* * *
Chapter 9
“You look tired.” The new Captain was barely awake on her feet, bringing a smile to Dale’s lips. This little bit of vulnerability in the tall woman touched the young woman’s heart.
The hot meal had been welcome. Despite reports of a major donnybrook in the galley, the two cooks managed to come up with something quite tasty, which settled the discontent in the crowd as much as heroic rhetoric. Nothing like a full stomach to make the day’s ills seem far away, and Françoise was happy to leave it that way.
“Hmmm?” Françoise wasn’t really listening to Dale. Instead her mind was finding a mental bed to crawl into.
“Never mind…” Dale pushed her lover over to the bunk, shoving the relaxed body until the French woman was sitting on the mattress. She reached for the boots, tugging energetically to remove them. “Pewwww…..,” she muttered. “You have got to soak your feet for, oooh, about two weeks.”
“Huh?” Tired eyes opened to look at her. “What did you say? Who were you talking to?”
“Ahhh, she’s alive!” Dale chuckled at the startled look on the seated woman’s face. “I was just commenting on your personal hygiene.”
“Hy… who?”
“Your feet smell, sweetie.”
“Sweet…e?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake…” Dale pushed again, watching with some satisfaction as Françoise ungraciously collapsed to a prone position. Any hopes of a long cuddle disappeared with the smacking of lips and a wide yawn. The knock on the door broke her reverie. Rather than call out she answered the door herself, waving in the others to find their beds. Lucette looked at her inquiringly and Dale pointed to the bunk then shrugged. The linen tied around the doorknob would not be needed tonight. After the room had settled the blonde sought solace in the dark and her lover’s arms.
* * *
Early morning saw Dale’s head buried in the pages of her journal. Funny how something seemed such a stupid idea at first had now become her second friend. Amid the swaying of the vessel, she dipped the quill into the ink, sealing the bottle before the black dye went everywhere. Finally having something to write, she began a new entry:
Day Thirty-Three
Oh boy, what a day it was yesterday! It’s been many days of inactivity because she was looking after me. I think it was good for her as well, giving her a break from the constant chess game between her… I can say Françoise instead of Philippe now… and the captain. Yesterday turned out to be a doozy! But I am ahead of myself. It began like many days before it and with no end in sight. Yesterday afternoon she came to me, all full of fire and aggression. I didn’t know what to make of it at first but, as usual, my body gave me away. How does she do that to me? And she took me. She… took… me, and I didn’t stop her. In fact, I was encouraging her. It was so unlike anything we had done before and the words she used, I knew something was not right. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that it was all acting. Acting? Not on your life! As soon as she touched me the world fell away where only the two of us existed. I know she felt that too. It was like she took us to a higher plane of existence and it was wonderful.
Anyway, enough of that. I could write pages and pages about how she makes me feel. If I did that it would be nothing more than a porno novel. I didn’t understand why she left me so suddenly. I will have to ask her later about that. But after she had gone the captain came in. He wouldn’t leave and I knew I was in trouble. Was he the one watching us? Why was Françoise loving me in front of him? So many questions…
I managed to stop him! Little me. I kicked him in the groin and he fell instantly. Not enough to completely incapacitate him but it hurt him, I know. And I didn’t even think twice about doing it. I had always thought that after the earlier attack on the road that I would be afraid to protect myself. I guess I showed myself. Ha!
But Françoise was there in a flash. I wonder if she heard my thoughts. Boy, was she angry! I was glad that I wasn’t on the end of her tirade. She dragged him out and was ready to cut his heart out. I tell ya it was so exciting to see her so riled up. I didn’t understand at first why her anger died down. Maybe it was the fact that the captain had a very strong hold over his crew. But she was smart. I always knew that about her. She turned her tactics to the captain’s deceit. It didn’t take long for them to see the snake that he was. That’s my girl!
Then the storm. I gotta tell ya it was scary! I was watching the lantern hanging from the rafter swinging wildly, hoping it wasn’t going to break. It was the only time I was glad that we didn’t have light. It would have been ironical indeed if we had died by fire. Anyway, I shouldn’t have been watching the lantern because it was the first time I have been sea-sick. I now sympathize with Violette, the poor girl heaving during the entire storm.
But it didn’t end there. We lost the Captain and his two partners-in-crime overboard, as well as a dozen of the slaves. So sad, not that I am not glad to see that pig of a man go, but the young woman with the child. What a waste.
Now Françoise is the Captain, more because no one else wanted the job. First she had the weight of my safety on her shoulders, now she has the whole boat, some sixty-odd people. Knowing her as I do, she will take her responsibility seriously, so I brace myself for even lonelier days ahead. Maybe with some sleep things will look brighter once things have settled down.
Dale gave the page a moment to let the ink dry, packing away her possessions into the trunk quietly. Her eyes swept over the sleeping bodies in the room. It looked like they were her family now. It sort of surprised her that she was the first one to rise. Even Françoise was snoring gently wrapped in the warmth of the recently vacated blanket.
Dale went back to her scratching for a moment, lost in the words for a short while, so she was unaware of the twitching body on the bunk.
“What have you done?” Incredulity touched le comte’s words.
“Something to save us all…,” Françoise muttered.
“You will pay for this!” His hands clutched at his throat and his heart.
“No, you will…”
Françoise’s eyes flew open, the pounding of her heart filling her ears. She scanned the room as she tried to gain her bearings. Her eyes fell on Dale leaning over the journal, immersed in her musings. This was what mattered. The past was in the past, she could see that now, and she banished her nightmares to the far recesses of her memory. She knew there would be times ‘he’ would visit her in her dreams but hopefully she now had a weapon to fight him.
“Hey. You’re awake.”
Françoise didn’t notice that she had been observed.
“Bonjour Honorine!” Dale said brightly, earning her a frown from the cook.
“There is nothing to smile about, young woman!” The woman muttered as she opened the door. “Hrrrmpphh..”
“Yeah… you too.” Some people were never happy.
“Bonjour Dale.” On the other hand, some people just brought out the smile in her. That deep melodic voice her heart would know, even without the aid of ears.
“How are you this morning?”
Françoise gingerly stretched, feeling the after-effects of the emotional and physical drain from the day before. All things considered, she probably felt better than she should have. “A little tired.”
“Then stay there.”
“Oh non, non, non. There is too much to do.” She pushed away the worn blanket that had kept her warm, instantly regretting it. The cool morning air pebbled her warm skin.
“Cold are we?”
“Huh?” Dale’s eyes were riveted on her chest, the evidence of the morning chill clearly visible through the cloth. “Oh…” Her arms wound around her body.
“Hey! I was watching that!”
“What is the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” she grinned. “Nothing at all.”
It was a challenge, and Françoise knew it. Ever so slowly she removed her arms and allowed her wife a full view. She chuckled as those green eyes were fixated on her breasts. Dale just stared… and stared. “Chérie… “
“Yeah I know, I’ll go blind…”
“You will?”
“It’s just a saying, my love. I’m sorry for staring. I’m still getting used to you not being strapped up.”
“Oui, just as I am not wearing that…”
“Straight jacket.”
“Oui, just as you say.” Françoise gave up. It was just too hard to wait for an explanation. Finally she looked around the room to see the sleeping women. “No one awake?”
“Honorine has left to cook, but otherwise, no. It’s you and me.”
“But not alone, mon cœur.”
Dale sidled up to her lover, a lone finger idly drawing swirls on the white cotton shirt. “About yesterday…”
“Which part?” Françoise knew exactly what part but the playfulness was contagious.
“Which p…? Are you crazy?” Ruby lips parted in surprise, making Dale look like a goldfish sucking in air.
“Non, I do not think so.” When she couldn’t hold the straight face any longer, Dale pounced on her.
“Why you… you…” They fell to the bunk in a mass of arms and legs.
“Maybe I am going blind as well, mon amour.”
“I hope not. I always want to be able to look into your eyes and see your soul.” The finger that had been traveling over her wife’s chest now found its way to the lean cheek. It drew down the soft skin slowly, mapping the unblemished path with love. “Now, about yesterday...”
“Which part?” The question came with a guffaw, the laughter long and loud as she enjoyed the look of frustration on Dale’s face.
“Don’t make me hurt you!” It may have been a threat but it was an endearing one.
“Yesterday…”
“Why did you do that?” Françoise stilled at the question. “He was watching, wasn’t he? It was a charade.”
“Oui, it was.” The forlorn look nearly broke the French woman’s heart. “At first, it was. But it had changed. That is why I stopped. I did not want to… to…” Françoise was struggling for the word.
“Cheapen. To take away its worth.”
