Yet again, usual disclaimers apply throughout this tale. If you recognise it, it probably belongs to the Mouse – else it is mine!
Chapter 40 – The Slaver
Year 3 - February
Catherine remained in the basement for, as far as she could tell, two or three weeks. Food was brought and she was allowed some limited freedom to see to her personal needs, but otherwise she remained tied and gagged. She had remembered belatedly the name that went with the face – Robert DeWitt!
Eventually, on a moonless night, she was dragged from the cellar and forced into a trunk. She could feel the trunk being lifted onto a cart, bouncing around as it rolled over the cobbles. Soon the cobbles gave way to a rough dirt road and she knew she was outside of the town. More bumping and the trunk was opened.
"Out yer get!" The pirate captain hauled her to her feet, dragging her across to a waiting rowboat. She stumbled in the sand, but he just lifted her up and into the boat. Staring across the water she could just make out the outline of a large ship, a very large ship – but she knew it was not the Black Pearl. The ship became clearer as they got nearer – as well as an awful smell. It was a slaver!
He forced her to climb up onto deck and then marched her into the main cabin. A cage containing some blankets was bolted to the deck. "In!" The door slammed and locked behind her and Catherine was left alone. She could hear sounds of the ship being made ready to sail. She sat amidst the blankets, the motion of the sea eventually rocking her to sleep.
88888
Year 3 - March to Mid-August
And so began a time that would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life. As soon as the ship reached open sea Robert DeWitt strode into the cabin.
"Well, well," he smiled, "what a pretty little thing I have in my cage. Perhaps you will sing for me?" He unlocked the cage, hauling her out into the cabin. "Can you sing, my little Sparrow?"
Before she could answer he hit her, a hard slap across her face that sent her reeling across the cabin floor. She did not even get a chance to rise before he was on her, tearing her clothes savagely from her body.
"Oh, I'll make you sing…" he chuckled.
She screamed, until his hands throttled the breath from her and blackness claimed her.
88888
When she awoke, Catherine found herself back in the cage. She was naked and wrapped one of the blankets around her, trying to keep a shred of dignity. A bowl of food had been left just outside of the cage, too large for her to fit through the bars so she had to use her fingers, cramming the food into her mouth.
Robert DeWitt entered the cabin. "No my little bird, you mustn't eat like that!" Catherine knew better than to cry as he let her out, feeding her tenderly with his fingers. Any emotion other than total obedience would earn her a beating, and her bruises were still purpling from earlier.
"There," he sighed, "that's better now, isn't it? No need for all these tears and hysterics."
She kept silent, not knowing whether he expected her to speak or not.
He stroked the side of her face. "You just needed a man to teach you properly – not that popinjay Sparrow!"
"He'll kill you…" she whispered. He looked at her sharply, but the mention of Jack's name had pushed her common sense to the back of her mind. "He'll find you and he'll kill you. There will be nowhere you can hide beyond his reach…"
His fist lashed out at her, sending the half-eaten bowl of food flying.
"So where is he then, this mighty hero you dream about, eh? I see no ship on the horizon, no haste to battle here to save you!" A punch to her stomach physically lifted her off the floor. "An' if you don't watch your smart mouth then there won't even be anything for him to find!"
Her head crashed against the bulkhead. She smiled, thinking death was a type of freedom… before slipping into unconsciousness.
88888
When she regained consciousness she found herself tied against the cage, ropes taut against her naked body, unable to move. She had been gagged. Robert DeWitt was nowhere to be seen, but all she could do was hang there, waiting for him. After some time she heard footsteps approaching the cabin… it was him. He smiled on seeing her awake.
"Well, well," he smiled. "Perhaps now we will teach you some proper manners." He drew his thin sharp knife, a knife she soon learned to fear. He came closer. Despite her bonds she struggled to avoid the knife, but it was impossible. Slowly, calmly and calculatingly he cut her – small, deep cuts designed to scar. Standing back, he admired his handiwork before tenderly wiping away her tears.
"Now, we won't have another outburst, will we my sweet?" She shook her head, hoping desperately that he would stop. He seemed satisfied with her answer, removing the gag before he untied her. He forced her back into the cage where she curled up in a ball under the blankets, shuddering sobs wracking her body. Shortly he grew tired of staring at her. Taking a bottle of his favoured drink, a foul smelling brew made with juniper berries which he called genever, he stomped out on deck.
