Taming the Wilde (6 page)

I felt the rod, which had been placed to strike once more, slide away and heard Roake's footsteps as he placed the instrument back in the corner. “I think we are finished with our business, Miss Wilde, you may now rise.”

Standing gingerly, I avoided Roake's gaze. I was certain that there would be triumph in his eyes, a triumph I did not want to see. After such apologies and requests for clemency and forgiveness how could I now pretend to be indifferent to his treatments? Quickly wiping my eyes with the back of my sleeve, I turned toward him and looked at a spot an inch to the left of his head. “May I now go, Master Roake?”

What I wanted most in the world was to retreat to some dark corner of the ship and rub my rear until the burn eased. Simply standing in one spot was a difficult task, but I forced myself to pretend as though my buttocks were not ablaze even though the pain made fresh tears leak from my eyes.

“Not quite yet.”

I cursed the man inwardly. Had he not made enough sport with me?

“I will need you to report to my cabin at eight o'clock tomorrow,” he said. “I wish to instruct you in the manner of schooling I require.”

I made to agree, if only so I could depart the room, but my stomach queried the timing. “Breakfast is at eight o'clock.”

“We will find you something to sustain yourself with, do not fear,” he smirked. “I will need you to work both sessions of the school day, so I cannot have you fainting.”

“So I am not to have any exercise?”

“As I mentioned earlier,” he said with great summoned patience. “My aide will have additional leave to move throughout the ship. You may take exercise after lessons.”

That was good news, for I was beginning to fear that I would not see the sky again. Four days had passed and my prisoner peers told me that we were in open waters with the coast of England so far behind us that it could no longer be seen with the naked eye. I felt I had been cheated out of my last glimpse, for it was doubtful that I would ever return to the land of my birth – the land where my father and others I loved were buried beneath green turf. The thought made my tears well again, though I was sure Roake thought it was related to his punishment, for he took on an aspect of great satisfaction. “Is that contrition I see, Miss Wilde?”

I saw no harm in letting him think that I was contrite. Certainly there was nothing to be gained by tearfully pouring my heart out to him. I doubted Roake capable of emotions like sympathy or understanding and even if he were, those were pains better kept to my own good counsel.

“There is redemption to be found on these waters,” he said when I did not immediately make a reply. “Your crimes have brought you to this ship as a prisoner, but you need not leave as one.”

“I am fairly certain that is precisely what is supposed to happen,” I said, not at all understanding his cryptic words. My rear was still stinging and all I wanted was to be alone. Roake's attempts at further conversation had only served to irritate my raw nerves. “May I be excused now?”

“You may,” he said, his expression closing. I did not notice that his eyes had been soft until they went hard once more and he fully assumed his usual mantle of the aloof disciplinarian. I fled that little room with the utmost haste and did not stop until I found some privacy in the water closet. There the odor was foul, but I was alone and I could ease the sting from my tender buttocks without cruel jeers from the other prisoners, or worse, Roake's mocking gaze.

* * * * *

That interview heralded the beginning of my life on the Valiant. Each
weekday I rose with my companions, put away my bed things and took breakfast with Roake whilst he instructed me in the day's lessons. He took his role as educator very seriously, and expected me to bring the same level of composed enthusiasm to the task that he did. On our first such meeting I was met with ship's biscuit and a copy of the Bible, which he asked me to read from.

I was still not comfortable sitting, so instead I stood in his cabin, a room kept tidy with absolute precision. His papers and inks were set square on the desk where he read and presumably wrote on occasion, and his personal effects were well stowed to the point that it seemed as though the cabin he dwelt in belonged to no man at all.

I asked which passage he preferred, but he wished me to make my own choice. After a brief consideration I chose from amongst the Psalms, Psalm 22.

“My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me? Why are Thou so far from helping
Me and from the words of My Groaning? O My God, I cry in the daytime, but Thou hearest not; and in the night season I am not silent. “

I heard him snort, but I kept my eyes to the text and read on regardless.

“The meek shall eat and be satisfied.... all they that are fat upon the earth shall eat and worship; all they that go down to the dust shall bow before Him, for none shall keep alive his own soul.”

“An interesting choice, Miss Wilde,” he observed when I was finished with the reading.
“The twenty third psalm is much more uplifting.”

I closed the good book and placed it carefully upon his desk. “Not all things are uplifting in the Lord's sight.”

“Indeed they are not.” A light danced in his dark gaze as he looked upon me, his lips twisted with dry amusement. “Are you feeling as one forsaken, Miss Wilde?”

“None are forsaken in the Lord, that is the lesson of the psalm.”

“Once more you are quite correct.” He acknowledged my interpretative skills, but still he seemed amused. “I have a feeling, Miss Wilde, that you do not perhaps believe the message.” He sat back in his chair and looked at me. I had difficulty meeting his gaze, for again there was intimacy in it. Nothing I could have claimed as inappropriate, but I found myself increasingly aware of the fact that he had not yet donned his coat and his upper body was clad in a loose sailor's shirt, which went a long way towards revealing the nature of his frame. Roake was built with a divine artistry that balanced elegance and power in one form, that my fleeting gazes revealed quite amply.

“Belief must be between a woman and her God,” I said, neatly avoiding the trap he had set before me. “It is not for the likes of man to judge.”

He smiled and bade me to sit, as if he were not aware that sitting itself was a painful adventure for me. “Have your breakfast, Miss Wilde, you will need your energies for the day ahead.”

