by

Chapter One

His first conscious sensation was a world rocking madly from side to side. Strange sounds drifted foggily about and unfamiliar odors his assailed nostrils. As he returned to the conscious world, a sickening invaded his entire being. Many times in his twenty-seven years, he had awakened with a sick feeling, but this was different. He hadn't been drinking the previous evening. Sam carefully cradled his temples in his palms, the pain in his head worse then any he could remember.

Finally, he summoned the courage to open his eyes and stared at the large wooden beam in the near darkness. Suddenly frightened by his confusion of where he was and how he got there, he bolted upright, smashing his head into the beam. Pain now encircled his entire head, and Sam quickly lay back, massaging the small bump already rising on his forehead.

Then, he became aware of the foul, musty smell - the smell of stagnant water, rotten wood and tar. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to remember what had happened and how he had come to be in what must surely be a dungeon.

When he turned his head to look about, he sensed a sticky pain in the back of his head. My God, what had happened? Touching the back of his head resulted in a sharp pain slicing down his neck. "My God! This has to be a nightmare!" He closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain, the foul smell and the sound of sloshing water. But, they wouldn't go away. Sam was sure when he opened his eyes again, he would be staring at the ceiling of his bedchamber. This had to be a nightmare. Again, he rubbed his face between his hands and opened his eyes. The dirty wooden beam still loomed but inches above his face. He rolled from under the beam and put his feet to the floor, but it wasn't there. Having no way to know he was in an upper bunk in the very bowels of a ship, he half fell, managing to catch himself, with just one knee going all the way to the deck below. Slowly rising to both feet, he wavered from side to side, rubbing his knee and clinging to the bunk to stay on his feet. "Oh, my God, I'm sick!"

Desperately fighting the urge to vomit, he looked about the small room in which he was imprisoned. A small table the rats had chewed half away to get the grease of past meals from the wood, two chairs in equally half eaten condition and a lantern hanging from a hook on one of the beams crossing the ceiling. As badly as he felt, Sam found he hadn't lost his sense of humor.

"I don't imagine this cabin was designed with royalty in mind." He couldn't remember having ever felt so sick. The rocking motion of the room was maddening. Was it some sort of torture?

As he slowly began remembering what got him here and tried to assess his physical condition, he swore to get even with that bastard for doing this to him. That is, if he ever found his way back to London from this damned island to which he was sent as a slave! Suddenly, Sam knew he had to get out of this hole immediately, or he was going to be very, very sick.

He looked around for a door and by the dim glow of the lantern, discovered a short hatch that must pass for a door, at the far end. Keeping a tight grip on the edge of the bunk, he sloshed through the stagnant water, which was nearly up to his knees. By this time, Sam had realized he was aboard a ship, and said aloud, "I wonder if they know this damned thing is sinking." Then, he was hit by an encouraging thought. "Had they left the dock yet?" He must hurry to the deck, if he could get there.

Sam had no idea what to expect on the other side on the hatch. Would there be a guard? Reaching the hatch, he pushed on it, but it didn't budge. He sat down on the floor in the awful smelling water, put his feet against the hatch, and pushed. The latch on the other side evidently was not meant to keep anyone imprisoned, but more than likely was there just to keep the door from swinging about. It flew open with a loud crash. "Great! I sat down in that filthy water for nothing." Sam very seldom talked to himself, but this was a very seldom situation.

Darkness filled the void beyond the opening. Again, he cursed the judge, as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. It remained pitch black beyond the small opening. "Damned! Have I gone blind?"

The gruff voice from the darkness startled him so, a chill ran throughout his body and he shook.

"You've not gone blind, mate. It's always dark on a moonless night."

"Who are you? Who's there?"

"For the love of the Lord man, get your damned lantern!"

Without further conversation with the unseen owner of the gruff voice, Sam moved back through the small door and returned with the lantern. He found himself standing at the edge of a cargo hold piled high with crates. A very narrow walkway ran between a row of bunks and the cargo, and a man lay in one of the bunks, propped up on an elbow, staring at him without speaking.

