Майкл Крайтон – Pirate Latitudes (страница 6)
Soon enough she was in Plymouth, and then aboard the
Now she was here, in this new place, where everything was strange and unfamiliar. But she had no fear, for she was certain that the governor liked her, as the other gentlemen had liked her and taken care of her.
Her bath finished, she was dressed in a dyed woolen dress and a cotton blouse. It was the finest clothing she had worn in more than three months, and it gave her a moment of pleasure to feel the fabric against her skin. The black woman opened the door and motioned for her to follow.
“Where are we going?”
“To the governor.”
She was led down a large, wide hallway. The floors were wooden but uneven. She found it strange that a man so important as the governor should live in such a rough house. Many ordinary gentlemen in London had houses more finely built than this.
The black woman knocked on a door, and a leering Scotsman opened it. Anne saw a bedchamber inside; the governor in a nightshirt was standing by the bed, yawning. The Scotsman nodded for her to enter the room.
“Ah,” the governor said. “Mistress Sharpe. I must say, your appearance is considerably improved by your ablutions.”
She did not understand exactly what he was talking about, but if he was pleased then so was she. She curtseyed as she had been taught by her mother.
“Richards, you may leave us.”
The Scotsman nodded, and closed the door. She was alone with the governor. She watched his eyes.
“Don’t be frightened, my dear,” he said in a kindly voice. “There is nothing to fear. Come over here by the window, Anne, where the light is good.”
She did as she was told.
He stared at her in silence for some moments. Finally, he said, “You know at your trial you were accused of witchcraft.”
“Yes, sir. But it is not true, sir.”
“I’m quite sure it is not, Anne. But it was said that you bear the stigmata of a pact with the devil.”
“I swear, sir,” she said, feeling agitation for the first time. “I have nothing to do with the devil, sir.”
“I believe you, Anne,” he said, smiling at her. “But it is my duty to verify the absence of stigmata.”
“I swear to you, sir.”
“I believe you,” he said. “But you must take off your clothes.”
“Now, sir?”
“Yes, now.”
She looked around the room a little doubtfully.
“You can put your clothes on the bed, Anne.”
“Yes, sir.”
He watched her as she undressed. She noticed what happened to his eyes. She was no longer afraid. The air was warm; she was comfortable without her clothing.
“You are a beautiful child, Anne.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She stood, naked, and he moved closer to her. He paused to put his spectacles on, and then he looked at her shoulders.
“Turn around slowly.”
She turned for him. He peered at her flesh. “Raise your arms over your head.”
She raised her arms. He peered at each armpit.
“The stigmata is normally under the arms or on the breast,” he said. “Or on the pudenda.” He smiled at her. “You don’t know what I am talking about, do you?”
She shook her head.
“Lie on the bed, Anne.”
She lay on the bed.
“We will now complete the examination,” he said seriously, and then his fingers were in her hair, and he was peering at her skin with his nose just a few inches from her quim, and even though she feared insulting him she found it funny—it tickled—and she began to laugh.
He stared angrily at her for a moment, and then he laughed, too, and then he began throwing off his nightshirt. He took her with his spectacles still on his face; she felt the wire frames pressing against her ear. She allowed him to have his way with her. It did not last long, and afterward, he seemed pleased, and so she was also pleased.
AS THEY LAY together in the bed, he asked her about her life, and her experiences in London, and the voyage to Jamaica. She described for him how most of the women amused themselves with each other, or with members of the crew, but she said that she did not—which wasn’t exactly true, but she had only been with Captain Morton, so it was very nearly true. And then she told about the storm that had happened, just as they sighted land in the Indies. And how the storm had buffeted them for two days.
She could tell that Governor Almont was not paying much attention to her story. His eyes had that funny look in them again. She continued to talk, anyway. She told about how the day after the storm had been clear, and they had sighted land with a harbor and a fortress, and a large Spanish ship in the harbor. And how Captain Morton was very worried about being attacked by the Spanish warship, which had certainly seen the merchantman. But the Spanish ship never came out of the harbor.
“What?” Governor Almont said, almost shrieking. He leapt out of bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“A Spanish warship saw you and didn’t attack?”
“No, sir,” she said. “We were much relieved, sir.”
“Relieved?” Almont cried. He could not believe his ears. “You were relieved? God in Heaven: how long ago did this happen?”
She shrugged. “Three or four days past.”
“And it was a harbor with a fortress, you say?”
“Yes.”
“On which side was the fortress?”
She was confused. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Well,” Almont said, throwing on his clothes in haste, “as you looked at the island and the harbor, was this fortress to the right of the harbor, or the left?”
“To this side,” she said, pointing with her right arm.
“And the island had a tall peak? A very green island, very small?”
“Yes, that’s the very one, sir.”
“God’s blood,” Almont said. “Richards! Richards! Get Hunter!”
And the governor dashed from the room, leaving her lying there, naked on the bed. Certain that she had displeased him, Anne began to cry.
THERE WAS A knock at the door. Hunter rolled over in the bed; he saw the open window, and sunlight pouring through. “Go away,” he muttered. Alongside him, the girl shifted her position restlessly but did not awake.
The knock came again.
“Go away, damn your eyes.”
The door opened, and Mrs. Denby poked her head around. “Begging your pardon, Captain Hunter, but there’s a messenger here from the Governor’s Mansion. The governor requests your presence at dinner, Captain Hunter. What shall I say?”
Hunter rubbed his eyes. He blinked sleepily in the daylight. “What is the hour?”
“Five o’clock, Captain.”
“Tell the governor I will be there.”
“Yes, Captain Hunter. And Captain?”