“Oui, cheapen what we have.”
“But it didn’t.”
“I know. It… it… was…” She didn’t know what to say. How could she express what she herself couldn’t understand?
“I know, my love. I know perfectly.” Words were superfluous.
“Now if you two have finished your horseplay…” The burr of the sleepy madam disturbed the moment.
“Oui, tantine. We were just discussing…”
“I know very well what you two were discussing. I discussed such things on a daily basis, little one.”
“Enough, old woman!” Lucette was doing it again, making her feel like a ten year-old child talking about things no ten year-old should know. “Plleeassee…” Françoise was not above begging for a little peace and quiet.
“Fine, Françoise. I know you have a reputation to keep.”
“A reputation? Moi?”
“Oui… toi. What did you think us lowly souls talked about in the darkness of the night, eh?”
“Mon Dieu!”
“Little one, if you had that reputation in my establishment the whole town would have been lining up out the door to be with you. Men and women!” She smirked at the look of dismay on the tall woman. “And maybe a sheep or two…” The smile turned into a full-fledged laugh as the dismay turned to a frown. “Do not take yourself so seriously, daughter.”
Françoise’s ears picked up that one word, a word that had not been uttered by a mother in a lifetime. “I will try, tantine.” She disentangled herself from her partner and strode over to the woman she considered the only mother figure she ever had, drawing her into a fierce hug.
When breathing became impossible, Lucette thumped the large woman on the back. “Fra…,” she struggled. “Fra… Françoise… you… are…gasp… hurting me.”
Françoise released her grip quickly, stepping back as if she were burned. “I… I… am sorry…”
“Come here, daughter.” Lucette repeated the endearment, knowing it was what the young woman wanted… needed to hear. When she was close enough, Lucette pulled her into an embrace, this time with no less enthusiasm but a little less strength. “Now, off you go and get us home.”
“Home?” Françoise asked hopefully.
“We will see.” Lucette would not promise anything, but there was hope.
* * *
Françoise stood on the upper deck and observed Dale carry out the duties she had been assigned. A wry smile touched her lips as the language barrier caused frustration for all concerned. Dale’s arms were flaying about in reckless abandon as she tried to make her wishes known.
“Awww, Jesus. Why won’t you listen?” The blonde stomped her foot in aggravation. “If I can give up my precious soap, you can damn well use it!” There was a snicker behind her. “Don’t you laugh, Alain. You’re next!”
“Me??!?”
“Just because you’ve got money doesn’t mean you don’t stink!” Dale was getting into the cleanliness thing with gusto. “And don’t think I didn’t see you smile either, missy!” Blazing eyes looked up to the watching Captain. “You too… Captain!”
“Now? Fine.” Françoise began to reach for her shirt buttons.
“Wife!” The blonde was as ornery as a grizzly bear with a thorn in its butt. “You want to come down and do this then? I’m quite happy to give you the job.”
“But Dale…”
“Oh no, don’t ‘but Dale’ me. They’re as stubborn as mules.”
“Almost as stubborn as you…”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, ma chérie. Nothing at all.” Damn her hearing. “I am afraid that I have other matters to attend to.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Standing up there watching the day go by.” Dale frowned menacingly. If she had been honest, Françoise was the only one who would willingly have a bath without being bullied into it. She had hoped that this chore wouldn’t take long but the obstinate nature of the slaves and crew made it more a war than a matter of personal hygiene.
Earlier that morning, Dale inspected the food supplies while Françoise used the cabin for her meeting with Alain, Rumkey and Badoo. She had absolutely no idea how long the supplies would last, so she found the cooks, both of them. With a lot of charades and ranting and raving she was able to ascertain they could survive for about another week with some creative cooking.
Now, every single person on board had an aversion to soap and water. She had to practically to strip off and show them how to use it before someone volunteered to be first. Thank God for Rumkey, who plastered on his wide grin and grudgingly washed off the weeks of sweat and grime. When they saw that he had not melted from the wash, and with the threat of no food, one by one the crew washed, stripping off filthy clothes that had probably not been washed for months.
It took a lot of prodding and pushing by Badoo to shift the slaves. The five proud men she had noticed earlier in their own circle began the line, vigorously using soap and water in an effort to finish the job quickly. Cuts and abrasions were treated with a herbal mixture and allowed to dry in the sun. The whole process just seemed to go on and on and drained most of Dale’s patience.
* * *
Françoise was pleased. Her meeting with her senior crew went well. Alain presented his calculations, very unsure about his expertise in plotting a course. However, as the Captain had pointed out, he was all they had. Françoise already suspected they were roughly on course, with the morning sun sitting over the stern of the ship as it had been during the entire voyage.
Now, as she stood on the upper deck overlooking the bathing fiasco, her mind tried to look ahead to the next few days. Alain gave her some hope that they would make it, indicating with some reservation that they were close to land. The man in the crow’s nest had not called as yet but the news would be good soon.
“Ho, Cap’n!” Rumkey’s urgent call drew her back to the hole in the deck. The cleaning of the platform had proved difficult, back-breaking and suffocating. She wondered how the slaves have ever survived in such a toxic environment. Maybe they didn’t. Their lives were only worth the coin they could fetch on the blocks.
“Monsieur Rumkey!” she called back. “Is there a problem?”
“You should see this…” He stood over the hole they had cut in foredeck in an effort to air the space.
Françoise slid down the stairs by the banisters demonstrating a little of her athleticism. The subtle ‘show off’ murmured by Dale did not go unnoticed.
“What did you want me to sss….” The words died in her throat as she looked into the hole. One of the crew had gingerly picked up a small cloth wrapped package and was in the process of handing it up to the First Mate. “Mon Dieu!” It was the white woman’s child, lying deathly still. “Dale!” She was nervous around children, especially ill ones.
“What’s wrong?” But Dale’s eyes shifted to the bundle being put into her arms. “Oh, God!”
“That is what I said.” The tall woman took a step backwards, as if the movement would help.
“What do you want me to do?”
“What you always do. Make it better.”
“Me???” Dale’s voice rose to a squeak.
Françoise’s eyes swept over the slaves all staring at the small blonde. “They expect you to perform another miracle, chérie. How you say? You are the witch… docteur?”
Dale took a deep breath, trying to put aside the rampant panic rushing through her brain. She examined the child. He was alive… just. Weak from dehydration and hunger, he just lay in her arms, unable to muster any resistance to fight for life. Watery green eyes looked up pleadingly into the sympathetic blue ones watching her. “Water…,” she whispered, the word caught on the wind and blown away.
Dale cleared her throat and repeated, “Fresh drinking water. Just a cup. And something soft to eat, like porridge. Warm, if Honorine can manage it. And a blanket, or my shawl if you can’t find a spare.”
Her lover turned and delivered the orders. “What do you want me to do, chérie?”
“I… I don’t know. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Dale… follow your heart.”
“I know,” she sighed deeply. “It’s going to be touch and go.”
“Touch and… go?”
“He may or may not survive.”
Dale had confirmed her suspicions, but knowing her little American she would do all she could. Françoise scanned the assembled crowd all hovering around to watch what would happen next. “Do you not have something else to do?”
“Wait!” Dale jumped as the milling throng began to dissipate. “Can they stay here for a moment? I wanted to sponge him down and they can act as a windbreak… errr…. block the sea breeze.”
“Stay where you are.” The looks of confusion she could understand. Go, stay, she must have sounded a bit addled in the brain. They all watched as Dale removed the swaddling clothes, carefully and methodically washing the baby’s skin with a soapy cloth, finding every nook and cranny and cleaning away the dirt and sweat.
“You know, he really is a gorgeous child.”
“Oui, I can see that. He could easily pass for white.”
“No, not that. Black or white, he is well proportioned and has fine features. He is a very handsome boy.” As she finished, a hand appeared through the mass of bodies holding out her shawl.
Françoise watched her wife wrap up the boy and could see the instant attraction. “Oh non, non, non, non, non. Our lives are hard enough without a baby.”
“I know, but who is going to look after him?”
“We need someone to look after the baby.” But Françoise suspected that they would be alone in this endeavor. All that could be heard was the rustle of the canvas overhead. “Lucette?”
“I am too old to be worrying about a child. After all, I have a big child to keep an eye on.”
“What about….?”
Lucette looked over her shoulder at her girls, watching as the heads dropped one by one. She knew the obvious choice for the boy. “What about you then, child?”
“We do not need a child.”
Aged eyes looked at the woman cuddling the infant. “I think you do.”
“I am not ready for this, tantine.”
“This may be your only chance, Françoise. And what about Dale, eh? Have you discussed children with her?”
