Port Royal, 1802
Honor (n): 5. Title of certain officials
With a groan, Horatio dashed through the halls of Port Royal's prison. How on Earth did I manage to oversleep? he berated himself, It won't make a good impression if I show up at my own trial late. Wrapped up in these thoughts, Horatio wasn't aware of the people around him until he collided head-on with a woman leaving another room, who fell to the stone floor with a gasp, spilling the jug of water she was carrying all over herself. Despite his fear of being late, Horatio bent to help her. "My apologies, madam. I was rather hurried, and..." his voice trailed off as he stared into the woman's face.
Samantha Nottingam wrung water out of her dress, tucked a strand of black hair under her cap, and looked at him. "Why is it that we always meet in the most unlikely of places?" she demanded, giving him a smile that seemed slightly strained. She picked up the water jug and turned to re- enter the room. "I suppose I'll need more water." Glancing over her shoulder, she called to him. "Get a move on! I'll see you sooner than you think."
Puzzling those words, Horatio continued his mad dash, barely managing to arrive at the proper time. Gasping for breath, Horatio paid no attention to what was going on around him: that is, until he heard a voice in his ear.
"Need a little water, speedy?"
Horatio's head jerked up, and his eyes fell upon Samantha, holding a full water jug. "What...what are you doing here?" Horatio croaked. She poured the water into a glass in front of him. "Take a drink first. I can answer questions later." She swept away. Horatio downed the glass in one swallow, rejoicing in the cool liquid that coursed down his throat.
It wasn't until the first break in the trial that Horatio was able to talk to Samantha. She was leaning against the wall of the courtroom, taking in the sun. Without opening her eyes, she said, "Your case doesn't exactly seem to be holding up. Even the honorable Pellew seems to doubt you."
Horatio stood besides her. "When I want your opinion on my case, I shall ask you for it. It's time you answered my question." Samantha nodded, still not looking at him. "What are you doing here?" Horatio asked again.
"I work here." she answered, as though it were obvious. "I've worked here for five years. I usually cook the meals for the prisoners, but sometimes I serve water to the people in court, as I'm doing now. It's tedious, but ten shillings a week are decent wages for me. Foster only gave me five."
Horatio looked down at her-since he'd last met her, he'd grown at least three inches-and sighed. "All right, I can accept that."
Samantha patted the wall besides her. "Come here. The sun feels delightful upon one's face." Horatio hesitated, then followed her example. After a pause, Samantha said, "Dare I ask how you got yourself into this predicament?"
"They believe I pushed my old captain into the hold."
She raised an eyebrow. "Did you?"
Horatio glanced over at her. "I thought you'd say something like, 'That's impossible.'"
"Things change in seven years, friend." She turned to face him. "People change, too." She opened her eyes at last, and Horatio saw reflected in those lavender orbs a trace of weariness.
A bell tolled. The respite was over. Samantha closed her eyes again and turned back to the sun. Horatio stepped away from the wall, but as he moved away, he heard Samantha murmur, "If you need water, just cough."
He smiled a little and vanished inside the courtroom.
As the days dragged on, Horatio had to admit that Samantha's assessment of his case was spot on: it was becoming increasingly obvious that no one was buying the evidence of some of the other lieutenants. He did not fear the verdict, instead feeling guilty for disappointing Pellew. It was on the night before the sentence was to be passed that he felt any other feelings.
At the usual time, there was a knock on the door: the cooks were bringing dinner. Several times, Horatio had been served by Samantha, who had smiled, but said little. He wondered vaguely if she was disappointed in him too. But tonight, when the door was opened, Samantha looked at him, then back at the guard. "I shall be staying here for awhile. Just lock the door."
"But miss, your appointment..."
"My appointment can wait." she snarled. The guard gave her an odd look and closed the door. Samantha turned back to Horatio and banged the tray on the table. "I need to tell you something, Horatio."
Horatio didn't know what to say. She had been giving him the cold shoulder for days, and now she wanted to talk. "Couldn't you have done it sooner?" he finally said.
She shifted her gaze. "Well..." she looked a little guilty, "You know as well as I that things are not going well for you. There's a chance, come tomorrow, that you will hang."
"I know that!" Horatio snapped. Samantha's voice glided over his. "That is why I chose tonight. If you are acquitted, perhaps you can help, if you are condemned, then at least I told someone."
