Chapter 1

HER JOURNEY Part 1

London 1770

 

 

   The door to her tiny room opened quietly in the dead of night. Sister Ann gently awakened her with a cold hand on her head. “Child, you must awaken at once and be dressed with all haste.”  

   “Yes, sister,” the young sixteen-year-old girl replied, quickly pulling her worn brown dress over her head then put on tattered boots. “But what is the urgency? Is one of the sisters in need of me?”

   “Nay, child, I wish it was so, but your poor Father lay in a heated fever. You have been summoned to his side. It is feared he will not make it through the morn,” the kind sister answered.

   Instantly Rebecca Parker was awake as dread filled her heart while tears filled her eyes. “Young Bob is waiting outside the convent door to escort you to your Father. You must take this shilling with you and rouse the apothecary. Your Father needs a potion to break the fever,” instructed the old nun.  

   Rebecca grabbed the thin leather strap around her neck and rubbed her hand across the small iron heart. Her Father, William Parker, was a blacksmith. He had fashioned a necklace for her out of leather and scrap iron. He placed it around his beautiful daughter’s neck the day he engaged her in service at the convent. On the front side, he had fashioned a deep elegant cross; below, he carved her initials R P on the back side, his initials W P and her Mother’s initials, M P for Mary Parker. Her Mother had died giving birth just months before, and her infant brother had not survived. Never learning much more than his letters and totaling sums to not be cheated by his customers, he dreamed of having his beloved daughter schooled by the good sisters; in turn, she would be their kitchen helper and scrub maid.  

   “Remember, my sweet Becca, the love your Mum and I had for you. I promise every Sunday after Mass, I’ll be a waiting at these gates to have my visit with you,” he said. For five solid years, he kept his promise; sometimes, walking in freezing snow or pouring down rain, he never missed a Sunday. So, it was with all speed she flew to her beloved Father’s side.

   In just the time to say a Hail Mary, Sister Ann placed her own warm black woolen hooded cloak around Rebecca, tying it tightly beneath her chin. She kissed Rebecca on the forehead saying, “God be with you, child. Return to us when you can.” She then bolted the convent door behind her. The kind old nun hurried to the chapel to humbly pray for the young Motherless child entrusted into her care over five years ago. It was not safe to be alone on the streets of London for anyone, especially for a young woman and boy who rushed to complete this errand of mercy. Rebecca slipped the precious shilling deep into the folds of her bodice so as not to lose the coin. She knew how even a half pence was accounted for in the convent and to what great lengths Sister Ann would have to go to get the shilling replaced from the Bishop’s coffers. It had been only a decade or two that Catholics who refused to pledge themselves to the Church of England were allowed to attend Mass and open convents and monasteries. 

   Bob, her Father’s apprentice, a young boy of twelve, hurried to Rebecca’s side when the gate was bolted shut. He said, “Rebecca, we must keep to the shadows but hurry to the healer’s shop on Brighton Lane. It is your Dad’s only hope.”

   “Yes, Bob, but tell me, what of my Father? Why has he taken so ill?” She whispered.

   “There’s no time for the telling of it all. Just hurry, Rebecca,” was his reply.

    Quietly the pair ran amongst the shadows of the night. With every step the girl took, dread filled her as if every beat of her heart sang; hurry, hurry, only to arrive ten minutes later at the apothecary. The shop was dark as the night around them and bolted with heavy locks against the evils of the streets that cold night. Still, Bob frantically pulled on a string repeatedly, causing the bell inside the door to ring out into the silent night. “Who be ringing my bell this time of night?” came a rough voice from the other side of the door.

   “Please, my Father lies in a fever. We have need of a potion, please?” sobbed Rebecca. 

A Small wooden flap opened in the middle of the door as candlelight peered through it.  

   “Have you the cost of my potions with you, Miss? I’ll not open my door for a charity case,” the voice answered from behind the flap in the latched door. 

