Shanna (68 page)

A splintering, snapping sound intruded upon the quiet, rising quickly in volume and rate. Ruark looked up at the wagon and to his horror saw the side stakes slowly folding beneath the weight of the logs. With a last final crack they gave way, spilling the load down the hillside. They gathered speed as they bounded toward him, thumping and jarring the ground on which he stood. There was no place to flee but the pond.

Ruark leaped high and stretched out His body cleaved the air in a shallow arc, and he struck the smooth surface almost flat As the water closed over his head, he bent and dove deep, clawing downward with all the strength he could muster. The butt of a log plunged past him, so close he could see tiny bubbles clinging to its coarse bark. Then its buoyancy checked the descent, and it was gone. Rocks brushed his belly painfully, and he bumped into the slope on the far side. Rolling once, he could see the unsettled, frothy turbulence high above. Another log almost touched the bottom before it shot upward to leap clear into the air like a hooked fish, then fell back to crash and bob upon the surface.

Ruark's lungs burned and were near to bursting. He kicked off the bottom and headed for a clear area above, broaching like the log. Falling back to tread water, he
gasped precious air into his lungs. Shouts and angry curses came from the shore where he had stood, and as he struggled to clear his eyes, he saw the foreman and the driver backed by a crowd who anxiously scanned the water for some sign of him. Clinging to a nearby log, Ruark waved his arm and heard the answering shout. He rested a moment and then began to swim slowly back toward them.

“I never meant to inspect the pond quite so thoroughly as that,” he gasped as he crawled up on the shore.

“The damned fool left his logs unchained when he came down,” the foreman raged.

“Like hell I did!” the driver declared. “Do ya take me fer a bloody boob? I checked 'em good an' they was chained.”

“No harm's been done.” Ruark took the foreman's offered hand and hauled himself to his feet. The sound which had preceded that of the dumping logs did not lend to his peace of mind. “But I've a mind to look at that wagon.”

He led the way up the slope. The chains were held in place by a pin through a link and a bracket on the wagon's bed so that the pin could be tapped out and the load dumped. Wooden posts on each side further restrained the logs, but these now lay on the ground with the pins and the small sledgehammer each driver carried. Someone had deliberately knocked the pins out after removing the posts. The partial track of a booted foot was marked into a soft spot of earth, and Ruark could only surmise that Old Blue had had something to bellow about after all. As the men around him wore the flat soles of sandals or work shoes, there was no doubt in his mind that another man had been here. Ruark followed the trail some distance along the road and around a curve protected by thick brush and trees. Here he found another impression of a booted heel along with the marks of a horse's hooves. He frowned in silence, realizing someone had meant to kill him.

Ruark glanced up as Ralston's small carriage came briskly around the bend. The thin man halted beside the workmen who had gathered around Ruark. He climbed down from the high seat with a triumphant sneer on his face.

“Hah! Dawdling again, I see. Squire Trahern may yet be convinced that sterner measures are needed to extract worthwhile labor from slaves.”

The man's boots were meticulously clean, or Ruark might have accused him then and there.

“There was a slight mishap,” Ruark explained tersely, watching Ralston narrowly. “And it seems 'twas no accident, but intentional.”

“Probably the carelessness of one of your precious bondsmen.” Ralston gestured with the quirt. “Am I to believe it had something to do with your condition?”

“Aye, ye might say that,” the foreman piped in. “Mister Ruark was below when the logs let go. He saved 'imself with a dip in the pond.”

“How touching,” Ralston smirked and regarded Ruark with a jeer. “You are always in the midst of some foolery, aren't you?” He caressed the end of his quirt and seemed to grow museful. “Yet you turn everything to your betterment Perhaps you, more than the others, are in need of some discipline.”

Ruark stared at him coldly. He did not intend to let the man use that bloody little whip on him. Milly might have cringed and whimpered beneath her merciless beating, but if Ralston had been her assailant then he faced a man now and not some helpless girl.