Sam asked, "Where in hell are we?"

"I'm not so sure I understand what you're askin', gov'ner."

"It's a simple enough question! Where are we?"

"I guess that knock on the head dulled your senses mate. We're on the good ship Southern Winds."

The man slid out of the bunk and stood before him. Sam was a fairly large man himself, but this man towered over him. Now, he wished he hadn't used such a sarcastic tone.

"I don't know who the hell ya be gov'ner, but I'd think from the way you be dressed, you may have been taught some manners somewhere along the way. I would suggest you remember them."

"Look, mate, I'm sorry. I've never been on a ship before, and I think if I do not get out of here and get some fresh air, I shall be the sickest person in the world. I don't suppose we would still be at the dock?"

The man laughed, "And you really are a lubber, now aren't you, matey? We've been at sea for three hours. Even this leaky old pile of timbers doesn't rock so when she's tied up."

The sick feeling continued to get worse, and all Sam could think about was they had been at sea for three hours! That ruined his chance of escape before they left the dock.

The man asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Huh?"

"I asked you what you are doing here?"

"I wish I knew my friend, I wish I knew. What are you doing here?"

"I've been sentenced to ten years of public service."

"Ten years? What crime did you commit?"

"They say it was murder, but honestly, gov'ner, it was self defense. I think they must be bad in need of people to work in the colonies. I got the choice of ten years servitude or the hangman's rope. Now, while I do not like the idea of being a slave, I like the idea of the hangman's rope even less."

"What will you be doing for ten years?"

"I'm not rightly sure, matey. All I know is, I'll be workin' for the harbourmaster at a place called Bridgetown."

Suddenly, Sam felt the urge to get out of this tight place even more than before.

"I'm Sam Lord. And who might I be holding this conversation with?"

The man offered Sam his hand. "The name's Jonathan Wells, gov'ner. Pleased ta meet ya."

"Well, Mister Wells, I'm going to tell you the truth, if I don't get out of this damnable dungeon and get some fresh air I shall die right here before you. Is there any way to the outside?"

"Of course, gov'ner. We're free to go up on deck. But I'll warn you, 'tis colder than a night in the far North Atlantic up there."

"That's okay. I think I could stand the cold much better than I can stand the smell of this place right now. Do you know how to get on deck?"

The man gave him a disgusted look, shook his head and turned toward a stair at the end of the cargo hold. As they made their way to the stair, Sam held onto anything he could grasp to maintain his balance against the rocking of the ship. Even in his agony, he noticed how crudely the timbers that held the ship together were made. Having never been aboard a ship, he had assumed they were put together as smoothly as a piece of furniture, but that was not the case. He wondered how in the hell they ever stayed afloat!

The stair went up just a few steps to another door, which opened into the forward cargo hold, and at the other end of this hold they climbed a ladder. There was a hatch at the top of the ladder, and when Mister Wells heaved against it, it opened. Immediately, Sam could smell the fresh air, and when they climbed out on deck, he leaned against the hatch, hanging on for dear life. The fresh air almost caused him to faint. Then, the cold hit him like a knife that had been stored on ice! The strong breeze cut through Sam's clothing like a thousand sharp, frozen needles.

"My God, it's freezing, Mister Wells."

"I told you right enough, Mister Lord."

"Uh, I think since we are both prisoners on this damned ship, it might be allowable to call one another by our first names. Do you think not?"

"Right you are, Sam." Again, the convicted murderer offered Sam his hand. "It'll be cold for at least another week, Sam, then it'll start to warm. This island of Barbados is in the West Indies. In fact, it lies about as far south as any of the islands. That's one blessing, at least. The temperature should be quite fair."

"Jonathan, I'll have to admit to you, I have no idea in hell where you're talking about. Where are the West Indies, exactly?"

"In the Caribbean."

Sam gave him a look that said, "That tells me nothing."

"Barbados is about three hundred kilometers off the coast of South America."

"South America? MY God! I shall never see my home again!"

