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Mina Berkeley's Voyage

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Author's note: I didn't get as far as I hoped to with this latest chapter, but at least we're a little further along. One minor discrepancy--Mina is actually two months behind Laura. I forgot that it took Mina a month to secure passage to Australia for herself. Although I doubt any reader is really that picky, but since I'm writing it, I'm a little more anal. So Laura's had a little more time to heal, and is therefore fit enough to work. I've pasted this instead of posting it as a pdf., since it was suggested that pdf might be off-putting for some readers. As always, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to comment. That's what keeps me going.



CHAPTER FOUR: PRINCESS LORETTA





It was as though Mina had been struck deaf, dumb, and blind. She was not aware of Mr. Jenkins helping her down from the carriage, did not hear the expressions of sympathy and dismay from her companions. Insensible to both the exotic and mundane sights, sounds, and smells surrounding her, she was driven by an overwhelming need to go to her sister.

She followed Mr. Jenkins through the streets without saying a word, without thinking a thought, and it was not until they stood before the steps of a wide veranda, and Jenkins told her that this was the house of Madame Louisa, did Mina begin to return to herself.

As they walked up the steps she began to pant. A heaviness and lassitude seemed to attack her muscles and her very spirit. The sun was suddenly far too bright, the heat and humidity of the place, unbearable.

“Mr. Jenkins, please sir, a moment. I must catch my breath.” Mina gasped.

Stepping onto the wide veranda, Jenkins took her arm and pulled her aside. He had seen this before from his days as a soldier. It was a delayed reaction in some men after they had undergone the stress of combat. The mind was simply unable to immediately comprehend the dreadful experience.

“Put your hands on your knees and breathe deeply, Miss Berkeley. Breathe, slowly, Catch your breath. That’s right. You’ve had a terrible shock.”

A couple of visitors either arriving at the house, or leaving, eyed the distressed young woman with interest. One asked if he could be of service. Mr. Jenkins waved him on without a word.

Mina felt herself returning to something approaching normal.

“Mr. Jenkins, I must know, before I go in to my sister, you must tell me, I must know all. What was Laura . . . what was my sister convicted of? What crime was she punished so cruelly for?”

“Insubordination, Miss Berkeley.” Jenkins replied quietly. “Gross insubordination and sedition.”

“I don’t understand, Mr. Jenkins! It is incomprehensible! It is unconscionable!”

Mr. Jenkins was glad to see the fire returning to the young woman.

“She had objected too strenuously, and in too insulting a manner, to a flogging aboard the ship she had signed on.” Jenkins said. “And she had kept a diary while on board, in which she detailed punishments, and other matters of shipboard life. Such a record is expressly forbidden. Hence the charge of sedition.”

“But surely passengers may keep diaries! I have kept one myself! I know other passengers who have! Are we all to be mercilessly flogged?”

“But your sister had signed on as a crew member, not as a passenger. Therefore she fell under the jurisdiction of naval law.”

“Tell me the particulars of her punishment, Mr. Jenkins.”

“Miss, Berkeley, please . . .”

“Tell me, Mr. Jenkins. I must know.”

“Very well, then. As is naval custom, your sister was stripped to her waist and escorted by guard to a ship’s boat, upon which a frame had been constructed. She was rowed beside each of the six ships in the fleet in turn and given a dozen strokes of the cat beside each vessel. Then the round was repeated. In all she received one hundred and forty four strokes of the lash. And she bore it as well as any man could have done, and better than most.”

Mina covered her face with her hands and wept silently.

“I do not wish Laura to see my tears. She has no patience for pity directed at herself.”

“I understand.” Jenkins said, offering Mina a handkerchief.

“Your sister was taken back to the jail, where she was cared for by my wife and myself. As I said, it was touch and go for a time. A surgeon saw her, dressed her wounds, and bled her. But she weakened and took a fever, and we thought we might lose her. When the surgeon refused to treat her further, an Ashanti witch woman took over her care. I would never have permitted such a thing but one of the bailiffs on duty allowed her in. Despite the fact that she was not being bled she almost immediately became stronger. Whether it was the witch woman’s poultices, her herbs or her chants that were effective I know not. I do know that for such a slender, apparently frail thing, your sister has a strong constitution.”