"Told someone what?" Horatio demanded.
Samantha was in no hurry to divulge her secret. "I told you, the first day, that I was earning ten shillings a week. The truth is, I earn much more. I can earn at least a pound a day."
"Samantha," Horatio said, irritated, "Why are you telling me this? Either get to the point, or leave!" He crossed to the window and looked out. He hadn't meant to be so short with her, but his patience had been drained by these long days in the courtroom.
A quiet noise intruded upon his thoughts, and he turned to see her fall upon the bed, weeping quietly. All his anger left him, to be replaced with shock. He had never seen Samantha cry. He had thought, deep inside, that she didn't know how. But now she lay before him, sobbing. He sat besides her and touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm a little tense. I shouldn't have lashed out at you."
"No, it's not you." she choked, "Oh, Horatio, I need someone to listen, or I'll go mad!" She took a deep breath. "Horatio, I'm not just a cook here."
"What do you..."
"At night," Samantha panted, tears falling on her dress, "I have a second job."
Every part in Horatio's being froze. It wasn't possible. "Sam....Sam, don't tell me that you..."
"Yes, Horatio. I am Port Royal's official whore."
"But...why?" Horatio was horrified, "You, of all people, selling herself! It cannot be possible!"
Samantha wailed and pulled herself into him, burying her face in her neck. "Do you think I want to do it? That I enjoy it?" She raised her head and stared straight at him. Amid the tears, her eyes glowed with defiance. "Every man who I must 'serve' disgusts me!"
"Then why do you continue to let them use you?"
Samantha took a deep breath. "Listen well, Horatio. This whole mess started a year and a half ago...
"I was given the task of serving water to the courtroom, which was trying a desertion case. The defendant was a twelve year old boy, and it just so happened that one of the judges was the boy's father. Had there been more high-ranking officers, he would never have been asked to do it. But that was not the case. And amid the worry that filled this particular Commodore, he happened to notice me.
"He began to call me up to his room, to bring water, or wine, or something, as he was too busy reviewing the case to get them himself. Once I arrived, he would tell me I was beautiful, or that he wanted a woman to help take away some of his fear. But I continued to refuse him, sure that once the trial ended, he would end his advances to me.
"But when the verdict came in, and the boy was cleared of all charges, the 'honorable' sir made his final move. He called me up to his room for wine, so he could celebrate the victory. I brought it, and he asked me to have a glass too. I poured myself a little and toasted his son. I was preparing to leave, when the man grabbed my arm, demanding that I stay and celebrate. I tried to refuse, but he threw me to the bed, gagged me before I could scream, and..." Samantha stopped, unable to say the words. Visions of what had transpired in that room filled Horatio's mind. It was almost too much to bear. Samantha regained her voice and continued.
"I didn't dare tell someone. They would think me a liar, or, if they did question the man, he would deny it. His word against mine, you know. But I thought that that awful night would be the end of it. Instead, the bastard began to tell all his companions that I had been the best woman he'd ever had. So they became interested, and told their companions. The stories came down to the lieutenants, who didn't pass the story on, thinking that midshipmen weren't important enough to know this.
"It was a lieutenant who started it all. He entered my room, told me about the rumors, and asked if they were true. I responded, 'If you're asking for me to prove them right, you can just go to Hell.' He laughed, and seized me. He was worse than the commodore, rougher, so rough that I was knocked unconscious. When I came to, there were five gold coins on the table, along with a note that read, 'For your trouble'. I threw the coins into the sea, not wanting to have anything to do with them. It was dirty money. Then I sat down and wrote to my father, positive that he would help. I begged him to send money to me, enough so I could leave this wretched place. I told him everything, and sent it off.
"It took a month for his answer to reach me, and during that period, I was used three more times. Each time, they paid me, and each time, I threw the coins away. So when the letter arrived, I nearly cried with relief. I was expecting a letter of sympathy, of outrage. What I got was a piece of paper with two sentences scrawled on it: 'Let them do as they please. Send what they give you to me.' I couldn't disobey my father, so when a captain came to me that night, and left two pounds, I was forced to keep it. And ever since then, men come to me nightly. Only the officers know. Well, no, I'm wrong. The guard who locked me in knows. He's the one who guards my door so no one can come in and see these high-ranking gentlemen ruining their reputations."
