Authors: Loki Renard
When we presented ourselves to Morrow we discovered that Roake was also in attendance. I wondered at the reason for his presence and hoped very deeply that it was not in his role as disciplinarian. He said very little however and Lizzy and I were both soon distracted by the good captain.
Morrow appeared fine as always in breeches of pristine white, matching stockings and black leather shoes so shiny I could see my face reflected in them. He paced back and forth in
front of us, his hands clasped behind his back, the lace of his cravat tumbling down his chest like the leavings of some ethereal vagrant animal. He was making quite a meal out of the situation, bringing a dramatic flair that I considered both hurtful and unnecessary.
Lizzy stood before him a broken woman, her hands splayed over her burgeoning belly as if they alone could mask the swelling growth. “You should have informed us of your condition,” Morrow said as he finally drew to a halt and gazed down at her with an imperious eye. “We would not have taken you aboard”
“I didn't know about it,” Lizzy said, tears misting her eyes. She was finally getting her audience with 'her Morrow' but it was not the audience she had dreamed of. It was a humiliation, a shame she would never live down. The scandal saw her turn red and pink all over, her skin splotching with emotion.
“Are you aware of the identity of the father?” The question seemed designed to be cruel and I found myself liking the captain less as a result of it. There was little point in being handsome and well made if one had no compassion for those in a delicate state.
Poor Lizzy uttered a sob of shame that sufficed as an answer to the negative.
“We are making as quick a time as possible,” Morrow said, “but if you are as far along as you seem to be, there is no avoiding your giving birth on this vessel.”
I squeezed Lizzy's hand as she sobbed and put my arm about her waist. “She is aware of these facts,” I said, defending her when she could not defend herself. “She does not need your condemnation.”
“The Valiant is a transport ship, not a
crèche, Miss Wilde.” Morrow threw me what I fancied was supposed to be a look of dry wit. It did not suit his face in the slightest.
“We are all very well aware of that,” I replied. “The plain stating of facts is not necessary. Help is necessary. Compassion is necessary. A little good Christian forgiveness would not go astray either.”
“Help you say,” he sneered. “Help would have been to have kept her legs closed long enough to get on a ship without bearing a mewling bastard.”
Lizzy sobbed all the more at the insult and my temper sparked. “And are we to suppose that you have never sampled the sweetness of a honey pot? Does your quill go un-inked? Are you a man of virginal virtue, Master Morrow? Or is it simply easier to pass judgment when one is a man and not responsible for the results of pleasure?”
“Your presence begins to grow tiresome, Miss Wilde,” Captain Morrow snapped. There was fresh color on his cheeks. I fancied I had shamed him. I hoped I had.
“As does your hypocrisy,” I returned. “You have made free with more than one of the women on this ship. Your seed is spread from bow to stern.”
“Miss Wilde!” Roake came forward at that point, his eyes burning with punitive fury. “Hold your tongue!”
Morrow gave a bark of laughter. “Spread from bow to stern? What an imagination you have, Miss Wilde.”
“There is a reason the sailors must swab the decks daily,” I rejoined.
Roake's jaw dropped even as Lizzy giggled against my shoulder and Morrow bellowed with laughter. To his credit he did have a fine sense of humor. Roake did not find my jests at all amusing, I could tell that from the hard set of his jaw and the way the vein in his forehead was standing out. I had fallen short of his standards of behavior and would probably pay for it, but I would have done anything, said anything to make Lizzy smile and to ease her pain.
Our audience concluded shortly thereafter, it had served no purpose other than to shame and bully poor Lizzy for her condition and I could tell that her misery had deepened as a result of it. No matter how many off color jokes I tried to tell her, her laughter rang hollow and her smiles were forced.
“When we land in Australia, you will have a new baby and a new life,” I said as I braided her hair so that she might feel pretty again. Her condition was stealing much of her old beauty, though it was replacing it with a new kind of appeal, a maternal glow that suited her well.
“Miss Wilde!”
Roake shouted down through the hatch. I ignored his yell, preferring to focus my attentions on the person who needed them most.
“Miss Wilde!”
Again he shouted and again I ignored him. A few more moments passed by and then he came down the stairs. His eyes flashed with
irritation, as he caught sight of me not a few feet from the hatch.
“Why did you not come when I called?”
I looked him square in the eye as I finished one of Lizzy's braids. “Because I am not a dog, Master Roake.”
“Correct. You are not a
dog; you are an uppity wench begging to be shown her place. Come and see me in my cabin, immediately,” he growled. “And do not keep me waiting if you value the ability to sit.” He spun on his heel and ascended directly, leaving me scowling after him
“Go,” Lizzy said as I pinned the braid about her head. “You don't need no more trouble.”
I smiled and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You look beautiful.”
She reached for my hand, held it close and shut her eyes for a moment. “Thanks Jane, for everything.”
I could feel her sadness like a tangible thing. Some deep instinct told me not to leave her side. She seemed so vulnerable and frail. “Will you be all right if I go?”
“I will, but you won't be if you don't so hurry yourself already!” There was a little of her old self in the exhortation, so I took her advice and made my way up to face Master Roake's wrath.
Roake was pacing back and forth when I arrived at his cabin and presented myself for yet another rousing episode of his displeasure. As I came through the door he thrust a bar of soap into my hand wordlessly and continued his walk. It was plain to see that he was deeply agitated, though I barely knew why.
“What would you have me do with this?” I held the soap out toward him as he came past me.
He shot me a fiery glance. “Put it in your mouth.”
I looked at the soap then back at him. “I will not put it in my mouth.”
“I have never heard such filth from a woman as I heard from you today,” he fumed at me, ignoring my refusal. “Implying that the ship is...”
