy sweater. “I was so afraid. I didn’t want to be alone. I’m afraid of the storm and I don’t want to die.”
Michael Lancer looked. down at the frightened girl clinging to him as if her life depended on it. Despite himself he wrapped her closer into his strong arms to protect her from the fury that raged about them. His anger subsided. How could he remain irate when she clutched him in utter terror? She was like a frightened lamb, yet her exquisite body, so well outlined by the wet clothing, belied her childlike demureness.
“Captain, you’d better come quickly. The starboard sail beam’s broken free. It’s smashing up the deck. We lost Miller. He was hit and thrown overboard,” came the urgent tidings from the darkened hallway.
“My God!” cried the captain as he abruptly released Christy. “Call every available hand on deck. Make sure everyone is securely roped together. We don’t want to lose any more men. I’ll be there in a moment,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,” came the man’s sharp response as he darted off to assemble the men.
The crewman’s tragic tidings had succeeded in staying Christy’s tears. “Captain, is there anything I can do to help?” she asked timidly, wiping the last tears from her eyes.
“What? What?” he muttered harshly, almost having forgotten she was there, so deep in thought was he.
“Can I do anything to help?” she repeated, gazing at him through her laden lashes.
“Yes, there is something you can do, Miss Patterson,” he said. “Go to your room and stay there. You’re only in the way. I’ve got work to do and you’ll be nothing but one more worry. You’ve caused more than enough trouble already. Now get back to your room and stay there!” he bellowed more harshly than he meant and pushed her down the hall.
With care she picked her way back to her room. Her heart ached for the unfortunate Miller, yet she thanked God that her close call had not ended in a similar fate. A burst of thunder made her cringe, but she hurried to her room seeking safety there.
Her room, however, offered little comfort to her bruised body or taut, frayed nerves. She sat on the bed to rest but found the bolts holding it in place had broken loose. It began to bounce from one end of the room to the other with the rocking of the ship, crashing into the walls as it slid. The noise and jerky movements only intensified her terror, and as time passed the storm seemed only to worsen. The cot slammed into her leg once again. She kicked it away angrily.
Suddenly with no warning, a small crack opened in the wall of her room. As the ship dipped to the left, water poured in, soaking her in an icy shower. The flow ceased abruptly as The Merrimer rolled right. Seconds later, however, the flood returned as the ship continued its rocking.
Christy watched in horror as the small room quickly filled with water. With frozen fingers she grabbed the mattress on her cot and shoved it against the small crack. She could not believe such, a miniscule opening could produce such a flood of water. The water ceased pouring in, but the padding would not hold for long. She must get help.