A clatter of hooves on the road drew the attention of all. Attila came thundering around the bend with Shanna on his back. Seeing the group that had gathered, she hauled the beast to a skidding stop while the more fearful workmen scattered from her path.

“Mister Ruark!” Her eyes went down his sodden attire as she leaned forward to stroke the gray's neck. “Have you taken to swimming in your garments?”

“'Twas an accident, mum, and he were caught in the middle of it, he were,” one of the men volunteered.

“An accident!” Shanna gasped. She disengaged her knee from the saddle horn and found Ruark's hands about her waist, lifting her down. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

The questions came out in a rush, and her worried frown told Ruark she was in no mood for humor. He was about
to reassure her when he was roughly shouldered aside by Ralston.

“Keep your distance, fool,” the agent raged, waving his whip dangerously close to Ruark. “I shall remind you but once, Mister Ruark, that a bondsman is not permitted to touch a lady of circumstance.”

Ralston paused for some reaction from the man he berated, but finding a hard, penetrating stare his answer, he whirled to Shanna.

“Madam, it is not wise to trust these rogues overmuch and most rash to be so familiar with them. They are the scum of civilization and hardly worth your concern.”

Shanna was rigid with rage, and her eyes snapped green sparks. “Mister Ralston!” Her voice could have sliced the heart of the staunchest oak. “You abuse the title of man and disregard that of a gentleman! You have thrice stood in my way and sought to chide me for my manners!”

Ralston's face flushed dark crimson at this public chastening, but Shanna gave him no pause. Stepping forward and tapping his chest lightly with the tip of her own quirt, she snapped, “Never, never confront me again! There is much I will have out with you someday, but for the moment get yourself from my sight”

Ralston sputtered, but could only obey. In livid fury he stalked to his buggy but before mounting he glared about. “You men!” he roared. “Get back to work! You have dallied enough. I will see the next laggard flayed where he stands!”

The road was emptied as Ralston got to his seat and whipped his horse into a full run. Ruark watched him go and then gestured for the driver of the wagon to pull on so others could pass.

“Are you hurt?” Shanna asked quietly, her eyes searching him for some sign of injury.

Ruark tossed her a grin. “Nay, love.”

“But what happened?”

Ruark shrugged and casually told her of the occurrence, and the evidence of tampering. He related the near disaster at the distillery as well. “It would seem, my love, someone is not pleased with my presence.”

Shanna's hand trembled as she placed it on his arm.
“Ruark,”—her voice was ragged and tight—“you don't think I—”

She couldn't finish, but Ruark saw her tears as he looked at her in surprise. He smiled gently and shook his head.

“Nay, love. It never entered my mind. I trust you as I would my own mother. Do not fear that.”

For a moment Shanna was unable to speak as she struggled to control her shaking, but then she managed. “But what reason would anyone have to harm you?”

Ruark laughed. “Several of the pirates might have cause, but I would doubt their courage to venture here.” He tried to ease her worry. “I shall be more wary henceforth.”

A workman scrambled up the slope to them, holding a ragged, dripping twist of straw in his hand.

“Yer hat, Mister Ruark.” He gave over the mangled mess ruefully. “'Twould o' been the same fer ya, had ya not been so quick o' wit.”

The man did not wait for thanks but turned and slid down the hill again. Ruark contemplated the thing in his hands, trying to see some shape in it, then lifted his gaze to Shanna, and his eyes gleamed with humor.

“I could be a free man now were it not for the cost of new hats,” he quipped.

T
HE DAYS BEGAN TO RUN TOGETHER
as the
Hampstead
and the
Tempest
took on supplies and goods to barter. Attila and the mare would be taken along, and provision was made for them on the deck of the
Tempest,
this time under Ruark's direction and with padded stalls to protect the beasts. The rush and furor of preparations filled the dwindling days with activity. Hergus scurried in and out of Shanna's chambers like one possessed; once she paused in the hall under Ruark's amused smile, her arms laden with woolen capes and furs.