As Samantha finished her story, Horatio discovered that he had been embracing her, running his hands through her silky hair. He let go, embarrassed, afraid that she would become angry: no doubt the men who took advantage of her did similar things. But she took his wrist and placed it back upon her hair. "Please." she whispered, before completely going to pieces. He held her to him, letting her cry, as she had once done for him. When her sobs had subsided, she looked at him and gave him a weak smile. "You're the only prisoner who hasn't asked for my services. I can't tell you how much that means to me."
Horatio touched her cheek. "You're still my friend, Sam. Friends look out for each other. Had I known sooner, I would have done all I could to stop it."
She took a breath, and a light shone in her eyes. "You wouldn't have made a difference. But there's someone else here who shares your viewpoint. I'm sure you can guess who."
Horatio knew. "Pellew."
"Pellew." Samantha nodded, "The honorable Pellew. He came to me when he first arrived here. When I saw him, I thought, 'This is it. If a man who I hold in such great esteem will stoop to this, then I can trust no one.' But he sat besides me and asked if I was the woman who he met nine years ago, the woman who was known as 'Old Sam'. When I said yes, and told him my story, he said to me, anger blazing in his eyes, 'It will end, Miss Nottingam. I will not let them ruin you.' And he's been true to his word: only lieutenants have been coming to me since he arrived." She glanced out the window and heaved a sigh. "But I have to go. There's one waiting for me now." She rose and tapped on the door. Before she disappeared, she pulled out a scrap of blue cloth and tossed it to him. "For luck." was all she said. As the door banged shut, Horatio unfolded the cloth, realizing it was a neckerchief with a bullet hole through the middle. Despite his nerves, Horatio managed a smile.
No amount of effort on Horatio's part could have coaxed a smile onto his face the next evening. His whole world had cracked into pieces. One of his closest friends had taken the fall for the incident, and had died shortly after the verdict was passed. His commanding officer was ruined: there was no chance in Hell of that man ever becoming captain. As Horatio thought about this, he gazed down at the papers in his hand. Official orders for Horatio Hornblower, commander of the new ship Retribution. He knew he should be proud, but all he felt was grief.
Light footsteps running down the hall attracted his attention. He looked up to see Samantha, hanging onto the doorframe, panting. "Thank God!" she gasped, running over to him. She swept her hair back from her face and fixed a smile upon her face. "I...I just wanted to congratulate you on your new command before you left." She said, in a tone of forced calm. Horatio nodded his thanks, sure that was not the real reason for her visit. Of all the things he expected, he wasn't prepared to see her fall on her knees, clutching his hands. "Please!" she begged, "Please take me back to England!"
Horatio pulled out of her grip and stared at his friend groveling on the floor. "What's come over you, Sam?"
"I need out, Horatio." She said, tears springing to her eyes. "Pellew's leaving soon. Once he leaves, you can be sure the Captains and such will return for me. I can't hold out much longer. Look!" She raised her hands and showed him the long red marks on her wrists. "I've had to start tying up my wrists. My hands start shaking every time a man enters my room. Only numbing them stops the trembling. Even facing my father's rage at leaving is better than this Hell!"
Even in his numb shock, Samantha's impassioned plea touched something in Horatio. He reached out his hand to pull her to her feet. "How could I deny passage to a woman in need? Welcome back to the Navy, 'Old Sam'."
The feeble joke produced a feeble smile. "I can never repay you for this." she murmured.
"Did I ask for you to repay me?" Horatio demanded, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Get your things. I set sail with first light."
"I'm already packed." Samantha said. When Horatio raised an eyebrow, she laughed the laugh Horatio remembered from years ago, though it seemed rusty, as though it hadn't been used in a long time. "I was almost sure you would take me in, so I prepared before I came to you."
There was a tap at the door. The guard who had let her into Horatio's cell the night before had poked his head into the room. "Pardon me, Miss, but there's a lieutenant Buckland asking for you. Says he needs to recover from the shock of today's trial."
Samantha looked at him, and in one instant, her whole being changed. She stood straighter, her head came up, and her eyes flashed. "Tell him to find some other woman. Samantha Nottingam is nobody's whore!"
