4.5

Lizzie was relieved to close the shutter on their window (although she had a brief wonder about whether it was still called a shutter on board the ship -- everything else had a different name) and no longer see the rictus grin of the top-hatted bosun who reminded her more and more of some evil portent despite his smile (or perhaps because of it). Alice had lain down in her bunk and was whimpering softly in her sleep. At least she was not vomiting at the moment.

It was a strange thing to be at sea -- literally in this case, although Lizzie could not help remembering that they were very much at sea metaphorically too. It was with this sense of melancholy that she slipped unobtrusively into the world of dreams without even sensing the change of location.

She may have been tipped off by the strange aroma of roses but it did not seem odd to her just then, nor was it at all unexpected to find herself in the Regent's Park (why only two days a week, Lizzie groused to herself, it should be open to the public at all times and filled with roses all the year). Indeed at that moment, it was and she wandered her way among them, smelling the intoxicating blooms and letting her fingers trail over their velvet blossoms.

All at once she heard a voice; his soft accents betrayed an Italian influence and Lizzie knew it was the King of Naples. She turned swiftly but could not see him, so she began to run. As she did, the rosebushes -- which had seemed so lovely and soft moments before began to grow large thorns and pluck at her dress as she sought to follow the dulcet tones ahead of her. This is ridiculous, Lizzie thought, redoubling her determination but the roses began to climb and the thickets impeded her way. Before she knew it, she was trapped and the sweet smell of the roses had turned to a fetid swampy air. Lizzie gasped for breath and began to feel a sense of being trapped. How woudl she get out? Panic rose in her breast and she cried out.

"Oh dear," Alice said suddenly. "I do beg your pardon, but I believe I have purged myself again."

4.4

The waters swelled and rolled. The horizon appeared then plummeted. Alice’s stomach grew apart from her in coldness, stubbornly keeping to a schedule of events unwelcome to the young woman’s vanity, but she found herself unable to reason with its demagogic turn and resigned herself to misery, weakness and parboiled tea.

Lizzie, on the other hand, found herself exhilarated. The sea air in her nose made her senses sing. The salt wind in her hair convinced her to bundle the offending locks out of the way and, scandalously unbonneted, she strode the deck under the watchful eye of Captain Bellamy but with the grudging admiration of the top-hatted bosun, who at first -- perhaps somewhat doubtful of this gentlewoman’s mettle -- had sneered quite openly behind his hand at her attempts to negotiate the deck. In no time at all, however, Lizzie had mastered the firm but flexible pace of the sea-going veteran and fought her way against the winds to walk the ship from stem to stern and take in all manner of sights and portents. Lizzie learned to listen to the different calls of the gulls, to glimpse the fish that leaped from the waves, indeed, even the different slopes of the waves across the sides of the vessel that relayed the minute changes in the weather. Lizzie thrilled to the cry of the albatross and came to welcome the cold drops of rain from the sky that broke the sun-drenched deck’s heat.

In any case, it was better than watching Alice vomit.

Worse, perhaps was that one must also hear and smell her distress which was perhaps infinitely worse. The bosun was kept busy much of the time, but still he managed to wander abroad and catch Lizzie just in time to point out something intriguing about the scent of the wind or the particular cry of the gull. Although Lizzie feared that they were already heading south of France, she could not let go her fascination with the sea and her thrill at the wonderful freedom of the life on deck.

Even Captain Bellamy seemed to notice, although he spent much of his day alternately brooding in his cabin or lashing at the crew with his black bull whip. He was never less than polite with Lizzie, but his tone often betrayed a sense of risibility that made Lizzie wonder if he did not mock her new excitement.

“How is ouw little sailow this aftewnoon?” the captain would quiz her as she reached the forecastle. “Have you gained youw sea legs?” If the wind was right, they might be able to hear the sounds of Alice violently discarding any attempt at lunch. Otherwise, Lizzie had only her contempt to distract her from the Captain’s scathing insinuations.

“Are we making good progress?” Lizzie would inquire, inevitably turning the Captain’s thoughts ahead to the time when he might get rid of the two women and, consequently, receive good payment to do so. It tended to work.

At this latest moment, however, the Captain seemed distracted. He was about to finally answer her when the bosun appeared and whispered -- far too loudly for Lizzie not to hear -- that a black sail had been sighted on the horizon.

4.3

It seemed but a few minutes and the two women were safely stowed away in their cabin after running the gauntlet of stares provided by the men on deck. Alice was particularly perturbed. How dare they stare! And anyway, it was not her fault if her clothes had begun to look a little worse for the wear. How I would adore a bath, she could not help thinking. Perhaps with so much water around, I shall have a bath. Alice was, of course, ignorant of the preciousness of fresh water at sea. One need not whisper that in her ear just yet and she could live in happy ignorance of that fact as she did of the price of wheat and the chemical nature of alum powder.

