Chapter 5
The port of Algiers had been growing steadily as the ship approached land on the morning of the fourth day they had been at sea. They had been hugging the coastline to Portugal before crossing open water to Africa and following the coast south until they would reach the hub of the African trade. The Ivory Coast. The bulk of African slaves were funneled through this area. English and French sought the valuable cargo here, sailing to other parts of the world with a labor force to support their burgeoning empires.
“Monsieur Rumkey!”
“Oui, monsieur.”
“Why are we stopping here? Should we not be going to Ouidah?”
“Normally we do, monsieur, but the Captain told us to sail to Algiers first. So here we are.”
“Strange…” Maybe the Captain wasn’t stopping for slaves. Françoise doubted that but she was thankful for the shorter voyage.
Françoise had spent a considerable amount of that time on deck keeping a watchful eye on the Captain. But she knew she couldn’t keep it up forever. It was tiring and it was stressful. She needed a hobby or two. One immediately came to mind but the raw materials for that one stood next to her on the deck. So close and yet so far. What on earth possessed her to share their cabin? Françoise’s eyes slipped past her wife to the other women leaning over the railing. Oh yes, that was why. Lucette’s eyes touched hers in warmth.
“Poor Violette.” Dale tilted her head towards the young woman who was heaving over the side. Why was it that when someone was sick they were referred to as being green? Funny, the young French woman didn’t look green. It was more a pasty gray.
“You know her name?”
“Philippe, I may not understand French but I am not deaf!” Dale harrumphed at her lover and turned her back in disgust. The quiet chuckle from behind her irritated her even more. “Stop it!” she hissed.
“Ahhh, Dale, you are so delightful!” It was nice to finally have something to laugh about. Events of late had stripped away Françoise’s sense of humor. She wrapped her arms around Dale and held her close as the crew hurried about to trim the sails and prepare for docking.
Dale breathed deeply. So many sights, sounds and smells and all so foreign to her. She had traveled in her lifetime, after all she came from a wealthy family, but two hundred years of history had put a different slant on her perceptions.
Dale’s hands sought out Françoise’s for comfort as she watched the humanity on the docks. There were a number of ships in port, either unloading or loading goods. Her vision narrowed down to a crowd of street urchins trying to sell wares, beg for money or just plain steal. They danced around two white men who had come off the next ship along from where they were berthed. It was like a shell game. Watch one hand while the other robbed you blind, and these children had the scam down to a fine art.
“Break out the gangplank!” The Captain’s rusty voice yelled over the clatter of winches, the rumble of collapsing sail and the grunts of tired men.
“So what happens now, Monsieur Rumkey?”
“We will be in port for a few hours, monsieur, to pick up our cargo. We set sail on the evening tide.”
“Very well…”
“It is not wise to wander too far from the ship, monsieur.” The small man’s eyes flickered to Dale in warning. Françoise’s eyes followed his gaze, finally understanding the meaning. A white woman in this exotic port, especially one as beautiful as Dale, would be a rare prize.
“I will heed your warning, Rumkey.”
“What’s going on?”
“He was just suggesting that we stay on board, Dale.”
“But…”
“I am sorry, chérie. It is just too dangerous for us to wander about alone. I do not want to have to fight some Arabian Prince to get my wife back.”
“Ahhh…”
“However…” Françoise let her arms slip away from Dale. “Lucette! S'il te plaît.” She didn’t try to move away from her wife, knowing that Dale railed at being left out of what was going on. “We are going to need more supplies. Are you up to carrying out such a task? Take Honorine with you as she is the cook. I will ask Monsieur Baptiste to escort you. Perhaps Monsieur Rumkey can spare one or two of the crew to help with the supplies.” Françoise wished that she could have gone herself but she baulked at leaving her wife alone with the Captain.
* * *
Françoise stood at the top of the gangplank to watch the party leave on their expedition. She had taken Lucette with her to their cabin and gave her the remaining coin sack from the trunk. Something made her show the woman the secret compartment, in case something happened to her… to them. She suspected if she died, Dale would not be far behind. Lucette handed over her own sack of coin that Françoise had given for safe keeping. Along with the second pistol in the trunk, the French woman added them to the secret hoard, sealing the hiding place with a swift kick to the wooden board.
The small group reached dry land and was quickly swallowed up in the sea of people bustling around in a hive of activity. All she could do now was wait and worry.