And with that statement, she swept from the room to gather her belongings for the journey ahead.
With a groan, Horatio dashed through the halls of Port Royal's prison. How on Earth did I manage to oversleep? he berated himself, It won't make a good impression if I show up at my own trial late. Wrapped up in these thoughts, Horatio wasn't aware of the people around him until he collided head-on with a woman leaving another room, who fell to the stone floor with a gasp, spilling the jug of water she was carrying all over herself. Despite his fear of being late, Horatio bent to help her. "My apologies, madam. I was rather hurried, and..." his voice trailed off as he stared into the woman's face.
Samantha Nottingam wrung water out of her dress, tucked a strand of black hair under her cap, and looked at him. "Why is it that we always meet in the most unlikely of places?" she demanded, giving him a smile that seemed slightly strained. She picked up the water jug and turned to re- enter the room. "I suppose I'll need more water." Glancing over her shoulder, she called to him. "Get a move on! I'll see you sooner than you think."
Puzzling those words, Horatio continued his mad dash, barely managing to arrive at the proper time. Gasping for breath, Horatio paid no attention to what was going on around him: that is, until he heard a voice in his ear.
"Need a little water, speedy?"
Horatio's head jerked up, and his eyes fell upon Samantha, holding a full water jug. "What...what are you doing here?" Horatio croaked. She poured the water into a glass in front of him. "Take a drink first. I can answer questions later." She swept away. Horatio downed the glass in one swallow, rejoicing in the cool liquid that coursed down his throat.
It wasn't until the first break in the trial that Horatio was able to talk to Samantha. She was leaning against the wall of the courtroom, taking in the sun. Without opening her eyes, she said, "Your case doesn't exactly seem to be holding up. Even the honorable Pellew seems to doubt you."
Horatio stood besides her. "When I want your opinion on my case, I shall ask you for it. It's time you answered my question." Samantha nodded, still not looking at him. "What are you doing here?" Horatio asked again.
"I work here." she answered, as though it were obvious. "I've worked here for five years. I usually cook the meals for the prisoners, but sometimes I serve water to the people in court, as I'm doing now. It's tedious, but ten shillings a week are decent wages for me. Foster only gave me five."
Horatio looked down at her-since he'd last met her, he'd grown at least three inches-and sighed. "All right, I can accept that."
Samantha patted the wall besides her. "Come here. The sun feels delightful upon one's face." Horatio hesitated, then followed her example. After a pause, Samantha said, "Dare I ask how you got yourself into this predicament?"
"They believe I pushed my old captain into the hold."
She raised an eyebrow. "Did you?"
Horatio glanced over at her. "I thought you'd say something like, 'That's impossible.'"
"Things change in seven years, friend." She turned to face him. "People change, too." She opened her eyes at last, and Horatio saw reflected in those lavender orbs a trace of weariness.
A bell tolled. The respite was over. Samantha closed her eyes again and turned back to the sun. Horatio stepped away from the wall, but as he moved away, he heard Samantha murmur, "If you need water, just cough."
He smiled a little and vanished inside the courtroom.
As the days dragged on, Horatio had to admit that Samantha's assessment of his case was spot on: it was becoming increasingly obvious that no one was buying the evidence of some of the other lieutenants. He did not fear the verdict, instead feeling guilty for disappointing Pellew. It was on the night before the sentence was to be passed that he felt any other feelings.
At the usual time, there was a knock on the door: the cooks were bringing dinner. Several times, Horatio had been served by Samantha, who had smiled, but said little. He wondered vaguely if she was disappointed in him too. But tonight, when the door was opened, Samantha looked at him, then back at the guard. "I shall be staying here for awhile. Just lock the door."
"But miss, your appointment..."
"My appointment can wait." she snarled. The guard gave her an odd look and closed the door. Samantha turned back to Horatio and banged the tray on the table. "I need to tell you something, Horatio."
Horatio didn't know what to say. She had been giving him the cold shoulder for days, and now she wanted to talk. "Couldn't you have done it sooner?" he finally said.
She shifted her gaze. "Well..." she looked a little guilty, "You know as well as I that things are not going well for you. There's a chance, come tomorrow, that you will hang."
"I know that!" Horatio snapped. Samantha's voice glided over his. "That is why I chose tonight. If you are acquitted, perhaps you can help, if you are condemned, then at least I told someone."
