By Love Alone Page 5

  "None of that now! We'll have no fainting!" Pride brought his hand sharply down on her backside. "Keep your wits about you, girl."

  "You bastard," she uttered between clenched lips.

  "That's my girl." He laughed. "You'll like Maryland, I promise."

  "I'd have rather gone to hell!"

  Chapter 4

  Kate was carried back to Newgate, riding pillion behind a silent guard, with another riding close beside. There was no chance for escape; neither cruelty nor kindness was shown by her escorts. Within the gates, she was taken once more to the common side. Again, she thought, and steeled herself for the filth and terror of the satanic cells.

  At the guardroom, a jailer handed her a brown homespun gown and indicated a narrow door. "In there wi' ye and take off yer finery, miss. Ye need ha' no fear, I'm past the age of lechin'. Yer fine gown would only cause ye trouble wi' the other women. I'll sell it for ye and split the profit."

  Kate shrugged. She'd see no coin from the beautiful lavender dress, but it was senseless to make protest. The homespun would give better service where she was going. She stepped into the inner office, closed the door, and stripped off her dress, vowing to have the eyes of the first man to stick his head through the doorway. None did, to her relief, and she pulled the scratchy brown gown over her head and tied it at the waist. The fit was not bad, if a little short due to her own height.

  A rap at the door hurried her along and she handed over the satin garment and matching high-heeled slippers. Barefooted, she followed the man down a flight of stairs and through a shadowy corridor. At the bottom of the steps, he paused to take a torch and light it. Kate coughed at the thick smoke but kept her peace.

  At an iron door, an old woman ladled out bowls of soup. She offered one to Kate, who refused. "Thank you, no. I'm not hungry."

  "Yer missin' supper, there be none till mornin'," the matron warned. "A drink of water then. This'n's good, I bring it from me own well daily."

  Kate nodded gratefully and sipped from the wooden dipper. The water was warm but clean and it eased her parched throat. She took also the half loaf of bread, stuffing it in the bosom of her dress.

  "Smart, ain't she," the woman cackled. "Been here before, I reckon." She patted Kate's shoulder. "Ain't too bad where yer goin', sweetie. Bond slaves is prime goods. No use to nobody if they be weak or dead. Bond slaves is treated like regular gentry round here."

  Through the doorway and then another hall and the guard paused to lift the bar on a low wooden door. "Here ye be. Don't worry yer head 'bout the fine gown. I'll see to it."

  The room was dimly lighted by two barred windows. It was small but dry, with four sleeping shelves along the two side walls. On the nearest bunk, a weeping form lay crumpled. Another woman lounged under the window, smoking a long-stemmed clay pipe. "Another mate for ye," the man called.

  "Did ye bring my 'bacco?" the smoker asked. The weeper only wailed louder.

  "Tomorrow."

  Kate carefully skirted a water bucket and stepped to the center of the narrow room.

  "You know when they're shippin' us out of here?"

  "Don't tell the likes of me." The door shut and the bar dropped into place.

  "You bound for the Colonies?"

  Kate nodded. "Twenty years. I'm Kate Storm."

  The girl took a last puff and carefully laid the pipe on the window ledge. "Maggie. Jest Maggie. Though I been called a whole lot worse." The girl grinned impishly and tilted her head to one side, regarding Kate quizzically. "You a thief?"

  "Highwayman."

  "Well, just don't try snitchin' nothin' o' mine and we'll get on right enough. You got any thin' on you?"

  Kate pulled out the flattened loaf. "Hungry? I'll share."

  "Righto." Maggie held out her hand for the bread.

  Kate tore it in three pieces. "Who's that?"

  "No need to save her any. She'd just chuck it up. She's got a bun of her own in the oven. She don't do nothin' but bawl from morning to night. She's about to drive me crazy. Glad to have someone chipper to talk to. Her name's Nell. She was a joy girl over to the Blue Goose Tavern till she fleeced a gent. Her belly kept her from the rope. You?"

  "Just missed it, a pardon. I was only at the dock this morning." Kate sat down on the edge of a sleeping shelf, pushing aside the dirty blanket. "At Tyburn. I was that close to the hangman."

  "Crimey! Figures you'd get transport. You got the look of a lady. Stared Old Nick right in the eye, did you? I'd have wet me drawers, I would. My mam says them hangmen ain't human. Sold their souls to the devil. Lots o' girls won't take their coin, not even when they offer to pay double."

