One still afternoon in October the tavern was much more crowded than usual on account of the increase in townfolks readying for the debut season. I pushed my way to the usual spot but was stunned to find James nowhere in sight. Violet beckoned me to join her table where a group of raucous wenches from the brothel were making merry, so I squished myself on the edge of their bench beside them. The young men around were boasting which parties they were attending and then I spotted an unwelcome face in the crowd. Lieutenant Aaron Ellyott stood in the corner surrounded by a large fence of drunken young gentlemen. Several other patrons sported various uniforms—and I suddenly realized why the prostitutes were out—and why the pirates had gone into hiding. Lascivious banter flew across the sawdust until, one by one, the ladies at the table left to ply their trade. I kept a watchful eye on Ellyott, confident he wouldn’t never remember me. A couple of hopeful suitors tried to engage Violet but she cleverly put them off without offending, and then I heard the lieutenant’s voice rising over the swell. When his friend mentioned Annie’s name I picked up both tankards and edged toward the overworked barmaid on the pretext of acquiring refills. Ellyott was talking excitedly to a young planter who was yelling, “I hear that William Cormac has imported a pianoforte for his daughter’s ball!”
“Really?” Ellyott replied. “And what have the Middletons arranged for Martha?”
“Her father has engaged an Austrian quartet, so I am told.”
“Will you be at both parties?” the lieutenant asked.
“No, I am afraid not. Middleton will not let Martha attend anything at the Cormac home.”
“And pray, sir, why not?” Ellyott shouted.
“Well, it seems he does not approve of Cormac’s trading with privateers and pirates. . . .” his comrade said.
“But every merchant prefers to bypass those damned English custom duties . . . it means cheaper goods for everyone.”
“That is as may be, my friend. But Middleton does not want his daughter mixing in such company.” The young man caught the barmaid’s arm and indicated she was to refill all the mugs in their circle too.
Then another youth in their crowd said, “Pity you will not be there, Pinckney. I hear Mistress Anne is quite the beauty.”
Flushed by alcohol and unpleasant vengeance Lieutenant Ellyot said pointedly, “She is quite the buxom slattern and no mistaking. Arse like a firm ripe peach!”
His companions gasped at his intoxicated inference and someone muttered, “You have not . . . ?”
Elliott winked lewdly and added, “She decided to come out early—just for me!”
As the gang exploded into scandalized whoops the blood set to flame in my veins.
I told Violet I was off, and ran from the tavern as fast as my boots would carry me home.
Annie had been selecting evening wear and when I burst into the room I saw a crop of brocade stomachers were scattered about the floor amidst a splash of taffeta gowns. She could tell from my face something dreadful had happened and I shuddered underpressure of bearing the message of duplicity and doom. But I couldn’t never do it! It meant the ruin of all their expensive plans—that Annie was now not eligible—that no one would come to their parties and teas—humiliation—embarrassment—disgrace.
Anne discarded the silk petticoat she was holding and stood waiting, but my out-of-breath gasps turned to panic-filled sobs and I couldn’t get no sense out. The mistress marched over and shook my arm as if violence would spill forth the terrible news.
“What is it?” she cried. “What on earth has happened?”
Bubbles of spittle popped from my terrified lips but I wanted to be in denial as long as I could so I murmured, “No . . . I . . . I can’t. . . .”
Annie, now at the limit of her precarious patience, slapped me across the cheek.
I writhed from her grip still unable to disclose. Then, before I had chance to even rub my face, she had picked up the shears used to unwrap her treasures and held the points against my neck. “Speak up!” she commanded. “Or I shall rip the words from your mangy throat. . . .”
I was stuck on the tips of her blade, petrified, so I stuttered out a garbled version of the lieutenant’s public boast. It took several strained seconds for the implication to prick Annie’s aspirations before she turned from me in dismay, and before my mind could register what was happening she had swung back—full force—and stabbed the blades of the shears into my shoulder just above the left breast. Her face was screwed up in rage screaming, “Nooo . . . !”
