Beyond the Valley, page 4
Lem huffed. “Well, you shan’t get that kind of religion around here, Sarah. You had best accept Mr. Sawyer’s offer.”
Sarah met Sawyer’s eager eyes and nodded. “I would be pleased to be in your employ, sir.”
Sawyer slapped his hands on his knees. “Well then, it is settled. Pack your belongings, Sarah. I head for home tonight.”
She stood and walked over to Mary, who sat quiet and accepting. “Mary? Do you think I should go?”
“We certainly cannot provide what Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer can,” said Mary.
A worrisome feeling swept through Sarah. She hoped she was making the right decision. Leaving, traveling south with a perfect stranger, alone in his carriage, caused her some uneasiness. But what choice did she have? Lem had made his will clear. She could not stay.
Saddened that her late husband’s family had rejected her, Sarah headed upstairs to gather her meager belongings. As she folded her spare dress and tucked it inside her bag, she felt some relief that the Sawyers would provide her with new clothes. And with the way Mr. Sawyer described his household, perhaps she would find a new family among the staff. She had heard that was the way among people who worked and worshiped together. She would find unity and kindness in Torquay.
As she cinched the sack closed, she smiled and thought of her unborn child. “Thank you, Lord God, for providing for us. My child shall live in a fine house and shall never go hungry.”
Downstairs, she leaned over to kiss Mary’s cheek, but her sister-in-law remained rigid and cold, showing no emotion at all. Mary stood, placed her hands on Sarah’s shoulders, and turned her toward the front door.
“I shall write to you, Mary.” Sarah stepped out into the misty gloom where the moon rode high in the night sky.
Mr. Sawyer held out his hand. “We head for the harbor, Sarah, where we shall take a ship ’round the coast. It is much faster than going overland, and easier on the body.”
A bundle of nerves, Sarah climbed in. She could not determine whether what she felt came from fear or excitement. But her hopes were high that this opportunity meant redemption. Once seated with her bundle on her lap, she looked out the window and saw the Lockes’ front door close. They were glad to be rid of her, Sarah knew, and she wished never to see them again.
She drew her shoulders back against the seat. “I am most grateful to you, Mr. Sawyer. If it were not for you and your wife, I would be destitute.”
He set his tricorn hat on the seat next to him. “That is easy to tell.”
“I promise I shall work hard for you and Mrs. Sawyer. And my baby shall be no problem to either of you.”
“Do not worry about that. As I expressed before, we value children. More often than not, they are worth their weight in gold.”
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Sarah felt happy as she gazed out the window at the moon.
4
A blustery wind beat over the cliffs and across the moors as the carriage traveled the last few miles to Hayle Harbor. The horses struggled against the gusts. Their manes whipped back and they neighed. Mr. Sawyer snored, while Sarah kept her eyes on the scene outside the window. A blackened landscape passed by swiftly. Patches of moonlight streamed down from the night clouds and illumined the gorse grass and fields.
She could not help but recall the times she and Jamie lay in each other’s arms and stared up at a starry sky. Her heart ached thinking of him, regretting he had not loved her with the passion she had longed for. But his care of her had made up for that in numerous ways. He was gone now, and she was about to step into a new season in her life. Her hopes were high, and the burden of poverty lifted from her shoulders.
The rattle of the carriage, the wheels spinning over the sandy road, seemed endless, until the horses slowed and drew to a halt, and the din of the sea overtook the quiet. The carriage door swung open.
“Mr. Sawyer, sir.” She leaned toward him. “We are here.”
He stirred. His eyes opened and he picked up his hat and jammed it on his head. Out he climbed, and then called to her to follow. When she stepped out, the first thing Sarah saw was the moonlight dancing over the water, turning the golden sand amber. Out in the sea stood a ship. Brass lanterns blinked from its decks and the gentle peal of a bell marked the hour.
She drew her cloak closer against the chill of the wind. Now six months into her time, she felt her baby move and laid her hand over her belly, feeling through her clothes the imprint of a tiny foot. She smiled, and love swelled inside her. Life would be good for her little one.
