Petals on the River (5 page)

daughter her proper due for not supplying ample rations and being so

rigidly opposed to the crew viewing a naked breast, buttock, or two.

When the women were all so scrawny and starved looking, a skeptical

eyebrow was probably the most a glimpse would have raised.

"All right, ladies!
 
Look lively now!" Harper bade, attempting a cheery

tone.
 
"Come now, and let us set you free.
 
We can't let these colonial

bumpkins see you in irons, now can we?
 
Tisn't the end of the world,

I'll warrant, but the beginning of a whole new life for all of you."

"Says oo?" an aging crone squawked.

Morrisa chortled and strode forward to challenge the bosun.
 
"Why,

Jamie, me boy, do ye think em irons matter a wit ta these here pilgrims?

I heared it said more'n a few o' em blighters were sent o'er in chains

just like the rest o' us poor buggers."

James Harper deliberately ignored the strumpet as he handed Roger Blake

a single key and indicated the leg irons.
 
"Loose their garters, mate,

while I get their bracelets...."

On the quarterdeck, Captain Fitch wiped his glistening brow with a

rumpled handkerchief as he stepped to the rail.
 
Having finally

acquiesced to the demands of his domineering wife, he called down to the

bosun.
 
"Mr.
 
Harper, would you be kind enough to come up to the

bridge."

Fitch's frustration roiled like bitter acid in his stomach, for he could

only wonder how his plans for a tryst were to succeed when his wife

would be scrutinizing the sale of convicts with her usual tenacity.
 
At

the moment he wasn't the least bit desirous of masking her dictates with

subtlety.
 
"Mrs.
 
Fitch wishes to make it clear to all concerned that

she's to be given every opportunity to oversee the transactions

completed here today."

"Aye, Captain," Harper responded, wondering just when Mrs.
 
Fitch would

take it upon herself to don her husband's breeches and assume !

full control of the ship.
 
He greatly resented her intrusion into the

normal protocol of the bark, but then, it was neither his vessel nor his

command.
 
"Right away, sir."

Harper faced the prisoners again.
 
"Step in line, ladies, and let Mr.

Blake strike those chains from you."

In dutiful respect to his captain, Harper handed the keys over to the

bosun's mate and climbed to the bridge, leaving the younger man to carry

out the inspection of the female prisoners, a task Harper did not

especially envy.
 
It made him uncomfortable to treat them like dumb

animals being readied for sale.
 
Some seemed as young and innocent as

his own dear sweet sister.

Approaching the couple, Harper nodded crisply to his superior and then

met the snobbish stare Gertrude fixed upon him.
 
"Good day, madam."

"Mr.
 
Harper!" Her voice was normally loud and even more so when she was

determined to take charge of a situation, which apparently was now.
 
"As

you know, I have a direct interest in the proceedings aboard this

vessel, and I wish to be kept apprised of every offer that is made

before a sale of a convict is finalized.
 
Twill enable me to keep a

better record for my father.
 
Do you understand?"

Since her sire owned the Pride, how could anyone on the ship ignore her

behest?
 
Captain Fitch had certainly seemed unable to.
 
"As you wish,

madam."

"There is another matter which greatly disturbs me, Mr.
 
Harper," she

informed him brusquely.
 
"I don't approve of you locking Jacob Potts in

the cable her.
 
The man has been beneficial in keeping me abreast of

the prisoners' activities and willful violations of my orders.
 
You'll

rescind your directive at once and set the man at liberty."

Harper's jaw tensed, and it was with a hard-won guise of control that he

presented his arguments against her edict.
 
"Your pardon, madam.
 
The

man was deliberately insubordinate, and if I'm forced to negate his

punishment, I'll no longer have any influence over the crew.

Twould be folly to do so, madam."

Captain Fitch struggled to master his own ire.
 
The fact that his wife

had lent credence to the prattle of a common swabber was further cause

to be offended by her presence aboard the Pride.
 
An experienced officer

would have considered the source and been suspicious of the tar's

motives.
 
"Gertrude, the bosun is rightþ'' "Nevertheless, Mr. Harper,"

she interrupted rudely, pointedly ignoring her husband. "You'll cancel

your order or I'll see that Captain Fitch dismisses you from this ship

forthwith!"

"Gertrude!" Fitch was appalled by her threat and hastened to dissuade

her without causing an out-and-out rift with her father.
 
"You cannot

expect me to dismiss a man for doing his duty!"

