Convictions (11 page)

“Enough sport,” called Captain Furlee, stepping out of his cabin, though he had a smirk on his face.

Nate jerked Jennie away and helped her to her feet. Her chest heaved with unreleased sobs.

Suddenly Lizzie lunged from out of nowhere, wielding Red Bull’s dropped club. With a mighty swing, she aimed at Red Bull’s back. He noticed her and turned his head just as she whacked him hard. The blow fell across his face.

Jennie heard a crunch of bone and saw a spurt of blood.

Lizzie kept swinging, hot with rage.

Red Bull blindly scuttled away from Lizzie, holding his nose and mouth.

Yates ordered Meadows and Scarface to go to Red Bull’s aid and others to subdue Lizzie. Lizzie kept swinging wildly at the guards until they brought her down. They restrained her arms and legs and hauled her away kicking and screaming.

Nate looked on with horror. His face suffused with anger, he moved as if to help Lizzie. Captain Furlee commanded him to restore order with the women. Nate whirled away, pushing the women back into line. He left a couple of them to gather Jennie into their fold.

She sobbed aloud then, clutching at her torn dress, trying to hide her shame. Sarah hurried over and helped adjust her clothing. Mending was the only thing that would help repair much of her dress. Head down, Jennie walked as quickly as she could to the stern, barely aware of Kate helping to shield her. Bruises were already forming on Jennie’s arms, and she hurt all over. She couldn’t stop shaking.

“Stay near me from now on.” Sarah’s grandmotherly comfort calmed her.

“I’ll watch out for you too,” Kate added.

Jennie nodded, as Fanny sauntered over to join them.

“You’re all right – for a tart,” laughed Fanny, who must have overheard Red Bull’s remark.

“I’m not like you,” Jennie retorted. She clutched her torn garment tighter to her chest with both hands.

“Maybe not, but you’re still feisty! I like that,” Fanny clapped her on the back. “Come on, Miss Prim, loosen up. It was a joke.”

“I don’t think you’re funny at all,” Jennie fumed, jabbing out to shove Fanny.

Fanny sidestepped Jennie and ducked around Sarah. “I think she’s out of the shock phase; what do you think?”

Sarah nodded. Jennie crumpled into herself and sobbed.

Sarah and Kate supported her on either side as they circled the deck on their rounds. Fanny strutted behind, her manner defying anyone to tangle with any of them. Jennie looked for Alice, but was relieved to see that the girl must be below deck, taking her turn at sweeping the hulk.

When she was somewhat calmer, Jennie asked, “What will happen to Lizzie now?”

“The same as before, I –” Fanny started to speak, but Sarah cut her off with a shake of her head.

“Please – not another lashing.” Agitation gripped Jennie. “She won’t survive!”

“Almost certainly a jail cell for the rest of the voyage,” said Sarah.

“Oi,” Fanny agreed.

“After all, the guard attacked you,” said Sarah.

“But that’s the point. He attacked
me
,” said Jennie. “Now Lizzie’s in trouble because of helping
me
.”

“What’s done is done. There’s nothing we can do to reverse the clock,” said Sarah.

“But why did Lizzie try to save me?” Jennie asked.

“Maybe because you saved her,” said Kate.

“But I didn’t,” Jennie said.

“You helped heal her,” said Sarah.

Kate added, “I suspect she wanted to thank you for your kindness in stitching her up.”

“But what good has it done if they whip her again?” Jennie asked.

Fanny stopped and turned to Jennie. “Make no mistake, she also did it to get back at the guards for what they did to her,” she said. “Whatever happens to Lizzie is by her own doing.”

“We’ll do what we can to help her, wherever and whenever possible,” said Sarah.

A wave of knowing seemed to pass through the four of them. Jennie realized there had been some sort of bond formed, and even more, she’d joined some unspoken code of the criminal element to protect one another.

Jennie put her hands on her hips. “That will be the problem…wherever and whatever we can do will be too little. That’s not bloody much good, is it?”

