Suki, p.29
Suki, page 29
Jack was the first to recover. ‘We must lower a boat.’
‘Can’t be done,’ the captain told him, stroking his beard ‘’Twould mean going about and so forth.’ Which was plainly true, for there was already a considerable distance between the ship and the slave, who was swimming strongly.
‘We can’t leave him to drown,’ Jack protested. ‘He’s a good specimen. Worth a deal of money. Could we throw a line?’
‘Not without a harpoon,’ the captain said. ‘Not that distance. We ain’t whalers.’
‘We can’t just leave him,’ Jack repeated. ‘Something must be done.’
It was being done as he spoke. Two dark fins had appeared in the green water and were circling the swimmer. As the crew watched in fascinated horror, there was a sudden spume of white water, a chop of waves, a thrashing and bubbling as if the sea was boiling. Then a long red trail of blood threaded out from the centre and the slave’s head disappeared.
‘Sharks,’ the captain said and went back to the bridge as if that were the end of the matter.
‘They’re a-tearin’ him to bits,’ Dickon said, unnecessarily, for they could all see the bits being tossed into the air like dark joints of meat.
‘What a way to go!’ Mr Reuben said, strolling up to join them. ‘I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Not even the Frenchies, an’ that’s a fact.’
Jack’s emotions were boiling in the same muddled and evil way as that ghastly bloodied water. He recognised that Dickon was shocked and that Mr Reuben was gloating: he knew that he’d lost face at the loss of such a prize, that he’d been defeated by this brute, and made to look a fool in front of his shipmates. He was angry and ashamed and confused, because, despite his anger, he felt a monstrous, nauseous pity for the slave — and in the midst of this turmoil of emotions he was feeling the itch so hard and strong it was too painful to be borne.
But at least now that he had chosen a female the itch could be dealt with. He turned away from the carnage in the water, strode along the deck to where his female was grinding meal and seizing her by the hand dragged her to the companion way, half walking, half running, as his shipmates cheered and cat-called after them. ‘Go to it, Jack! You show her!’
He took her angrily, standing and without benefit of vinegar water, and a poor unsatisfactory congress it was, for she said nothing and did nothing but simply stood to endure what was being done to her with no expression on her face at all. The use of her body relieved the itch, that was all. But after he’d dismissed her, he was left with an intolerable sense of loss and disappointment and homesickness, remembering all the loving arms that had clung about his neck at such times, the gleaming eyes and welcoming smiles, the soft caresses and murmured endearments that had been his by right, before he took ship on this accursed voyage. He was so full of misery he had to sit on his bunk to recover and it was minutes before he could think himself jaunty again and re-join his shipmates.
That night, over their supper, the talk turned naturally to their chosen females and how unresponsive they were being.
‘They’re different,’ Mr Reuben observed dourly. ‘That’s my opinion of it.’
‘We should’ve brought a few whores along,’ the surgeon said. ‘They’d have taught ’em the ropes. They’m too sullen by half.’
‘They serves,’ Mr Smith told him, pulling a hunk of bread apart with his rough fingers, ‘and that’s all you can say of ’em. They serves an’ they’m sullen an’ they smells like fish.’
‘Which, I might remind you,’ Captain Tomson said, ‘is all you’m a-likely to get till we hits land again.’
‘Fish, sir?’ Mr Smith asked, grinning. ‘Or women what smells like fish?’
‘Both, sir,’ the captain told him. ‘Till we hits land.’
‘When is that like to be?’ Jack asked, trying not to sound too eager. ‘What’s the quickest time a slaver’s ever took? Is it known?’
‘Thirty-five days from Angola to Pernambuco,’ Mr Tomson said. ‘Accordin’ to the Portuguese. Though how ’twas done I cannot imagine. The trades must’ve blowed ’em mortal strong. More luck than judgement, I daresay. We reckons two months at the least to reach the Caribbean, sometimes three.’
That’s ninety days, Jack thought, his heart sinking, and we’ve only been out nineteen. ‘’Tis a mortal long time,’ he said.