“I am surprised, monsieur, that you did not go yourself.”
“I was just thinking the same thing, Rumkey.” Françoise waited for the older man to meet her at the railing. “But I cannot leave my wife alone. Thank you for sparing a few men to help with supplies.”
“My pleasure, monsieur.”
“Please, call me Philippe, or Monsieur Théroux if your tongue falls over my first name.” She smiled. She liked this man. He was an honest sailor and had the makings of a good friend. “I am sure you were not expecting this many passengers. I feel that we should make amends for that.”
“The Captain may not think so, but I can understand the need to save those women. It is a sad day, monsieur, a sad day.”
“Indeed, Rumkey. Who would have thought that one French man would turn on another, eh?” Françoise paused for a moment. “So, where do we go now?”
“From here we set sail to Ouidah then west to St. Domingue. For this time of year it could take from four to six weeks. Of course it depends on weather, wind conditions and currents. We are sailing at the end of the season. Had we waited any longer the winds would have been unfavorable and the trip would take one to two weeks longer.”
“There is that much difference?”
“The winds are seasonal. They blow one way for summer and the other way
for winter.”
“I did not know that.”
“Unless you are a man of the sea you would have no need to, monsieur.”
Françoise watched the slow loading and unloading of vessels. “We are leaving tonight, Rumkey?”
“That is correct, monsieur.”
“That is quick, is it not?”
“Oui. Normally we would be in port for two to three days, or even a week or two, to unload and load. The Captain’s orders were to prepare to set sail on the tide.”
“I see. Thank you, Monsieur Rumkey. I will not stop you from your work.”
“My pleasure, monsieur.” He hopped away sprightly, drawing a smile from Françoise. She only hoped that she was full of that much energy when she reached his age. When? A few weeks ago she did not wish for old age. Tiredness crept over her and she longed for a nap. Dale was trying to communicate with Violette, her hands playing charades in an effort to make her thoughts known.
“Dale!”
“Yes, my husband?”
“I will be in our cabin if you need me.”
“Sure, no problem.”
Sure…. Françoise wondered if her wife had started that log yet with all those funny words Dale was prone to use. As she approached the door a sound inside made her stop. The pistol that had been in her waistband was now in her hand, her finger twitching nervously over the trigger. Slowly she opened the door, peering carefully inside for danger. Kneeling on the floor in front of the trunk was one of the crew, one of the two she met that first day she came aboard to arrange passage. She rested her shoulder against the wall and studied him as he clumsily tried to use a knife to pry open the lock.
“A key works better.” Her low words cut through the air. Françoise leveled the pistol at the intruder. “Get up,” she growled, the menace in her voice telling him he was in trouble.
“But… but…”
“There is nothing you can say that will satisfy me, monsieur. You are a thief and I shoot thieves.”
“No... no… the Captain…”
“The Captain was behind this?” He nodded mutely. She was not surprised. It was only a matter of time. The muzzle of the gun waved him away from the box and Françoise moved in, carefully laying down the weapon before removing the key from around her neck and opening the lid. She brought out everything inside for his inspection. “As you can see, there is nothing of value here. I told the Captain that. He obviously did not believe me.”
Françoise swiftly picked up the pistol. Luckily, the man had been mesmerized with the goods on display and she was able to get away with being unarmed. “The Captain is so cowardly that he has to send someone else to get caught?” She was beginning to hate the man with a vengeance. “Well, you can tell him that there is no money. No jewels. Nothing of value. What coin I had left is being spent as we speak buying food and supplies for the voyage.” She pointed to the mirror frame. “That is of sentimental value only. It was a wedding present from my parents. There is nothing there but wood, monsieur. Instead of worrying about the contents of my chest he should be concerned with sailing this ship.” She stepped closer until the pistol was touching the smelly sailor’s chest. “You tell the Captain that the next person I find in this cabin without my permission will be shot on sight. Do you understand?”
“Oui, monsieur.”
“Now get out of here!”
The swarthy man scrambled to the door, his eyes momentarily touching her before he disappeared from sight. Françoise sighed. She was tired, oh so tired. All she wanted was Dale in her arms and a warm comfortable bed. To close her eyes and dream sweet dreams of what might be.