“And how, Mr. Jenkins, did my sister come to be here, in this house?”

Jenkins looked down, unable to meet Mina’s eyes.

“I was told by my superiors that it was inappropriate for a government official to favor a convicted felon with care and comfort. That if I persisted in this course I could lose my position. I am ashamed to say I knuckled under to their pressure.”

It was a burden that weighed heavily on Jenkins.

“I attempted to find suitable lodging for her, but none of the respectable lodging houses would have her, in addition she still required care and attention. The bank would not honor her promissory note or cheque, and her traveling funds had been confiscated. I couldn’t very well bear the expense myself, could I, especially since it could cost me my position. So. . .” Jenkins concluded, shamefaced, “Arrangements were made. By others. It was out of my hands. When I discovered what those arrangements were I came to Madame Louisa myself and made her promise that your sister would not be . . . put to work here.”

Mina wanted to rage at him, wanted nothing more than to beat her fists against his chest and face, to demand of him how he could abandon a woman in desperate straits to such a fate.

But she gathered herself. The man had some decency after all. He had done more than others to care for Laura, and to bring her, Mina, here. But Mina found she could not forgive, nor excuse.

She had nothing further to say to Jenkins, but turned away from him and walked into Madame Louisa’s.


“How may I help you young lady? Ah! Warden Jenkins! How do you do?”

The woman who met them was slender, with a face that looked both brittle and hard edged. Her cheeks were well rouged to make up for her lack of youth. Her gown was daringly open, revealing pale bulging breast flesh at the top of her overly tight stays. In the sitting room off the foyer several young women were lounging, also dressed en deshabille. They regarded the two visitors with idle curiosity.

“Louisa,” Jenkins said. “This is Mina Berkeley, Laura’s sister. Where is Laura?”

“Laura’s sister?” Louisa said, casting a speculative, assessing eye over Mina’s figure. “We call her Loretta, or Princess. So, Mina, is it? Do you wish to work here too?”

“None of that, Louisa!” Jenkins said. “Where is she?”

Louisa fluttered her eyes at Jenkins in what may have passed for coquettishness twenty years earlier.

“Well, Warden, now may not be an opportune time to disturb her. She is entertaining a gentleman.”

Jenkins stepped up to Louisa and bent his face close to hers

“Louisa, you promised,” he growled.

“Her expenses were more than I anticipated. It is only right that she pay her way.”

“Where is she, you lying jade?” Jenkins demanded. “Take us to her now!”

Mina’s alarm and fear for her sister had crescendoed from the moment they entered the house. Now she lost all patience.

“Where is my sister?” she shouted. “Where is she? Laura! Laura!”

A large, unkempt man approached from the hall.

“Louisa?” he grunted.

“Tell your man to stand down,” Jenkins said, “Else I make a good deal of trouble for you. You don’t want to find yourself at the whipping post, do you?”

“Everything’s fine, Gregory.” Madame Louisa said, waving away the doorman. “No need to disturb yourself”

She regarded Jenkins coolly.

“Let us understand each other, Warden.” Madame Louisa said, emphasizing Jenkin’s title. “I have nothing to fear from you. We are both employed by the same people.”

“Yes,” Jenkins whispered, “And one of them favors Miss Mina Berkeley.”

It was a complete bluff, but Jenkins thought it was plausible enough.

“Laura!” Mina shouted again.

“Silence, girl!” Louisa said. “All right then, as you wish to see her, I will take you to her. Follow me.”

Louisa turned to a wide staircase and climbed the stairs. “Your sister is a very popular young lady, Miss Mina,” Louisa said. “She has had made many friends in the short time she has been with us! She has become quite the favorite!”

“Don’t try my patience, Louisa!” Jenkins said.

Madame Louisa laughed.

“And here we are.”