‘Could be a deal worse,’ Mr Tomson said, filling his pipe. ‘There’s a-many don’t make land at all. Ain’t that right, my lubbers? Don’t make land at all. As to the longest voyage — the longest I ever heard of took nine months. ’Twas a frigate called Sainte-Anne, as I recall, out of Nantes, belonged to a Frenchie, which won’t surprise you none, Mr Reuben. She took nine months to sail from Wliydah to Saint Domingue, and lost fifty-five slaves en route.’
There was much happy talk about the poor seamanship of the French but Jack’s mind wandered away from it. Three months was a parlously long time and he couldn’t help wondering how many of them would survive it.
‘’Twill be spring in England soon,’ Mr Dix observed into a pause. ‘I shall be sorry to miss it.’
The word brought so many memories and so much emotion into Jack’s mind that he was torn with homesickness and couldn’t speak. Oh, for the smell of new leaves, and fresh grass, of warm leather and the sweat of horses, to gallop along the woodland rides on Beau’s strong back, with birds singing in the hedges and butterflies among the nettles, to choose a loving woman in a new spring gown who would wind her arms round his neck and breath love at him, like that pretty girl in Clerkenwell or the dark-haired one in that inn in Kennington, or the bright-eyed one in the Spring Gardens in Bath. Oh for spring in the Spring Gardens.
But there was little to be served by wallowing in nostalgia, nor in self-pity neither, as he well knew. For better or worse he had set his feet in a new direction and now he must follow, willy-nilly, wheresomever chance might lead. There was an ocean to be crossed or to drown in, a fortune to be made or lost — and many a hazard to be faced before he was like to set foot in England again.
Back in Twerton Suki was feeding her baby and thinking similar thoughts. She’d come a long way since that terrifying moment when she’d swapped the babies and although a deal had happened since — a live baby for Annie, a doting love for Miss Ariadne, a safe haven at Lambton farm for herself and William — the future bobbed before her, uncertain as a cork upon the water.
Howsomever, she had proved herself the equal to a deal of trial and tribulation, which was a comfort to her, and whatever the fates might have in store for her, she was determined to triumph. ‘You’ll see if I don’t, my handsome,’ she said to her baby.
Chapter 21
The sloth of the season was a daily irritation to Suki Brown now that she’d set her heart on that vital trip to Bristol. It was nearly nineteen months since she’d last seen the Captain, and, in private moments, alone at night with the household sleeping around her, she was beginning to wonder whether she would ever see him again. His ship could have been lost at sea or taken by the French. Anything could have happened. It troubled her that her memories of him had begun to blur and were now a disquieting blend of uncomfortably sharp focus and wavering unreality. She could remember the persuasive passion of his eyes — those beautiful, dark-lashed, brown eyes that could provoke love by a glance — but there were times when she couldn’t picture the rest of his face at all or recall what they’d said to one another. Only their last despairing conversation remained clear in her mind and that was because it had been so fraught with loss and finality.
‘I must leave you, sweetheart,’ he’d said, gazing down at her from the height of that great horse of his.
‘Not now!’ she’d cried, breathless with the shock of hearing such an awful tiling so suddenly.
‘Aye. Now. I ride to London this evening.’
‘When to return?’
‘Well as to that,’ he’d said carelessly. ‘I couldn’t say. ’Tis uncommon hard to estimate such matters. There are tilings to be done. Money to be earned. You’ll not say no to a trinket or two, I’ll warrant, when I return.’
Trinkets meant nothing to her. ‘I’ll wait for ’ee,’ she’d promised earnestly.
‘Aye. Be sure to.’
‘How shall you find me, when you return?’ she’d asked. The season was nearly over and her employers would be leaving Bath at any time.
‘Don’t worry your pretty head on that account,’ he’d said when she told him. ‘If you lose one mistress another beckons. ’Tis the way of the world. Go to Lady Bradbury on South Parade, should you need employ. She will hire you.’
‘But…’
He’d leant from his horse to kiss her. ‘Sweetheart,’ he’d said. And he’d smiled into her eyes, straightened his spine and ridden away. Out of her life for nineteen months.