"Ships go to Barbados, and ships return from Barbados."

Sam tried to make himself as small against the breeze as possible and pulled the front of his jacket tightly together. His teeth chattered as he said, "I'll tell you one thing. If I do ever return home, I shall have vengeance on that pig of a judge for doing this to me! He'll be sorry he ever heard the name, Samuel Lord!"

"If 'tis vengeance yer after, Sam, it'll make your stay on the island much longer."

They sought refuge from the stinging wind on the lee side of the superstructure. A wall jutted out and formed a corner, blocking a good bit of the wind. As they hugged the corner closely, it seemed not nearly so cold. Sam reached to his inside pocket and withdrew two rich Havana cigars, which had somehow survived the evening's clashes. He proffered one of the cigars to Jonathan, who willingly accepted the gift and dragged the cigar across his nostrils.

"Ah, Gov'ner, 'tis been a long time since I've had the pleasure of a true Havana." "Thank you so much, Sam. I think you just made this journey worth the while."

It surprised Sam that he could identify the cigar by its smell.

"Tell me Jonathan, what do you know of this island?"

"I suppose I know some gov'ner. They raise coffee, tobacco, sugarcane. Also make some of the best rum. Of course, all the work's done by slaves." He savored the aroma of the cigar again and added, "I've heard tell it's a tropical paradise."

"I've never heard of it."

"It's been there a long time, gov'ner."

Sam laughed against the shrieking of the wind across the sails and lines.

"What's so funny, Gov'ner?"

"Mister Wells, I do not think I shall work as an indentured slave. I may just make the judges little trick turn on him."

Of course, Jonathan had no idea what Sam was talking about, but the man seemed intelligent enough. And he had, after all, given him one of just two very fine cigars he owned.

"What you plannin' to do gov'ner, take over the island?"

Sam laughed and said, "I just might do that my friend. I just might. It'd serve them right for exiling us so damn far from home. By the way, speaking of home, what about the women on Barbados? Do you know, are they plentiful?"

"Hell, matey, I sure hope so. I take it you are fond of the ladies?"

"That, my friend, is an understatement!"

"Well, I'm sure there are always the slave wenches. You're young and probably half good lookin', so I don't imagine you should have much problem findin' a willin' lover. Especially if you can hide the fact that you're an indentured servant."

"I have been most fond of the ladies since the age of fifteen. In fact, that's what landed me here on this damnedable ship."

"Now, that's a story I'd like to hear."

"Some day, when it's a lot warmer, I'll tell you all about it."

As Sam huddled against the stern castle wall in an attempt to hide from the icy wind, his thoughts turned to the events of the last few days, which had caused him to be aboard this ship, headed for an uncertain fate.

"Eunice, I have something I must tell you, but I don't quite know how to say it."

What is it, Sam?"

He steeled himself and blurted out, "I'm afraid I'll not be able to see you after tonight."

She sat quickly up in bed and asked, "What do you mean?" The look on her face conveyed both surprise and fear.

"My dear Eunice, you know how I feel about you, and as much as it pains me, I cannot continue seeing you."

"But what have I done to displease you, Sam?"

Sam put on his saddest face possible and answered, "You have done nothing to displease me. A man could ask for no more woman than yourself. It has nothing to do with you and me or our relationship. I'm truly sorry to have to tell you the truth, but I must. I've pondered long and hard how to tell you." He paced back and forth across the room, as he spoke, his arms folded over his chest. "I guess, my love, in the end there is no way except to tell you the truth. If you'll recall, when we first met I told you I had just lost the lady I had been seeing for some time."

"Yes, I know, but why...?"

Sam sat on the edge of the bed and put his arms around her bare shoulders. "Eunice, you could not imagine how this pains me. The truth is, the lady is rather young, and she is with child."

She pulled away from him slightly, so she could look him directly in the eyes and asked, "And you are saying it is your child?"

"She says it is. I have no way to dispute her word. Of course, you must realize there is but one honorable thing for me to do. It isn't as if I want our relationship to end. I've been so very happy with you these past months, but I must do what's right."