My mouth was dry and the ship's biscuit was too but I choked it down whilst Roake picked up the Bible and began waxing on the importance of a sound theological education for those still below decks.
  I made noises of assent where appropriate, though my mind was drifting. I had heard enough sermons to last me a lifetime and my belief in a higher power had largely been buried with my father. If there was a God, then he and I were very much at odds. Perhaps that was the reason for my continuing misfortune. Perhaps, like Roake, God had determined that I should never be happy.

Suffice to say I was relieved when the time for lessons came. Teaching the others gave me something to focus on other than my own miseries and seeing them improve within a short time was quite gratifying. Many of the women I found myself tutoring were quite able of mind but had simply never had instruction of any kind. To them the sounding of simple letters was quite a task, but when they recognized a new letter after a period of close inspection, their pleasure was all too real.

When the end of the day came I felt quite satisfied with my labors. I was gratified that Roake seemed equally satisfied, indeed I had been careful with my behavior so that there could be no reason to deny me exercise and when Roake dismissed me I did not hide my eagerness to climb into fresh air.

My first moments up on deck were
awe-inspiring. I had been fearful of my reaction to open waters, for many had spoken of how fearsome and lonely they were, but when I saw the ocean spinning out to forever and the ship tossing atop the waves in the environment it was built to conquer I was awestruck. The Valiant was a busy place; everywhere men were working, yelling to one another, hauling ropes and manipulating the great sails that billowed overhead. I held to the railing and watched as a cabin boy scaled the rigging with the alacrity of a monkey, his shirt hanging loose off his back as he dashed up into dangerous heights without a care.

The majesty of it all threatened to overwhelm me as I stared out in all directions, not a speck of land to be seen in any of them. It was as if we souls were the only in existence, as if the world itself had left us behind. As terrible as the thought was, I found a certain freedom in it. If
we were never to strike land again, then we women were not truly prisoners; we were as free as any of the sailors. Thinking so made me smile, using muscles that had wasted in recent days and weeks.

“Enjoying the view, Miss Wilde?” Captain Morrow addressed me from behind. I turned, blushed deeply and dipped into a reflexive curtsey. I had not seen him approach and he had caught me in a moment of wonder that I feared made me look rather simple.

“It is beautiful,” I said, holding fast to the rail as the ship rode a swell.

“There is no place like the open ocean,” he said, taking a spot next to me and casting his eye out across the waters. “She can put a spell on a man that will have him roaming her breadth all the days of his life.”

I was just barely listening to his words, for my mind was consumed with how very fine and dashing he looked in profile view, a long straight nose, thick lashes about his eyes and a mouth set sensually near a firm jaw. It occurred to me that the other women would have been jealous if they had seen us chatting. I remembered well Lizzy's report that Captain Morrow usually held himself aloof from the prisoners and wondered why he had chosen to speak to me.

“I trust you are not considering a swim
,” he said with a charming humor. “We are well under sail and I fear you would be lost to the winds if you were to hurl yourself from the vessel.”

I assured Morrow that I was not contemplating such a move and I must confess that I smiled yet again, and perhaps a little wider than his humor really required.

There was little time to bask in the handsome captain's presence however, for Roake had emerged from below and was approaching the spot where we stood with a good measure of haste. I was still holding fast to the railing for the sea had grown increasingly choppy even in the short time I had been on deck, but he had admirable sea legs and moved with the rise and fall of the boat as if it were solid ground.

Though he had been pleasant enough when he dismissed me to take exercise, Master Roake no longer appeared to be in good temper. As he drew nearer he gave me a look of pure displeasure that quailed me in spite of the fact that I knew very well I had done no wrong. “You should be walking about the ship, Miss Wilde,” he instructed me. “Stretch your limbs and take the air in motion please.”

I glanced towards Morrow to see if he might object, but the captain merely chuckled and waved me on my way. Once I had moved out of earshot I saw that the two men became engaged in quite an animated conversation. I sensed that it had something to do with me, and it made me rather uncomfortable – as did the curious glances from some of the sailors who then expressed uncouth opinions regarding my person to one another.

Within a few minutes exercising alone had lost its charms. I would have gladly been lumped in with the
others; my separation from their ranks was already causing me no small measure of grief. Some were accusing me of being Roake's favorite, though the evidence to the contrary was striped across my hindquarters. If they were to find out that I had a private audience with Captain Morrow, no matter how brief, their jealousies would no doubt rise against me.

Making my way across to the other side of the ship with an unsteady gait I once more took hold of the railing. Being at sea took quite some time to acclimate to, though some of our number were doing better than others. Poor Lizzy had been sick almost every morning since we left port, and her nausea was increasing by the day.

My stomach was a little more robust, I had not experienced any upset below decks and the vicious predictions that I would soon feel ill when I saw nothing but ocean and sky proved to be false. As I looked out over the sea I came to quite enjoy the rise and fall of the ship and forgot about my problems with the other prisoners. We were moving at quite a pace and I leaned slightly over the railing to watch as the timbers moved through the water, little waves buffeting the ship at her stern and behind us a low frothing wake trailing out into the deep gray blue beyond.

I was startled when a hand grasped low on my dress and tugged me firmly back onto the deck. I had not realized it until that moment, but my feet had begun to dangle as I leaned out trying to get a better look at what lay under the sprinting water. “Miss Wilde! You will abstain from leaning on, bending over or leaping off the railing for the duration of the journey, have I made myself clear?” Roake's deep graveled tones rasped near my ear as he held me in place and scolded me before all on the ship.

Squirming out of his grasp, I turned to defend myself. “I was just...”

He held up a hand, cutting my objection off. “If I see you over the railing again, it will be the worse for you, understand me?”

“Very well, Master Roake,” I demurred. There was no sense in arguing with the man; he held ultimate authority after all.