At her lowest ebb, when the house creaked and the air she breathed was ice cold on the back of her throat, she would get up and tiptoe across the room to the chest of drawers where she kept his precious silk kerchief. She would take it back to her pillow to comfort herself with its softness under her cheek. Oh my dearest, she thought, my dearest darling Captain. When shall I see you again? It seemed to her in those dark night moments as if the spring would never come, as if she would never get to Bristol, never make enquiries, never find out what she wanted to know.
We must go a-marketing soon, she fretted. But however pointedly she watched the weather, the days passed and nothing was said. She tried throwing out hints, remarking on how low their stocks were getting, which was demonstrably true, for the family sugar loaf had dwindled to a sad little mound in its dish, like the blob of a burnt-out candle, and she was sure that their stock of tea was low too, for when Mrs Lambton unlocked the caddy, she had to dig deep for her careful spoonful. But Annie was unmoved, pointing out that there was still half a side of bacon hanging from the rafters, apples in the barrel and a good supply of flour, swedes, leeks and potatoes in the larder, ‘Which will serve a deal longer, I think.’
She was more concerned about little Constant who was over four months old now but still spent most of his day lying listlessly in his cradle, pale and unsmiling, and showed no signs of wanting to sit up and see the world. She knew he wasn’t growing as he should and that there was no strength in his little back at all. He sagged and wept when she sat him on her knee and wouldn’t be comforted until he was allowed to lie down again, which was plainly wrong, even in a baby who was slow to develop.
William had been sitting up and taking notice when he and Suki arrived, as Annie remembered very well, and now he was standing and taking his first tottering steps from chair to chair or crawling about the kitchen at great speed and with the strongest determination. There were times when his healthy presence in the house felt like a rebuke to her. Oh no, she certainly couldn’t leave her Precious yet awhile.
In the middle of March a post man arrived with two letters for Suki, for which he asked double the going rate, ‘being the roads is a treachery hereabouts.’
The first was from Lady Bradbury, informing her that ‘her dear Ariadne’ was engaged to be married ‘to the grandson of the Duke of Errymouth’ and would consequently require her services as lady’s maid on their return to Bath, and asking, almost as an afterthought, for news of ‘her dear William’ for whom she enclosed a bank note for five pounds, which she said was to be used to buy him new clothes, ‘as I am sure he will have grown since my last billet.’
The second and longer letter was from Ariadne. It contained a scathing description of her fiancé, a rambling paragraph deploring the way her mother and father were fawning upon him, ‘which ’twould sicken you to see’, and ended with a lengthy postscript.
I mean to follow my heart and marry the man of my choice since that is plainly the right true thing to do. No man has the right to determine my life for me. My body is my own. ’Tis not my father’s nor my husband’s nor any other’s. I shall bestow it upon a lover who has earned it and deserves it. We shall talk further of these things since we have said nothing of consequence since we last spoke and there is much of consequence.
‘She means to marry her lover then,’ Annie observed, when Suki had read the letter to her. ‘’Twill not be easy, I fear, nor likely.’
‘She has great spirit,’ Suki said. ‘If any are to do it, she’ll be the one. I’d lay money on it.’
Annie couldn’t concentrate on such an improbability. She was grappling with the fact that Suki would be leaving her in the summer and wondering whether this would be a good thing or a bad. On the one hand she would be glad to have William’s rude health out of the house, on the other she knew Constant would miss Suki’s ‘good feed’ at night time, so she hoped it wouldn’t be too soon. ‘When do they want ’ee to go to Bath?’
‘In the summer,’ Suki said. ‘’Twill be June, I daresay. That’s when the knights of sugar come to town. Meantime, I got to buy material to make new clothes for William. ’Twill mean a trip to Bristol, don’t ’ee think?’ And she looked at her mistress with a hopeful question on her face.
Annie agreed that it would, but it was the first week of April before she finally decided that the cart should be prepared for them.
‘This aren’t a journey to be took in haste,’ she explained, ‘not with two babbas dependent upon us.’
Her preparations were slow and meticulous. Suki’s sister Molly was summoned to look after the babies, a bowl of gruel was prepared for them and left to be warmed on the fire, a shopping list was written, bonnets and mantles brushed clean and ready, the mare groomed, the cart swept clean. It was past nine o’clock before Constant had been fed and settled and nearly half past before he and William were considered to be in a fit state to be left, even with a confident ten-year-old who said she was sure they’d be no trouble at all.