“Put the winter clothes away. Take the winter clothes out,” she said breathlessly. “Seems it'll never stop.”

Then the days were gone, and all was aboard the ships which rode at anchor out in the small bay. Amid final shouts and farewells the passengers stepped into the lighters and were rowed out to spend the first night on board to await the first breezes of early dawn.

And the dawn came. The sails creaked aloft to slap and sag until the wind freshened. The anchors were raised as the first sail billowed full and, though motion was difficult to detect, soon a curl of white foam formed beneath the prows, and they were underway. The masts heaved with a loud creaking as the
Hampstead
rose on the first swell clear of the cove. A shot echoed from the island, and Shanna watched the cloud of smoke drift away from signal hill. The
Hampstead
answered the farewell salute with her stern chaser, and a moment later the
Tempest
followed suit.

Los Camellos was only a smudge on the horizon when Shanna finally went below, piqued that Ruark had not seen fit to visit her at the departure. At the morning hour there were only her father and Pitney to greet her at the table with Captain Dundas, a squarish man, much like
her father, large and heavy but a bit leaner and more solid from his years on the quarterdeck. Over the meal the conversation was mostly about what raw materials might be found for the mills in England. In fact, Shanna rather gathered from listening to the men that the colonies were full of palisaded forts and crude log cabins. Her imagination failed as she tried to conjure painted, half-naked savages roaming the wilderness. She missed the rich voice of Ruark, and his absence from the table made the morning seem somehow lacking. It puzzled her that her father had not asked him to join them.

Strolling on the main deck moments later, she still saw no sign of him and grew petulant, because she could not go below in search. She felt neglected that he hadn't even taken time to share his company with her. She set herself by the quarterdeck rail where she could survey the entire ship, and it was some time later when she felt a presence by her side and turned hopefully, only to find Pitney regarding her, an expression close to pity in his eyes. Shanna nodded briefly and came to the point.

“I've seen naught of Mister Ruark as yet What is he about?”

Pitney squinted into the distance. “About two miles, I'd say, give or take a quarter.”

Shanna frowned her bemusement, for she could find no sense in his words. Then Pitney inclined his head and pointed. She followed the direction of his arm to where the
Tempest
stood off the starboard beam. It was a long, bewildered moment before the truth sank in. Shanna slowly regained Pitney's gaze, her eyes wide in stunned realization.

“Aye,” he answered her unspoken question. “'Twas Ralston's idea that he be near the horses, but Hergus and I agreed.” Pitney ignored her outraged gasp. “'Twill avoid much temptation.”

Shanna jerked her shawl tighter about her shoulders with an irritated shrug, and her eyes took on a chilling hue as she glared at him. She left, her lips moving with mumbled words that Pitney was relieved not to hear. Angrily she stamped her way below, and a moment later the large man flinched as he heard a cabin door slam.

It was well into the mid-watch of the afternoon when
Shanna was seen out of her cabin again. Most of the seamen were old acquaintances, and she exchanged light greetings when she met an old friend. However, when Pitney or Hergus came near, Shanna's eyes took on a decidedly flinty hardness, and her lips stiffened slightly.

The day wore on, and even with so many friends and family about, Shanna was completely beset with loneliness. Her gaze was ever drawn to the small, white-sailed schooner that plunged along beside the
Hampstead.
Night eased her plight, though the bunk was narrow, hard, and cold. Another day followed, and Hergus found herself with nothing to do, for Shanna combed her own hair and would not allow the woman in the cabin. The
Tempest
was sighted at dawn, hull down on the horizon, only her white sail showing, but as the day lagged by she drew nearer to take up her station abeam again.

The next morning dawned gray and cold. The
Tempest
was not sighted until noon. The fourth day out, a light, misting rain raked the decks and only a brief time could be spent in the open before a chill cut to one's bones. The sails were reefed as the wind strengthened and became more easterly. Near evening the course was shifted to a due westerly one. They had sailed northward, taking advantage of the southeasterly winds and passing well east and north of the Bermudas. Now they sailed west to make landfall north of Chesapeake Bay and would let the prevailing northeasterlies blow them down upon it. The schooner would take the advantage more of the quartering tail winds and press ahead, making port a good day ahead of the
Hampstead.