Many rooms led off of the landing on the second floor. Most of the doors stood open, for the house was not busy at this time of the day, but a few were closed, and behind them came the sounds of bed springs creaking, and various gasps and groans, both deep throated and high pitched.

Madame Louisa tapped at the closed door she had stopped in front of.

“Sir, Loretta? Sorry to disturb you lovers, but . . .”

Mina did not let her finish but pushed past Louisa, twisted the door knob and shouldered open the door.

Mina took two steps into the room and stopped short, her advance arrested by the sight of a pair of naked male buttocks. As she entered, their owner looked over his shoulder at the intruders and cursed.

“What the bloody hell is the meaning . . .” the man said. His words stopped in mid sentence.

His breeches and stockings were pooled at his ankles. A long naval coat had been thrown carelessly on the bed. His eyes and face betrayed the sweaty slackness of a man in the throes of drink and pleasure, now turning to annoyance. In front of him knelt a woman, though as Mina’s attention was riveted on the man she had only the impression of long dark hair and pale torso.

He and Mina stared at each other in stunned silence. The man was the first to break it.

“Miss Berkeley!” he said. “What a pleasure to see you again! Though I suppose I must apologize for not being in court or in prison! Personally, I much prefer this place to renew our acquaintance!” His speech was a bit slurred, but clear enough.

“Captain Writhby!” Mina cried.

“Excuse me just one moment, my dear. I will attend you as soon as I finish here!”

Captain Writhby grabbed the woman behind the neck and thrust deeply into her mouth.

“Ah! Yes! Yes! My little princess, Yes!”

With a cry of disgust Mina turned away. Then remembering her purpose she shouted at Louisa, “Where is my sister?”

Louisa stepped by her, bustling up to the Captain.

“Captain Writhby, please forgive the intrusion, I pray you. A thousand apologies, sir.”

“What the bloody devil do you want with me? I came here to be screwed and blewed and I’m only half way there!”

“It’s not you they’re wanting, Captain. It’s Loretta. You see, she’s Miss Mina’s sister!”

With an expert hand, Louisa reached to Writhby’s crotch and cleaned him as he uncoupled from the kneeling woman’s mouth.

“Come, Captain, I’ll fetch you more rum, and we’ll find you another girl, on the house!”

“Come, come, I’ll fetch you more rum!” The Captain sang. He pushed Louisa away, shamelessly exposing himself. “Well, I’ve certainly come!”

Captain Writhby barked an unpleasant, harsh laugh.

“So this is your sister, is it?” he asked.

The woman had not gotten to her feet. She was naked to the waist, her bare breasts small but firm and well shaped. Listlessly she pulled her hair away from her face, spit the results of the Captain’s pleasure into her hand, and wiped her hand on her shift. She looked up with dull eyes.

It was Laura.

With a cry, Mina fell to her knees beside her sister and hugged her.

“Oh, Laura, Laura, what have they done to you?” Mina sobbed.

Laura grunted with pain. Mina realized that she was hugging her sister so tightly that she had hurt her by scraping her arm across Laura’s back. Lightly she touched her there, and was shocked at the knotted mass of still weeping scar tissue her delicate back had been turned into.

“Mina?” Laura whispered.

“Yes, Laura, it’s me, it’s Mina!”

“I had a sister named Mina. A long time ago.”

Mina held Laura’s face in her hands and stared into her eyes.

“Laura, it’s me. It really is me! I have found you! Look at me Laura, it’s your sister Mina!”

A flicker of recognition passed through Laura, and she shuddered.

“Oh, this is too rich, this is too good!” Captain Writhby laughed. “So this truly is your long lost sister! I’ll be damned, that I will! I count myself a most fortunate man. I have whipped one and fucked the other! I must say, you Berkeley girls provide a man with fine sport!”

“You evil, odious, despicable wretch!” Mina shouted. “Go away! All of you, go away! I will take my sister from this place, and may you all burn in hell!”