Bobbing over the waves a skiff drew away from the merchantman’s hull. “The Reef Raider is sure to be full of passengers tonight, Sarah,” Sawyer remarked. “You are not afraid to sleep among servants, are you?”
“As long as I am placed with women only, sir.”
“And so you shall be. There is a boat to take us over.” He stepped away, trudging across the sand to the surf where the skiff slid in. The sailors all pulled off their caps and greeted them warmly.
Helped aboard, Sarah sat in the rear. She clutched her bundle and glanced back at the misty shore. Mr. Sawyer sat forward, and the sailors pushed the skiff into the waves, jumped in, and grabbed the oars. The vessel shot off like a dolphin cutting through the waves and Sarah shivered with the excitement it gave her. She scanned the shoreline and moved her eyes up to the heights of the bluffs. A lonely feeling filled her as she let herself imagine she would never see this part of England again, or her village, or ever visit Jamie’s grave. She was going away for good.
Coming alongside in the skiff, she gazed up at the ship and felt swallowed by its massive size and the dark shadow it cast. On deck, seamen rushed about, making ready to sail. Canvas tumbled down and swelled in the sea wind. Mr. Sawyer walked ahead and stopped a sailor. He leaned nearer, spoke to him, and looked back at Sarah. The sailor nodded, stepped away from Sawyer, and approached her.
“Welcome aboard the Reef Raider, miss.” He bowed short. “I’ll take you down to your accommodations, if you would follow me.”
She looked over at Mr. Sawyer and caught his eyes. “It is fine, Sarah,” he said. “Go with him.”
And so, desiring to please her employer, she hastened away with a lift of her skirts. She looked back over her shoulder as they approached the sterncastle door. Sawyer had disappeared. She followed the sailor down a set of stairs. He took out a large ring of keys and unlocked a door, pushed it open, and motioned for her to enter.
A polished brass lantern swung from the ceiling and dimly lit the room. All of her hopes sank when her eyes fastened on a wretched group of women huddled together in a corner. Each face glistened with sweat; their eyes were hollow and frightened. A chill ran up Sarah’s spine and the hairs on the back of her neck stiffened. A cold sweat broke out over her body and she turned to see the sailor shut the door. Then, even more chilling, the key turned in the lock. She rushed to the door, tried the handle, and then pounded on it with her fist.
“It will do you no good.” From the darkened corner, a woman moved forward and spoke to Sarah in a low, hoarse voice. Her hair hung about her face in thin, greasy strands, and her gaze was one of hopelessness.
“He locked us in. Why would he do that?” Sarah’s voice trembled with panic. “Are we in some kind of danger and need to be protected? Please tell me that is what it is.” She pressed her hand against her pounding heart, and with the other gripped her bag tight.
The woman stood, her knees buckling beneath her. “Danger, yes—because we’ve been kidnapped. Don’t you see?”
Fearing it to be true, Sarah shook her head. “No, that cannot be. I am Mr. Sawyer’s servant. We are sailing to Torquay. I have not been kidnapped.”
The woman looked at her with pity. “I did not think so either.”
“I do not belong here. There’s been a mistake.”
At that point, all the women stood, and the first put her hand on Sarah’s arm. “You have been lied to. We are headed for the Colonies—maybe Barbados, the Carolinas, or the Chesapeake.”
Sarah turned toward the door. “I will speak to the captain and demand he let us go. Who spirited you away? Do you know his name?”
“Sawyer. He’s the one.”
“Sawyer!” Shock coursed through Sarah’s mind. How could he have lied to her, deceived her? Could it be true she had been hoodwinked? Had Lem and Mary known Sawyer’s true identity? Had they schemed with him to get rid of her? She could believe it about Lem, but not Mary. No. She would never stoop to so heartless a crime. But then, she did not know her sister-in-law well enough to be certain.
Again, she pounded on the door until the key finally turned and it opened. “What is the problem, miss? Stop that noise at once,” growled the guard. “You’ll give the captain a headache and then he’ll be angry as a typhoon.”