“A little. She said she was happy.”
“That could be to allay your fears, my dear.”
“I know.” Françoise’s eyes were drawn to the scene, contemplating their future. Dale was cooing to the baby as she gave him water one drop at a time. Slowly he responded, the tiny hand waving in the air trying to grab the bouncing finger just out of his reach. “I know.” She had resigned herself to their fate.
“Do you want to die and be forgotten? He could be your legacy for the future.”
“Maybe one of the slaves…”
“Non. They ignored him before. That will not change. Why do you fight this?”
“So much has changed in too short a time, tantine. I cannot think…”
“Do not think, Françoise. Let your heart be your guide.”
“I told Dale that…”
“Voilà!” Lucette replied triumphantly.
“I will think about it.”
“But…”
“Non, Lucette. Leave it be. The child may not survive yet.” But moment by moment the child gained strength from the water and the warmth. He would live and they both knew it.
The wiry old cook arrived with a bowl of porridge, standing back to watch with the others. Dale tested the food before feeding the boy. “Hmmm, where have you been hiding the honey, Honorine?” She dipped her finger in the mixture and fed it to the infant, constantly returning to the warm food time and again. “Are we going to give him a name?”
“Is that wise, chérie?”
“Why? What do you mean?” Those innocent eyes looked in alarm at the tall woman.
“What if he…?” Françoise couldn’t bring herself to utter the word.
Dale held her breath. “Then he shouldn’t go to the afterlife without a name.”
“Do you have a name?”
“How about…,” Dale thought for a few moments before making a decision, “…Jacob.”
“Jacob? Who is Jacob?”
“He was the son of Elizabeth and Joshua Wincott.”
“Why that name?”
“I dunno. It just popped into my head. It’s got to be an old name.”
“Old?”
“Well, old for me. It’s rather fashionable in this time. Lots of biblical names were used in the Colonies.”
“Fine, he is Jacob.” Françoise leaned down to the wrapped bundle and introduced herself. “Hello, Jacob. My name is Françoise.” The angelic face gazed up at the woman hovering over him and smiled. “Awww…” The gesture just grabbed at her heart. Maybe this was meant to be.
Dale observed the interaction with warm affection. The baby had called to her the moment she laid eyes on him but she would not ask to keep him. Her partner remained aloof for quite a while and it seemed the young boy would be handed over on their arrival at port. But this connection had guaranteed his survival. It looked like they now had a son.
* * *
The following couple of days had been busy, establishing a routine that was acceptable. The slaves spent most of their time on the deck now free of their chains. They were docile enough so there was no point in deliberately confining them. The five tall men joined the crew and proved to be worthy seamen. It wasn’t until their experience was revealed that Françoise discovered that they had, in fact, been sailors. Their ship, originating from Madagascar, had sunk off the Ivory Coast. As soon as they reached land they were captured by slave traders and transported to Ouidah. She could see it in their eyes. They lived for the sea.
While the evening meal was being prepared on the lower deck, Françoise leaned on the railing and looked out to sea contemplating their next move.
“Land ho!” Her eyes gazed skyward in an instinctive reaction to the call. She followed the pointing finger and could barely see the speck of land. Anxiety spiked through her. The last few weeks had been respite from their flight, despite the Captain, but now… now she had to find new transportation.
“Françoise!”
Then, of course, there was the problem of what to do with her companions. “Oui, tantine.” Her head dropped for a moment as she tried to marshal her thoughts.
“Are we there?”
“Nearly.” She pointed in the direction they were heading.
“St. Domingue?”
“I think so, but we will not know until we arrive.” At this point she wished it was Boston Harbor and their journey was at an end.
“Still, it is land.” Lucette’s muscles were stiff and sore from inactivity and she longed for some exercise… any exercise.
“Oui, that it is.” Françoise murmured absently. Some hard decisions needed to be made soon and she was not sure she was up to making them.
“Then why do you look so sad?” Concern was etched on that aged face.
“Moi? We are nearing the end of our journey. Why would I be sad?”
“You tell me, little one.” Lucette didn’t move, waiting for more to be said.
“Dale and I will not be staying.” Bright blue eyes regarded the muddy brown ones below. “We will be moving on to the Colonies… to Boston.”
“But…why?” Lucette would have been content to stay if Françoise was nearby.
“I promised her, tantine. If I can, I will keep my promise.” Françoise was keen to change the subject. “And you? What will you do?”
Lucette turned around, resting her elbows on the railing and observing her girls chatting with the sailors. “I do not know.”
“Maybe we should see what St. Domingue is like before making a decision.” She did not want to hear that the woman would return to France. “Monsieur Rumkey!”
The First Mate trotted up to them jovially as he had always done. How could someone be so happy all the time? “Oui, Captain?” His voice was as bouncy as his demeanor.
“How goes it in St. Domingue?”
“Last time I heard there had been an uprising.”
“Up-rising?” Françoise’s heart rate picked up.
“Oui. The slaves revolted about a year ago. I do not know what is happening there.”
“Why were we not informed of this before we left?”
“It was not my place to tell you, madame…”
“It was the Captain’s…” Françoise finished. “Damn his hide.” She thought for a moment. “When we get closer send two of the crew to the island to reconnoiter. We do not want to sail into the middle of a war.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“In the dark of night, Rumkey,” Françoise soberly added, “…and quietly.”
“Aye.” He nodded solemnly. He understood perfectly. No one was to know of their arrival until it was safe.
“So…”
Lucette regarded the frown on Françoise’s brow. “So…”
“You have nothing to say?”
“Not at the moment, non.” She smiled as the tall brunette’s mouth formed an ‘o’. “Surprised?”
“Oui. Such news would send me into a panic.”
“And yet you are not panicked. Why?”
“I have a lot of things to think about, tantine. It is but one more.”
“Such as what to do with us, eh?”
“Nooo… oui, I do. I am not going to leave you here if there is danger.”
“Do not worry, child. We can take care of ourselves.”
“Non. I will not…”
“Shhh. Maybe things have improved and we worry for nothing.” But neither of them believed that.
* * *
The next morning revealed bright sunshine. But it would be the only good news for the day. Françoise spent most of the morning leaning against the rail looking at the jagged coastline and thinking. From time to time she gazed over her shoulder to observe her lover attend to the slaves. It seemed that Dale had considered her mission in life was to look after these people and it was amusing to watch her try.
She was tired. Jacob fussed most of the night, lying between their two tired bodies, and he guaranteed that none of them got much sleep. As a last resort, she had gotten up and taken him out onto the deck, crooning some nonsense song as the cool sea breeze calmed their nerves. Maybe he was missing his mother, she didn’t know.
“It looks like he’s teething.” Dale had snuck up on her partner deep in thought.
“Teeth-ing?”
“Yup. His teeth are starting to break through his gums.” As if to illustrate the point, Dale snapped her mouth open and shut, allowing her teeth to meet.
“And this teeth-ing is what is making him upset?”
“Sure is. And we’ve got a while yet before it’s over.”
“It is not a good time.”
“It never is. Teeth will do what they do when they feel like it.” The lines of strain began to show. “You look tired.”
“Oui, Jacob could not sleep last night.”
“I know. Thanks for taking him outside.”
“Is this going to ruin what we have?”
“Yes… and no. A child can be a wonderful thing but it’s a lot of hard work.” She could see the hesitation in Françoise’s eyes. “Oh, no no no. We are not giving him away.”
“If he is that much trouble, why keep him?”
“Well, just look at him and tell me you don’t feel anything.” Dale knew her lover would melt. “Why do you think babies are always cute? If they were ugly no one would keep them.”
“Boat ho!” Françoise gazed out at the tiny speck heading towards them, slowing looming larger at its approach. Soon they would have their answer.
* * *
The Captain stood at the desk, her balled fists resting on the roughened wood. Françoise made eye contact with each person in the room, trying to gain some insight into what they were thinking. As far as she was concerned, her own mind was focused on Boston. That was their ultimate destination and anything less was unacceptable.
“So, how goes it on land?” She addressed her question to the First Mate who had spoken at length with the two men from the boat.
“Well…” Rumkey considered his words carefully. “The uprising has settled for now...”
“So it is fine...”
…but… but it is far from peaceful, Cap’n. The slaves roam free and in power. It would not be safe for the women to go ashore.”
Françoise glanced at Badoo to watch his reaction. “But the slaves would be accepted.”
“Maybe. While there is no open hostility there are many scuffles and skirmishes, Cap’n. It would be a risk to send anyone.”
“What do you want to do?”
