Fanny (58 page)

Thus perhaps ’twill help you in some future Predicament if I describe what happen’d next and if I explain it in the Light of the Captain’s Character. For Knowledge of Human Nature is the Key to both History and Poetry, is it not? Both Clio and Apollo would be dumb but for their Knowledge of the strange Aberrations of the Human Heart.

Captain Whitehead was a curious Fellow who could not enjoy us until we were manacl’d both Hand and Foot and he might work his Will upon us without a single Challenge to his Dominance. (’Tis oft’ the case with Men who claim Superiority o’er the Fair; they say they do not doubt their Dominance, yet can they ne’er enjoy a Woman till she be bound in Irons like a Guinea Slave!) Be that as it may, he had but passing Interest in the Act of Copulation, which he executed only when the Victim was upon all fours in the most bestial of Postures, and only when he might assault that Altar of Love which is shared by both Sexes, for he had no Use whatsoe’er for that Part specifick to the Female of the Species. (Mark you, Belinda, this, too, is frequently the Sign of a Man who holds a particular Grudge against the Fair Sex and would rather play the Woman himself, but is forbidden by the Weight of Custom from doing so!)

First, the Captain had both Susannah and me undress compleatly, whilst he snicker’d o’er our Nakedness in most unsavoury Fashion. Then he had us crouch upon all fours like Dogs and he manacl’d my right Hand to her left, and my right Foot to her left. The Sight of our bare Bums in the Air excited him beyond Measure, for he drew his Supplejack ere he drew his Cock and “burnish’d”—so he call’d it—our Bums with the stinging Leather Thongs, creating that Redness and Heat without which his Privy Member would not stand at attention. The Whipping was painful enough, but I would not give Whitehead the Satisfaction of my Outcries. Susannah, for her part, took it as God’s Punishment for her Sins and perhaps e’en welcom’d it in her Mood of Contrition. But the Whipping did not last long, for it so arous’d the vile Whitehead that, shortly, he dropp’d his Supplejack and then his Breech, and strove to enter first me, then Susannah from the Rear with his great Batt’ring Ram of a Cock. This was painful, too, but fortunately as short-liv’d as Whitehead’s Erection. Both the Whipping and the Sight of stripp’d Bums had brought him so close to his ultimate Hot Fit of Lust that he could not penetrate us long.

“O I dye! I dye!” cried Whitehead, emitting copious Fluids and collapsing upon Susannah’s kneeling Form. He fell upon her Back with such Force that she, in turn, fell sideways, dragging me with her, and our manacl’d Wrists and Ankles pain’d us horribly.

“Enough! Enough!” I cried. “Let us free!”

Whitehead now began to stir from his exhausted Lethargy of Lust. He struggl’d to his Feet, whereupon he pull’d us up after him. He stood us in the Centre of the Cabin, still bound Hand to Hand and Foot to Foot and bade us spread our Legs as wide as we might. O now I truly fear’d for our Fates, for I suspected Whitehead might put the
Speculum
to use upon a Part for which ’twas not intended; but no, to my sheer Astonishment, he crawl’d upon his Back betwixt my Legs, open’d wide his Mouth, and bade me water it with my own Natural Dew. This I freely did, whilst he smackt his Lips in Joy, as if Urine were the finest Wine and he could ne’er drink enough of it!

“What a Vintage!” cries he, flat upon his Back and savouring the Flavour of this Fluid. Susannah lookt at me in amazement (since, having ne’er workt in a Brothel, all this was new to her—tho’ not to me).

“Ah, forbidden Wine!” exclaims Whitehead. “Rare Pressings from what exotick Grapes! Come, let me taste the sable Beauty’s Dew as well!”

Now he turn’d and crawl’d, then wriggl’d upon his Back until he lay beneath Susannah, who let loose a Torrent of Urine such as I had ne’er beheld.

“Drink, Swine!” she cried.

“O yes! Abuse me!” Whitehead begg’d.

“Ye Snake, ye Cur, ye Devil in Disguise!” she cried.

Whitehead groan’d with Satisfaction, licking his Lips. O how Susannah and I wisht to take this Opportunity to trample him in all his Evil, but the Way we were manacl’d made it impossible—as Whitehead doubtless knew. Ne’ertheless, Susannah continu’d to curse at him in true Outrage and he continu’d to lick all the Urine from the Corners of his Mouth whilst at the same Time he manipulated his own Organ until once again it exploded with sticky yellowish Seed, more like Pus than Sperm.

“O yes! O yes!” he sigh’d. “I am ready for an Execution now!” Whereupon he struggl’d to his Feet, unshackl’d us and bade us dress, rubb’d Urine in his Beard most lovingly, and declar’d it Time to dispatch Llewelyn into the Merciful Sea.

“Ladies, you must see this,” said he, “’twill be a Lesson in Metaphysicks.”