* * *
Dale had tried really hard to communicate with the sick woman. Barely taller than herself, Violette was a pretty little thing. When she smiled, her impish face lit up with energy. However, she was not smiling now. The pasty color had faded to a pale pink but it was only a respite before the real voyage began. Dale knew that they couldn’t leave Violette behind in Algiers because she would likely fall prey to unscrupulous men. A white woman in a foreign city with no one to protect her was not a wise move. It was a certain life imprisonment and possible death. Maybe there was something in the herbs they had. She sought out her lover to ask.
One of the sailors rushed by her as she made her way to the cabin, his head looking back over his shoulder numerous times as if the Devil himself was on his tail. Dale smiled. Or the Devil herself, in the shape of a tall, luscious, dark haired vixen who could bewitch anyone she chose. She could attest to that fact because that was how she was caught.
She slowly opened the door and peered inside carefully. Maybe Françoise was trigger happy and Dale really wanted to keep her own head on her shoulders. “Hello?” Françoise was perched on the edge of the bunk, her head drooping in exhaustion. Dale stepped further into the room. “You look tired. You have to get some sleep, my love. The Captain be damned.”
“I am tired.”
“Then take a nap.”
“I would like to, chérie, but…”
“No buts… I tell you what, how about a bedtime story?”
“Bed…”
“Come on, off with those boots.”
“…time...”
“That’s my girl.”
“…story?”
“Well, that was two words. Any more before you sleep?”
“I have plenty of words for you, Dale.”
“But not now. Sleep now, words later.”
“I cannot…”
“Yes you can. You can’t keep going like this. You need rest.”
“I can think of something better that would cure my tiredness…” Françoise reached out and grabbed Dale’s arm, her hand sliding seductively up the blonde’s skin.
“Now stop that!”
“It is a perfect time.”
“I know it is, but how embarrassing would it be to get caught?”
“Ahhh, my sweet Dale, you have not experienced the thrill of performing in public, eh?”
“Perform… You’re not serious, right?”
Françoise laughed at the shocked look on the woman’s face. “So innocent, ma chérie. You are a delight!” She tugged gently until Dale was seated beside her. “Come. Lie with me for a little while.”
“But…”
“Just hold me, chérie. I miss feeling you close to me.” Françoise reached under her shirt and loosened the bandage. She breathed freely for the first time in quite a while. “That is soooo much better.” Her hand disappeared down her breeches and shifted the attachment that had been nemesis so far and would be her mortal enemy for the rest of the journey.
Dale moved Françoise’s boots to the far wall, opening the window to allow a cool breeze to air the room and her lover’s smelly footwear. “Your feet smell.”
“They do not!”
“Oh, yes they do! Either that or your hose need washing. It’s probably both.”
“I cannot smell them.” She sniffed the air trying to catch a whiff of the disgusting aroma Dale was accusing her of. “Well, you are closer to the floor…”
“Why you…!” Dale made a lunge at the bed, wrestling the laughing French woman to the mattress.
“Ahh, now I have you where I want you.” In Françoise’s eyes her mission was accomplished. She lay down flat and pulled Dale towards her, tucking the smaller woman under her arm until her head was resting on her shoulder. “Now, I believe you owe me a story.”
“A story. Yes. Once upon a time…”
“A time? Not today or tomorrow?”
“No, this is a pretend time. We are swimming in the blue ocean.”
“But I cannot swim, chérie.”
“Will you stop interrupting?”
“But you are saying silly things.”
“It’s a pretend story. I’m allowed to say silly things.” She prodded Françoise in the side, instantly regretting it as the woman instinctively twitched.” We are shipwrecked on a desert island.” Dale could feel the intake of breath and stopped her before she could speak. “It is paradise, okay? Just accept it.” She clicked her tongue. “Sheesh…”
“Fine.” The hypnotic voice was slowly washing away her resolve, allowing her tense body to relax.
“We are swimming… playing around in the shallows. The sun is out and the water is clear and cool.”
“I have never…”
“No, you haven’t, but one day…”
“Oui, one day…” A yawn stopped Françoise’s words.
“One day you will understand all these words. We are naked in the water.”
“Now you have my attention.” But her eyelids started to droop despite the erotic imagery.
The sun beat down mercilessly on the pale bodies playing in the crystal clear water of the lagoon. A spray of water battered her rapidly drying skin as Françoise stalked her prey. Dale giggled like a schoolgirl at the antics of her lover. They were free to play like water sprites in the summer sun. There were no onlookers, no distraction and no clothes. They were free.