  Maggie sat on the bunk across from Kate and pulled her dirty bare feet up under her. Some attempt had been made to keep her face and hands clean, and her blond hair was caught at the nape of her neck with a faded red ribbon.

  "No use to glare at me so fierce. I ain't no whore. Not that I ain't got an eye for the lads, I do. But I make my way on my feet, not on my back." She paused in her breathless chatter. "What's the matter, luv?"

  Kate buried her face in her hands and began to shake. The other girl slid off the bunk and came closer. "I... I forgot. My... father, my father died this morning. It was only this morning and it seems like years ago."

  "Before the hangin'?"

  Kate nodded, her face ashen in the semidarkness of the cell. "He's all I had, except for my brother Geoffrey. I loved him so much..." Dry-eyed, she rocked to and fro like a sorrowing child. "How could I forget?"

  "The rope puts a powerful fright into a mortal, my mam says. If we had a drop, we'd drink to him. But he's gone an' yer here. Don't be blamin' yerself. A few prayers is all you can give him now."

  "I can't. I can't pray any more than I can cry. I'm just numb."

  "Never knew me own dad, not fer certain anyway." She laughed. "Who does? Where I come from there ain't many who bother to get married. But if you had a real father and he was good to ye, then you've more than most. That oughta count for something."

  "What will it be like, do you suppose... the Maryland colony?" Kate's voice sounded strained and far off to her own ears.

  "Not much like London, I vow. A fella come in the pub once said he'd been across the sea to America. He had a hunk of hair he claimed was a red savage's scalp. Fierce them redmen be and bloodthirsty, he claimed. Course most sailors is all liars, so who knows. I do hear tell there is Indians and woods so deep no white man has ever found their way out of it. Not much of a place for a lady like you, but better than being in a hole with dirt shoveled over it."

  "I wish I could believe that."

  "What you need is a good night's sleep. Things always look better in the morning. Why, when they first carried me to Newgate I was fair daffy. Course I knew I was being transported from the first. It's thieves Old Bailey is hard on. All I did was kill a fella. He tried to hurt me and I fought back. Didn't mean for him to die, just wanted him to go away."

  "But if it was self-defense... Didn't you tell the judge what happened?"

  Maggie laughly wryly. "Judges don't listen to such as me." She paused thoughtfully and then went on. "Course it might not be so bad. They got rules, and when my time is up, I get a cow and kitchen stuff fer me own. They say women is scarce in the Colonies, and a pretty girl can pick and chose."

  Kate lay back on the bunk and closed her eyes. She was too tired to think straight anymore, or even to listen. She fell instantly into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  Four days later, the three women were led from their cell to join with two dozen other female prisoners in the yard. Manacles were locked on their wrists and they were instructed to climb into open wagons. Cries of bitter protest greeted the manacles.

  "Just till ye reach the ship, ladies," the guard assured them. "So nobody tries to run off. Ye'll be well treated on the ship."

  Maggie elbowed a fat woman aside to squeeze in beside Kate on the wagon floor. It was a bright fresh morning with a breeze to b
low away the London smog. Kate's heart beat a little faster just to be out of the confining cell.

  "It won't be so bad, luv," Maggie said. She reached over and pinched the weeping Nell. "Cut it out. You'll get us all in trouble with yer wailin'. The Colonies are short on women, my mam says. If ye don't ruin yer looks by bawlin', ye might get a father fer yer young'n."

  Nell wiped at a drippy red nose and sniffed. "Do ye think so?"

  "I aim to marry me a rich squire, I do. Then it'll be Mistress Maggie this and Mistress Maggie that. No more carryin' slops an' chamber pots fer me."

  Kate laughed. "You're an optimist, Maggie."

  Her friend wrinkled a pert freckled nose. "Is that good?"

  "It is."

  "Then I am."

  Two guards climbed into the front seat, the driver slapped the reins over the horses' backs, and the wagon lurched off across the cobblestones. Kate laid her head against the rough wood and tried not to think of her last ride from Newgate. Whatever lay ahead, it couldn't be worse than what she had already faced.