Lizzie, however, despaired. “Leawn to love this life, my little fwiends,” Captain Bellamy advised the two in his peculiar high-pitched voice. “The men might get a little westless if they think too much about such pwetty ladies hiding on boawd.” The menace in his words was clear if somewhat mitigated by the sound of them. While before they were in the hands of a single ruffian, now they were faced with the horrors of a ship full of nefarious men of undoubtedly low birth and worse morals. The bosun, in particular, with his single eye and black swan tattoo seemed to be particularly ghoulish despite his rather jaunty top hat. He had a tendency to mutter mysteriously as he swabbed past their cabin. If only this were a book, thought Lizzie, I could peek ahead at the next chapter and see if the heroine survived her perilous journey.

With a sudden lurch, the ship was a float. Alice grabbed Lizzie’s hand and the two of them watched sadly as Southampton receded from their view, slowly getting smaller and smaller as the boat crested the waves. The gentle rocking of the ship broadened as they headed out further into the channel. This is life at sea, Lizzie thought, as the wind whistled through their rather small window, the cries of the gulls punctuated the calls of the men on deck, and the sea air filled her with a strange sense of familiarity. It was as if her fear receded somewhat and she could imagine coming to enjoy such a life. There was a freedom in the ship’s movement, a camaraderie among the men that spoke of secret knowledge, of mysteries. Lizzie could begin to understand how men were drawn to its open expanses, the drift of the waves and the salty tang of the air.

Alice, however, began to feel a curious sensation that she quickly realized was going bring the contents of her very light meal much closer to her lips. With a look of mute appeal to Lizzie, she pressed her mourning handkerchief to her lips, sobbed once, then ran to the window and violently vomited out it.

The smartly-hatted bosun grinned up at her like a leering skull and merely mopped her leavings away off the side of the boat and winked (or blinked, it is rather hard to tell with only one eye to go by) at the young woman.

Perhaps I am dead and this is hell, Alice thought, though she could not bring herself to believe she had done anything to deserve such a fate. The next few days would make her wish dearly that she had gone to hell instead of Southampton.

4.2

The short squat man laughed with his head thrown back. “Always business with you, eh, Bellamy?”

“You would be the vewy same if you wewe in my position,” Bellamy glowered, his menace somewhat undercut by the screechy tone of his voice. “Wapscallions like you awe always a twial.”

“Well, here’s your merchandise,” the kidnapper shouted shoving Alice and Lizzie toward the imposing-looking figure of the captain. “And here’s your payment, you sea dog,” he said thrusting a leather purse into the captain’s hands. “Bon voyage,” he said lifting his cloth cap in mock polite regard to the two young women. Then he turned on his heel and strode away, whistling as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

I shall hate him forever, thought Alice, although it is doubtful that she should keep such an all-encompassing effort foremost in her mind. There had been many occasions on which Alice had planned similarly long-lasting and comprehensive vendettas, such as the time she declared she would never eat anything but lettuce, or the day on which she vowed to always coordinate her hair ribbons and gloves. However, it did seem entirely likely that Alice would indeed loathe if not in fact hate that short squat man for a very long time, as she been terribly inconvenienced by him, and things looked likely to deteriorate further before they improved.

“Come with me, giwls,” the captain wheezed, patting the purse full of money fondly, “You awe my wesponsibilty now!” As if to emphasize the point, he drew a revolver from his belt and waved it at the two of them, who meekly trotted up the gangplank to the ship’s deck.

“Welcome aboawd the Demetew!” the captain said with surprisingly sincere zeal. “We sail with the tide fow the land beyond the fowest.”

“Are we really going all the way to Transylvania?” Lizzie asked with admirable coolness. She had come to the conclusion there was little to lose now (although she still held out hope for the letter Emma Saint John had promised to post o her behalf), so she might as well be bold with the captain. Perhaps it was that he had rank, she feared less his anger—with the short squat man of indeterminate class, they had no way to anticipate his behavior. Surely a captain would uphold some of the general laws of behavior and show good form.

She was somewhat nonplussed to see the weather-creased face break into a smile as prelude to a cackling laugh. Very bad form, Lizzie thought and shared her disapproval with Alice by means of an archly lifted eyebrow. Alice was uncertain what Lizzie intended with this gesture as she had been mesmerized by the captain’s strange laugh.

“Twansylvania?! Oh no, my child, you will not be going to Twansylvania. We have othew plans fow you. At pwesent, howevew, you shall be going below decks to youw cabin whewe you will be spending much of youw time.” He cackled again and Lizzie felt her heart sink.

As they turned in the direction the stern captain indicated, a thought unbidden rose to Alice’s mind. “Oh,” she said, turning suddenly to Lizzie, “We have forgotten our book!”

