Authors: M. Louisa Locke
Chapter Forty-four
Saturday evening, February 14, 1880
"I asked a policeman to get me back my child. But he said he was my husband, and that child was his. The policeman asked me was he my husband, and was the child his? and I answered yes. The policeman shook his head and walked away."––Her Child's Cry
, San Francisco Chronicle
1879
Laura groaned. The crushing panic that always accompanied her nightmare about Buck’s attack began to recede. Then fear came flooding back when she realized she wasn’t in her own bed. Instead of a smooth pillow, a hard wooden surface bruised her face. Her hands and arms weren’t caught in bedclothes but were tied in some fashion behind her back. Her mouth was stuffed with some vile tasting cloth, and for a moment the returning panic kept her from breathing. She painfully turned her aching head to the side, making it easier to get air, and worked to take in slow, calming breaths. All she could see were a few square inches of rough wood that kept brightening and darkening from a wavering light source. She wanted badly to sit up, but the memories that trickled back suggested caution.
First, she remembered
taking the North Beach horse car to Meiggs Wharf this afternoon with Barbara Hewitt, Jamie, and Ian. Then she remembered Barbara negotiating for some salmon with an Italian fisherman who’d just tied up his single-masted felucca at the dock. That was when Kathleen’s brother Ian came running up and yelled that some man had grabbed Jamie. “Some sailor,” Ian had said. There were tears running down through a cut on his cheek.
She next remembered that
Ian had dragged them to the
Pacific Consort,
a three-masted ship docked at the wharf, and said that was where Jamie had been taken. During the afternoon, there had been a constant stream of men boarding the ship, carrying bags, barrels, and crates into the hold. But the ship now looked deserted. They had sent Ian to get help, and then she and Barbara had crept on board in the failing light of sunset, desperate to find Jamie. And then someone had hit her over the head.
How long have I been unconscious?
S
he must still be onboard the ship since she could hear the sounds of creaking boards and feel the up and down motion of waves. She only hoped to heaven the ship was still tied to the dock rather than heading out to the ocean through the Golden Gate.
If only I could see more
, she thought.
Then there was a sound of wood scraping against wood. She heard Jamie shouting from somewhere close by, “Stop hurting her
! Stop it!”
A man replied angrily, “God-damn it
, boy, I’ll kill her if you don’t shut your trap.”
It sounded like the man who’d assaulted her in the alley.
Buck?
Laura frantically rolled herself onto her left side. Using her shoulder, she pushed herself into a sitting position, feeling one of the seams in her bodice rip. What she saw was worse than any nightmare. Towering all around her were pyramids of barrels and crates badly illuminated by a swinging lantern. At the center of these pyramids stood a tall, roughly dressed stranger who was struggling with Jamie. Although the man was only a few feet from her, she could barely make out his face. He wore a cap pulled down to his eyes, and a dark brown beard and mustache surrounded a snarling mouth. But he was definitely
not
Buck.
Jamie came staggering in her direction, cuffed aside by the man, and he stumbled down beside her. She tried to say his name, and Jamie started to take the gag out of her mouth.
This caused the man to brandish a long knife as he said, “Leave the bitch be. I’ll slice her, boy, and your mother, if you don’t sit down and behave yourself.”
Jamie kneeled close, putting his arm around her, and Laura could feel his slight frame tremble. They watched together as the man turned back to where Barbara was sitting, huddled next to one of the tall stacks of barrels. Jamie’s mother also had her hands tied behind her back, but there was no gag.
Her hat was gone, and her dark hair hung in loops, the pins having given way. Blood trickled down one side of her face.
The man crouched down, pulled Barbara Hewitt’s head back, and hissed at her. “The lovely Linda, did you think I wouldn’t find you? Don’t look so lovely now. You know, I didn’t much care that you left. I was tired of you anyway. But you took my boy, my Robbie. You took what’s mine. And that I’ll never forgive.”