“We grow short of food and water…”
“I am aware of that. Send a couple of men ashore to find supplies. Not the port, Rumkey. Try the local area.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“Alain, we will have to sail on further. We cannot stay here.”
The young man’s face was lined with concern. This turn of events had been unexpected and left him in a predicament. “Oui. But my father…”
“Once we have found port you can send a message back to him.”
“So where will we go?”
“You are the Captain, Alain. Your father owns this ship.”
“Non… You are the Captain, I see that now.”
“But I do not want this.”
“You may not want it, Françoise, but you are the best suited to the position. Monsieur Rumkey saw it all along, my friend.” Her lips turned up at the compliment.
“What about us?” Badoo feared reprisal for being so forward but he had to know.
“Oui, what about you? Monsieur Barbineau?” It was a decision she did not want, or was in a position, to make. “You are the rightful owner of them. What do you want to do?”
“What am I to do with forty slaves?”
“You could sell them.” He winced at the word. “Or you could set them free.” His dark eyes touched Françoise’s.
“Free?”
“Badoo… talk with them. We will not be staying here. Those that wish to leave the ship will be taken to shore. They will have to survive on their own. Anyone who stays on board will end up in slavery. That cannot be avoided.” She hesitated for a moment before continuing. “We will be moving on to Boston.”
“Boston?”
“Oui, I had promised her, and I will keep that promise. From what I have heard about the city it is civilized enough for the women, but the slaves… the Colonies still have slavery. There will be nowhere they can hide there.”
Françoise’s brain hurt. “For now, we all have a lot of thinking to do. We will meet back in the afternoon to decide our fates.” Her head hung low as they left one by one. There was only one good solution to their predicament but she felt guilty that she was forcing them to make it. “Oh Rumkey, one moment, s’il vous plait.”
“Aye, Cap’n?”
“What about the Madagascari sailors?”
“What about them?”
“”Do you want them in your crew? It is your crew now, Rumkey. You can decide who goes and who stays.”
“Mine?”
“They are not mine. It is your ship and your men. If you wish to be rid of some of the old crew, then so be it. I would probably wait until Boston though unless, of course, you have a particular dislike to them.”
He hesitated before throwing back his head and laughing. “I would not be that unkind, Cap’n. However…”
“Is there someone you wish to replace?”
“A handful, oui. They were loyal to the Captain.”
“Wise choice, my friend.” She slapped him on the back and escorted him out of the cabin.
* * *
Dale was miffed about being left out of the meeting but, as her lover pointed out, all that French would make it all pointless. She couldn’t wait to be on home soil to speak a language she knew. Well, sort of knew. There would be some minor alterations to be made, like accent and colloquialisms. Minor? Yeah… right. She’ll stand out like a wolf in a pack of sheep with her modern day American accent amongst the English.
Jacob nestled into her as she perched him on her hip. Her eyes took in his tiny face as he looked up at her. His face crinkled up into a delightful grin as Dale returned the smile. The young always seem to adapt so easily to life changes. She handed over a piece of sea biscuit for him to gnaw on and he took it enthusiastically, waving it around like a new toy.
A movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye, drawing her away from the toddler mouthing the hard biscuit. One by one they emerged from the cabin, each in deep thought. She had been aware of the topic for discussion and did not envy them the decision they would have to make for others.
“So, how did it go?”
“Fine, chérie.”
“That’s it? Fine?”
“There was no shouting or anger. It was fine.”
“Really?”
“We all knew what would happen, Dale. It was, how you say… expected?”
“Ahh, yes. No surprise at all.”
“We will meet again in the afternoon to make the decision. Two men have gone in search of food and water.”
“I saw them go. I figured as much.” Dale knew the state of their supplies. After all, Françoise had her spend a couple of delightful hours not so long ago with two of the orneriest cooks she had ever met trying to find out that particular fact. “What about the slaves?”
“I do not know, chérie. I do not want to decide their fate.”
“It’s part of being the Captain, my love.”
“But I did not want to be Captain!” the French woman moaned. “All I wanted was a nice quiet life with you…”
“And you will, Françoise. Nothing worth having is ever earned easily, or so my daddy always said.”
“You must be worth a King’s ransom.”
Dale chuckled. “And then some…” The forlorn look on her lover was nearly her undoing. “And now you have a son to pass down the family name.”
“Family name!!?!” Françoise’s voice slightly rose. “Chérie, there will be no family name. We will live under a false name for the rest of our lives.”
“Oh… didn’t think of that.”
“I did many times, as I thought about why we were looking after him at all.”
“You… you don’t want to keep him?” Dale was stunned. Was her lover so averse to having a child with them?
“It is not a matter of want, Dale. You and I have no experience of this life, chérie. It will be hard for both of us. And now you want us to bring up a child as well? You ask too much.” There. As distasteful as it was she said what she had thought.
Dale turned her head to gaze at the baby on her hip. His lean cheeks fattened as he smiled up at her. “You‘re right,” she sighed. “I just thought…”
“I know, mon amour, I know. You have a loving heart and a generous spirit. I am sure we can find someone in Boston who will take him in.”
“I dunno. A black child in Boston…”
“Only if they know he is black.” Françoise winked at her partner. “It will all work out for the best.”
“If you say so.”
* * *
“Have you made your decision?” Here was the moment Françoise had dreaded. She just knew it was all going to come down to her.
Rumkey took the initiative. “We will sail wherever you want to go, Cap’n. If you wish to go to Boston, then so be it.” His answer had been expected. They lived to sail so the where was not really important. “Some of the crew will be leaving when we are in port and the black sailors will take their place.” Françoise smiled. At least it solved one of her problems.
Alain piped in. “There was no decision to make, Françoise. I have no choice but to go on to Boston.” He grinned slyly. “Until then, you are still the Captain.” He obviously didn’t want the job either.
She nervously turned her eyes to Badoo. Here was where their problems would arise. “Well?”
“Some want to go ashore, Captain.” Eyes dark as night studied her with concern, wondering whether their request would be granted.
“How many?” Françoise would be happy if he said all of them then she would not feel so bad about the lives of those who would wish to stay.
He tried to hold up fingers to show how many but as he couldn’t count it was a pointless exercise. Rumkey came to his rescue. “A bit more than half of them, Cap’n.”
“What about the rest?”
“Can we go home?” he pleaded with her, hoping against hope that it would happen. Silence answered his question.
Françoise searched her compatriots for an answer but none would meet her gaze. Finally she answered. “I am sorry, Badoo. I do not have the power to ask the crew or the new captain to do this. Do you want to risk being captured again once you land in Ouidah? Next time you may not be so lucky.”
“Oui, I know. But I wish…”
“Me too, Badoo. Me too…” She knew the loss of leaving one’s homeland to face an uncertain future. It was frightening. “Do they know that if they continue on it will mean slavery? It might be better…”
“Can we come with you?”
“With… me? You mean to Boston? That is what we are talking about.”
“No… with… you. Can you look after us?”
“Moi? Why would I want slaves?”
“But you said slavery was in Boston. Why can we not be your slaves?”
“Because I do not want any slaves. You want me to support a number of slaves because you asked me to.” Françoise’s mind flew in a hundred different directions. Did these people think she was Jeanne d’Arc? Had a message from God to save them all? The little voices in her head all stopped at once, the deafening silence giving her a headache. What if this was her destiny all along? How was she to know what God expected of her?
“But…but… madam, if you will forgive my impudence would it not be better to have slaves that know you and will protect your secret?”
Françoise slumped into the Captain’s chair, considering this option. As much as she wanted to be herself in America she knew that the charade would have to continue. Two women living together would be unseemly and frowned upon. She would do anything to keep the two of them together. Why was life so hard?
Her hand came up to the back of her neck, massaging the rapidly tightening muscle there. She just knew that it would come to this. No one wanted to make the decision and she would have to be the Devil’s Advocate. “Let me think on this.” Françoise just couldn’t bring herself to make that decision just yet.
* * *
“Well, look who sucked on a lemon today.” The look on her lover’s face did not bode well. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” Françoise sighed. She just didn’t have any energy left to question. Dale won this time. “The slaves want to come with us.”
“You thought that might happen. What’s the problem?”
“Non. With… us. You and I. They want to be my slaves.”
“Your… ?”
“Oui. Mine. Yours and mine.”
“Are they nuts?”
“Non, they are slaves.” Françoise just knew she didn’t mean peanuts.
“Nuts… certifiable… crazy.”
“Ahh.” The French woman leaned on the railing hoping that the water held the answer for her.
“I can see a problem with that.”
“Only one, chérie? I can see at least twenty.”
“No, wait. This might work.”