88888
The ship sailed eastwards. Catherine's days fell into a routine that alternated between beatings, rape or sadistic torture with the knife. She never knew what to expect and began to think Robert DeWitt was insane. The seas gradually became rougher and she assumed they were crossing the Atlantic Ocean, sailing towards Africa for a fresh cargo.
After weeks of sailing, Catherine woke one morning to the cries of seagulls. They must be near land, Africa! Robert DeWitt was, for once, almost happy and lay no hands on her when he ordered her from the cage. He threw a dress at her, an ornate brown thing, all frills and lace, cut scandalously low.
"I have company tonight. You will serve at the table," he ordered. "Dress!" Hastening to obey, she struggled the dress over her bruised body. His commands continued. "You will not speak at all to me or my guest. You will be decorous at all times." He stared at her until she nodded that she understood before throwing open the cabin door. "Prepare the room!"
Several crew members that she had never seen before hurried into the room, unbolting her cage and pushing it into a side cabin. Rugs were laid on the floor, candles lit, rich food piled high on a side table. The crew hurried out.
Robert DeWitt walked across to her, holding her chin in his vice-like grip. "Remember – silent and decorous!" he ordered, before turning on hearing heavy footsteps approach. "Mewani, my good man!"
Catherine nearly forgot his orders on seeing the man for he was incredibly tall, at least six foot five inches, enormously fat and swathed in long white robes. He embraced Robert DeWitt warmly, speaking in a language she did not understand. They sat at the table and Robert DeWitt indicated that she should start serving.
Throughout the meal discussions continued in the same language until both men rose, shaking hands warmly.
88888
The next few days were filled with sounds of crying, shouts and screams of panic as the cargo of slaves were loaded into the ship. Catherine had never had any dealings or even thoughts about slavery – yet she soon understood the horror of it. She could hear them. The very timbers of the ship vibrated with the continuous cries and moans of the unfortunates packed into the holds, the wailing and pleading of many voices that went on and on, day and night, never stopping until she thought she would go mad, the shouts and cursing of the crew as they dragged the dead bodies daily to the rail, and the unbelievable stench that filled the ship.
She was a slave also she realised. She was one of them, even if a little more fortunate than those in the hold below. Captured, torn from her home and loved ones, kept caged in a state of bondage, beaten, broken and for all her days to serve the whims of the master, her master – Robert DeWitt. The only escape was death. The slaves were chained together when they were allowed on deck, many of them would throw themselves overboard if they were not. Catherine did not like to think of this, nor of the sharks that trailed the ship across the ocean. She had no chains to hold her the few times she had been allowed to leave the cage, but Robert DeWitt had forced her to watch the sharks feasting on the dead bodies that were thrown overboard. In her darkest despair she wanted to jump, but she was afraid to think of it, knowing what lurked beneath the waves.
The only thing that gave her hope was that the ship turned westwards, back to the Caribbean… home. Whenever Robert DeWitt allowed her out of the cage she would glance out the window, hoping, praying for the green Atlantic waters to turn into azure, sparkling Caribbean Sea. She knew it was roughly August and that he was running with as much sail as he could manage in order to get to port before the hurricane season started. She watched, she waited, begging for a chance of freedom.
88888
"Captain!" The ships quartermaster knocked on the door. She could hear the wind increasing and despite the size of the ship, it was already fighting through the waves. "Captain! Storm's brewing into somethin' vicious – you're needed on deck!"
Robert DeWitt cursed. "If it's a hurricane then there is no safety here – just small islands with no safe harbours! We will have to run!" He dashed from the cabin to look.
Catherine lay where he had left her, sprawled and battered on his bunk. He had gone – and not locked her in the cage. Cautiously she crept towards the stern windows, testing to see if they would open, her fear of him finally outweighing her fear of the sharks. One did, but she froze, hearing boots stomping towards the cabin.
The door opened. "Wha…" Robert DeWitt bellowed, furious to see her free, dashing to grab her, but missing as she tumbled into the dark, swirling waters. He stared out into the storm, but already she was lost to view.
88888