She stomped her foot. “I demand to see him.”
“He’s busy and won’t waste his time.”
“Either bring Mr. Sawyer here immediately, or take me to him. Perhaps then the captain will see fit to involve himself. It is a horrible thing Mr. Sawyer has done to these women.”
“Oh, is that what they told you?”
“Yes. I am his servant. He will speak to me.”
The sailor stared at her a moment, then burst into laughter. “Well then, go on up. Find Mr. Sawyer. This should entertain the men.”
Tossing back her hair, Sarah set her bag down, squeezed past the seaman, and hurried topside. Her eyes darted among the crew for a glimpse of Sawyer, and when he was nowhere to be seen, she hurried to the side of the ship and looked out into the water. Her heart plunged to the depths to see the skiff cutting away with Mr. Sawyer in it. She gripped the rail and a moan clawed up her throat. “Come back!” she shouted.
He turned to see her, grinned, and lifted his tricorn hat in farewell. Hands pulled her away. “He has no reason to come back, lass.”
“But he is to take me to Torquay. I am to serve him and his wife on his estate.” She realized how naive she sounded, but she could not accept she had been spirited away. She had only heard of such horrors, where men, women, and children are dragged from their homes, from the streets, and held captive in caves along the coast. Then they are taken aboard ships that carried them off to be indentured in the Colonies.
“Was he called back? Am I to go on to Torquay without him?” she asked, hungry for an answer. She stared at the men who gathered around her, watched in dismay as their mouths lifted into grins and their eyes flashed with amusement.
The seaman-guard laughed. “Torquay? His story gets better and better.”
Then the jests began. “That red hair of hers is a sure sign of trouble. Better get her below in a hurry.”
“Aye, and I pity the landowner that buys her. She’s got a temper.”
“Get back, lads. She’s likely to scratch your eyes out.”
Then a sailor with leathery features and a pocked nose stepped forward. His hair hung to his shoulders, and he had a look of sympathy in his eyes as the lantern light fell over his face. “Pity the poor lass. Just look at her. Sawyer said she’s with child, and can’t walk too well. Hold your tongues—say nothing against her.”
One man folded his arms and stared at her. “Hmm. They’ll pay less for a wench like that—a cripple.”
Sarah hung her head. “Please. I am not meant for the Colonies.” Then she lifted her eyes. “Is there not a man among you who would take me back, and the other women too? Are you so without feeling that your hearts do not convict you?”
“No,” said the sailor guarding her. “You’re to sail to the Colonies like the rest of the gutter rats below.”
She trembled as if a blast of artic wind had shoved her. Her eyes pooled. She looked at their faces, scarred and rough. “Please, take me ashore,” she pleaded. “I was brought here against my will. That man Sawyer deceived me. I cannot make the journey. Have pity on my poor babe.”
“Pity indeed, for your indenture will be longer than most for bringing a child into the world.” The more compassionate sailor stepped forward and held his hand out to her to take. “Make it easy on yourself and do as you are told. We’ll be sure you have good treatment. We aren’t so heartless to neglect a woman with child.”
“What is that woman doing on deck, Mr. Smith?” boomed a voice.
Her jailer jerked his head. “Just getting her below, Captain.”
“See that you do. And do not let it happen again.”
The wind blew Sarah’s hair into her eyes. With her hand shaking, she pushed it back and looked up to see the captain standing on the quarterdeck. He looked to be a man in his forties—his face profoundly lined and tanned, his eyes piercing and cruel. Looking into them, she dared to speak up. “I have been taken against my will, Captain. Please, have your men take me back ashore.”
“And what will you pay for this?”
Sarah hesitated, but kept her eyes upon him. “I have no money, sir.”
He sneered down at her. Then turned away.
5
The cabin where the women were held captive contained canvas cots, blankets, one bucket for a chamber pot, and a clay pitcher for water.
“Count your blessings, ladies,” Sarah’s keeper had said. “We’ve set you apart ’cause you shouldn’t be with the male cargo. With your good looks, they’d spoil you. And don’t complain about your cots. At least you have something to sleep on other than the floor, unlike the poor souls kept below deck.”