“That would make me responsible for fifteen slaves plus Lucette and her girls and Sébastien. We have enough to start a new village. Why is life so… so…”
“Complicated? Difficult? Confusing?”
“Oui, and more. I do not know if I can do this.”
“Maybe this is our destiny all along. Cause and effect, Françoise. Cause and effect.”
“Cows and… effet?”
“No, we don’t need cows yet, my love.” The frown stopped her teasing. “Cause and e-ff-ec-t.”
“Caws and effect… t.”
“Yeah. If I hadn’t come through the mirror you, I’m afraid, might possibly be dead.” Dale shivered at the thought. “If we hadn’t come to Nantes, Lucette, her girls and Sébastien may also be dead in the scuffle on the waterfront. The slave woman would have drowned if I hadn’t saved her. Cause and effect.” She pursed her lips. “Hmmm. I wonder how much I’ve changed history. Damn. Why didn’t I think about that before?”
“Make sense, Dale. What are you talking about?”
“I do not belong here, Françoise, so my very presence here will change history. How much, only time will tell. Anything I do, such as saving that woman from drowning, has ramifications later on. Maybe she was meant to die after all and me saving her has changed everything. Do you understand?”
“I think so. What are you trying to say?”
“I thought you said you understood.” The blonde blew out a frustrated breath. “What I’m saying is that if we don’t help them, it may change the future. Then again, it may not. Who knows?”
“Then why bring it up at all?”
“I have absolutely no idea.” Now she was confused. “Oh, yeah, maybe this is our destiny to save these people.”
“Badoo said would it not be better to have slaves that know us and will protect our secret.”
“He has a point. Unless we want to live in the city, but that would be stressful for us both. You would be under close scrutiny… errr, be watched closely by people around you. Hmmm… if we built a house out in the country somewhere and you became a ‘gentleman farmer’ with the slaves, you could spend a lot of the time being yourself.”
“Being ‘myself’? What am I now?”
“I mean, you wouldn’t have to dress up as a man so much. Wouldn’t that be easier?”
She was being bombarded from all sides. The slaves wanted a home and Dale wanted to help. “But why do they want to be my slaves?”
“Because you would be a fair master… mistress, my love. You would protect them, feed them and look after them. In return, they would protect your identity and help with the illusion you wish to create. I’m going to think of them as paid employees because if I think about them as anything else I’m going to puke.” Dale swiped her hand over her brow. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this… I know, I know, we’re saving them from a fate worse than death but…” She didn’t even realize that she was speaking to herself.
“Uhhhh…” She lost the thread of conversation somewhere in the middle but what she had said sounded good. “Two Kings’ ransom,” she muttered.
“Sorry?”
“Your price just went up, chérie. Maybe I should sell you to solve all my problems, n’est-ce pas?”
“Why… why… you… you…”
“Oui… oui…” Françoise laughed. “Ahh, merci ma chérie. I needed that.” Her eyes caught the small group of women huddled in the corner. Dale followed her line of sight. “Now I must decide about them.”
“I’m sure they can make up their own minds.”
“But I will not like what they say. Lucette talked of returning to France.”
“Ahhh… not a wise move.” Green eyes captured anxious blue ones. “They won’t stay in Boston?”
“Perhaps… if there was something to stay for.”
“Not even for you, Françoise?”
“I will not ask her to stay for me.” But she was so tempted to do so. Lucette was her last link to her heritage. Her old life read like a horror story. No, it was not her old life that she craved it was that link to France, to her French state of mind. “I have said that she could start again but she has no… errr…” Françoise hesitated as she sought the word she was looking for.
“Experience? She is a brothel madam and knows nothing else.”
“Voilà!” Françoise’s lips turned up gently as she watched the huge blacksmith toss young Jacob into the air, catching the giggling child as he plummeted back to the deck. “But she should not have to turn back to that life.”
Dale leaned against the rail, looking at the women. When is a brothel not a brothel? A slow sweet smile crossed her lips. “I think I have a solution…”
* * *
“Ahhh, finally.” Lucette snickered at the apologetic look on her adopted daughter.
“Pardon, tantine.” Sheepishly her eyes meet the older woman’s
“So what is to become of us?”
“It is not my place to tell you…”
“Child, just tell me.”
“It is too dangerous here. The slaves have control of the port. Anyone white would be targeted. There is nowhere for you to hide, Lucette.”
“So…” The older woman just wished the young woman would get to the point.
“So… we will be moving on to Boston as soon as we can obtain fresh food and water.”
“Honorine will be pleased to hear that. She has been nagging me about trying to make sawdust edible.” The giant of a man came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.
“I see that you two have not wasted time, eh?”
“Non. Just get to the point, Françoise. What is to happen?”
“What do you want to happen?”
“Stop these games, young lady. What are you afraid to tell me?” The gentle squeeze of her shoulder gave her silent support.
“Nothing… not really. I wanted to know if you are returning to France.”
Lucette could see the anxiety in those young eyes. Françoise was afraid that she would lose her family. “That will depend on what you are trying not to tell me.”
“Dale has made a suggestion and I agree that it might work.”
“Your little wife, eh? Well, out with it.”
“I do not want you to go back to your old life, tantine.”
“I know nothing else, little one.”
“I know that. Dale has suggested a ‘Gentlemen’s Club’, as she calls it.”
“You mean a brothel.”
“Non. No sex, tantine. What did she say? A ‘sophisticated establishment’. Fine wine, fine food, beautiful women as dinner companions. It could be a place where the elite of society could spend time with their kind to discuss business, or find a dinner companion whom he did not have to take home and live with.” Françoise wasn’t sure she had conveyed the idea well. It was a strange idea when she heard it herself and, by the look on Lucette’s face, she was having trouble comprehending it as well.
“I do not have that sort of coin, ma chérie. You know that.”
Yes, she knew that but she did not hesitate in offering her own. “I will lend it to you, tantine. As Dale says, ‘a silent partner’.”
“You do not talk?”
“Non, she said it means that while I own it no one knows that I do. It is a secret.”
“Ahhh. Well…”
“Do not make a decision yet. Think on it.”
“What about Sébastien?”
“Now, Lucette, I can look after myself.”
“I thought your future had been taken care of, my friend.” Françoise lovingly gazed at the couple. They were just so right together. “But… I am sure a man of your obvious size and strength would be a discouragement for any trouble.”
“I am a… a… guard??!?”
“Sébastien, I know that time grows short for you as a blacksmith.” Long tapered fingers grabbed his larger hand. The French woman guided one finger over the gnarled knuckles. “How much longer my friend? You have served well, Sébastien. Now is the time to reap the reward of such servitude.”
“That is a pretty speech, Françoise, but I am still a guard.”
“And husband to the madame of the premises.” She laughed. “Do not look so shocked you two. Get married and be done with it!”
“And when are you going to make an honest woman of your little blonde, eh?”
“And who will marry us, tantine? Two women? Such a union is frowned upon by the Church. I do not think so.”
The much deeper voice of Sébastien cut through the chatter. “A Captain of a ship may do it.”
“A Captain? I cannot marry myself.” But the thought was intriguing.
“Think about it…,” he said smugly, knowing very well that the French aristocrat would think of nothing else. He had planted the seed that had already begun to spring to life. “…just as we will think about your offer.”
“Was that nice, mon amour?” The words slipped from Lucette’s lips casually, caressing the old man’s soul. She had not called him that before and he decided that he liked it very much.
“She needed a push, Lucette.” He tightened his hold on the madam’s shoulders and turned her around. “But she does have a point.” He paused a moment for effect. “Will you marry me?”
* * *
St. Domingue had been left two days behind them. The crew was sailing in unknown waters, their normal trade route of Nantes, Ouidah and St. Domingue now broken. Dale did prove useful in filling in some of the gaps on their rather scant map of the Americas. The open sea had been crossed and they now followed the coastline north.
Supplies were scarce but the two crewmen found some fresh water and a small amount of fruit. Or so Françoise was told. The variety was bewildering and she was hesitant to try the more exotic types. With the thought of more fish and sea biscuits, and Dale’s badgering, she tried them. Some were to her liking and others were more an acquired taste. Still, fresh food was fresh food and she knew her tastes would change again with her new home.
The journey was nearly over and a new life would begin. Up until that moment Françoise had not actively thought past their present difficulties. A decision had to be forthcoming. The approach of the ship owner’s son put off that thought for a while longer.
“Alain. It will not be long now.”
“Oui, I know.”
“Have you made a decision?”
“I have, but I fear taking the course I have to follow.”
“Returning to France?” Françoise suspected as much. Despite being a disciplinarian, his father was his father and he owed it to him to make sure he was safe.
