could go no other way but single file and so I had to let go of her hand. I got a stitching in my side and it spread to both sides. If I could have found time alone I would have eaten the rest of my pocket.
I stared at the ground in front of each step, wishing that Patience’s feet would stay long enough to warm it before I stepped there. I tried to step into her footprints, but of course, that was imaginary, for there was no print on the frozen ground. Her feet were as frozen as mine. I had never known such agony. The numbness and burning and bitter shivering never stopped.
With every step I thought of new ways to hate Rafe MacAlister, whose fault it was we were here. “Patience?” I whispered.
“Yes?”
“Do you think Uncle Rafe was a pirate always? Did he join them as August did?”
“I do not know. Be shushed, Ressie.”
“He was fighting the other pirates. I saw him do it. Right alongside Pa.”
“Nary the first man with duplicity of heart.”
I made her explain that as I stumbled onward another length of time, holding to my sides against the shooting pain that threatened to bend me. “I wish someone would steal us back and take us home again.”
“It will not happen.”
“August said we have to start over. I just want to go home, that’s what I want. Some bloody French pirates could kill Rafe MacAlister and take us on a big man-o’-war or a ship of the line, as they called that one they burned down with the rats and the plague, remember? And then they would take us back to Jamaica. And then we would find Ma and take up sewing. I figure since those Saracens fed us almost not at all, and the English fed us quite a bit better, well, the French do like their victuals, Ma always said, and they would have more food and sail around the other way and take us home if we asked them to and explained how we were stolen. Mostly should someone kill Rafe MacAlister, that’s the good start of it. French voyagers, I think—”
A hand jerked me from the line. “Who’s going to kill Rafe MacAlister for you, brat? I’m going to tie you to that tree there and leave you for the crows.” I looked up into Uncle Rafe’s grizzled face, aware that although I began with a whisper my voice had taken strength from my words and I had been talking loudly enough to echo in the woods around us. He held my arm with a grip that felt like he would crush my bones. He pulled a dagger and held it against my lips, sliding it up and down so that I felt a stinging, as he said, “It would be worth the ten pounds I’ll get for you, to me, to cut your throat and watch you strangle on your own blood, you little cur. Maybe I will just cut your tongue out. How would you like that? Maybe I’ll cut out your briny tongue and give you a taste of what’s been keeping your sister company. Eh?”
My mind raced. My stomach gnawed and growled as he shook me. Had Patience been given extra food? The look in his eyes told me something more, as if I were to know something unknowable. Remembering Patey’s bruised and bloody face, I shrank from him and he let go my arm. Soon as we began to move again, I sang Ma’s old charm against evil to the rhythm of my steps, my voice meant for Patey’s ears. “Gum-boo cru-ah-he na clock. Gum-boo du-he-he na’n gaul, gum-boo loo-ah-he na lock.”
Patience turned and stared at me, not watching where she walked, and my heart was moved, for she smiled! She turned and took up my song, the first part which I had forgotten, and whispered the song under her voice to the rhythm of our feet. “Ulk-ah he-en mo-lock; gun gaven-galar gluk-glock.”
I answered back with my part and she sang again, “Go-intay, go-intay, sailtay, sailtay, see-ock, see-ock, oo-ayr!” I thought of Rafe MacAlister, and chanted the ancient words under my breath until I laughed aloud. My laughter was not mirth but clinging faith in the words I said, a curse against all who might do us harm. I wished I had thought of the songs while still
I stared at the ground in front of each step, wishing that Patience’s feet would stay long enough to warm it before I stepped there. I tried to step into her footprints, but of course, that was imaginary, for there was no print on the frozen ground. Her feet were as frozen as mine. I had never known such agony. The numbness and burning and bitter shivering never stopped.
With every step I thought of new ways to hate Rafe MacAlister, whose fault it was we were here. “Patience?” I whispered.
“Yes?”
“Do you think Uncle Rafe was a pirate always? Did he join them as August did?”
“I do not know. Be shushed, Ressie.”
“He was fighting the other pirates. I saw him do it. Right alongside Pa.”
“Nary the first man with duplicity of heart.”
I made her explain that as I stumbled onward another length of time, holding to my sides against the shooting pain that threatened to bend me. “I wish someone would steal us back and take us home again.”
“It will not happen.”
“August said we have to start over. I just want to go home, that’s what I want. Some bloody French pirates could kill Rafe MacAlister and take us on a big man-o’-war or a ship of the line, as they called that one they burned down with the rats and the plague, remember? And then they would take us back to Jamaica. And then we would find Ma and take up sewing. I figure since those Saracens fed us almost not at all, and the English fed us quite a bit better, well, the French do like their victuals, Ma always said, and they would have more food and sail around the other way and take us home if we asked them to and explained how we were stolen. Mostly should someone kill Rafe MacAlister, that’s the good start of it. French voyagers, I think—”
A hand jerked me from the line. “Who’s going to kill Rafe MacAlister for you, brat? I’m going to tie you to that tree there and leave you for the crows.” I looked up into Uncle Rafe’s grizzled face, aware that although I began with a whisper my voice had taken strength from my words and I had been talking loudly enough to echo in the woods around us. He held my arm with a grip that felt like he would crush my bones. He pulled a dagger and held it against my lips, sliding it up and down so that I felt a stinging, as he said, “It would be worth the ten pounds I’ll get for you, to me, to cut your throat and watch you strangle on your own blood, you little cur. Maybe I will just cut your tongue out. How would you like that? Maybe I’ll cut out your briny tongue and give you a taste of what’s been keeping your sister company. Eh?”
My mind raced. My stomach gnawed and growled as he shook me. Had Patience been given extra food? The look in his eyes told me something more, as if I were to know something unknowable. Remembering Patey’s bruised and bloody face, I shrank from him and he let go my arm. Soon as we began to move again, I sang Ma’s old charm against evil to the rhythm of my steps, my voice meant for Patey’s ears. “Gum-boo cru-ah-he na clock. Gum-boo du-he-he na’n gaul, gum-boo loo-ah-he na lock.”
Patience turned and stared at me, not watching where she walked, and my heart was moved, for she smiled! She turned and took up my song, the first part which I had forgotten, and whispered the song under her voice to the rhythm of our feet. “Ulk-ah he-en mo-lock; gun gaven-galar gluk-glock.”
I answered back with my part and she sang again, “Go-intay, go-intay, sailtay, sailtay, see-ock, see-ock, oo-ayr!” I thought of Rafe MacAlister, and chanted the ancient words under my breath until I laughed aloud. My laughter was not mirth but clinging faith in the words I said, a curse against all who might do us harm. I wished I had thought of the songs while still
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