Jamie stirred beside Laura and said, “Look, mister. I think you’ve gotten mixed up. That’s my mother and she’s Barbara, Barbara Hewitt. And my name’s Jamie, not Robbie. I’m awful sorry you lost your little boy, but I’m not him.”
The man cursed and put the point of the knife up against Barbara’s neck, saying, “You tell him or I’ll cut you. Maybe slice off that pretty little ear. Tell him the truth. Tell him I’m his pa. And his real name is Robert James Norman, and your name is Linda, Mrs. Bobby Norman. Will be until the day you die.”
Laura felt she’d gone down the rabbit hole like Alice in Wonderland.
“Bobby, stop it, you’re scaring him,” Barbara whispered. “Just tell me what you want.”
“I want you to tell him! Tell him how you stole him away from me when he was just a tyke. Just three. He was the only good thing that ever happened to me after the war. My little good luck charm. And you stole him. Never had a day’s luck since.
You tell him
.”
Laura saw Barbara lock eyes with Jamie and give the tiniest of nods as tears ran dow
n her face. Jamie sobbed.
The man, Bobby, looked satisfied and sat back on his heels, taking the knife away from Barbara’s neck. He remarked in a conversational tone that was oddly chilling, “So, now we have that settled, this is what’s going to happen. I’d sort of hoped that Robbie here would’ve recognized me and been willing to come along without setting up a squawk. And I didn’t plan on the two of you creeping on board. But turns out this might be for the best.”
Another man stepped into the light, sending Laura’s pulse racing even faster. This was the man Barbara and she had encountered as they crept through the darkness of the top deck. They’d just finished peeking into the empty kitchen at the center of the boat and were looking down a ladder that led below when the man showed up beside them. The smell of liquor poured off of him, and he’d seemed to be swaying more than the gentle rocking of the waves warranted. He held up a lantern and said, “If you wanna see the boy, he’s down there,” pointing into the hold. They’d climbed down as directed, but Laura had only taken two steps towards a narrow passageway when the blow to her head came and she lost consciousness.
“All ship-shape above board?” Bobby asked.
The man simply nodded, then he said, “Look mate, there’s no telling when the captain’s gonna come back. Gotta get this squared away soon.”
Bobby frowned. “Don’t you
worry. You just do what you’re paid to do. Go on up and keep watch.”
When the man left, disappearing into the darkness past the lantern light, Bobby stood up and dragged Barbara to her feet. “Now here’s the plan. Robbie, son, you are going to come with me. We’re going to go on a trip. I got my eye on a nice little cattle ranch over in Wyoming.”
He turned to Barbara and said, “Funny thing. Two years ago when I was there, ran into Jack Hewitt, the
real
Barbara Hewitt’s little brother. Told me this story about how his younger sister’s family moved out from Kansas to Nevada the year after their older sister died and how this schoolmarm who traveled with them took the dead sister’s name. Told me about it because he’d remembered that the woman’s name was Norman, same as mine. Wondered if I might know her. I’ve been searching ever since, looking for you and Robbie. Took awhile, but I always knew I’d find you.”
Jamie spoke up, his fists clenched. “Mister, I’m not going anywhere without my mother.”
“God-damn it, boy, don’t you talk back.” Bobby’s eyes narrowed, and he pointed the knife at Jamie. “You will come with me, because I’m going to leave your mother and her friend tied up in the hold under Lenny’s sweet attentions. Ship’s taking off in the morning, that’s why everyone is on shore tonight, and first port of call is San Diego. If Lenny finds a letter there from me saying you were a good boy and we got away nice and clean, he’ll let them go. If not, he’ll slit their throats and drop them overboard. So, unless you want that to happen, you’ll come with me quiet and respectful-like.”
*****
Nate instructed Annie, “You and Ian go back up the dock to that tall building at the end where there should be some sort of wharf master, night watchman, or something. Let them know what’s happening.” He looked up towards the deck of the ship, the
Pacific Consort
. “Patrick and I will try to figure out how to get on board.”