“Hmmm…” He nodded grimly.
“Is that wise?”
“I have to know, Françoise.”
“I know, but you saw what was happening.”
“If it were me, I would be pleased to know my son thought enough of me to return.”
“But if I were your father I would want you to be somewhere safe, not returning to danger.” The French woman had never been in that situation, her family long forgotten in another life. Now if it were Dale then she would go to hell and back for her. Maybe that was what it was like to love one’s father. But was it out of love or out of devotion that he was even thinking of going back? “The journey will not be easy.”
Alain’s dark eyes gazed out over the turbulent water to the distant land, his eyes narrowing as if trying to focus on something. “The sea voyage…”
“I am not talking about that, Alain. You are returning to a land that has become a stranger to us. You will not know who to trust or who to fear. Hell… maybe your father…” She stopped herself from saying anything further.
“I cannot return thinking that, Françoise. I cannot…”
Long, lean fingers came to rest on his shoulder, gently squeezing in sympathy. “You are right, my friend. He is probably fine and just looking for an opportunity to depart.” Françoise didn’t air her opinion of his father, that maybe he was still trading to whoever had the money to do so. She certainly hoped, for Alain’s sake, that the man was indeed plotting his escape from the war-torn land and not taking advantage of it. “What of Rosalie?”
“She will be staying with Lucette.”
“And she has no say in this?”
“Non. As my future wife it is not her decision to make. As the head of this family I have told her what to do.”
It was at this point that Françoise was glad Dale’s French was poor otherwise Alain would have felt the full wrath of her biting tongue on the matter. Inwardly she smiled. And Dale has to learn this lesson as well… Being the ‘man of the house’ would have at least one advantage.
“Future wife is it? I must have missed that.”
“Well… you were busy being Captain of this vessel, my friend.”
“So will I add your name to the marriage ceremony I am going to perform?”
“Marriage? Who?” His dumbfounded look delighted the dark haired woman.
“It seems I am not the only one remiss of what is happening aboard this ship.” The confusion remained. “Sébastien has asked Lucette to be his wife.”
“Well, well… That wily old fox.”
“Has Rosalie informed you of…?”
“I do not want her to be drawn into such an endeavor.”
“Oh non, non, non. It is a gentlemen’s club, nothing more.”
“That is bad enough, Françoise.”
“I would not allow Lucette to return to her old profession, Alain. It is companionship, nothing more. It is more a place to talk, to meet, and perhaps a dinner companion if one wishes it.”
“And you are a… a… dumb companion, n’est-ce pas?”
“A ‘silent partner’, my friend,” she corrected, chuckling at the distortion of the truth with each retelling.
“You are able to do this?” If the woman could he had underestimated her.
“Oui.” But the utter conviction in Françoise’s voice was missing. It was going to take most of her resources to accomplish what she had promised but she was not going to tell the old woman that.
“I can see that.” The dripping sarcasm told her she fooled no one. Alain shifted a little closer to Françoise, his voice lowering in secrecy. “I ask a favor of you, Comtesse.” The title drew her back. “The chests below…”
“… should be kept in a bank, Alain.”
“But if I do not return…,” he held up his hand as Françoise made a move to dispute him, “… if I do not return I do not want it to be handed over to a total stranger. There is a real possibility that I may perish, we both know that.”
“Oui, I do, but…”
“Hold the chests for me, my friend, until I return… or until two years have passed. If I have not appeared in that time then… then it is yours.” He smiled sweetly as if he had put his affairs in order. “I know… I know that you will take good care of my Rosalie, Françoise. This would help in her… in their care.”
The tall woman merely nodded. She could not deny his last wish, if that was what it was. Alain straightened up, his physical presence growing in strength as his face hardened. “I want you to make me the, how you say… dumb… quiet…?”
“Silent?”
“Silent partner. Your coin is better spent on looking after your little blonde and the group of slaves you now seem to ‘own’.”
“Oh, that…”
“Oui, that. You attract waifs like fleas to a dog, Comtesse.”
“I am so tired of it, Alain.”
“The truly great people do too, my friend, but they keep going even in adversity.”
“I am not…”
“Françoise, there are fifty people on this vessel who would disagree with you, including Dale I am sure.”
“I do not feel great.” Françoise’s head dropped.
“Of course not, mon amie. If you were full of your own self-importance then your efforts would have been for naught.”
“Self-importance?”
“Oui… Comtesse.” The title made her cringe. “Are the aristocracy not the epitome of arrogance and self-gratification?” His dark eyes bore into hers as if trying to read her soul. “Who are you, young woman?”
“I am who you see, young man,” she threw back at him.
“Touché. But that does not answer my question. You are not like any aristocrat that I know, Françoise.” She chuckled. “What?”
“Lucette said the same thing not long ago.”
“Well…?”
“Now is not the time to drag up the past.”
“Oh… pardon. I did not mean to cause affront.”
“Non, you are not at fault here, Alain. It is a past that is better left where it rests… in the past.”
“Then it is a story for another day.”
“Oui, another day.” As far as Françoise was concerned, another day would be many years in the future.
Alain abruptly steered the conversation in another direction. “On my return to France is there anything…” He paused to find the right words. “…you would like me to find for you.”
“Find?”
“Françoise, the coin that you brought with you is not all that you own. I am not stupid.”
“Alain, it is going to be dangerous enough traveling through France. Do not risk your life over a few gold coins.”
“A few, mon amie? I doubt that a few are involved. I am aware of what le comte is worth. At least let me try to recover some for you. I am sure that it will be sorely needed.”
Françoise was tempted by the offer. She really was. “I cannot in all good conscience allow you to do this, Alain.”
“I am sure that I will be transporting more of my father’s fortune anyway. What is a chest or two more?”
Chest or two? “You will need an army to protect it, Alain. The countryside is rife with thieves and killers.”
“Do not worry about me. I can take care of myself. I will have Le Renard at my disposal and my father has the odd friend scattered through the port. My ‘army’ as you call it will be at my command from the moment I step foot back on French soil.”
“Are you so sure of yourself, Monsieur Barbineau?”
“Naturally. I inherited that from my father. Arrogance, I think he called it.”
“I know that word well.”
“Le comte was full of it. You, on the other hand, do not confuse arrogance with confidence.”
“I do not feel very confident, or arrogant for that matter. I am…” What did she mean? Scared as hell? Confused? Tired of it all? She was that, and more.
“…still trying to come to terms with your loss, Comtesse. This has not been a gradual loss of social status or wealth, Françoise. This has come with the force of an act of God and you are vainly hanging onto the one thing that is anchoring you to the ground… Dale. You will do what you have to to accomplish this and it is a very admirable thing that you do. Despite your claims to the contrary, mon amie, you have changed the lives of every one on board this ship. Lucette and her girls now have a chance to start anew and leave their prostitution behind them. Sébastien has found love, as have I, and I know I would never have approached Rosalie without your subtle push. You are giving these slaves a chance at a better life, Françoise. Something, I am sure, that they could not have even hoped for.”
“It is nothing…” She didn’t like being talked about like this. “I just wanted to get to Boston.”
“And, in doing so, you have accomplished much.”
“And, in doing so, I have to listen to you wax lyrical about me. Have you finished?”
“Have I convinced you to let me try to recover some of your fortune?”
“If it will keep you quiet then oui.”
There was silence for a moment or two. “Françoise, you have to help me or am I supposed to divine for it?”
“Oh…? Oh.” The words seem to stick to her tongue. Revealing such a secret was still hard to do, even though the coin had been given up as lost. “The first spot is in the fireplace in the main bedroom on the top floor. There are some loose bricks at the back.”
“Fireplace, main bedroom, loose bricks. Oui. First spot?”
“There is a well in the far corner of the estate…”
* * *
Dale watched the exchange from afar with some jealousy. She was sick and tired of being the outsider. If it wasn’t for the fact that their disembarkation was imminent she would be pulling her hair out. French, French, French. She had had a lifetime of French in a few weeks and she begged for someone to speak English.
“Have you too… how you say… sucked on a lemon?” Françoise threw her head back roared in laughter at Dale’s stunned look. “You did not think I understood, n’est-ce pas?”
“You got me.”
“Of course. You… got… me?”
“I mean you tricked me.”
“Ahhh, oui. Why the… the….,” the tall woman scrunched up her face in imitation.
“Just tired.” Anything more said could be misinterpreted as criticism, and the last thing Dale wanted to do was criticize. The benevolent look spoke of many things, including the one she would not speak aloud. “What did he want?”
“Want? Why do you say that? We just talked.”