“Not so fast, Missy!” Madame Louisa said. “I have spent a good sum on your sister, what with medicines, and caring for her, and providing bed and board. She owes me for that! In addition, there is the matter of anticipated future earnings.”

“You may present me with a bill of particulars, madam,” Mina said bitterly. “As to the rest of it, my sister is not your slave, and has no further obligations to you. I will leave with my sister now. You may submit your bill at some future date.”

“She is a convict woman, she has no rights!” Madame Louisa said. “Jenkins, I don’t care who favors this Miss Berkeley. They would not permit you to take one of my girls. You will not take her anywhere. She belongs to me!”

“And I’m not finished with her yet!” Writhby said. “She stays! You, Miss Mina, you are welcome to stay, and I’ll warm your arse for you again!”

His first bluff having failed, Jenkins tried another tack.

“I am an officer of the court,” Jenkins said, “And I was there when Laura Berkeley was punished. And after her punishment was concluded, the officer in charge released her and told her she was free to go. Meaning that her penalty had been discharged fully. . .”

“Another lawyer!” Writhby cried. “A plague on them all, by sea and by land!”

“. . .Meaning that she is a free woman and cannot be held against her will!”

Jenkins drew a small pistol from under his coat. It was loaded, but not primed. He only hoped that neither Writhby nor Louisa recognized the fact.

“And if you interfere with her free passage, you are guilty of kidnapping, and I will use force against you.”

It was his second bluff. He hoped this one held.

“And I am Captain of Defiance!” Writhby said, “And you sir, are full of shit!”

“Pick up your breeches, sir,” Jenkins said.

The Captain looked down at himself as though startled that he was naked from the waist down. He leaned over to pull up his clothing, and fell. He sprawled on the floor, cursing, and kicking at his breeches.

Jenkins waved Mina to hurry.

Mina helped Laura to her feet, pulled her shift up to cover her, and snatched a gown from a wardrobe.

“I’ll make a complaint, Jenkins,” Louisa said. “You have exceeded your authority. I shall make trouble for you sir, make no mistake. It will be your back to the whip!”

Jenkins brandished the pistol.

“Do not call Gregory, or you shall be looking for a new doorman!”

As they hustled out the bedchamber and down the stairs, Mina heard the loud, drunken voice of Captain Writhby call to Madame Louisa, “Oh, let them go, you greedy, stupid whore! You’ll have her back, you’ll see! You’ll have them both back!”

Writhby’s laughter followed them out the door and into the sunlight.
Well done chapter of a great story line.

I do have two suggestions.

While English is the official language of the site we have many members that use a translation program to change it to their native language. These programs limit either character strokes or words so breaking stories down make it easier to read.

As a writer you also remember to read others works if you expect time spent on yours...

Good write

Tree
 
I think you've laid out the scene, the far-off colonial port where the laws apply as those in charge see fit quite well-the sense of impending doom (or something anyway:eek:) hangs over it.

As a writer you also remember to read others works if you expect time spent on yours...
Tree, I know you have raised this point before regarding others, and in many cases that was justified. However, Jon has read several of my stories and critiqued them in detail with well-considered points pro and con, sometimes in threads and often in PMs. I value his comments highly.
 
Hanging Tree said:

While English is the official language of the site we have many members that use a translation program to change it to their native language. These programs limit either character strokes or words so breaking stories down make it easier to read.


That never occurred to me. Thanks for pointing it out.


Hanging Tree said:

As a writer you also remember to read others works if you expect time spent on yours...

I very much agree. As I've mentioned before, the comments of the readers are the only payment we writers get, and I do try to "pay" other writers. I am something of an approval whore myself and comments really motivate me. I actually enjoy offering criticism on someone else's work (hopefully constructive) more than I like writing my own work. But it's a little tricky because obviously most of us are reading these stories to get an erotic charge from them, and that is so dependent on personal preference that I usually refrain from commenting on stories that don't appeal to my own erotic tastes. Windar's, Barbaria's and King Diocletian's stories match up with my own preferences pretty closely, so I've read and commented on those more than on others. And I have commented on stories by other writers that contained elements I wouldn't ordinarily have cared for but for some reason appealed to me.
 