‘I don’t like to go without un just the same,’ Annie said, looking back anxiously as the cart joggled her away from the farmhouse. ‘What if he should try to sit up and tumble?’
‘Don’t you go a-worriting, ma’am,’ Suki comforted. ‘He’ll be right as rain, you’ll see. Our Molly’s got the knack, same as me. An’ we’ll be back in no time. ’Twon’t take more’n a minute to get our purchases. ’Tis a fine fair place, as I remember, and shops a-plenty.’ And a shipping office somewhere on the quay to tell me what I want to know.
The sun was quite warm by the time they arrived and the High Street was pungent with the smell of newly ground coffee, fresh-brewed tea and newly killed meat. One butcher’s shop was doing a fly-burdened trade in ‘offal and suchlike delicacies’, another was hung about with sausages that dangled from their hooks like long fat beads in every colour from gum pink to blood black, the baker’s shops were floury with the last bread of the morning, and down by the Exchange, sugar loaves stood to attention in the grocer’s shop window like a row of glistening white skittles.
By this time Suki was in such a fever of impatience to find the shipping office that she couldn’t stand still. ‘How if we were to go our separate ways, ma’am?’ she asked, hopping from foot to foot. ‘You won’t need my help with the sugar on account of Mr Jones’ll carry it to the cart. I could be choosing the cloth while you’m a-marketing here. ’Twould save us a deal of time, don’t ’ee think.’
Annie agreed readily. Anything to enable them to get home quickly. ‘Yes,’ she said, her eyes on the sugar. ‘That might be wise.’
Suki was gone before she could look up at her, tripping towards Broad Quay, her skirts swinging with the urgency of her walk. Now, now, now! At last!
The quay resounded with its usual important bustle. The first of the sugar ships had come in the previous day and was being unloaded under the shrewd eyes and knowledgeable comments of half the sugar merchants in town, there were cargoes of wood and sea coal and spices scenting the air, carts and drays blocking the cobbles, men bellowing, timbers knocking, dogs barking with excitement or squealing as they were kicked, and down by the coal barge two avid boys were tying a lighted candle to the tail of a scrawny black cat that was writhing to escape them and screaming in terror.
For a second, Suki was so bewildered by the rush and noise, that she had to stand still to get her bearings. She could see lines of warehouses on both sides of the quay, but nothing that looked like a shipping office. If only they’d leave that poor cat alone, she thought, I could think what to do. The noise it was making was so pitiful it was putting her in a muddle. And then, as if that weren’t enough, a horse starting screaming too. She looked towards the sound to see what was happening.
It was a large bay stallion, rearing up, front legs flailing, mouth foaming, showing the whites of his eyes, as three rough men pulled at him, swearing and sweating. One was a huge fellow in his shirt sleeves, who was in a furious temper, whipping the animal with all his force and struggling to catch his flying bridle. There was something familiar about the stallion’s head and neck, something she knew, and as pity rose in her, she realised what it was. This horse was Beau, Jack’s precious stallion that he loved so much.
Without stopping to think, she stormed to the animal’s defence, eyes blazing. ‘Stop that at once,’ she ordered and pushed the man aside.
He was so amazed to be attacked by a slip of a girl that for a second he didn’t know how to respond, and that gave her a chance to catch the bridle and begin to gentle the horse down, speaking to him as Jack would have done, using the same words and the same tone. ‘Easy now. Easy. That’s my boy. Gently does it. You’m all right now. I got you.’
The fellow was impressed despite himself and that gave him the strength to attack. ‘Clear off out of it,’ he ordered, making a grab for the bridle. ‘What business is it of yourn?’
She stood her ground, furiously, as Beau trembled beside her. ‘’Tis my husband’s horse an’ you’ve no right to whip him. Look what you’ve done to un. I’ll have the law on you.’ Now that the horse was still she could see what a bad state he was in, his mouth torn and bleeding, whip marks on his rump, hooves caked in mud, mane and tail matted, eyes staring in terror. ‘You got no right to treat him so.’