“I’ve seen enough Today,” Susannah said, for she was truly astonish’d by this Afternoon’s Activities, whilst I had oft’ seen the like in the Brothel and was more disgusted than amaz’d.

“Come, come,” said Whitehead,” ’twas merely Prologue to the Night’s Festivities. We’ll have an Execution as our Main Event and then more Am’rous Play as Afterpiece!”

“If this be Am’rous Play, what d’ye call it when ye shit?” Susannah said.

“Ladies,” said he, “I save the Best for last. When we have thrown our Corpses into the Sea, we’ll have a veritable Feast of Shit to celebrate! O I shall lick your Bums and stick my Fingers in ’em till you discharge your Bounty in my waiting Mouth!”

He smackt his Lips in sheer Anticipation.

“Doth it not excite you, Ladies? For verily, it doth me! I could dye and dye again just thinking on’t. Come Ladies, let’s away. We’ll have an Execution ere we play!”

CHAPTER IX

In which our Heroine learns more than she wishes to know about the Nature of Distemper’d Lust; debates with the Surgeon (and indeed with herself) about the Nature of Evil and whether anything we Mortals do can assuage it; and loses an old Friend just as she hath made a new.

T
HE EXECUTION OF LLEWELYN
was a Solemn Event which the entire Crew attended. Tho’ Executions were customarily held at Dawn, not Sunset, Whitehead had chosen this Hour because ’twas exactly a Week Llewelyn had rav’d ’neath the rotting Corpse of Cocklyn; and ’twas Whitehead’s Nature to be so exact in his Cruelties that no one might fault him upon Trifles. His Philosophy might be disputed, but the Forms it took were punctilious. Like many Men who make a Virtue of Vice, he put much Faith in Form and Conduct (as if indeed Vice well-perform’d were Virtue’s very Self, whilst Virtue ill-perform’d were but the Essence of Vice).

O I had oft’ remarkt in History Books how very orderly the Pictures of Executions seem’d! Headless Men all lain in a Row, their Toes pointing heavenward—as if they would walk there instead of the other Place—their Necks seemingly cut with no Effusion of Blood; O what a Mockery of Death with her Odours and Stinks, her nasty Reminders of Mortal Decay, and Flesh returning to Clay! Man turns away from both Death and Birth, little wishing to acknowledge the Dust from which we spring and to which we must, despite our Heartiest Protestations, return. E’en Women, after Childbirth, forget the Ordeal, the Closeness of Death, the Pain that near splits the Body from the Soul, and go on to breed and bleed again.

The Crew assembl’d upon the Fo’c’sle Deck at ruddy Sunset when Phoebus’ bright Disk lay just above the Horizon Line. The Sea was calm as if oblivious of Llewelyn’s Moans. Still, he lay ’neath Cocklyn, whose Guts now were alive with Maggots and his Hair with Lice. In Llewelyn’s vain Struggle to free himself from his oppressive Companion, whose pluckt Eyes were now two reddish Clots upon his blackening Visage and whose Tongue loll’d horribly in his open Mouth, he had become entangl’d in the Dead Man’s oozing Guts, with this Sequel: that the Maggots that swarm’d o’er the Corpse now swarm’d o’er him as well. ’Twould be the sheerest Mercy to dispatch him now, for he swoon’d like one whose Wits were as unravell’d as Cocklyn’s Entrails. E’en Cocklyn’s Peg-Leg was soakt thro’ and thro’ with Blood which had turn’d a most hideous Black.

The Captain stood o’er the tangl’d Bodies of the two Men—one barely alive, one so mangl’d, ’twas not clear he’d e’er been a Man at all—and drew himself up to his full Dignity. ’Twas impossible to believe that this Figure of
Hauteur
was the very Man who not long ago had drunk my Urine (and Susannah’s) with a daft Expression upon his ravening Lips and a mad Gleam in his Eye.

The Crew had been small to start—Slavers oft’ had small Crews owing both to the Niggardliness of their Owners and to their Conviction that many Tars would dye anyway of Distempers in Guinea, whereupon they could be replaced by others from the Castle of the Trading Company—and it had been e’en more reduced by the Loss of Cocklyn, Llewelyn, and Thomas. Each Man, therefore, had an excellent View of the Agonies of Llewelyn. As for Cocklyn, his Death had been horrible, but at least ’twas behind him.

“Gentlemen,” said Whitehead, “and, begging your Pardon for mentioning you second, honour’d Ladies…. You see here before you the Ultimate Result of Insubordination in the Divine Chain of Being, which is loathsome in the Eyes of the Benevolent, Omniscient, Omnipotent Supreme Being, and consequently which ’tis our Moral Duty as Men to punish swiftly and severely….”