   “A full shilling, I have, sir. Please, please let us in,” she replied.

   “Produce the coin, and I unlatch my door.”    

    Rebecca held the coin out. She was relieved to hear the bolt move aside. The door opened just enough for her and Bob to slip through. “A fever he has, young Miss. I’ve just the remedy, but it’ll cost you extra for waking me in the night.”  

   The tall thin man was dressed in a nightcap and sleeping gown. He lit another candle and went to his shelves of medicines, herbs, and potions pulling from one bottle to another to make a small box containing the remedy that would hopefully cure Rebecca’s Father. “Mix a pinch of this with clear water every hour till all the remedy is gone. Have your Father drink it all down. If he makes it through the night, the fever will be chased away come first light.” He gave her his instructions.

     Passing the shilling into the greedy man’s hand, Rebecca made to leave the shop, but Bob halted them and stated loudly. “Give me mistress her change now, and don’t be cheating a poor lass.”

    “Be off with you, boy, and be glad I gave you entry into me shop,” thundered the angry and embarrassed man. To be caught by a street urchin cheating a young lady was not good for business, and things had a way of getting said around town.

   “Not without her coins, ye robber,” returned his angry shout.

   “Bob, let us be off. My Father waits. We cannot tally.” Rebecca muttered as tears ran down her cheeks.  

   Young Bob was tall for his age. He stood at his full height. Bob started to grab a poker by the fireplace adjacent to the shop owner’s shelves. On seeing this, the greedy thin man reached into a wooden box, drew out several small coins, and thrust them into the crying girl’s hand. “Be off with the both of you. My bed awaits me,” He shoved them out and bolted the door.

   She found a small pocket in Sister Ann’s cloak containing rosary beads. Rebecca shoved the precious medicine and small coins into it. They’ll be safe here, she thought as she pocketed them. Thinking they had delayed too long in the apothecary shop, Rebecca ran straight down the main street, not keeping in the shadows. Bob helplessly followed behind her. Smells of stale wine and old port assaulted her nostrils as she ran past many a sinister pub. Loud noise and rancorous laughter filled her ears as the bawdy people of the lowest taverns made merry music into the evil night. In her hurry to reach her Father’s smithy shop, her hood fell back from her head, revealing long golden locks of hair. They rushed through the streets that night, unaware that another pair lurked in the shadows, watching across the road for a lady of the night to leave the dubious establishments.

   “Say, Jocko me buddy, that one there has yellow hair the Cap’n will never know; she looks the right build too.” whispered a dirty sailor.

   “Maybe Charlie, old boy, but she looks too clean to be a street wench,” answered a massive bear of a man named Jocko.

   “What do we care if she’s a clean one or not? We have to replace the body with a live one, or we both will be flayed till we be dead when the Cap’n finds out what we did.” Charlie spit out. 

   “But there be a young lad following her,” said Jocko.

   “Most likely, the lad was sent to find a tart for the gentry and promised half pence for his troubles. He’ll be no bother. You grab the girl. I’ll put the boy to bed for the night, or it’s the whipping mast for us both,” planned Charlie. He had an evil glint in his eye as he searched for a weapon to club the boy with amongst the garbage of the alley, they hid in. It only took a moment to find a short piece of wood. They snuck behind Bob.

   Rebecca heard a solid thunk as Bob felt lightning pain to the side of his head and crumbled to the street. Rebecca screamed on seeing the boy fall with his head bloodied. A pair of gigantic hands grabbed her, and a dirty rag was shoved into her mouth, muffling her screams. “Keep her quiet, Jocko,” hissed Charlie. Rebecca squirmed, kicked, and fought with all her might, but it was useless against the giant of a man. Tired of her struggles, he cupped her soundly across her face, mercifully sending Rebecca into a deep faint.