Lizzie groaned inwardly -- another long journey and nothing to read, but Alice could not help thinking that she was glad not to know what immeasurably valuable lessons Betty Ford would be learning from Mrs. Teachum.

4.1

Alice looked up at the ship wondering much the same thing as Lizzie: where were they bound? Who had wished them conveyed hence—and when would they be having breakfast?

Admittedly Lizzie had not been thinking the last thought, her appetite dampened by the unpleasant chain of events they had undergone, but surely soon she would be thinking of food, too, Alice was quite certain. Particularly once her stomach started to rumble; then no one would be able to think of anything else except perhaps growling dogs. I must be quite hungry, Alice thought, I am beginning to make very little sense.

Their kidnapper was continuing to speak. “We shall meet here the captain of this ship who will be responsible for taking you further. Indeed! Here he comes now --”

Lizzie had a moment of hope, thinking of the glorious men of the sea who had been celebrated in story and song from Captain Cook to Sir Francis Drake, fearless men who lived proudly and sailed courageously across the globe, heroes and honorable men. She shaded her eyes from the dawning sun’s rays and looked up the gangway to where the short squat man pointed. Alice, too, found her eye irresistibly drawn in that direction, holding her breath as she hoped that this ship’s captain would prove to be reputable, strong and, of course, be in possession of a well-stocked larder.

“Captain Bellamy! I have some cargo for you here.” The short squat man chortled with good humor at his own witticism. May he trip and stub his toe, Alice thought without a modicum of charity for his feelings. It was probably due to hunger, but it is quite likely that she was developing bad habits far from the comforts of home, a good hair-brushing and clean clothes. I shall never wear mourning clothes again, Alice promised herself rather rashly.

Lizzie, however, had kept her eyes trained upward and her attention fixed on the gangway as their new tyrant made his way down to the dockside where they stood. She must make a study of him for he would be there only avenue of escape, the squat man proving to be amenable to no appeals of any kind. They must not be allowed to leave England and safety for some foreign shore!

In the soft morning light, Captain Bellamy strode down the gangway like a man who knew his worth down to the penny. His fulsome brow arched beneath a captain’s hat of such elaborate styling from its crisp black lines to its stately plumage that it seemed to announce to the world a man of such repute that none could dare venture a word against his courage. Lizzie was pleased to see manly shoulders thrust below the epaulettes of his jacket, where its nine buttons gleamed jauntily in the dawning sun. His buff vest looked neat and trim and his boots, she saw as he stood majestically before them, were shined so well that she could see her face reflected in the smooth leather as she looked down. Here, surely, was a man who would take pity on two young women, ripped from the bosom of their family and thrust into the untoward company of brigands and ne’er-do-wells of a distinctly lower class.

Captain Bellamy cleared his throat, looked at the two young women, and then in a high-pitched voice burbled, “Wheh is my money, you heawtless bwigand?”

4.0

“Southampton, ladies!”

The two women were jolted awake by this cheery greeting, seeming to come from a long way away, although it was perhaps the reflected light of the seaport that shimmered across the open door of the carriage and lent a not quite ethereal air to the short squat man who had conducted them so far from home.

Lizzie sat up abruptly toward the beckoning hand and instantly felt the pain in her neck from sleeping none too comfortably in the upright position for the night. As her hand went up to massage her painful nape, she heard Alice stir and in her usual way say, “Oh just let me lie in a little longer, Mary Ann. I feel unaccountably tired today!” Alice stretched herself with admirable ease, clearly forgetting where they were.

“Let’s not take all day, speed of the essence, etcetera, etcetera,” their too cheerful conductor called forth, waving his hand further to encourage them to disembark.

Alice looked with alarm at Lizzie. “I had quite forgotten where we were.”

“I only wish I had,” Lizzie concurred, stepping forward to alight from the carriage, but pausing for a moment on the top step to look back into its depths at Alice. Suddenly she feared leaving its darkness for the flat light of dawn, but Alice could not be bothered to allow such sentiments to settle in. She was cramped and cranky, and consequently could not wait to bound out of the carriage into the sun, weak though it was.

“Are we to be free now?” she said hopefully to the driver.

He merely laughed. “You’re going on a journey, my ladies. Your ship is just along here.”

Lizzie looked at him coolly, taking in his small stature and common countenance. “And if we scream a constable will surely come to our aid.”

The driver laughed even harder than the first time. “You don’t know Southampton! And anyway, miss, you forget about this little treasure of mine.” He pulled the pistol from the side pocket of his coat. “Say hello to my little friend.”

Lizzie swallowed uncomfortably, but Alice managed to say, “Hello, little friend.”