Sarah looked at Jennie in surprise.

“Yes, I swore, and I’ll bloody well do it again,” said Jennie. She stamped her foot. “I’m so tired of being ordered around on this vile shite-hole they call a ship.”

The look of surprise on the women’s faces stopped her. Suddenly Jennie sank against Sarah’s shoulder. Tremors racked her body, but Sarah held her tight, until she’d gathered her wits about her again, Kate and Fanny urging them to move forward.

As Jennie righted herself, a dark cloud passed overhead. She shivered.

Crack! Crack!

A horrible scream ripped through the air.

“Take that you bloody bee-hitch.” Red Bull hollered.

Jennie stopped in her tracks. All strength drained out of her. Sarah stared at her, white-faced and still.

“That’s enough,” shouted Captain Furlee. “She’ll not live.”

“And you can’t afford that,” Fanny hissed under her breath, clenching her fists. “Bloody vicious bastards!”

“No!” Jennie screamed and ran toward the sounds of Lizzie moaning.

“Jennie, wait!” Fanny called after her.

Red Bull pushed Jennie savagely out of the way. She caught herself from falling. Captain Furlee ordered Scarface and Walt to untie Lizzie and haul her back to the
hold. Lizzie’s back was split open again. The captain didn’t stop Jennie, as she plunged down after them. Behind her, she heard the guards barring the others from joining her.

She pushed her way into the surgery where they’d laid Lizzie on her stomach. Jennie covered her own torn dress with a surgeon’s apron. She was already mopping at the blood from Lizzie’s
raw wounds when Surgeon Weymss appeared at her side.

“Bloody stupid woman,” he muttered, looking Lizzie over. “She has a death wish. I’ll not waste any more of my time on the likes of her.”

“You can’t abandon her,” said Jennie aghast.

“I can and I will. Do what you want. You’ll do just as well as me. She probably won’t live this time.” He grabbed a bag, threw some bandages and a small splint into it and stomped out of the surgery. “I have a guard with a broken nose to tend to.”

Though upset at the surgeon’s dismissal of Lizzie, Jennie set to work, thankful that Red Bull wasn’t being treated in the surgery with them.

Lizzie became more cognizant of her surroundings, as Jennie cleaned and stitched the gaping wounds. Re-stitching over partially healed ridges was more difficult than before. Jennie flinched as she jabbed the needle into sore skin, but there was no way she could make it any easier on Lizzie, who swore under her breath each time.

“Sorry,” said Jennie.

“For what?” Lizzie said, sucking in her breath. “Your fancy sewing saved me once.”

“Well, I’m getting tired of doing it!” Jennie said more sharply than she intended. “Why did get yourself flogged again?”

Lizzie went quiet, but Jennie wanted answers. “What is it with you and Red Bull?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but that vile piece of filth is a lying bastard.” Lizzie cried out in pain as Jennie came to a more tender area.

“So you said before. What about? If you tell me, maybe I can help. Like speak up for you to the captain.”

Lizzie snorted. “Not that easy, Miss Prim. So that’s all you get.”

No matter how much Jennie urged, Lizzie wouldn’t say anything more.

Even after a few days when she was a little stronger and transferred to a jail cell at the back, Lizzie still refused to tell Jennie or anyone else more about her situation.

Jennie made a concerted effort to keep her distance from Red Bull. Fanny kept an eye out too, and she, Kate and Sarah hurried Jennie along any time Red Bull appeared in her vicinity. His broken nose healed crookedly and some of his teeth were missing, but Jennie felt no sympathy for him. Luckily, the surgeon had not called her to help suture his face.

••••

Several more weeks
into their voyage,
Jennie’s spirits flagged even more than they had before. The food, never enough to begin with, began to run out, and the hardtack rations became smaller, staler and harder, tasting of mould and leaving her with no appetite. Her body weakened, and she was often too tired to do more than drag herself around the deck. She discovered that numbing her mind to a careful blank became easier and easier to do – no thoughts, no memories, no appeals. And no thought of prayers either.