Looking back now, it all happened like a slow, drunken memory. I saw a sail of strawberry hair flash across space, and then felt a burning plunge bite deep in my flesh. I stared, still as a woodblock, looking at the protruding handles vibrating from the force and vaguely noting the froth of blood fizzing around the metal. I instinctively made to pull the shears free, then remembered that they were corking the wound and it was best to leave them in place. My body went icy cold and then grew lighter and lighter until I thought I was going to float away. I crumpled to my knees whimpering in pain. I looked up into Annie’s eyes—and the light that I saw there terrified. Her whole face was shining in strange fascination. She looked ecstatic and somehow sated. She made no attempt to catch me, but backed far enough away to take in the glow of her act. And that scared me far more than the blades sticking out from my chest so I started screaming with all of the wind I could muster, and then Annie was moaning too in a lost voice that sounded like wolf howl.
The commotion brought Joshua up from the shop. He took one look at the scissor handles and ran to find the master, but by the time her father appeared Annie had collapsed on the floor and was curled up in a tight ball, bawling great angry curses between hiccups and sobs. Mrs. Drayton was called to take me to the apothecary so I could be properly attended. And Annie was left to break the news that her debut had been maliciously cancelled.
Dr. Haskell did a neat job fixing the wound that would eventually heal to a wiggly scar. Years later I had this here anchor tattoo done to cover it—see, mister? Anyway, next day when things had calmed down a bit Annie came and gave me the third degree. I was still feeling woozy on account of the opium administered for the stitching so I answered vaguely without guile or caution. Her voice was pounding somewhere between my ears and eyes asking where had I seen Ellyott? Did I recognize who he was with? Might he be there again this evening? And before she’d even considered the consequences—or perhaps because she didn’t have nothing left to lose—she’d marched me off with grim-set lips to seek out and confront him.
Now, as it happened, the herd of young hopefuls was otherwise engaged that day so when we got to the tavern the sea robbers were back there in force. I immediately turned to take Annie home because I was still feeling very sore, but she was mesmerized by the lip-tingling scene before us and insisted that as we’d come all this way we may as well stop for a drink. By now I’d become friendly with a few of the locals so I reckoned we’d be safe enough from any wandering eyes (and I also knew Bobby the barman kept a loaded musket handy). As we walked in the den the crowd opened up to let us pass, whistling and hooting at the new beauty in their midst. I ignored all shouts of “Who’s your mate, Lola?” and “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” and steered us to a bench close enough to the door to scat if necessary. Annie’s eyes were large as cartwheels as she took in the motley swaggers and taunts. We slowly sipped our ale but when I turned to check out who was there I couldn’t see nothing for the throng of suitors clamoring for her attention.
One bird-bent hand reached over the table and wobbled before Anne’s bodice as if to fondle her breast, but just as the blackened nails touched lace, there was a scuffle and the wandering arm was roughly yanked aside. I heard Jim’s voice yell, “Bail out, matey. Don’t you know how to treat a lady?” The manhandled sailor swore back and the table tipped over in the ensuing brawl. I grabbed Annie’s arm and pulled us both outside, but instead of beating a safe retreat, my mistress insisted we stay and watch the fray. We couldn’t see much through the thick, murky windows, yet we got an occasional glimpse of the mayhem when we dared peer in the doorway. Numerous bodies dived into the fight, some trying to relieve their pent frustrations and others valiantly aiming to part the opponents before anyone got stabbed or shot. Eventually the bawdy suitor was restrained by a pair of regulars and the barrel of Bobby’s musket, and Jim was persuaded to turn away in favor of a free mug of ale. The landlord righted the table and the room returned to its regular josh and tipple. Annie stood outside in the street and asked, “Who was the sailor that rescued me?”
I said boldly, “That’d be my mate, James Bonny.”
A bright curiosity came into the young woman’s eyes and she said, “Introduce me. I wish to thank my champion.” So I trotted back with Annie in tow and did as I was bid. Jim was none the worse for wear—if anything the tussled hair and swollen lip made him look even more striking.
As I uttered the formalities Jim lifted Annie’s white hand to his kiss and murmured, “James Bonny at your service, ma’am.”
But this time when I stared across at his silver-gray eyes I saw they were glowing with molten lust. I’d waited many long weeks to see such desire but unfortunately it wasn’t intended for me. In an instant he and Annie had fused. And I’d lost them both. Forever.