“Now, ladies, if you’ll follow me-- "

There was little choice in the matter, so follow they did. Truth to tell, the streets along the docks did not appear to house the very finest of houses nor, must it be admitted, of people, as it seemed everyone they passed looked to be engaged in activities every bit as unscrupulous as they. Indeed, those who were abroad in the early light (if sensible, for admittedly, many they met seemed to be the worse for drink, which made both young ladies reach for their stylish mourning handkerchiefs rather than call for assistance) regarded them furtively and with great suspicion.

“There it is, your next conveyance,” the pistol-waving man announced as they turned a last corner. “You’ll be on board and away from England before the tide lets out today.”

Lizzie felt a sudden chill looking upon its timbers, though she could not have said what sort of boat it was or why she found it so ominous. Perhaps it was only the combination of the eerie dawn light, the strangeness of their companion, and of course, the fact that they had been spirited away from the funeral of Alice’s father’s sudden, and admittedly, slightly mysterious death.

“The Demeter,” Alice read off the side of the boat. She looked to Lizzie for approval. “Italian?”

“Greek,” Lizzie corrected, barely noticing her cousin’s crestfallen look.

“Aye,” said their kidnapper, “But she is set to sail as far as the Caspian, I hear, to the land beyond the forest.”

Lizzie gazed with sorrow at the ship whose sails picked up an portentous billow from the wind. Where were they bound now?

3.8

Alice suddenly found herself drowning.

She paddled like mad, gasping for breath, striking out in vain to reach some solid ground, something upon which she might grasp hold, save herself from the swirling endless waters. Another mouthful swallowed and she feared that all too soon she might just give in. The water had a terrible salty taste as if she were drowning in tears of sorrow. Then a giant sucking sound began and Alice shrieked because she knew that the plug had been pulled and there was no way to avoid being sucked down to the bottom of the ocean to drown and never see Mangrove Hall again or her mother, or Lizzie, or Mrs. Perkins, or her father -- well, at least her father’s ghost -- and even Arthur, she might miss Arthur at this point, although when it came right down to it --

“Alice, wake up! You’re dreaming again.” Lizzie looked up from the book with the air of irritation she always demonstrated when Alice was being particularly obtuse. At the sight of the horrid book, Alice recalled what had made her drift off in the first place.

“I shall continue,” Lizzie said, much to Alice’s dread, then commenced to do the same. “Miss Jenny, with her heart overflowing with joy at this happy change, said, ‘Now, my dear companions, that you may be convinced what I have said and done was not occasioned by any desire of proving myself wiser than you, as Miss Sukey hinted while she was yet in her anger, I will, if you please, relate to you the history of my past life; by which you will see in what manner I came by this way of thinking; and as you will perceive it was chiefly owing to the instructions of a kind mamma, you may all likewise reap the same advantage under good Mrs. Teachum, if you will obey her commands, and attend to her precepts. And after I have given you the particulars of my life -- ’”

“How dark it has grown,” Alice interjected with sudden inspiration. “Lizzie, you must not strain your eyes with reading this late. It’s not as if we had a lamp.”

Lizzie looked thoughtful. For a moment, Alice feared that she might implore the driver for a light, but at last she resolutely closed the small volume and leaned back on the seat with a sigh. Alice did what she could to hide her own sigh of relief. Go hang Miss Fielding and her improving book, she thought deliciously to herself. If Lizzie only knew!

Alice had no way of knowing how phenomenally bored Lizzie was at that very moment. Her only solace in the book had been that the useless chatter of its words had kept her worried thoughts at bay. While reading aloud to her cousin Lizzie could keep herself from all her anxieties about what the next day would bring. As they continued to bounce along the road, unchallenged, unpursued as far as she could tell, Lizzie could only wonder endlessly what would become of them. With no new information, however, she knew her worries to be pointless, endlessly circling like water down a drain with no end.

It was ironic how similar their thoughts had tracked, like horses in traces together.

Neither remarked upon the coincidence as neither became aware of it. Instead they sighed separately, yet together, apart and alone.

“Perhaps we should try to sleep,” Lizzie suggested at last, taking in the woebegone countenance of her cousin, so ill-used by circumstance, so unaccustomed to the life of drab drudgery.

“It has been quite a day,” Alice mentioned, her eyes getting heavy in spite of herself.

“Tomorrow is another day,” Lizzie remarked brightly even as she thought to herself, what an odd thing to say, and how unlike me. Well, fiddle-dee-dee, she scolded herself, everyone runs out of pithy sayings at one time or another.

“I only hope I shall not dream of water,” Alice said, quite unable to finish her thought before yawning gapingly and barely bothering to cover her mouth.

We shall quite become barbarians if this keeps up, Lizzie thought, but rather than chastise her sleepy cousin, she, too, leaned back and settled herself as well as possible given the hard seat, the lurching motion of the carriage and the uncertainty of their destination.