Windar said:
I value his comments highly.


Thanks! I haven't made too many comments lately, because I thought you and Barbaria might feel I was picking on you.
 
I very much agree. As I've mentioned before, the comments of the readers are the only payment we writers get, and I do try to "pay" other writers. I am something of an approval whore myself and comments really motivate me. I actually enjoy offering criticism on someone else's work (hopefully constructive) more than I like writing my own work. But it's a little tricky because obviously most of us are reading these stories to get an erotic charge from them, and that is so dependent on personal preference that I usually refrain from commenting on stories that don't appeal to my own erotic tastes. Windar's, Barbaria's and King Diocletian's stories match up with my own preferences pretty closely, so I've read and commented on those more than on others. And I have commented on stories by other writers that contained elements I wouldn't ordinarily have cared for but for some reason appealed to me.
As I mentioned, you've often made comments on my stories in PM threads, which is just as welcome as those made in the story thread, as least as far as I am concerned. And I find your comments to be very helpful, as they go well beyond "I liked it" to say what you liked about it and where it could have been better.

Thanks! I haven't made too many comments lately, because I thought you and Barbaria might feel I was picking on you.
I don't feel picked on at all. Barb is picked on in every thread here so she should be used to it:p
 
Mina helped Laura to her feet, pulled her shift up to cover her, and snatched a gown from a wardrobe.

“I’ll make a complaint, Jenkins,” Louisa said. “You have exceeded your authority. I shall make trouble for you sir, make no mistake. It will be your back to the whip!”

Jenkins brandished the pistol.

“Do not call Gregory, or you shall be looking for a new doorman!”

As they hustled out the bedchamber and down the stairs, Mina heard the loud, drunken voice of Captain Writhby call to Madame Louisa, “Oh, let them go, you greedy, stupid whore! You’ll have her back, you’ll see! You’ll have them both back!”

Writhby’s laughter followed them out the door and into the sunlight.
Very nicely written. You've got a great voice for this style, and some interesting characters, as well as an enticing scenario. The ending of this chapter sets up a good bit of suspense and foreshadowing, with Captain Writhby a suitably villainous threat.
 
Very nicely written. You've got a great voice for this style, and some interesting characters, as well as an enticing scenario. The ending of this chapter sets up a good bit of suspense and foreshadowing, with Captain Writhby a suitably villainous threat.

Thanks. Things will really start going pear shaped for Mina with her arrest, which will be in the next chapter.
 
As I mentioned, you've often made comments on my stories in PM threads, which is just as welcome as those made in the story thread, as least as far as I am concerned. And I find your comments to be very helpful, as they go well beyond "I liked it" to say what you liked about it and where it could have been better.

I think another consideration is the intention of the author(s) for the story. If the author wants to publish it as an ebook, then I think a little more in depth criticism is warranted. You mentioned you might submit "The Bronx Crux Murders" as an ebook. I think you should. I have a few more thoughts on it which I'll PM to you.
 
THE HAND OF PROVIDENCE


Jenkins could not fathom what species of imp had possessed him. How could he have committed so rash an act as brandishing a pistol at an officer of the Royal Navy, and removing one of Madame Louisa’s girls from her house? Nevertheless, back out on the street and away from that awful scene, he felt a good deal of pride in the act. Jenkins’ face, usually freighted with a heavy, if not grim dignity, broke into a boyish grin.

But sober reflection soon replaced boyish enthusiasm. He could not gauge how much trouble he was in, nor how soon it would follow. As a minor official, he thought he might be insulated from immediate repercussions, but that he would be called to account, he had no doubt. He had to consider a plan.

“Where are we going, Mr. Jenkins?” Mina asked, “Laura is weary. May we rest a moment, please?”

Jenkins had not realized how fast he was walking. He saw that both young women were having trouble keeping up with him. Laura in particular was limping, and seemed exhausted.