I could scarce believe my Ears! Whitehead the Deist, the Slaver, the Libertine, calling upon the Supreme Being to justify his Acts! What a Perfect Scoundrel the Man was! Would he stop at nothing? Would he stoop to anything—e’en blaming his Conduct upon the Idea of Order in the Great Chain of Being? O beware the Word “Order,” Belinda, likewise the Word “Discipline”; they are oft’ nought but Cloaks for Tyrants who believe in nothing but their own Dominion—and certainly not that of God. More Murders have been committed in the Name of God than in the Name of Satan; for the Satan-Worshipper tends his Lord in secret, whilst the Man who would be Tyrant of the World calls the Name of God to cover all his bloody Deeds, and what is worse, he is oft’ believ’d by an unreasoning Populace!

“For the Bible teaches us,” Whitehead the Hypocrite went on, “that ‘whoso diggeth a Pit shall fall therein; and he that rolleth a Stone, it shall return upon him.’ Therefore, heed the Example of Mr. Llewelyn and do not think that any Hint of Insurrection or Mutiny whatsoe’er will go unpunish’d upon the
Hopewell.
For mark you, Gentlemen, I shall not be so merciful upon the next Occasion. If ’tis e’en rumour’d that a Man thinks to ease his Lot by spreading Talk of Mutiny amongst his Fellows, Keel-hauling shall be too good for him—he shall suffer rather both Mr. Cocklyn’s and Mr. Llewelyn’s Fates….”

Now Captain Whitehead made a Sign for the two chain’d Men to be heav’d into the Sea. Two burly Tars came forward to perform these Duties obediently, but sheer Disgust show’d upon their Faces as they strove to lift the tangl’d Bodies, heavy as if both were already Corpses. Two Men could not accomplish it; three were requir’d before the intermingl’d Flesh of Cocklyn and Llewelyn could be hurl’d o’er the Side into the Deep.

I caught one last Look at Llewelyn’s Face ere he was swung o’er the Side; ’twas suffus’d with Gratitude to be dying at long last. Thus do Men make Hells on Earth for one another—worse than anything Satan might prepare for ’em. The Sea clos’d so quickly o’er the Bodies that ’twas as if neither of ’em had e’er been upon this Earth before. O the Sea is a swiftly healing Wound; she staunches the Blood of the World more quickly than e’en the gen’rous Grass that turns all Flesh, in Time, to Green.

The Captain now perfunctorily read a few Pray’rs for the Dead (which he recited with all the Expression of a Schoolboy regurgitating Caesar for his Latin Master), whereupon, the Execution being compleated, he directed that the Deck whereon the two Malefactors had lain be washt with Vinegar to avoid Epidemicks. ’Twas late for this Measure, but had the Captain attended to the Problem of Ships’ Fevers ere this, ’twould have impeded his Punishment of Llewelyn—something which he could scarce tolerate. Better have half the Crew dye of Fluxes and Distempers than have ’em all alive and mutinous!

Well’ pleas’d with the Execution, Captain Whitehead led Susannah and me down to the Great Cabin again. O he was lustful as a Popish Monk in an Old Tale, his Appetite for Female Flesh well-whetted by the Spectacle of Gore we had beheld! In the Brothel I had heard tell of (and e’en witness’d) Men whose feeble Pow’rs could only be arouz’d by Desecration of the Female Form, but ne’er had I encounter’d Murder as a Prelude to a Debauch, tho’ doubtless uncheckt Debauchery is common enough following Executions. I had oft’ noticed, i’faith, that upon Hanging Days at Tyburn, Mother Coxtart had more than her usual Share of Custom. The Sight of Blood is a pow’rful Aphrodisiack, and nothing is more piquant to the Libertine than a grown Man swinging by the Neck till dead, unless it be a little Girl of Ten. (I shudder e’en now to think of such!)

“Come, Ladies,” said Whitehead, “let’s have a Revel thro’ the Night to celebrate!”

Susannah groan’d with Distaste, but she was so melancholick and cast down that her usual Quick Wit deserted her. Were that not the case, I’m certain she should have thought of some Expedient to distract Whitehead from the Carnal Plans he was hatching.

What would Susannah do, I askt myself, were she not in such a Melancholick Humour? I scratch’d my Head, which was itchy with Lice (as it had been since the Start of this Ill-fated Voyage). In a trice, it came to me! Whitehead was afraid of Epidemicks, was he not? Whitehead had directed that the Men be delous’d, had he not?

“O Captain Whitehead,” says I, “I fear I have caught a bad Case of Lice, and little as I wish to interrupt your delectable Plans, I fear we must attend to my Condition ere we sport and play.”

“Damme!” cries the Captain, for he is as afraid of Epidemicks as he is hot for his Erotick Play. “Are you certain?” asks he.

“Look for yourself,” say I, whereupon I duck my Head before him, but he steps back in Fear. “No, no,” he cries, “I’ll have your Word for it!” Urine and Ordure he will drink and eat, but a few Lice affright him terribly. O what a curiously contradictory Creature is Man!

When we are settl’d in the Great Cabin, the Captain sends immediately for a Hogshead of Brandy, then directs that the Surgeon be brought to diagnose my Condition.