   Sometime later, a splash of cold water awakened her from her faint. Rebecca was deep into the hold of a ship. She could smell the awful odors of the dirty pier in the night air. The rotted smell of dead fish, diseased water, and a stench hovering in the hold made her gag on the cloth shoved tightly in her mouth, with a tight dirty gag tied to the back of her head. Her hands were tied behind her back so tight that her shoulders ached from the pain. The short dirty sailor lit a candle in a sea lantern hanging from a crossbar. 

     The sight of a naked dead woman, bloodied and bruised, reached Rebecca’s green-blue eyes. She was filled with a terror she had never known. The horror flowed into every fiber of her body, causing shivers and tremors to run from her head to her toes again and again. Her stomach turned over. She wanted to retch but was forced to swallow the bitter taste, burning her throat. Even breathing was difficult as her nose burned from drawing in large amounts of air.

   “Well, now Missy, that be Bessie you be lying next to. A greedy whore she was after me and Jocko had a little fun with her, she threatened to tell the Cap’n. Now her being his precious cargo meant to work in the whore shops of the American colonies, he has forbidden us men, to make use of the women on the ship, not wanting any of the girls to land with babies in their bellies. We said we could root ’im out if’n we gave her a baby. But he said any man to take a woman would suffer the lash. So, you see, girl, we just had to beat her into silence, now, if we land on the colonies with one girl short, the Cap’n would be sure to find us out. You do see the way of it.  So, you, me girl, you have a wonderful chance to go to the new land, and after only seven years a whoring, you’ll be a free woman. Sad but true, Jocko does not know his own strength, so he beat the greedy whore to death. Her wanting extra rations the whole trip for her silence never would have been good. So now, Missy, you be forgetting your name and the whore house you come from. Be a good girl, and when the Cap’n of the ship takes his counting, you say “yes to Bessie’s name, and you live to see another day.” He ended his instructions.

   Charlie nodded to Jocko, who reached forward to grab Rebecca by her hair. “Look close, Missy,” he said as he pulled her to the bruised and bloodied face of the dead woman. “I killed me one whore already. It makes me no never mind killing a second, so you best keep your mouth shut and do as Charlie says.” To make his point clear, he landed several open hand blows across Rebecca’s face. The pain filled her whole head. Every nerve felt battered from the blows coming like burning sparks from a fire as shudders went through her body again.  

   “That Missy was a small taste of what’s in store for you if you give us any trouble? Once we put to sea, the Cap’n will still want his indentured bounty from you, so either way, you’re bound for the whore houses of the colonies. So be a good Missy, and don’t make me and Charlie beat ya to your death. Though I am sure, I’d like to taste your sweet body while Charlie spreads your legs for me.” He threatened.

   Jocko slapped her again and untied the gag pulling the rag from her mouth. 

   “Now, what’s your name, Missy?” Rebecca looked over to the dead body, too close to her, and as tears ran down her swollen face, she replied, “Bessie, I’m the whore Bessie.” Both men laughed, and Jocko said, “Just to be sure, we best keep her hands bound until we are well under sail.” They blew out the lantern and climbed the ladder out of the cargo hold. Rebecca heard the gully hold door slam shut. With bound hands, she scurried away from the dead woman into a dark corner. Finally, Rebecca could let loose the bile in her stomach, but her horror intensified as she saw vile creatures and heard the unmistakable scratching sounds of the ship’s rats hurrying to devour the vomit next to her. She tried to push away the thought that the rats features reminded her of the short sailor.   

   The terrors of the night and the worry for her Father, who surely lay on death’s door, were too much for the poor girl. She sobbed into an exhausted sleep. Occasionally crying throughout the night, “Dad, Dad help me please, Dad, I’m so scared.” 

   As if hearing her cries deep into the city, the fevered smithy gave up his fight taking his last breath. His spirit left his body as he died. Just before the sun burst open a new day, Rebecca had a sweet dream. She dreamt she was lying in her Father’s arms and heard his voice deep in her heart. “I’ll be with you, my brave daughter, and I’ll not join your sainted Mother till you are in safe hands.”