“That tavern just ahead,” Jenkins said. “We will catch our breath and make our plans.”

A heavy wooden signboard hung over the doorway of the inn. There was a rather crude picture painted on it of a disembodied hand with the index finger pointing upwards, and beside and just below it a cornucopia from which spilled gold and silver coins. Jenkins pulled open the door for the two young women, and Mina gently took Laura by the arm and guided her inside.

There were many rum pits in Cape Coast that were popular with seamen on liberty or the lower classes, but The Hand of Providence was a respectable establishment that catered primarily to merchants, officers and administrators of the government. It had a quiet and subdued atmosphere, perfect either for discussing official business, deal making, or simply enjoying a decent meal.

Jenkins found a table in an out of the way corner and called for a tankard of ale for himself and tea for the ladies.
He had not seen Laura for nearly two months. Her appearance gave him a pang of conscience like a knife twisted in his chest. Her once lively eyes were downcast and dull, and her complexion had an unhealthy pallor. Even so, her eyes darted about and she seemed restless, on edge.


Jenkins would have recognized the signs even if he had not noticed the bottle on the bureau top in the room at Madame Louisa’s. Laudanum. She was dependent upon laudanum. And why not? Jenkins’ wife had administered it to Laura after her flogging to get her through the worst of her suffering. And he suspected Madame Louisa had continued it, both to control her pain, no doubt so she could put her to work sooner, and also to make her more docile.

Laura had not spoken a word since they had taken her from Madame Louisa’s. Jenkins had no words to say to her now. What do you say to a woman you have seen flogged naked within an inch of her life--and that inch too? For it seemed to Jenkins that if they had not quite killed her body, they had snuffed the life out of her spirit. He had been part of the punishment detail on the ship’s launch as Laura was rowed beside each of the six ships of the convoy to receive another dozen of the cat, and remembered vividly each stroke of the lash as her delicate, slender back was slowly torn into bloody rags. He remembered his own reactions to the grueling punishment she had suffered: how the sight of her ravaged back had appalled him, and yet, how shamefully aroused he had been at the sight of her pale breasts and round buttocks. He’d had the decency to be ashamed of himself then, and now, seeing the pathetic shell before him, he was ashamed of himself yet again.

“Miss Berkeley,” he said. “I am heartily sorry for the part I played in what was done to you.”

The words startled him. They had welled up unbidden.

Laura flicked him a quick glance. Jenkins wasn’t sure she even recognized him. She didn’t speak, and quickly dropped her eyes. Mina put a protective arm around Laura’s thin shoulders. Her cheeks were wet with tears.

Jenkins’ ale and the cups of tea arrived. The waiter eyed Laura’s sloppy dress and disarrayed hair suspiciously.
“Anythin’ else, sir, ladies?” He said the word “Ladies” with a sneer in his voice.


Mina shook her head.

“No. Leave us,” Jenkins said curtly, his eyes following the man resentfully. He caught the eyes of several other patrons, and looked away from their mocking, contemptuous glances. When the waiter had turned and left, Jenkins lifted his tankard, but found he had no taste for the ale. He set the mug back down on the table, and leaned towards Mina.

“Madame Louisa is a hard and vengeful woman,” he said without preamble. “I have no doubt but that she will make a complaint. And that officer? He could make trouble as well. Serious trouble. How soon I do not know. You and your sister must leave Cape Coast as soon as you are able.”

“That wretched, wicked woman had no right to do what she did with my sister!” Mina hissed. “I intend to bring her before the law and have her charged with procurement and running a bawdy house! As for that debauched captain, do not concern yourself, Mr. Jenkins. I had the misfortune to sail in his ship, and know him to be a cruel and vile sort of man. I have already made complaint about him to none other than the Commodore himself, Sir Rupert Smythie, who not only took my part but assured me that I may rely upon him for friendship. I intend to call upon him as soon as I find a place for Laura. She needs to rest.”

“You are a friend of the Commodore’s?” Jenkins said. “That is very well! Such a friend could be helpful with our current difficulties.”