“Buck up,” Fanny said to her one day. “If you don’t keep our spirits up, who will?”

“What’s the use?” Jennie mumbled.

“We’ll have fresh food soon,” Sarah said. “We should be reaching Tenerife any time now to take on fresh supplies.”

“Never heard of it,” Fanny said.

“The island belongs to Spain, though ’tis off the coast of Africa.” Sarah smiled when Jennie raised an eyebrow in wonderment that she knew this. “I heard the captain tell one of his men.”

“An exotic destination after all,” said Jennie. “Though not quite the kind Fanny meant.”

The others kept silent.

If only she could figure out a way to escape from the ship when it pulled into port, maybe she’d somehow find safety. Her thoughts flickered over the jolly boat and longboat, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Even if she could get past the guards and crew that surrounded them, there was no way she would get far with the armed soldiers on the poop deck leaning over the railing above them. She daren’t express her thoughts to anyone else. She alone must be responsible for the consequences for any plan that might fail. But then she realized, she didn’t know how to row, hadn’t a clue what direction to take and besides, there was no food. She’d never survive alone. But surely there must be some way of escaping from this hellhole. For the moment, she couldn’t think of one, but something would come to her. It had to.

Chapter Nine

As the days passed,
the weather became sullen
and blustery for long stretches, and Jennie brooded, alternately dismissing one futile escape plan after another. Her moodiness increased as rain kept them trapped, ciphering and learning sums down in the hold for days on end. Brief forays on deck, though cold and repetitive, kept her from going crazy. Watching Coombs and Edwards and the other sailors gave her something to do. She wondered how they could stand the monotonous work in the numbing cold, wet weather.

Even Reverend Brantford’s rants lacked fervour. His words had become meaningless to Jennie, and she ignored him. As well, memories of her family and worry about them faded as she went through the motions of existing day after day.

Jennie sometimes slipped down to the jail cells to check on Lizzie. The warders gave Jennie passage to go most anywhere, respecting her ability to help the surgeon. Moreover, she’d sewn up some of them. Scarface had caught his hand in a winch, almost ripping a finger off, and Red Bull had slashed Walt’s neck with a knife in a drunken brawl.

Jennie had tentatively tended to the warders, leery of their hot breaths and lewd remarks, as she’d worked on their wounds. She feared they’d lash out if her ministering hurt them more, but most tried not to show their pain. Nate appeared one day, his face bloody, but he refused to say a word, only wincing as she cleaned him up and applied salve to his wounds.

The ugly bruises on Lizzie’s face and body from the blows she received after attacking Red Bull were fading. The welts on her back, though still healing, left unsightly ridges despite Jennie’s careful stitching. Jennie hoped they looked better than they would have if she had not intervened.

One stormy evening, Jennie found Lizzie shivering in a corner of the jail cell, curled up as tight as a shrivelled leaf. Most of the inmates languished against the bars, the hull and interior walls. Some lay on a scattering of straw pallets stretched out on the floor. Many slumbered and snored to the pitching of the
ship and the moaning of the timbers. Wrist chains secured oth
ers in place.

Among them was Crazy Mary Hilling, rocking on her heels and banging her head against the hull. She nattered in a demented way with an occasional screech, her eyes glassy and distant. Sometimes Jennie wondered if she would end up like Crazy Mary. Now and again, her mind played tricks about where she was. On more than one occasion, Jennie discovered she talked to herself, not to one of her sisters as she’d imagined.

She cleared her head and reached through the bars to rouse Lizzie. Her arm was hot! Jennie shook Lizzie gently at first, then harder until she opened bleary eyes.

“Come closer,” Jennie whispered. She didn’t want Crazy Mary to hear and start caterwauling. “You have a fever. Let me look at your back.”

Lizzie weakly shifted toward Jennie and slumped near the edge of the cell.

Jennie peeled back a bandage, and Lizzie moaned. A couple of the deeper gouges were angry red and swollen with pus.