"Told someone what?" Horatio demanded.
Samantha was in no hurry to divulge her secret. "I told you, the first day, that I was earning ten shillings a week. The truth is, I earn much more. I can earn at least a pound a day."
"Samantha," Horatio said, irritated, "Why are you telling me this? Either get to the point, or leave!" He crossed to the window and looked out. He hadn't meant to be so short with her, but his patience had been drained by these long days in the courtroom.
A quiet noise intruded upon his thoughts, and he turned to see her fall upon the bed, weeping quietly. All his anger left him, to be replaced with shock. He had never seen Samantha cry. He had thought, deep inside, that she didn't know how. But now she lay before him, sobbing. He sat besides her and touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm a little tense. I shouldn't have lashed out at you."
"No, it's not you." she choked, "Oh, Horatio, I need someone to listen, or I'll go mad!" She took a deep breath. "Horatio, I'm not just a cook here."
"What do you..."
"At night," Samantha panted, tears falling on her dress, "I have a second job."
Every part in Horatio's being froze. It wasn't possible. "Sam....Sam, don't tell me that you..."
"Yes, Horatio. I am Port Royal's official whore."
"But...why?" Horatio was horrified, "You, of all people, selling herself! It cannot be possible!"
Samantha wailed and pulled herself into him, burying her face in her neck. "Do you think I want to do it? That I enjoy it?" She raised her head and stared straight at him. Amid the tears, her eyes glowed with defiance. "Every man who I must 'serve' disgusts me!"
"Then why do you continue to let them use you?"
Samantha took a deep breath. "Listen well, Horatio. This whole mess started a year and a half ago...
"I was given the task of serving water to the courtroom, which was trying a desertion case. The defendant was a twelve year old boy, and it just so happened that one of the judges was the boy's father. Had there been more high-ranking officers, he would never have been asked to do it. But that was not the case. And amid the worry that filled this particular Commodore, he happened to notice me.
"He began to call me up to his room, to bring water, or wine, or something, as he was too busy reviewing the case to get them himself. Once I arrived, he would tell me I was beautiful, or that he wanted a woman to help take away some of his fear. But I continued to refuse him, sure that once the trial ended, he would end his advances to me.
"But when the verdict came in, and the boy was cleared of all charges, the 'honorable' sir made his final move. He called me up to his room for wine, so he could celebrate the victory. I brought it, and he asked me to have a glass too. I poured myself a little and toasted his son. I was preparing to leave, when the man grabbed my arm, demanding that I stay and celebrate. I tried to refuse, but he threw me to the bed, gagged me before I could scream, and..." Samantha stopped, unable to say the words. Visions of what had transpired in that room filled Horatio's mind. It was almost too much to bear. Samantha regained her voice and continued.
"I didn't dare tell someone. They would think me a liar, or, if they did question the man, he would deny it. His word against mine, you know. But I thought that that awful night would be the end of it. Instead, the bastard began to tell all his companions that I had been the best woman he'd ever had. So they became interested, and told their companions. The stories came down to the lieutenants, who didn't pass the story on, thinking that midshipmen weren't important enough to know this.
"It was a lieutenant who started it all. He entered my room, told me about the rumors, and asked if they were true. I responded, 'If you're asking for me to prove them right, you can just go to Hell.' He laughed, and seized me. He was worse than the commodore, rougher, so rough that I was knocked unconscious. When I came to, there were five gold coins on the table, along with a note that read, 'For your trouble'. I threw the coins into the sea, not wanting to have anything to do with them. It was dirty money. Then I sat down and wrote to my father, positive that he would help. I begged him to send money to me, enough so I could leave this wretched place. I told him everything, and sent it off.
"It took a month for his answer to reach me, and during that period, I was used three more times. Each time, they paid me, and each time, I threw the coins away. So when the letter arrived, I nearly cried with relief. I was expecting a letter of sympathy, of outrage. What I got was a piece of paper with two sentences scrawled on it: 'Let them do as they please. Send what they give you to me.' I couldn't disobey my father, so when a captain came to me that night, and left two pounds, I was forced to keep it. And ever since then, men come to me nightly. Only the officers know. Well, no, I'm wrong. The guard who locked me in knows. He's the one who guards my door so no one can come in and see these high-ranking gentlemen ruining their reputations."