Françoise was single-minded in her pursuit of her little minx. “You cannot escape me, ma petite sauvage,” she growled, the words dripping with intent.
“Who says I want to escape?” Emerald eyes danced in the noonday sun, flecks of gold highlighted in the warming rays. But she hopped around in the shallows, staying just out of reach of those long arms.
“Grrrr…,” the growl emanated from Françoise’s chest as she moved in a direct line for her adversary.
“Oh oh…” Dale turned and ran, her short legs making hard work of the knee-high water. Françoise was gaining on her quickly as those long legs plowed through the surf, eating up precious space until she was a hair’s breadth away as they emerged from the water. She stood no chance, she knew that, but half the fun was in the chase, and she made Françoise work hard for her reward.
“Ah ha! I have you now!”
“That sounded so piraty!”
“Piraty? That is a word?”
“For you it is!” Françoise swooped in and caught her wife, pulling her swiftly in the last foot or so. Eager lips sought each other out, sweet seduction long forgotten under the heat of passion. Dale pushed her backwards until they were standing on the edge of the beach, between the water and the sand. “It’s too hot…” she muttered through panting breaths and strangled cries. “Here…” She began to lower herself to the sandy wash, dragging Françoise with her. “A ‘From Here To Eternity’ moment.”
Françoise didn’t even bother to question it. There was no point. Instead she bent her considerable hunger to the dinner table below her lying seductively on the wet sand. A wave slew over them, their bodies subtly shifting with the tide. “Here?”
“Sure.”
Sure… There was that word again. She now knew that meant ‘yes’. It was a strange sensation feeling the heat of their bodies and the sun overhead being cooled by the rhythmic surge of the waves. And yet it was sensual, like fire and ice.
Françoise’s hands wandered, finding a perky nipple begging for her attention. She wasted no time and lowered her mouth to lovingly answer the call. Restless hands found their way into her damp hair, scratching her sandy scalp.
“I love you.” The three words came out of nowhere but seemed oddly perfect at that time and place.
“Moi aussi, ma chérie.” Françoise’s tongue laved the pebbled piece of skin. “With all my heart.” Dale’s hands tightened in a hug and she felt a tickling in her chest. She had never experienced the sensation before Dale and she had come to associate it with love. It was as if her heart was giving the love back. She only wished that Dale could feel it too.
Dale drew her up so that their faces were level. “I can feel it…,” the blonde whispered, placing her hand over the large woman’s heart, “…right here.” Azure eyes widened in surprise. “Now, kiss me you fool…” She giggled at the frown on her lover’s face, pulling her down for a deep kiss to wipe away the concern. “…and you’re not a fool, lover.”
Dale’s hands swept over the broad back above her, restlessly outlining every plane and indentation. She only wished that she could see it. But it was only a matter of closing her eyes and letting her imagination fill in the details, her internal vision sliding over pale soft unblemished skin. It was something that she hoped she never tired of.
Françoise could feel herself slipping away as she bent down to taste the salty skin. A knee insinuated itself between her legs, drawing an agonized moan from her dry lips. She looked down into vibrant green eyes cheekily watching her. “You do not play fair, chérie.”
“I know…” But further words were lost as nimble fingers sought Dale out, sliding over water-slicked skin to find her. Water lapped at their entwined bodies, doing little to cool the ardor building to explosion point, hungrily demanding a satisfaction that was only moments away.
Dale was awash with sensation. Her mind tried to focus on her stimulation of Françoise but instead it was greedily absorbing the movement of her partner’s hand. Frantically she grabbed the face above her, roughly pulling it down to meet hers. Her tongue brooked no argument, demanding entry. She plundered that mouth without remorse as her emotions soared and her body shook.
Before the contractions had even finished Dale was in motion. She flipped her lover over, her hand eagerly seeking to reciprocate the pleasure. “You… are… mine.” The possessive tone of her voice enthralled her partner who was unable to tear her eyes away from the blazing green hovering over her.
Like a vampire the blonde fed on the French woman’s lust, drinking in the life-giving emotion of her lover. She had lost control of her inhibitions and existed on that hedonistic plane that she had seen Françoise in many times in the mirror. Aggressively she sought the pleasure, her fingers delving into the soft warmth of her partner again and again. She paid no need to the guttural sounds that reached her ears. It was only the pleasure that she sought, she craved, she needed and she owned.