  The air became fresher as the wagons moved toward the docks. Seagulls flew overhead, diving for scraps of rubbish in the street, screaming and fighting among themselves for choice bits. The smell of fish invaded the air, fish and tar and spices and all manner of strange raw odors. Sailors in striped pants called out to the wagons and a few women shouted back boldly.

  Maggie contained her excitement by whispering to Kate whenever she spied a good-looking man. "Lookee at that'n, Katy. 'Andsome as a lord, 'e is."

  A tall, dark-haired man shouldered his way through the crowd, followed closely by two burly companions carrying a heavy, iron-bound trunk. The gentleman was elegantly dressed in spotless fawn breeches and tan coat. All three had pistols thrust into their waists.

  "Ain't he somethin'! Must 'ave sewed 'im into them breeches." Maggie giggled and the man glanced toward the wagon.

  Kate caught her breath. The stranger was Pride Ashton. Quickly, she turned her face away, not wanting him to see her. She'd not provide more sport for his amusement. Was he to haunt her footsteps to the end of her days?

  "Good day to ye, sweet," Maggie called. "Lord, but a girl could lose her good name over such as that'n!"

  When Kate ventured a glance again, he was gone, lost in the crowd. Good riddance, she thought, and turned accusing eyes on her friend. "If you want to marry well, you'll have to mend your manners. You can't be calling out to every man jack you see like a streetwalker."

  Maggie visibly drooped. "Yer right, I know. But Lord, that were prime cut o' beef! He'd raise the dead, he would." She sighed. "Yer a lady, so right actin' comes natural to you, Kate. But fer me, it takes some doin'. Don't be mad, now. I'll try, I promise. Fer I'm bound to raise me station in the world. It's a solemn vow!"

  "I imagine there'll be few ladies in the Colonies. With hard work and luck, we may just pass you off as one. We'll practice on your speech first. It'll give us something constructive to do during the voyage."

  "My, but them fine words just roll off yer lips. If I ever got to sound like you, my own mam wouldn't know me."

  Kate rubbed at the raw spot on her wrist. "The important thing is not to let them separate us when we board the ship. My father..." She paused and then went on. "My father said conditions aboard the vessels bound for the New World are deplorable. Together we stand a better chance of arriving there alive and in decent health."

  "Righto. It's you and me, Kate, chums no matter what!"

  A red-cheeked woman in starched mobcap and apron ducked from the doorway of a shop and ran along side the wagon. "Get away from there!" the driver warned. "No talkin' to the prisoners!"

  "Mam!" Maggie grabbed the bundle thrust over the side.

  "I said get away!" The guard raised a threatening fist.

  "God bless ye! Send us word if ye can." The driver's whip cracked over her head and the woman threw him an obscene gesture. "Don't be forgettin' us!" She scrambled out of the way of an oncoming team. "Give 'em hell in the Colonies!"

  "Bye, Mam," Maggie called, blinking away tears. "Don't worry about me! Bye!"

  A skinny redhead reached for the oilcloth bundle and Kate brought her manacles down across the woman's knuckles. Maggie jabbed her sharply with an elbow and she let out a howl, burrowing through the closely packed prisoners to safety. "Let that be a lesson to the rest of you sluts," Maggie snapped. "Me an' Kate's a team! Stay away from us if ye know what's good for ye!"

  The team rounded a sharp corner and slowed to a walk on the steep cobblestone hill. Dozens of ships rode at anchor in the muddy harbor at the end of the street, ships of all sizes and purpose. Foreign flags flew from the masts of most of them. Kate stared wide-eyed. The dock was a pandemonium of stacked bales and barrels. Sweating, swearing men unloaded the nearest vessel, jostled by ships' captains and richly dressed merchant princes. Orders were barked in strange tongues and accents, reinforced by the crack of a leather cat.

  "I hope they don't expect us to unload their damn ship," Maggie said.

  The driver shouted back a coarse innuendo.

  "Yer not man enough! You wouldn't know a woman from the back end of a sheep!"

  The man's neck turned beet-red and he slunk within his shirt as the prisoners jeered. "Sheep lover!"

  Kate kicked Maggie's ankle in exasperation.

  "Sorry, Kate. But 'e did ride me. I ain't one to take tongue from such as 'im."

  The wagons halted and were immediately surrounded by armed soldiers. A bewigged magistrate waved the guards down importantly, and they dropped the tailgate of the wagon. "Be quick about it," he called.