During that same dreadful day Master William had again ridden to the Ellyott Estate to vent his fury and this time there’d be no appeasing him with liquor or veiled economic threats. William was out for blood. Now, there ain’t no telling exactly what happened between the two masters but when I finally got Annie back to the shop that damp evening we sat awaiting his return with great trepidation. My shoulder was hurting something terrible so I asked to be excused to go to bed, but Anne wouldn’t hear of it and insisted I stay with her to learn the verdict. Joshua kindly slipped me another draught of the master’s laudanum and that made the throbbing tolerable, but by the time William appeared I could barely keep my lids wedged open. I remember that it had rained heavily—because his clothes started steaming as he stood near the fire—and his face was red to bursting wanting to spill the news. After the usual greetings and settling in he looked at his anxious daughter and said, “Well, my dear, it has all been set to rights.”
Annie gave him a dubious stare and asked, “How so?”
“Lieutenant Ellyott has agreed to wed you.”
“What?” Annie stood up, shaking in disbelief. “What did you say, Father?”
“I said—Aaron Ellyott is to be your husband.”
“No.” Anne looked at him and screamed louder, “No!”
Master William took hold on his daughter’s shoulder and guided her back to sitting. Then, calmly as possible, he added, “The arrangement has been made. You will be married at Black River the Saturday of Christmas.”
“But . . . I . . . I cannot believe . . . that . . . after . . .” The young girl was submerged by incomprehension. “H . . . how could you do this to me, Father?” Two large eyes stared directly into his chapped face.
William flinched slightly and said, “It is in the best interest of all concerned, given the circumstances. . . .”
“Circumstances?” Annie echoed. “What circumstances?”
Her father evaded her angry glare and muttered, “Everybody is aware that you gave yourself to him. . . .”
“I did not
give
myself—he forced me. You know that!”
“I do, my dear. But no one is going to believe that of the young lieutenant, are they?”
The reality hit home and Anne realized her tenuous rung on the social ladder. She stared into blackness and calmed her inner turmoil sufficiently to add, “You do not know what such a match will cost me, Father.”
“I do,” he replied sagely. “The entire Black River Plantation.”
So, just like that, William Cormac had sold his daughter to the only bidder and thrown in the rice farm as her dowry. He’d apparently decided that once his daughter left home he’d retire to the house in Charles Towne where there was ample enough profit to live out his days in comfort. Black River was to be handed over lock, stock, barrel, and slaves, with Cormac removing only his most personal items. William had agreed to this additional travesty on the assumption that George Ellyott would give the place back to the newlywed bride as her home (but in fact the wily planter had other plans for such a bountiful estate).
Now, all the time her father was gabbling, explaining the merits of such a deal, Annie was retreating further and further away from the impending sentence. I could tell she’d decided to smile and play nice but she wasn’t fooling me none for an instant. Quite understandably, Anne didn’t want to be in town for the rest of the debut season so by the end of the week she’d persuaded her father to take her back to the plantation on the pretext that they’d a wedding to prepare. Joshua was told he could hire another housekeeper to replace Mrs. Drayton, and with many strained hugs and formal handshakes we all bid him our farewells. The master hired four extra wagons and crew to wheel everything back, yet it still took twice as long to get home as when I’d ridden here after the storm.
I’d been away from Black River so long that my breath again slipped inward when I caught sight of the graceful dripping oaks. Everything looked crisp and new (except for the Big House, which was in want of clean rugs and some fresh coats of paint). Bart and Joy Higgins were overjoyed to see us, and while I was thrilled to find my old room the same as I’d left it, the master began making more frequent demands again so my solitude lost much of its sanctuary. It seemed that we’d about ten weeks left to get everything shipshaped for the coming nuptials so the place would soon be swarming with folks and preparation. Annie, meanwhile, had decided upon a particular wedding gown that could only be made by her Italian seamstress in Charles Towne, which gave us the excuse she needed to stay overnight twice a week. But other than that she showed little interest and couldn’t be prodded to favor any particular flowers, cake, food, or whatnots. So Mrs. Higgins took over planning the big event and was truly in her element.