Françoise’s mind swirled like a maelstrom. Pleasure and pain had become her friend and confidant, knowing her inner most secrets and feeding them. Dale was like a woman possessed, driving her to the brink of insanity with her resolve for utter completion. Higher and higher she went, her breathing faltering with the thinness of the air. How? How could this slip of a woman know her very soul? Feed her innermost secrets? Be her only desire? The waves hitting the shore were calm compared to the tidal wave washing over her, her body totally out of her control as wave after wave swallowed her whole. And yet Dale would not let her be, controlling her like a puppet and pulling the strings for her to jump. She was but a slave to her own desires and the small blonde continued to expertly play her, not content until she begged for her to stop.
Panting, Françoise looked up to the angelic face above her. “Now I can die a happy woman.”
Dale’s mind had wandered as she told her story, her hand idly drawing circles on Françoise’s stomach. Now she eagerly wished for the whole trip to be over. Françoise had checked everywhere and there seemed there was very little space where they wouldn’t be found. It was going to be a hell of a long voyage.
Dale looked down at her sleeping partner. If she fell asleep after a story like that the woman must have been exhausted. A smacking of lips brought a smile, and she looked down at her lover’s head lying in her lap, a sweet smile adding to the adorable countenance presented to her. Her hand rose to brush away the dark tendrils framing Françoise’s face, a lone finger continuing the journey across the high forehead and long cheek. Dale continued to idly stroke the French woman’s hair as a gentle snore could barely be heard over the creaking of the vessel. At this particular moment everything else faded away, focusing her attention on the two of them. This… this was what was important. Not the Captain, not the voyage and not even the slaves. She suspected the two of them had a part to play in the grand scheme of things. Isn’t that what she had said to Françoise at the beginning of their journey? All this hardship was to test their love and their resolve to remain together.
“Ahh, Philippe…”
“Shhhh….” Dale tried to stop the noise but the entry of four people into the room, their hands full of supplies, was enough to stir her sleeping partner.
“I’m sorry, little one.”
“Uuhhhhhh…..” Françoise groaned. “Oohhhhh…” Pain lanced through her back as she stretched. Dale’s arm swiftly covered her chest, reminding her that the bandage was loose. “Done?”
“Oui, we have. Monsieur Rumkey arranged delivery of more water barrels in our absence. I left the choice of food supplies in Honorine’s capable hands.”
“And I found very little that I’d want to use. Heathen…”
“Honorine! Manners!” Lucette scolded her cook.
“We shouldn’t be here in the first place, Lucette. If he hadn’t interfered…”
“We’d all be dead. We all know that. The sooner you make the best of our circumstances the easier this trip will be.”
“But…”
“No, Honorine. It stops here. No more sniping, if you please.” Lucette could see Françoise’s predicament and ushered the helpers out the door. “Thank you everyone. Now, we should leave them alone.”
“Alone? Do not spoil them…,” the cook muttered under her breath.
“Honorine, let them be.” Lucette gave the two women one final look, rolling her eyes in exasperation before closing the door behind her.
“Thank God for that woman.”
“Now see what would have happened if we had been fooling around?”
“Oui. I would have a smile on my face, chérie.”
“And I would be embarrassed.”
“I could make you forget everything, Dale.”
“That is nothing new, my love. You do that on a daily basis.” The tall woman just smiled. Her teeth were on full view from the grin plastered on her face. “And you know it!”
“Of course, chérie. I have a reputation to uphold, have I not?”
“You have nothing to prove to me, Françoise. I love all of you, including the troublemaker and the seductress. But…,” Dale nudged the woman to sit up. “…but, now reality awaits.”
“Real –ti?”
“It’s another word to add to that list, huh? It means real life. It’s time for us to go back on deck and join the others.”
Françoise stood and adjusted her accoutrements before collecting her boots. She took a moment to collect the coin sack sitting on the table, much lighter from its recent use, and place it in the trunk. The empty flasks sat there forgotten. “Damn…”
The muttering drew Dale’s attention. “What?”
“I had forgotten these.” Françoise held up a number of small wooden bottles strung together on one tether line. “I meant to ask Lucette to fill them before we sail.”
“Maybe the blacksmith would oblige. Why do we need these?”
“If something happens…”
“In case of an emergency?”
“Em-merge?”
“Emergency… if something goes wrong.”
“Oui, em-merge. Now it is time.” Françoise escorted her wife out the door, one hand resting on the small of her partner’s back while the other held the empty bottles.