“Mr. Jenkins,” Mina said, “I do not understand you. We have done nothing but what is right.”

“You have only just arrived in Cape Coast, Miss Mina. What seems right to you may not seem so to those in power. But you should know, Miss Mina. . . I hope the Commodore is your true friend, but I have heard whisperings that he has interests in affairs that you may not approve of. Slave trading, procurement, and such like.”

Mina stared at Jenkins in disbelief.


“Commodore Smythie was the soul of gentility and kindness to me, Mr. Jenkins. He was nothing short of a benefactor to me in a time of trouble. I assure you these whisperings you speak of must be only that: vague, unfounded vapors propagated by disgruntled underlings or jealous rivals. The Commodore is most likely, as are all good and powerful men, a victim of malicious gossip!”

Jenkins nodded, hoping that what she said was true, for her sake and his. The beautiful young woman had brought a moment of fire and adventure back into his life, things he had not been aware he was missing. But he would be surprised if he could come away from such an adventure unscathed. Gazing into her youthful, passionate eyes, he could feel himself an old fool falling in love. Ah! He thought, if I was twenty years younger!

“We will take Laura to my house,” Jenkins said. “She was our guest there when she first arrived. I know my wife is fond of her. We will take her there directly, and then we must needs call upon your Commodore.”

Laura had indeed been Jenkins’ guest when she first arrived in Cape Coast, before her trial, but had been under house arrest, a fact Jenkins had not mentioned. She had been returned to their house after her flogging, and Jenkins’ wife had taken care of Laura. More than just seeing to her physical needs, she had defended Laura against the curiosity seekers who came to her door, and worse, those who wanted to mock Laura in her suffering. She had turned them all away with her outrage and hard words. There had been trouble between Jenkins and the Mrs. when Jenkins had agreed to put Laura out of their house. Now Mrs. Jenkins welcomed Laura back with tears and cluckings of concern. And Laura responded, clinging to Mrs Jenkins like a lost child to her mother. Mrs. Jenkins hastily prepared a room, and with much fussing, tucked Laura into bed.


“Please, Auntie,” Laura pleaded, “I need a draught of my medicine. Please Auntie, my medicine.”

It struck Mina to her heart to hear her sister beg, and to see how dependent she was on Jenkins’ wife, when she had barely recognized her own sister.

“I will get it for you, child,” Jenkins’ wife murmured. “There, there, dearie, I’ll be right back.”

“You poor things,” Mrs. Jenkins said to Mina at the threshold of Laura’s room. “It must be a shock to you to find your sister in such a state. Have no fear, I will look after her. I have what she needs. She will be able to rest. Get along with you now.”

“Come, Miss Mina,” Jenkins said. “We have no time to waste. I will take you to Government House. Someone there should know the whereabouts of Commodore Smythie.”

Sir Rupert Smythie was not a man to mix business with pleasure, yet he found himself distracted and impatient during the discussions with Governor Maynard and Judge Higgens concerning the arrangements for a forthcoming shipment. With the ban on the Atlantic slave trade, and the British flotilla patrolling the African coast, smuggling slaves to the West Indies and America had become more risky. But Smythie was confident that the dangers could be easily overcome. Of far greater appeal to him was the issue that interested him personally: the fate of Mina Berkeley.


“I have a favor to ask of you, my Lord Judge,” Smythie said, as soon as a break in their discussions allowed.
Judge Higgens was an elderly man with sallow skin and eyes that glared with cunning and bright suspicion under his bushy, unkempt eyebrows. Those eyes narrowed at Smythie’s mention of a favor.


“Have no fear, my Lord,” Smythie said. “I ask no favor upon your purse. Only your name upon a document.”

“Even worse, Smythie. It is truly said that more robbery is done with the quill than the pistol. What manner of document, pray?”