"I expect you to remember who owns this ship!" Gertrude snapped.

"How can I forget when you constantly remind me?" her husband shot back.

"You forget yourself, Everette," Gertrude rumbled in a low, assertive

tone as he scowled back at her.
 
"I hope I won't have to make mention of

this occasion to Papa."

James Harper resented the woman's manipulation of power but was hardly

in a position to complain.
 
Vowing never to sail on another ship with

her, he drew himself up with all the dignity of a merchant seaman and

forced himself to verbalize his words carefully, finding it difficult to

speak in anything less than a roar.
 
"Madam, I've always taken my orders

directly from the captain.
 
If he charges me to set Potts at liberty,

then I'll have no other choice but to do so."

Knowing that he dumped the full weight of responsibility on his

superior, Harper faced the older man and waited for the necessary

dictum, which Fitch seemed reluctant to issue.

''Go about your business, Mr.
 
Harper," Fitch finally urged.
 
"We will

confer on this matter at a more convenient time."

"Everette Fitch!" Gertrude's ponderous bosom tested the restraints of

her bodice as she puffed up like an outraged walrus.
 
"Do you mean to

say that you're going to let Mr.
 
Harper get away with ignoring my

wishes?
 
If you will not make him do what I say, then perhaps Papa will

have to remind you just where your loyalties should be fixed.
 
He'll be

arriving in New York on the Black Prince ere we leave port, and I'm sure

he'll have something to say about your behavior today."

Captain Fitch managed to hide his annoyance behind a polite but stilted

manner.
 
He had learned by experience that to rile Gertrude was to

invite the wrath of her father, who had never demonstrated compassion

toward anyone, least of all to those who provoked him or his daughter.

If not for the fact that Turnbull was sole owner of the London Pride,

Fitch would have halted Gertrude's intrusions at the very start of the

voyage, but he had been unable to forget who controlled the purse

strings.
 
It was one of the pitfalls of marrying for wealth, of which he

had been able to enjoy very little.
 
Except for the moneys he had

managed to pilfer here and there, the greater bulk of Turnbull' s wealth

had remained inaccessible to him, and that goaded him unmercifully, for

Horace Turnbull was rich beyond belief.

"Your pardon, Gertrude.
 
I thought it prudent to wait and handle this

matter after most of the crew have left the ship so they won't be aware

of Potts's release."

Like an oversized cat, Gertrude snuggled her head back into the folds of

her neck and smiled serenely, content that she would get her way.

Jacob Potts had kept her abreast of the quick-tempered antics of a

certain Irish chit who had foolishly upbraided her and her husband as if

they were naught but wayward children.
 
Shemaine's criticism had been

initiated by the flogging of Annie Carver which had taken place shortly

after their departure from England.
 
It was the least the lackluster

mouse had deserved for trying to kill herself after the loss of her

babe, but Shemaine O'Hearn had deserved much more for daring to confront

them about their treatment of the guttersnipe in front of the crew and

the other convicts.
 
Thereafter, Gertrude had yearned to see the girl's

lifeless body dropped into the depths of the sea and, in that quest, had

sought to exact the ultimate revenge.
 
But no amount of arguing could

sway Everette or get him to agree to anything more stringent than four

days of isolation and limited rations for the Irish tart.
 
Though he had

also been the recipient of Shemaine's railing criticism that day, he had

merely shrugged off the incident, saying that none of it had been his

doing anyway and the blame lay solely on the one who had started it all

by issuing orders for Annie's baby to be taken from her and sold.

Bracing a hand on the rail, Gertrude gazed down upon the one whom she

had twice condemned to a secluded stay in the chain locker.
 
A frayed,

dingy kerchief covered the fiery tresses, but even as crude as the

headpiece was, it failed to detract from the winsome beauty of the oval

face and the large, emerald eyes that slanted upward beneath delicately

sweeping brows.
 
Glimpsing a hint of a water sprite or even a fairy

queen in Shemaine's fragile beauty and thin willowy form, Gertrude

yielded to her own shrewish nature.

"Look who's been let out of the murky depths," she heckled, drawing the

younger woman's gaze swiftly upward.
 
"Why, you've been down there so

long, your toes must be webbed!
 
And how quaint!
 
You've made some

adjustments to your appearance.
 
But do you not ken, Shemaine?
 
A

red-haired witch is hard to disguise."

If anyone was a witch, Shemaine mentally scoffed, then surely it was