* * *
“Monsieur Rumkey!”
“Oui, monsieur.”
“When do we sail?”
The First Mate looked at the sun’s position in the sky. “Mid-afternoon, monsieur.”
“Where can I fill these?” Françoise held up the bottles.
“Our supplies are below deck. I can get one of the crew to fill them…”
“Non, Rumkey. There will barely be enough for the journey.”
“In that case, there is a well near the markets.”
“Merci, monsieur. Do I have time to carry out such a task?”
“We still have to clear the deck and stow the cargo. There is more than enough time.” He turned his back for a moment. “Henri!”
“Wait!” Her hand rested on his bony shoulder. “Sébastien!”
The mountain of a man trundled over to the duo. “Oui, Philippe?”
“Would you accompany me to the well near the markets?”
“Of course.”
Françoise had not planned to leave Dale alone but she was standing with the women on the upper deck. While not actively taking part in the conversation, she was in the general vicinity and in relative safety. “Dale!”
“Yes, my husband!” Dale moved briskly to the stairs to meet her wife half-way.
“Sébastien and I are going to the well at the markets. Stay here.”
“But… you get to see everything!” Dale was not amused.
“Please, chérie, do not argue with me. Stay here where it is safe.”
“This will be my only chance…”
“Non.” The sternness of the word made Dale jump. “It is too dangerous.”
“And it isn’t for you?”
“I am the man of this family.”
“Only by default.”
“De-fault. Please, do not confuse me now.” Françoise was getting a headache. Dale was using words she didn’t know. “You do not play fair.”
“Well, I’m not the one wearing the pants now, am I?”
“You do indignant so well, mon amour.” She kissed her lover on the cheek then whispered in her ear. “Here… take this…” The pistol suddenly materialized in Dale’s hand and she hid it in the folds of her dress. “In case of em-merge.”
“Emergency.”
“Oui… as you say.”
Dale sighed deeply. Françoise seemed to be winning all the arguments on a regular basis. If she didn’t win one or two soon she would never get to go anywhere or see anything. “Alright, but just this once. Next time you take me.”
“I promise.” But she knew that was a promise she could not keep. At least not yet.
Françoise bounded down the stairs to the gangplank. “Sébastien, are you sure you remember the way?”
“Oui, Philippe. It is just a matter of going down that street. It is no more than a few minutes.”
“Good. Rumkey, we will not be long. Perhaps thirty minutes. Do not leave without us.” She grinned at the sprightly man organizing the men and supplies.
“Very well, monsieur.” He grinned back, his yellowing teeth visible except for an obviously missing side tooth.
“Come on.” The wooden plank began to sway as the two of them disembarked, the weight of the blacksmith lending to the bounce in their steps. It felt strange to be on dry land. Françoise could feel herself lurch in anticipation of the sway of the ship, but there was nothing there. It took some concentration not to stagger and look like some drunken fop.
She followed the big man down the dusty street towards the sounds and smells of the local food market. While it was within her power to just help herself to the water, Françoise felt it was proper to ask permission. After much hand signaling she found her man and reverently asked him for water. He was touched by her obvious show of respect and so offered not only the water but some food as well.
Françoise had learned from Dale about catching the bees with honey thing and she was glad that she chose that path today. She didn’t need any more enemies than she already had, and she knew she had her hands full with the Captain.
They partook the finger foods, including something their host called makrout, a sweet pasty stuffed with figs and honey. Françoise drank her tea in relative silence, enjoying the Arabian flavors that teased their taste buds. As much as she wanted to experience more time was short. As diplomatically as possible Françoise begged to be excused, detouring to the well and taking their fill. The precious liquid spilled over the bottles, dripping back into the well so that not a drip was wasted. The heat would make water an expensive commodity in this land. It was nearly as precious as the slaves themselves, or maybe even more so.
As they wandered along the stalls, Françoise glanced in fascination at the variety of produce that was available, wondering what the cook had bought. Her taste buds sharpened at the thought of more exotic meals to come, as long as Honorine didn’t kill the taste first.
The blacksmith had been quiet for a while, letting his companion absorb the sights and sounds that were so foreign to them both. But his curiosity got the better of him. “Why did you do that? We could have taken the water.”
“I do not know. It just felt…right…to do so.” Françoise was lost in her own musings and did not notice the strange look Sébastien gave her. “What a strange thought…,” she mumbled.