"You mean you shall marry this tart?"

"What else can an honorable man do?" Sam stood and very slowly walked back and forth next to the bed, a truly hurt look on his face.

"Eunice sat on the edge of the bed, naked, unable make her mind believe what her ears had heard. It had been so long since her husband died, and she thought she would never again know the love of a man. She was, after all, forty-five years old. And though she was still a quite handsome woman, she knew she couldn't compete with the young girls, who seemed to be in overabundance in London. But then, Sam came along - this absolutely fantastic young man of twenty-seven - a man that women would almost kill for. Not only was he obscenely handsome, but he was a more fantastic lover than most women even dared to dream of knowing. When first they made love, she nearly fainted at the size of him! And he had fallen in love with her! Of all the women he could have chosen, he had chosen her!

Sam stroked her long brown hair and eyed her up and down, as she put her hands to her face and began to softly sob. "Sam, you cannot leave me. I love you! What will I do without you? Marry this whore if you must, but don't leave me! You know I love you! I'll do anything for you! Just please don't desert me."

The tears streamed down her face, running between her fingers and dripping onto her bare breasts.

Sam thought, "Damn, she isn't making this easy." He felt a twinge of remorse for having used the woman. She'd been not only a good bed partner, grateful to the point of being ridiculous, but these last two months, Eunice had also increased the size of his bank account by more than fifteen thousand pounds. He mustn't let her weeping get to him. He wouldn't let any remorse he might feel for having used the woman to interfere with his desire to move on to his next conquest. Once more, he must lie to prevent her becoming hysterical.

"Eunice, you are absolutely right. I cannot bring myself to throw away what you and I have. I will not renounce our love because of this unfortunate thing. I must give the child a father, but there is no reason I should not continue to see you. I promise you, my marriage to this woman shall bring no change in our love or our relationship. And I also promise, she shall be my wife in name only. I shall not yield once to any desire she might have for me. You do understand, I shall be forced to stay away for a short time, only to make things look proper?"

She continued to sob as she moved her head up and down to signify she understood. "I guess I understand, Sam. Please forgive me for being such a crybaby. I don't believe I could live if I lost you."

"We shan't be separated for long, my love." He sat next to her and laid his hand on her breast. "How could I possibly stay away from that." As he spoke, he gently rolled her rather ample nipple between his finger and thumb.

"How long?"

"It pains me deeply that we have to be apart at all, but I think I should stay away for at least three weeks. But for no longer - I promise."

"And tonight is the last I shall see you until then?" She had began to squirm and move her bottom about slightly, excited by his hand on her breast.

Sam nodded his head, trying his best to look deeply saddened by their coming separating.

"Then, may I have you once more tonight before you have to leave?" She turned and put her lips close to his.

"I shall stay the entire night, my love."

He awakened early and left her lying in her huge bed, still asleep. Of course, the story he told her of becoming a father was a lie. Sam had used this story a dozen times to escape the clutches of an older woman, who had become too possessive. He would not allow himself to be trapped in a long-term relationship or, heaven forbid, marriage! As he walked to the carriage stand, Sam had no idea she would tell her brother of the entire affair, or that she would tell him of the fifteen thousand pounds she had wasted on the womanizer. Women paid dearly for having Sam as a lover. If Sam had known the trouble this lady would bring him, he would never have bedded her the first time. He should have known not to misplace the affections of the Lord Mayor's sister!

It was nearly a week later, when Eunice came calling on Sam and found he had not married, nor was he living with a pregnant young woman. He fended off her questions about why the marriage had not taken place, and although he thought she believed him, he couldn't have been farther from the truth. After her visit, she went directly to her brother's home and told him everything. That very night, two truly rough thugs grabbed him, as he left his home. They threw him in the back of their covered carriage, tied him hand and foot and gagged him. At midnight, Sam found himself standing before a judge. The courtroom was uninhabited but for himself and the judge. He had no idea what he was doing here. And, especially at this time of night.