His words caused her to shiver. But she knew it was true—she sat among the fortunate few. They had stern windows and the brisk sea air blew through them. It brushed over her, and Sarah put her face in her hands and cried. No one spoke. But sympathetic eyes were locked upon her, and she could hear some of the women weeping along with her.
A pair of arms went around her shoulders, and she looked into the face of a woman several years her elder, the first to speak to her of her plight. “You have your cry. We will all stick by you,” she said, her dirty brown hair falling over her neck. “My name is Jane Drey. This is Wenna, Genna, Ebrel, and Selma.”
“Sarah Carr,” she said, wiping her eyes dry.
She glanced over at Wenna curled up in a corner. Signs of trauma marred her youthful face. Her locks fell over her eyes, which were large and on the brink of tears. The other women were equally frightened. Not a word passed their lips, forced into silence by what had befallen them.
“We were tricked, like you,” Jane said. “I was told I would be sailing to London to serve as a lady’s maid in a lord’s house. I was happy for it at my age. I thought I would never be hungry again. But I was too trusting.”
Her hands shaking, Sarah looked at Jane. “I tried to make them set me ashore, but they would not listen. The captain turned his back on me.”
“No words will convince them to do anything for us. It is money they want. Money none of us have. We are worth more to them sold than a clear conscience.” Sarah noticed the dark rings beneath Jane’s eyes, from hunger, from the tension of her torment.
Sarah set her teeth. “I will not accept that my destiny is in their vile hands.”
“It never shall be, for it is in God’s hands alone.”
“He will help me, of this I am convinced. I do not believe this is His will.”
“There’s nothing you can do. Nothing any of us can do.”
“I will resist. I have to.”
“And how will you do that when your belly is aching with hunger and they abuse you?”
Sarah knit her brows. “Surely they will not treat us that way. We are women.”
“It matters not who we are. We are nothing more than chattel.”
Jane’s dark words cut into Sarah, and she stood. The other women stared at her, stunned by the reality of their terrible ordeal and by her boldness. “When we reach the Colonies, I will tell the authorities we were kidnapped. I will demand they release us.”
Looking as if they did not hear Sarah, the women turned their eyes away. Wenna stared hopelessly into the gloom. “When we stand on the slave docks, hundreds of men’s eyes will roam over us,” she said listlessly. “They will think how they can use us.”
“Do not dwell on it, Wenna,” Jane urged.
Wenna jerked her eyes back at Sarah. “The worse is to come when we are put to work in the fields and forced into our masters’ beds. I have heard of what happens, how women are beaten and raped by the planters.”
“Surly there are good people there,” Sarah said. “Ministers and physicians who will do well by us, and genteel ladies who will be kind.”
Wenna laughed. “Have you forgotten? People grow weak and sick in body and mind when mistreated, torn from their loved ones, their homeland. I am only sixteen and chaste. People do not last long as indentured servants, especially women.”
Compassion moved within Sarah. In such a short time, Wenna had succumbed to despair. She went to her, and forgetting her own plight for the moment, she sat beside the poor girl. “They will free us and hang these men.”
“I tried to fight back. That is how I acquired these.” Wenna moved the edge of her tattered dress to reveal a row of bruises.
Sarah touched the girl’s cheek. “How could they have treated you so cruelly?”
Wenna’s eyes glistened with tears. “What would we do even if freed? Starve?”
Sarah knew what it felt like to be hungry. But to starve? That was something she had not known, and it frightened her to even imagine it. She needed food and clean water, not for herself alone, but for her babe. She felt him flutter inside her, and her heart swelled with worry for him. She would do all she could to protect the innocent life growing within her. How far her protection would go, she had no way of knowing.
She picked up Wenna’s hand and squeezed it. “We would find a way home.”
“How? We will be forced to indenture ourselves in order to come back to England. There is war there, and savages, and things we cannot imagine.”
“Yes, there is a war. And we shall be able, no doubt, to tell an officer we are Englishwomen taken by force. Surely they will help us.”