In the ensuing days Shanna grew more restive and short of temper. Her days were empty and long. Once the
Hampstead
turned west, the sun came out, and freshening winds swept her swiftly along toward her goal. Though the weather was warmer, it was still bleak for Shanna, and the poor ship could not travel fast enough to suit her.

It was after the evening meal, and even Sir Gaylord had been unusually gracious. Still it little eased the wintry chill of Shanna's manner, and she finally took to the deck to escape the fruitless attempts at humor her father and Captain Dundas employed to cheer her. She was huddled against the rail, a fur-trimmed cloak drawn snug
about her, hiding her nose in a woolen muffler coiled about her neck, when Pitney came to stand beside her. He leaned his elbows on the rail and watched the fickle waves form frothy caps of white. After a long silence in which Shanna ignored him he spoke.

“You seem in poor temper of late, Madam Beauchamp.”

Shanna tightened her lips and gave him no answer, but Pitney knew only too well what had soured her happiness.

“Ye're angry and upset because of course ye've been dealt a cruel blow by fate.” There was a mocking tone in his voice that lent the words a heavy sarcasm.

“Hardly by fate,” Shanna scoffed. “More by trusted friends.”

“Ah, ye have a voice,” Pitney laughed gently. “Hergus and meself have been wondering about that”

Shanna grew petulant beneath his prodding. “There has been little enough to say to either of you.”

“Poor lass,” he chided her. “'Tis a sad thing that ye alone suffer against the outrageous whims of fortune.” Pitney paused and rubbed his hands together while he stared at the darkening evening sky. “Shanna child, let me tell ye a story. 'Tis of a young man whose trials might well rival yer own.”

Shanna braced herself to hear his platitudes.

“He was not a complicated soul, though he had taken his father's simple smithy and worked it with honesty and sweat into a vast iron trade that hired a round dozen hands. He met a titled lady, the youngest of a wealthy family, alas, all daughters. After a blissful courtship they were discreetly married, and she bore him a son. It gave the family a continuance of heirdom, and they accepted the man into their home.

“The son was coddled by his aunts, and the mother would not tolerate interference by the father who, being common, could not understand the ways of gentlefolk, or so she was convinced to believe by her kinfolk. The father yielded in the matter and let the nanny and tutors rear his son, taking only those rare moments with him when the others did not demand the boy's time.

“The father became an outsider in his wife's home, and
her bedchamber was soon moved from his to another wing in the house. He saw her at evening meals but only from across the table and surrounded by a flock of haughty dames who looked upon him like a tolerated leper. Out of pride he left. The son once escaped the manor house and visited his father's shop where the two of them spent joyous hours in comradery before the lad was hunted down by servants headed by the domineering aunt. She wore the bell of the household and warned the father of interfering further with the boy. The man stood upon his rights, but the local magistrate was well impressed with the power of the wife's family, and the poor man found himself barred from the manor house and enjoined from seeing his own son.

“The boy fled again during a winter storm and journeyed through a blizzard in bare feet and sleeping gown to be with his father. The lad was fetched back, and the father was cast into jail for disobedience. But the son was taken with a chill, and the fever soon found him. He died in a barren manor house crying for his father.

“As it served no further purpose, the man was released and wandered the streets drunk and broken of heart. He returned to the manor once more and begged his wife to leave the frigid, lifeless realm of the dowagers and go away with him. Aye, she promised and took him into her bed again.”

Pitney paused and stared at his large hands for a long moment.

“The next morning she was found at the bottom of the stairs, broken and dead. The dames all agreed the husband had pushed her, and buried beneath their wealth and influence, he was cast into a dungeon. But with the help of friends he escaped and fled to his sister's house in London. Her husband, a merchant grown wealthy of his own skills, had gained title to a remote island and was soon to take his wife and baby daughter there to live. The condemned man changed his name and garb and went with them where he helped them make their home and found one of his own.”