“Uh huh.” The sour look still tinged Dale’s features.
“He is returning to France to look for his father. He wants me to look after Rosalie...”
“That’s nothing new…”
“… and the chests below.”
“…but that is. Why not put it into a bank in Boston?”
“He is afraid something may happen to stop him returning.”
“Ahhh…. doesn’t want the bank to get its greedy hands on it.”
“As you say, chérie.”
“So what are we supposed to do with it?”
“Maybe bury it. I have not thought past getting to Boston. After that, well…”
“Each in its own good time, huh?”
“Errrr…. oui.” The journal in Dale’s hands caught her eye. “What have you there?”
“The diary.” That was all she said, seconds later throwing it overboard.
“Why did you do that??!?” Françoise was not quick enough to grab it as it flew over the railing into the sea. It was a deliberate move on her partner’s part, one that had her perplexed.
“It’s the best place for it.”
“In the sea?”
“It served its purpose, my love. It occupied our time aboard this ship and it gave us a place to air our grievances.” The French woman’s English was good but sometimes Dale used words that even she could not comprehend. “We could write what we wanted in it, Françoise. It was a haven for our thoughts, our sorrows and our joy, even though there was not a lot of that on this trip.”
“Then why…?”
“I’ve been thinking about it the last day or so, re-reading a lot of what I had written. There’s too much ‘twentieth century’ in it. I can’t risk it being revealed to the world.”
“What on earth did you write, chérie? Something that is to come?” Françoise had taken the time to read some of Dale’s entries, and while her turn of phrase was quaint she didn’t think it was dangerous.
“No, of course not! I’m not that stupid!” Dale’s brow knitted in aggravation. Would her lover think she was that careless? “But, if it fell into the wrong hands… maybe people would question it. I speak differently from anyone on this planet right now.”
“I do not need a journal to know that, Dale.”
“I’m just thinking of cause and effect.”
“Not the cows again!”
“Yep, I’ve probably done more than enough damage as it is. No, it’s better to be fish food I’m afraid.”
Françoise leaned over the rail and gazed into the watery depths. She sighed deeply. She had wanted to keep that journal as a memento of both their journey and her lover. Dale’s inner most thoughts were splashed across those pages but now the ink would be long gone, dissolved into nothingness by the salty water. “I have one final thing to do.” She murmured to the expanse of ocean.
“One more th….? You’re not gonna jump or something, are you? I’ve just got you where I want you.”
“Hmmm?” the young aristocrat answered dreamily. “Oh! Non, non, non, non. As Captain, chérie. I have one last thing to do as Captain.”
“That’s better. I thought I would have to look out my bikini and swimming cap.”
“Bi-ki-ni?”
“It’s a… oh, never mind. Let’s just say I would have jumped in after you.”
“But I cannot swim.”
“Hence the reason I would be jumping in after you.”
Françoise gazed over her shoulder. Everyone was milling around the deck like a herd of cattle, anxiously awaiting… something… to happen. “Now is a good time.” She straightened, tucking in the flapping shirt into her breeches. Nervously she combed her wayward dark locks with her fingers.
“And you look beautiful.” Dale chortled at the preening peacock before her. “Now get on with it.”
“Are you in a hurry, mon amour?”
“The sooner this is over the sooner I have you back. You being Captain put a serious dent on my time with you.” Dale’s eyes couldn’t help but search out Jacob who was being cared for by one of her lover’s ‘slaves’. Françoise did have a point about their situation but that didn’t stop her wanting the child. This was her only chance she knew that unless, of course, she had one the old fashioned way. She studied the elegant aristocratic profile in front of her. Despite her circumstances Françoise was proud. It would gall her to have to defer to a man for this one vital service. Then, of course, would be the fact that she would kill any man touching her, so it was a mute point.
“My friends, a moment of your time!” The deep alto voice carried across the small deck to all concerned. “Let us gather together!” Françoise remained silent while the human herd moved closer. Her mind was racing as she tried to put words together in some sort of order. This was important and it wasn’t something that she wanted to mess up.
“Tomorrow we should reach Boston Harbor.” Françoise expected a loud cheer to erupt but it was more a relieved sigh. “I have been informed that one part of the Captain’s duties is to perform a marriage ceremony.” A low murmur flowed around the assembled crowd like a wave. Badoo’s deep voice rumbled as he translated for the slaves present. “Lucette. Sébastien. Step forward please.” She smiled benevolently as the two lovebirds moved to stand in front of her. “As my last act as Acting Captain I will perform a wedding at sea. Does anyone object?” She sure hoped not. She didn’t want to be tossing anyone overboard this close to port.
All that could be heard was the billowing of sail, the whoosh of sea spray and Badoo’s ever-present murmuring. “Fine.” Françoise hesitated. Should she use too many words or too few? Her own wedding was more a formality than a ceremony, one that had been stricken from her memory. As she clamored for the right words a hand touched her, drawing her attention to the warm dark eyes smiling back at her. Lucette gently nodded.
“I have known Lucette for a long, long time and we have experienced much together. Despite her former life she is a woman of great character and honor. Sébastien I have known for only a short time but I know that he is someone I would gladly call ‘friend’.” The murmur rose in agreement.
Dale stood by, enviously wanting what she knew she would never have. Her eyes slipped over to Jacob. Here was another thing that would be denied her, not that she would change anything in her life. But it was dangling there in front of her just out of her reach. No regrets… She had promised herself to be content. After all, she had come across time to be with the woman she loved. But still…
Jacob found what he was looking for and whimpered. Tiny fingers waved frantically in the sea air, begging the small woman to come to him. Dale tried to resist the temptation but the quivering lip and the tear-filled eyes were her undoing. She closed the few steps between them, reaching for the squirming body trying to get out of the hands holding him.
“Just get on with it, young pup. None of us are getting any younger.”
Françoise didn’t need to search for the owner of that voice. The tone and sentiment told her exactly who it was. “Well, some of us are younger than others, old woman.” Laughter flowed across the crowd like water, drawing a disgruntled harrumph from Honorine. “Lucette… Sébastien… do you wish to become husband and wife?” She could have used the religious words but the direct approach seemed more appropriate.
“Oui, I do.” They spoke as one. It was an auspicious start to a hopefully long and loving marriage.
“Then as Captain of ‘Le Renard’ I pronounce you man and wife.” Short and sweet. Everyone jostled around her to congratulate the newly joined couple. Sapphire eyes went in search of their own delicacy, landing on the petite woman with a baby on her hip. Jacob had found Dale’s lips the momentary source of his fascination, his palm landing on her lips as she blew on them. He giggled with joy as Dale nipped his fingers, teasing him with textures and sensations he had not experienced before.
How could she deny Dale this? Even Jacob was at his happiest in the blonde’s loving arms.
“I think you have to surrender, little one.” Lucette had sidled up beside the distracted woman.
Françoise sighed deeply. “Oui, I think I do.” Destiny had drawn them together whether she liked it or not. “My work is done.” She raised her voice over the murmuring. “I now hand over control of this vessel to the owner’s son, Monsieur Alain Barbineau. Monsieur, as rightful owner of ‘Le Renard’ you are now the Captain, sir.”
The young man looked around nervously for support, receiving a knowing smile from the First Mate. He took a deep breath, allowing the fresh sea air to settle his apprehension.
Françoise could feel the tension bleed away with those final words. She was free.
“Un moment, madame. There is one more thing to be done.”
The flawless skin wrinkled in confusion. “Is there? I do not think so, Captain. Tomorrow we…”
“Not that. You and your wife please come forward.”
Françoise looked at Dale, wondering what it was that she had done wrong.
“You cannot arrive in Boston under false pretenses.”
Azure eyes widened in alarm. Was he going to reveal all? She felt a shaking hand reach for her own.
Alain watched benevolently, his lips widening at the obvious discomfort he had inflicted on them. “Françoise… errr. What is your full name, madame?”
“Françoise… Marie… Aurélie… de Villerey.” She hesitated on every word, awaiting punishment for saying it.
“And you, madame. What is your full name?”
“Dale… Dale Wincott.”
“Dale Wimcutt??”
“No, Wincott… W-i-n-c-o-t-t.”
“Ahh, bien.”
“What is going on?”
“We must know the names of those getting married, do we not?”
“Marr…? Us?” Françoise’s heart beat frantically. Married? Could they? Should they?
“You do not wish this?” Alain thought he knew what was in the heart of the tall woman. Maybe he was mistaken.
“Ahhh… errr.” Françoise sought out her partner, silently seeking for the truth. “Mon amour…,” she whispered, “…will you marry me?”