As Samantha finished her story, Horatio discovered that he had been embracing her, running his hands through her silky hair. He let go, embarrassed, afraid that she would become angry: no doubt the men who took advantage of her did similar things. But she took his wrist and placed it back upon her hair. "Please." she whispered, before completely going to pieces. He held her to him, letting her cry, as she had once done for him. When her sobs had subsided, she looked at him and gave him a weak smile. "You're the only prisoner who hasn't asked for my services. I can't tell you how much that means to me."
Horatio touched her cheek. "You're still my friend, Sam. Friends look out for each other. Had I known sooner, I would have done all I could to stop it."
She took a breath, and a light shone in her eyes. "You wouldn't have made a difference. But there's someone else here who shares your viewpoint. I'm sure you can guess who."
Horatio knew. "Pellew."
"Pellew." Samantha nodded, "The honorable Pellew. He came to me when he first arrived here. When I saw him, I thought, 'This is it. If a man who I hold in such great esteem will stoop to this, then I can trust no one.' But he sat besides me and asked if I was the woman who he met nine years ago, the woman who was known as 'Old Sam'. When I said yes, and told him my story, he said to me, anger blazing in his eyes, 'It will end, Miss Nottingam. I will not let them ruin you.' And he's been true to his word: only lieutenants have been coming to me since he arrived." She glanced out the window and heaved a sigh. "But I have to go. There's one waiting for me now." She rose and tapped on the door. Before she disappeared, she pulled out a scrap of blue cloth and tossed it to him. "For luck." was all she said. As the door banged shut, Horatio unfolded the cloth, realizing it was a neckerchief with a bullet hole through the middle. Despite his nerves, Horatio managed a smile.
No amount of effort on Horatio's part could have coaxed a smile onto his face the next evening. His whole world had cracked into pieces. One of his closest friends had taken the fall for the incident, and had died shortly after the verdict was passed. His commanding officer was ruined: there was no chance in Hell of that man ever becoming captain. As Horatio thought about this, he gazed down at the papers in his hand. Official orders for Horatio Hornblower, commander of the new ship Retribution. He knew he should be proud, but all he felt was grief.
Light footsteps running down the hall attracted his attention. He looked up to see Samantha, hanging onto the doorframe, panting. "Thank God!" she gasped, running over to him. She swept her hair back from her face and fixed a smile upon her face. "I...I just wanted to congratulate you on your new command before you left." She said, in a tone of forced calm. Horatio nodded his thanks, sure that was not the real reason for her visit. Of all the things he expected, he wasn't prepared to see her fall on her knees, clutching his hands. "Please!" she begged, "Please take me back to England!"
Horatio pulled out of her grip and stared at his friend groveling on the floor. "What's come over you, Sam?"
"I need out, Horatio." She said, tears springing to her eyes. "Pellew's leaving soon. Once he leaves, you can be sure the Captains and such will return for me. I can't hold out much longer. Look!" She raised her hands and showed him the long red marks on her wrists. "I've had to start tying up my wrists. My hands start shaking every time a man enters my room. Only numbing them stops the trembling. Even facing my father's rage at leaving is better than this Hell!"
Even in his numb shock, Samantha's impassioned plea touched something in Horatio. He reached out his hand to pull her to her feet. "How could I deny passage to a woman in need? Welcome back to the Navy, 'Old Sam'."
The feeble joke produced a feeble smile. "I can never repay you for this." she murmured.
"Did I ask for you to repay me?" Horatio demanded, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Get your things. I set sail with first light."
"I'm already packed." Samantha said. When Horatio raised an eyebrow, she laughed the laugh Horatio remembered from years ago, though it seemed rusty, as though it hadn't been used in a long time. "I was almost sure you would take me in, so I prepared before I came to you."
There was a tap at the door. The guard who had let her into Horatio's cell the night before had poked his head into the room. "Pardon me, Miss, but there's a lieutenant Buckland asking for you. Says he needs to recover from the shock of today's trial."
Samantha looked at him, and in one instant, her whole being changed. She stood straighter, her head came up, and her eyes flashed. "Tell him to find some other woman. Samantha Nottingam is nobody's whore!"
And with that statement, she swept from the room to gather her belongings for the journey ahead.