“Awash with Morrow's seed?” I finished the sentence for him as he stumbled over the end of it.
“Filth!”
I looked at him agog. Was his sense of humor really so very stunted? Was he truly so puritanical in his sensibilities? Or was some other force at play? I began to think that it was not the filthy jest he was taking such umbrage at, more my familiar manner with Captain Morrow.
“Would you have preferred it to be your seed I spoke of, Master Roake?”
He stopped and stared at me with such intensity that I felt my throat tighten. “You are playing a very dangerous game Miss Wilde.”
“I am playing no game at all, save that of sparing my friend unnecessary mental violence in the form of judgment pronounced by those who have no business pronouncing it. If you do not like my methods then feel free to go and boil your head!” I punctuated the statement by tossing the soap across the room with significant force. “And,” I continued before his outrage bubbled over. “If you had spoken in her defense as a true gentleman would, then I would not have been forced to make such foul quips.”
“You claim your flirtation with Captain Morrow was nothing more than an effort to protect your friend? How noble of you Miss Wilde.” Sarcasm dripped from his every pore as he stopped by the desk and glared at me witheringly.
“If I were to flirt with the captain,” I said recalling something similar he had said, “then you and I would not be having this discussion for he and I would be occupied with other affairs.” It was a bold, base statement, but he had pushed me to my very limit.
Roake growled. “So the virgin is become a whore.”
“The only whore here is a man so obsessed with rutting that he can't see past the end of his own pud.”
His visage twisted with fresh anger. “You dare call me a whore?”
I held my ground as he stalked forward, so full of stupid masculine anger. “You called me one first, and my virtue is a great deal further above reproach than yours.”
He stopped so close to me there was barely any distance at all between us. I could feel the heat coming from his body, taste his breath against my skin as he looked down at me from on high. “I suggest you leave now, Miss Wilde, before I do something I may regret.”
“It would be my pleasure to leave,” I said, gathering my skirts after the fashion of the lady I no longer was in his eyes.
As I left I had no inkling that I would forever be grateful to Master Roake for having dismissed me so abruptly. As I stepped out onto the deck I saw Lizzy's pregnant form take three swift steps towards the railing then quite deliberately topple over it.
I was later told that my scream penetrated through several decks, but at the time I did not know that I had so much as made a sound. Without a second thought I rushed forward and saw that by some merciful chance she had come to her senses and not let go of the railing she went over.
She was barely clinging to the ship when I got to her, her knuckles white with the effort of holding on, the weight of her belly threatening to draw her down into the crashing waves that slammed themselves against the Valiant. I took her arms in mine and tried to pull her back aboard but I could not do it alone. Her weight pulled me further over the rail and I shrieked as I realized that she and I were both soon to be overboard.
Lizzy's eyes bored into mine as I pressed my knees under the railing and held fast, gripping her with every inch of my strength. I saw pain and despair there, but more than that I saw the hope of a woman who has seen the deep void of death and does not wish to step further toward it. She might have thought she wanted to die before taking the plunge o'er the edge, but she had changed her mind.
“Save me Jane!” She cried out desperately, her voice caught by the wind and whipped back into the great airy void atop the ocean spray.
“Hold fast!” I shouted the instruction back at her. “Hold fast and you will be saved!”
She tried her damnedest, but
her flesh was weak and she was fast loosing her hold. Her hand slipped from the wooden railing and in an instant all her weight was put into my grasp. She slipped a good inch through my fingers before I redoubled my grip and hauled back, putting every ounce of strength I had into the task. I had lost too many loved ones in my short life; I would not lose her.
Lizzy's eyes were wide with fear, her pupils dilated as she clawed at thin air. In her panic she kicked and thrashed about, making it all the more difficult to keep a hold of her. She could no doubt feel herself slipping, even the slightest movement seemed to make her dip ever more towards the cold embrace of the water below.
“Don't let me go!”
“I will never let you go!”
I spoke the truth. I would rather have fallen with her than seen her tumble on her own. A fall from that height into those pounding waves would mean certain injury if not death and there were two souls depending on my strength as I hauled back with every last shred of my energy.
My efforts alone were not enough but by the grace of the good lord strong hands came reaching about me as a group of sailors and officers took hold of Lizzy and pulled her aboard. Fresh hands pulled me away, hands belonging to Master Roake. He wrapped his arms about my waist and lifted me back as if I weighed nothing at all. That was no small feat as I was still attached to
Lizzy; I refused to let go until we were both safely on deck. There it became apparent that the joints of my fingers had seized with the force of my effort. Kneeling next to me, Roake assisted in the slow prying of my digits off Lizzy's arms. She was already beginning to bruise where I had gripped her with mortal fury, for which I apologized profusely.
Captain Morrow had been privy to events from his position by the wheel. He came and joined the small group of rescuers by the railing. I did not notice his presence at first for I was far too concerned with ensuring that Lizzy had not been harmed. I cradled her head in my hands and cried as she cried, great tears of anguish and relief streaming down her face. “You must never do that Lizzy, never.”
I did not catch what she said in return, for she was incoherent. Blankets were found and draped over her as she trembled from shock and I was relieved to see that several of the more sympathetic women had come to her aid, among them Mary Brawley. “Aye Lizzy, if anyone so much as looks at ye funny I'll smash their teeth in,” she vowed as we made ready to take Lizzy back down below and comfort here there.
“Not so fast Miss Wilde.” Fingers caught in the neck of my dress, holding me back as the others went down.
I turned to see that Captain Morrow himself had detained me. He let go and glowered down at me, his handsome face contorted with conflicting emotions. “Impressive heroics, Miss Wilde,” he said. “If it were not an anatomical impossibility I would think you were the father of that bas... babe,” he corrected himself as my eyes blazed fury at him.