“Marry you?” Something made her hesitate for a moment. Maybe it was to see the uncertainty in those eyes or the desperation meant only for her. “Of course I will marry you, my love.”
“Get on with it!”
“Shhh, Honorine. Let them be.” Lucette’s heart was bursting with joy. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected to find a man but now the woman she considered as a daughter had finally found the happiness that had eluded her.
“Is there anything you want to say to each other?” He inwardly chuckled as Françoise nervously ran her hand down her pants leg.
“I…errr…” Françoise was nervous, more nervous than she had ever been in her life. The smaller hand grasping hers nearly went unnoticed until she felt that same hand squeeze hers.
“You don’t need to say anything, my love.”
The French woman looked down at her soon-to-be wife curiously.
“You are shaking like a leaf, Françoise. All through this voyage you have told me what was in your heart. You have loved me, protected me and nurtured me. You never have to say another word because you have said it all here…” Dale gently touched Françoise’s temple, indicating her eyes, “…and here…” Dale’s hand moved down to her lover’s chest.
There was a low murmur accompanying the words as Alain translated the conversation for the witnesses.
A lone tear trekked down the taut cheek as Dale’s words touched her. Françoise had wanted to be eloquent but somehow the words just wouldn’t come out. Maybe Dale had said it all. Well, nearly all… “I love you, Dale Wincott, with all my heart.”
Everyone waited expectantly for something more but it never came.
“Well then, my first duty as Captain is to declare that you two are married.”
Was it all that simple? It seemed so, especially by someone who had their interests at heart. Jacob sensed something and wriggled in Dale’s arms, throwing himself fearlessly at his adopted ‘father’. Françoise was lucky that she had good reflexes because the little boy was seconds away from hitting the deck.
“That has got to be the quickest marriage ceremony I’ve ever been at.” Dale remembered painfully, if not at times fondly, many weddings that went on for hours… and hours… and hours. Or so it seemed to her. This was more like it.
“Oh twaddle. All this gushing is making me sick to my stomach.”
“Then go and start the evening meal, Honorine. You do not have to participate in all this celebration.” Nothing was going to spoil her unexpected wedding, not even a grumpy old cook.
* * *
“You should have offered the bed to Lucette.” Dale lay in the crook of Françoise’s arm that night, relaxing with the gentle sway of the vessel.
“I did. It seemed that she preferred the privacy of Alain’s compartment.”
“Hmmm….. privacy or comfort. Tough choice.” Dale grinned into the darkness.
“You mean that you would make love in front of everyone in this room?” Françoise was surprised. If there was one thing she was sure of it was Dale’s shyness.
“Of course not, but Lucette isn’t me.”
“I am sure she was protecting Sébastien’s sensibilities, chérie.” The aristocrat was amused to watch the two newlyweds dancing around each other. She suspected that the burly blacksmith was prepared to wait until they were on dry land. He would want their first night together to be something special. But Lucette… her tantine was acting like a virgin on her wedding night. It was… adorable.
Françoise felt Dale’s hand caress her face and allowed her to do so. The gentle touch was addictive and she wanted it to never end. Her fingers stopped above her eyebrow, feeling the slight ridge she knew was there.
“Looks like you’re going to have a scar.”
“Hmmm… does that bother you?”
“Well, it will destroy your perfect face but I can live with it.” Dale snickered as she felt the body stiffen. “No, I think it will give you a rakish look. It’s going to be soooo sexy…”
“Errr… I’m glad you approve. Maybe I should go out and get a tattoo…” She didn’t see the slap coming but she reacted quickly by wrapping her long arms around the wriggling body.
Dale nestled her head into Françoise’s chest, content to listen to the familiar sounds of the sea. There was a faint noise that was foreign to the room, a noise that she hadn’t heard in what seemed like a lifetime ago. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited to see if it happened again. There is was… a faint car horn. Was she going mad? Was it home sickness? Or was it wishful thinking?
“Do you hear that?” The deep rumbling in the chest below Dale’s ear was barely audible and it was only the vibration that alerted her to her lover speaking.
“Hear… what?” The blonde was afraid to ask.
Françoise waited a moment to see if the sound would repeat itself. It took longer than she thought but it was definitely a sound out of place. “That.”
“A car horn,” Dale whispered.
“Sébastien replaced the mirror, chérie.” The brunette didn’t think much of it when he did so after the wedding, but now… Had they been given a lifeline? Françoise untangled herself from her wife and shuffled over to the far wall. There was barely any light to navigate the carpet of bodies, the sparse moonlight giving her glimpses of the room. Her hand reached out and touched the wood, blindly tapping along the wall until she found the familiar frame. The sensation was immediate, like coming home.
Françoise didn’t know what to expect as her hand hovered over the glass. She was almost fearful to touch it in case the magic was finally gone, that Dale was bound to live in a time that she was not born to. That was her one regret. Dale had given up everything for her to live in an uncertain time and place. She deserved so much more…
Her finger touched the surface and it took a heartbeat before it bent, giving way like the surface of water. Although she couldn’t see it she just knew that the glass rippled outwards, her touch with the magic being the epicenter of the disturbance. Despite herself Françoise smiled. It seemed that Dale’s father had understood after all.
The brunette tip-toed back to the bunk, her stocking feet searching empty floorboards for space to support her weight. It wasn’t too hard to find her way. Dale’s constant whispered chatter was an easy beacon for her senses to use.
“So…? What did you find?” The young woman’s voice was full of hope.
“It seems that your father had the foresight to fix the mirror, chérie. You can go home any time that you want to.”
The falter in her partner’s voice made Dale hesitate. “But not now. Still, it’s nice to know that there is a way out if we need one.”
“Way… out?”
“If life gets too hard for us we can always go forward.”
“So true, ma chérie.” Françoise wrapped her arms tightly around her wife, pulling her close to allow Dale’s scent to fill her nostrils. How quickly she had become accustomed to her arms being filled with soft flesh and her nostrils filled with a familiar aroma. It was something she hoped would never change.
Jacob had been claimed by Dale once more and now slept in the bunk also. However tonight was special. Being their wedding night, the baby was snuggled into Dale’s back while his new parents enjoyed the closeness of a slumbering couple.
As drowsiness started to overcome her, Dale whispered what she thought Françoise needed to hear. “I’m not leaving you so stop worrying. We’re here for a reason…. my….looovvveeee….”
Françoise smiled at the words slurred with sleep. Tomorrow was another day and hopefully the final day of their voyage. Tomorrow their lives would begin anew.
* * *
Dale still hadn’t gotten used to having someone in her bed, but she also was having a hard time waking up alone. It seemed her confused body was still trying to work that one out. The fading heat of the blanket told her that Françoise had risen not long before her waking, taking their child with her. Their child. Now that was taking some getting used to.
She rose quietly, trying not to disturb the sleeping women who were in various stages of snoring, mumbling and rolling over. The smell was indescribable and she sought the clean air out on deck. As she emerged to a new day she spotted her lover at the railing, little Jacob sitting in the crook of her strong arm. She seemed to be pointing out something to the child on the nearby land.
Despite what Françoise had told her, the little boy had a strong hold on the French woman’s heart. Dale was right. Jacob had a part to play in their lives. As she watched, Alain approached her partner and handed over a sheet of paper. Françoise took one look at the paper and laughed. She just had to know.
“What’s so funny?” The young man excused himself as she arrived at the railing.
“We should reach Boston Harbor today.” Françoise looked out over the water to the slowly approaching city.
“That’s not what made you laugh. What’s on that piece of paper?” The fact that her partner didn’t immediately hand it over made her all the more curious.
“It made me realize that no matter what we do, what will happen will happen.”
“That’s rather philosophical of you. How do you come to this conclusion?”
Françoise didn’t bother responding, instead opting to hand over the paper in question. “It’s about our marriage.”
“A marriage certificate?” Dale’s eyes flitted to the page.
“Look at the names.” As she watched for a reaction, a smile crossed her lips. Dale’s mouth opened to make an ‘O’. “Oui…”
“This… this is some joke, right? I wonder where he came up with those names?” Dale shook her head, feeling it in her soul as cosmic tumblers clicked loudly into place to reveal their destiny.
“Non, no joke. It is, as you say, our destiny.” Her wife re-read the page in disbelief.
Françoise handed over the squirming boy to his newly adopted mother, placing the precious piece of parchment in her pocket. She pulled her family against her chest and wrapped her arms around her wife’s waist. “Welcome to America, Elizabeth Wincott…” she whispered, wondering at the impossibility of it all. “I love you…”
THE END.
Here ends the saga of Dale and Françoise.