It took moments for the situation to sink in as they approached the dock area. Orders were being yelled and the sound of winches shifting could be heard. “Oh no, he would not dare…” Françoise’s footsteps picked up speed, feeling the burly blacksmith dogging her every step. “That…that…whoreson…of… a…pig!” Dale would be proud of her colorful expletive.
The gangplank had already been hauled aboard and the docking ropes removed. The ship had barely moved inches from the dock but it was drifting away with every passing second. “Captain!” She yelled at the figure standing on the upper deck and saw the grin of triumph on his face. “What are you doing?” It was a stupid question. Of course she knew what he was doing. He was ridding himself of the one person who would stand up to him.
A length of rope appeared over the side, swinging precariously out from the hull. She was nudged in the back by Sébastien, his head nodding towards the rope. “But I cannot leave you here…,” she pleaded.
“Go. She needs you more than I do.”
“I will return.” Before she had time to think she ran towards the edge of the dock, her long legs striding until she was at a full run. With a leap of faith, the tall woman launched herself off the dock and over the water, extending her long body to gain every inch of air she could to grab the rope. Her forward motion was stopped with a thud as she slammed into the hull. The pain she diverted into her hate of the Captain, feeding it like a starving lion. He was a dead man.
* * *
Dale watched her wife go, wishing that she was already back from her little journey. She was so lonely and never felt more out of place than standing near a group of women babbling in French while watching black slaves being forcibly manhandled up onto a ship sailing into hell. She could not watch either so she turned her attention to the dock, finding small comfort in watching the children play.
For some reason the Captain seemed to be in a hurry, pushing his men into a scrambling run to accomplish his orders. It took her a moment to realize what he was doing. Would he be so foolish as to leave without all the passengers? The gangplank appeared on the deck. Yes, he would.
Françoise and Sébastien came into view as the ropes were pulled on board. “Captain!” Her lover’s voice was strong and clear… and pissed. “What are you doing?” Dale sensed the urgency in those words and she was not going to let her lover be left behind.
She moved the few feet to where he stood, overlooking the lower deck imperiously. The man really was a tyrant. “Captain!” What could she say? She moved her head from side to side vigorously but he just laughed at her. But that laugh faded as the pistol in her hand found its way to his temple. She spared a moment to cast a glance sideways but her lover had disappeared. A moment later there was a bang against the ship. What was that?
* * *
By no mean feat Françoise slowly pulled herself up the dangling rope. No one came to her aid and she was left to haul herself aboard. Her arms felt like jelly and shook uncontrollably at the strain, and it was something she hoped she didn’t have to repeat any time soon. It took all her strength to pull herself over the railing, leaving her to fall unceremoniously to the deck. Her head dropped between her spread legs as her bottom sat in a puddle of water. She didn’t care.
Once the shaking had stopped her eyes rose and blazed a path to the source of her ire. There stood her Dale with a pistol at the head of the Captain. Her heart burst with pride knowing that her little American would protect her no matter what. “I will assume Captain that you did not know that we had not returned.” But no one believed her, not even herself. “Now, return to the dock and pick up Monsieur Baptiste!” She said it forcefully so that he understood it was not a request.
Reluctantly he agreed, yelling out orders to return to the dock. As the plank was lowered, Françoise’s eyes sought out Rumkey’s. He gave her a friendly wink in acknowledgement. So, he was her guardian angel. She tilted her head in thanks and turned her attention to the arrival of the blacksmith. “Ahhh, welcome aboard, monsieur,” she remarked jovially, slapping him on the back as he passed.
“Good to be back, Philippe. I did not fancy living here.”
“I am sure, just as you were not expecting to be taking a sea voyage.” As the ship slipped away from its berth Françoise made eye contact with her nemesis, pouring every ounce of menace she could into that one look. Her point made she sought out Dale, who had backed away and was standing near the railing. Thank you, ma chérie. A dip of the head put a smile on her face. Now the woman could read her thoughts.
* * *
“I thought I had lost you there for a moment.”
“You should know, chérie, that it would take more than that man to stop me from getting to you.”
“I know.” Françoise felt a shiver run through her soul when Dale spoke. It was as if someone else had spoken the words, someone who held their destiny in his, or her, capable hands. There was a finality in those words that spoke a hidden truth.
“Come…” The French woman guided her partner to their cabin in silence. So much had happened that day and she would be glad to see the end of it.
* * *