  A clerk checked names off a list as the women climbed out. "Over there. Line up there."

  The soldiers closed ranks tightly to hurry the prisoners in groups of six to waiting longboats. Awkwardly the women scrambled down a ladder and into the boats. Kate clung to the side as the sailors began to row. Water lapped about her bare feet.

  "Crimey, the tub's gonna sink," Maggie cried.

  A rower leered. "Not to worry, dolly. If it does, I'll carry you on my back."

  "Stow that talk," the one-eyed bosun ordered.

  Kate pulled her skirts high over her ankles to avoid the dirty water. The bloated carcass of a cat bobbed alongside the longboat, then vanished in the murky waves. Kate tried to breathe through her mouth to avoid the smell. London's waterways were little more than open sewers, flushing out the filth of the city with every outgoing tide.

  Maggie nudged her friend, then reached down and pulled her skirt up between her legs and rucked it into her waist. Kate followed suit. A rope ladder was being lowered over the side of a matronly merchant vessel just ahead. Any unprepared female climbing up would provide the same show for the sailors they had undoubtedly given boarding the longboat.

  Yellow-haired Maggie was the first woman up the ladder. She was rewarded with catcalls and admiring scrutiny from the crew as her bare feet touched the deck. Kate was close behind, followed by the others. An officer waved them to an open spot on the deck, while the other longboats were unloading.

  Kate looked around; the ship was old but clean and seemingly sound. The sailors seemed well-disciplined. There was no sign of the captain, but the two officers kept order with quiet military precision. The worst of her fears gradually subsided. Perhaps the old woman at Newgate had told the truth. Bond slaves were valuable property. They would be well-treated until they reached America and their indentures were sold.

  "Keep yer eyes down, Kate, fer God's sake," Maggie whispered. "It don't do to be noticed by such as these. Sailors ain't none to mess with. Play stupid if ye can. We've got a long voyage ahead of us an' it's a small ship."

  The younger of the two officers, a freckle-faced redhead, was reading off names and assigning groups of ten. As their names were called the prisoners stepped into lines and their manacles were removed. Kate waited anxiously for her name. Suppose she and Maggie were given different quarters? In the short time they'd known each other, she'd
come to rely on the good sense of the gutsy Londoner and didn't want to be parted from her if she could help it.

  "Storm, Kathryn." The officer looked up from his list. "Storm?"

  "Here." Kate glanced sideways at Maggie and stepped forward.

  "Follow this man." He indicated the grinning bosun.

  "Why?" Kate demanded. Why separate instructions for her?

  "Ye'd best foller me," the bosun said as he unlocked the heavy iron at her wrists.

  The officer gestured impatiently. "Do as you're told, woman."

  "Not until I know why and where I'm going!"

  "Go on, Kate," Maggie hissed. "Won't do no good to throw a fuss here. Yer temptin' the cat."

  The bosun took her arm roughly and she jerked away. "Keep your hands off me."

  "You'll walk or be carried," the redhead threatened.

  Reluctantly, Kate followed the burly seaman across the deck and down a steep flight of narrow steps. They passed several doors, then he stopped and opened one, revealing a small cabin. "Inside."

  Kate froze.

  "Ye'd best not turn up yer nose at this, yer highness. Ye've not seen below decks where the others be stabled."

  "I'd rather be with the rest."

  "Ye've no say in the matter." He shoved her inside and slammed the door behind her. Kate heard a key turn in the lock. When his footsteps receded, she tried the brass handle. "Damn." When were they going to stop locking her in little cages? She paced the confines of the tiny room. The only light came from a minute porthole with glass so wavy she could hardly see a thing through it.

  There were two bunks, one over the other, and a desk built into the wall, a single chair, and barely a square yard of floor space. A pewter ewer and bowl stood on the desk. She used the water to wash her face and hands, then sat down on the lower bunk. There was nothing to do but wait, wait and try to keep the ghosts of panic banked.

  Minutes passed into hours. Bored, she combed out her hair with her fingers and rebraided it, pinning it up as neatly as possible. There was nothing to be done with the gown; it was all she had to wear. She washed the rest of her body a little at a time without undressing, and finally her feet. The water was black. Whoever belonged to the cabin would have to find their own fresh water.