Pitney's gaze raised and rested fondly upon the woman beside him, who smiled back tenderly through her tears.

“I have been with ye since ye were a wee babe,
Shanna, lass.” His voice was oddly thick. “I rocked ye on me lap and bounced ye on me knee. I've always served yer purpose and do so now as much as it may seem otherwise.”

“Uncle Pitney—” Shanna sniffed, wiping away a tear that trickled down her cheek.

“I have seen ye abuse the sensibilities of many men, though most of them deserved it, but this one ye married, this Ruark, has been much afflicted by the world in such ways as few others are. He is a bold man, with a good head on his shoulders, true to what he believes is true. That such a man should be reduced to bondage is odious, but ye, me proud Shanna, have betrayed him at every turn with little care for his honesty or pride. 'Tis of course no fault of yers that ye are a spoiled brat, and me own hand has been lent to that. I have seen little in yer schooling that would have taught ye to have a fondness for simple folk. It may be counted a credit to yer wisdom that ye have been more than fair with most people. Alas, this cannot hold true for those most near and dear to ye. Ye thought all men were foppish fools and when that one came upon ye who was to be valued above all others, ye had no knowledge of how to care for him.

“Ye would have taken him with ye on this ship and in the closeness of it, would only have been a matter of time before one of ye gave the game away. He had to be separated from Sir Gaylord, but ye cannot see that. Ralston is suspicious of ye both, as he is of everyone, and has hounded Mister Ruark's trail for many weeks. I've watched him meself. But ye are oblivious to that. This game ye started has been played out far too long and will bring more harm and hurt, yet I can understand that ye cannot give it up.”

Pitney faced his niece and was a trifle bemused at the soft regard she returned to him.

“I would ask two things of ye until the end of it is seen: that ye not hinder the man overly and that ye ask no further favors of me where he is concerned.”

Shanna stared into the roiling sea, considering for the first time the full account of what her Uncle Pitney had said.

The deep blue of the open sea gave way to the greener hues of the shallower water on the tenth day out of Los Camellos, and before the sun had approached its zenith in the sky, the low-lying dunes of a coastline came into view. The lookout gave a shout, and Shanna dragged out her heaviest cloak and, despite the chill wind sweeping the decks of the
Hampstead,
joined the men on the quarterdeck After all, this was Ruark's home, and she was anxious to see for herself what kind of land had borne such a man.

Ralston's spare frame shivered in his woolens and, moaning for the good soft winters of England, he sought the warmth of his cabin. The heartier Sir Gaylord stayed on the deck a whole minute longer, then with a disparaging snort he, too, retired to the shelter of the decks below. Only Pitney and Trahern stayed to watch the green-capped dunes creep nearer. Shanna wedged her way between the two men and huddled there, taking whatever shelter and warmth they could offer. At the captain's order, the ship altered course to parallel the shoreline on a southwesterly heading. Small islands were now seen forming a bastion before the main coast as the brigantine stayed well offshore.

“It seems so barren.” Shanna voiced the common opinion in a disappointed tone. “'Tis naught but sand and shrub. Where are the houses and people?” Dejectedly she watched the bleak coast slide by. She turned to find Captain Dundas standing close behind them. He smiled almost gently. “'Twill be a good two or three days up the James River before we reach Richmond.”

Sometime later they left sight of land again, but in the early afternoon a new coastline was sighted. It was near Hampton that a small lugger headed out to intercept them, and soon Captain Beauchamp's first mate, Edward Bailey, came aboard. “Captain Beauchamp left me here ter see yez safe up the river,” he explained before pulling an oilskin packet from his pocket and handing the captain a sheaf of documents from it. “These be me papers and some charts o' the river.” He produced a letter from the packet and presented it to Trahern. “A letter from Mister John Ruark 'tis.”