It was said of Wilberforce Higgens that he could only have been a preacher or a judge, for the deep bass of his voice had such resonance and power that he could make whatever he spoke, even the merest commonplace, sound like the profoundest bit of wisdom or the crack of doom. But he would not have made a good preacher; or at least not a compassionate or forgiving one, for Judge Higgens was known to be a very severe judge, a man who loved whippings and hangings. His close associates also knew him as a man who had no scruples. The Judge was quite willing to sign away a man’s land, property, freedom, and even his life, at the word of some wealthy crony. Such “justice,” however, did not come cheap.

Smythie placed a document on the desk in front of Higgens.

“The sentence to transportation of a certain female passenger aboard my ship. She doesn’t approve of Writhby, and threatens to make trouble.”

“A passenger, you say?” the judge inquired.

“Yes,” Smythie said. “Hence the need to observe the formalities. Fortunately, the sour old cow has condemned herself out of her own mouth.”

Smythie held up a sheaf of papers, and put it alongside the warrant on the desk.

“Not only did she boldly and publicly object to Writhby’s discipinary methods, but went further and expressed seditious sentiments before passengers and crew of Defiance. These are their statements. And not only that, I had her swear out a complaint, as she thought, against Writhby, in which she proudly confirms those statements, and makes libelous charges besides. As Writhby has his uses, I thought it might be best for our interests if she were to disappear into the hold of one of my ships. I assure you, my Lord, there is more than enough to justify a conviction and a sentence to transportation, in the unlikely event that any inquiries are made.”

Hmm,” ruminated the Judge. “Perhaps she could disappear into the house of Madame Louisa?”

Smythie shrugged.

“I do not think Madame Louisa would want her. She is as lacking in face and figure as she is in personality. As she has not spared me from her invective, it would very much gratify me to have her crowded in with the convicts, to see the light of day only to be catted at the grate. Hence the favor I ask of you, my Lord Judge. But neither would I expect you to grant me this boon without compensation. For such a consideration you might have your pick of the convicts, say four of them, men or women, to stay and work here. I am told by Writhby that some of the women are quite toothsome, and with a bit of a wash would be ready to embark on a career that would be profitable to both of you, my Lords. They could be written off as deceased during transport.”

The judge studied the warrant.

“Flaywell’s work!” the Judge said. “What a hand that man has!”

The Judge looked up, and regarded Smythie cooly. “Hmm,” the Judge’s voice rumbled again. “Perhaps I should have a look at this, how shall I put it--this obstreperous woman.”

Smythie had anticipated the Judge’s antipathy. He’d given Flaywell the task of preparing one of the convict women should the Judge wish to interview this passenger. Flaywell had performed the task with his usual proficiency. He had found a raw boned, middle aged woman who had worked as a nanny for an upper class family until she had been caught fencing some of milady’s jewels. She was reasonably well educated and cultured.

Smythie bowed stiffly.

“I can certainly arrange for an interview, my Lord.”

“Oh, for the love of God, Higgens!” the Governor said. “Just sign the damn thing! It’s simple enough, and you’ve done it before! We’ve more important matters to discuss!”

Judge Higgens frowned.

“Six,” the Judge said. “Six convicts, Smythie; my choice, and I sign.”

Smythie nodded. “Agreed.”

Judge Higgens dipped a quill in ink and prepared to sign a woman’s life away.

“And what is this creature’s name?”

“Wilhelmina Berkeley,” Smythie said.

Both the Governor and the Judge gave Smythie a startled look.

Just then a loud knock sounded at the oaken doors of the chamber. The Governor’s secretary opened the door, stepped in and bowed low.


“Governor, my Lord Judge, Commodore, please forgive the intrusion, but a most distressed young woman says she needs to speak with the Commodore on a matter of utmost urgency. She is in the company of Warden Jenkins.” The man turned to Commodore Smythie. “Her name is Mina Berkeley, sir.”
 
I've written another chapter of Mina's Voyage. Sorry it's been so long. I couln't post it as a single chapter since my word count ran over for individual messages, so it's rather piecemeal. Also, the formatting seems to have changed. I'm having to put in paragraph breaks and change the font type and size. Any hints about what's going on? As always, please comment.
 
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