He had tried to get Annie to stay at home since she’d already been through so much today, but she’d insisted on coming. The two of them, plus Ian, took the first hansom cab they found on Taylor. Patrick followed behind in a separate cab so he could detour past the northern district police station to report in. He’d come running up behind them as they stood looking up at the ship, trying to figure what to do. The whole ride here,
Annie’d held Ian tightly, quieting his fears while eliciting as much information as she could. She was clearly trying to figure out if the man was Buck, maybe snatching Jamie in order to lure Laura to some secluded place, but Ian hadn’t been able to describe the man in enough detail for them to be sure of anything.
Nate had hoped that when they got to the wharf they would find all three safely back on shore. But the long pier that ran straight out into the Bay was dark and empty, except for a few lanterns scattered along the short dock that jutted out from the pier and paralleled the shore. They could see there were a few fishermen still securing their boats on the shore side of that dock but no sign of Barbara, Jamie
, or Laura. Even though the sun had just set, there was enough ambient light to help them pick their way to the apparently deserted three-masted ship that was up on the outer Bay side. Nate saw there was a lantern near the
Pacific Consort
gangway, providing enough light so that they could see the gangplank was pulled in. But that was all he could see. There wasn’t a glimmer of light from any of the port holes along the upper deck. If anyone was on the ship, they must be below. The hairs along the back of his neck rose at an image of Laura being assaulted in some dark hold at the bottom of the ship.
“Annie, please go. There’s nothing you or Ian can do here, and it may be t
hat some dock official can help,” Nate said. “See if you can get a lantern. Soon there won’t be any light to see by.”
Once she and Ian were on their way back to shore, Nate turned to Patrick and said, “Any idea of how we get on board?” The
Pacific Consort
was at least six feet from the dock, and while there were ropes between the dock and the ship, they led to small port holes that weren’t big enough for either of them to squeeze through. Besides, he would need to be a tight-rope walker to use the ropes to board. Ian might have been able to manage it, but the boy had carried too heavy a load this day already.
Patrick said, “Sir, let me see what help I can get from one of the fishermen.” He walked toward the small ring of lanterns that had sprung up as a knot of Italians had gathered to comment in their own language about the strangers on their dock. Still dressed in his blue police uniform with the seven
-point star prominently displayed on his left breast, Patrick spoke softly with the assembled men who seemed to be nodding and gesticulating. When he rejoined Nate, he brought a small, wiry man with him. The man doffed his cap politely to Nate then leaped agilely onto one of the mooring ropes. Using both hands and feet, he swarmed up the rope to a porthole and stood on the lip of the hole to pull himself on board. A moment later, they heard a scrape and rattle as he pushed the gangplank forward and down to connect to the dock. Nate extracted a banknote from his wallet and gave it to the man as he came down to the dock. Another man appeared at their side and offered a lantern, whispering, “Buona fortuna.”
*****
Laura watched helplessly as Jamie argued with the man.
His father.
If only she wasn’t gagged and could say something that might calm the boy down and get him to see that this was not a man to be reasoned with.
But how would he know?
The men he knew, David Chapman who took him to fly kites, her brother who always had hard candy in his pockets to give him, and Patrick who took him and Ian on excursions, were all gentle men.
But Barbara knew
. Laura could tell by the terror in her eyes as she pleaded with Jamie to do as his father demanded. Barbara knew and had protected Jamie by changing their names and trying to put half a continent between her boy and his father.
“You little spoiled brat. I don’t give a damn what you want. You’re mine, and I’m going teach you how to obey your
pa.” Bobby Norman held Jamie by the scruff of the neck, his fury visible in the bulging veins on either side of his neck. He then shifted to a high, mincing voice, saying, “‘Don’t touch the baby. He’s delicate. Don’t give the boy a beating. He didn’t mean to wake you.’ Stupid woman, coddling you and turning you against me.” He then jerked Jamie closer, slapped him hard, and pushed him towards Barbara.