Around the River's Bend (3 page)

Sabrina knew her father was an inveterate gambler. The stakes seemed not to be important. He enjoyed the risk. She had known him to come home rejoicing after having won five thousand pounds on a single race—and she had known him to lose an equal amount on another race. Now, for the first time in her life, a twinge of something close to apprehension, almost fear, touched her. For one brief moment she considered what a moneyless future would be like, and she didn't enjoy the picture she envisioned. “Maybe you ought to cut back on risky ventures.”

“You may be right about that, Sabrina. But I have one thing in the fire that is going to save us.”

“What is it? Buying more stock?”

“No. A different sort of thing altogether. There's big money to be made in black ivory.”

“Black ivory? I thought ivory was white.”

Sir Roger laughed. “This is a different kind of ivory. It's what they call the black Africans, the ones that become slaves.”

“What an odd thing to call them.”

“Well, it is, I suppose, but there's big money in slavery. One good voyage under a good man, and a fortune is there. As a matter of fact, I've decided to get out of the stockbroking business and go into the black ivory business.”

“But what about a ship?”

“That's what I was going to tell you, my dear. I've pretty well liquidated all of our holdings, including this house, up for mortgage, that is, and I bought a ship.”

“But you don't know anything about ships!”

“I won't be sailing it, so I don't have to know. But I bought this ship and renamed it.” He reached over and took her hand in his. “Guess what the name is.”

“Why, I have no idea.”

“How does the
Sabrina
sound to you?”

“Why, Father, how touching!” Sabrina's cheeks glowed with pleasure. “The
Sabrina
. Do you suppose I could go on one of the cruises?”

“You wouldn't like it, my dear. It smells rather bad, I understand, and it can be dangerous. There's always the danger of a slave uprising and a mutiny, you know.”

Sabrina listened as her father described his new venture with great pleasure. It involved sending the ship to Africa and making contacts with the Arab slavers there, then transporting the slaves to places where they could be sold for a profit. “The Colonies are a good destination. We can sell them the slaves and buy molasses and bring it back to England. Good profit there, too. It's going to be much more exciting than dealing in stocks.”

“But it's dangerous, isn't it? I mean, ships can sink.”

“Well, of course, anything's dangerous. But I'll tell you, Sabrina, just one successful voyage will pay off all of our debts and put this house in the clear. And I intend to see more than one successful voyage.”

Sabrina was wary of this new idea.
I've seen him like this before
, she thought,
always with some scheme that's going to make us immensely rich
. She considered trying to talk him out of it, but she knew that was useless. Her father had a stubborn streak, which Sabrina knew she had inherited, and he was past the point of changing his mind. She finally turned her attention to listening as he spoke with pleasure of what they would be able to do when the
Sabrina
had earned a large fortune for them.

Finally Fairfax rose, and Sabrina said, “What are you doing today, Father?”

“Didn't Charles tell you? He and I are going to a boxing match.”

“Yes, he did tell me. I asked him to take me.”

“Well, I'm sure he refused!”

“Yes, he did!”

“Well, I should hope so! It's not for ladies.” He circled the table and leaned over to kiss her. “Why don't you do some embroidery?”

“All right, Father, I will.”

“There's my good girl.” Fairfax kissed his daughter again, patted her hand, and left the room.

Sabrina sat there and felt the rebellion growing in her.
“You absolutely must not go.”
That's what Charles had said.
What should I do? Stay and do some embroidery?
The rebellion that lay not too deeply in her spirit began to smolder. “We'll just see about that!”

Chapter Two

Big Ben

A sudden pull at Sabrina's arm made her gasp, and she looked up to see a coach-and-four driven by a haughty driver in livery fly by, rattling over the cobblestones. She turned to see a big bluff man dressed in a snuff-colored suit looking down at her. “I'd be careful if I was you.”

“Thank you very much,” Sabrina said breathlessly. “I believe you saved me from a rather severe accident.”

“These streets in London! The drivers pay little attention. They expect everyone to get out of their way. Will you be all right now?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you very much, indeed.”

Sabrina smiled and turned away from her rescuer. She began threading her way down the streets of Cheapside between vehicles and pedestrians. It was the first time she had ever been afoot in this section of London, and she was frightened for a moment. But her courage always rose to a challenge, and lifting her head, she made her way along the street. Carts and coaches made such a thundering it seemed that the whole world traveled on wheels. At every corner she encountered men and women and children—some in the sooty rags of the chimney sweeps, others arrayed in their gold and gaudy satin of the aristocracy, gazing languidly out of sedans borne by lackeys with thick legs. Porters sweated under their burdens, chapmen darted from shop to shop, and tradesmen scurried around like ants. Tradesmen and vendors shouted their wares, many of them shoving things in Sabrina's face. She was aware also that there was a danger of slops being thrown out of the upper windows. She noticed with interest the drain in the middle of the street. She had read an article that described how the ditch, a foot wide and six inches deep, would carry all the slops and garbage away. The writer had been most proud of it, stating, “Most cities just let the slops and garbage pile up, but not London. We are certainly leaders in the world today.”

Finally Sabrina saw what she was looking for—the wharf on the River Thames where the fight was to be held. She glanced around and saw a sign with a red lion, rather faded but recognizable, and assumed this was an inn. She went inside and found the low-ceilinged timbers stained with age and smoke. Three men were sitting at a table playing cards, and all three looked up at her. One leaned over and said something to another that she did not catch, and all three men laughed.

“May I help you, miss?”

Sabrina turned to the tall, thin man with white hair and sharp blue eyes. “Yes, I'd like a room if you have one available.”

“Of course, miss. Come along. I'll show it to you.”

Sabrina followed him up the narrow stairs to the second floor, and when he opened the door and stepped inside, she nodded. “This will do very nicely.” Actually, it was not an ornate room, but for her purpose it would do fine.

“Will you be staying long, miss?”

“No, just the one day. How much is it?”

After she had paid for the room, Sabrina walked downstairs and left the inn. She walked the streets until she found what appeared to be a general store. When she stepped inside, a large woman greeted her, saying, “Yes, miss, 'ow can I serve you?”

“I need to buy some clothes for a servant. A man,” she added quickly.

“We 'ave a fine selection, miss, if you'll step this way.”

Sabrina followed the woman, who began pulling out various items of clothing.

“And whot would you be needing exactly?”

“Oh, just one full outfit please.”

“Small clothes, too?”

“Why, yes, if you please.”

“And how big would this person be?”

“Oh, about my height and somewhat heavier.”

Sabrina left the store ten minutes later with the garments wrapped in coarse paper. It was after noon now, and she knew that the boxing match was to take place sometime after dark. She had asked her father particularly, and he had shrugged, saying, “Well, these things are never very punctual. The word is about six, but it could be later. I may be home rather late. Don't worry about me.”

Sabrina made her way back to the Red Lion and ignored the whispers and the bold glances that followed her. Going up the stairs, she entered the room, shut the door, and locked it. She unwrapped the clothing and laid everything out on the bed. For a moment she wondered if she had lost her mind, but she put this thought aside. She still remembered Charles's words telling her that she must not go to the boxing match. Indeed!

She took off her feminine clothing and began putting on the men's clothes. It was something new, different, and daring—just the sort of thing that Sabrina Fairfax loved to do! The clothes were rough, suitable for a man of the poorer classes, and they felt out of place on her pampered skin. She pulled on the white stockings and then the knee britches, which fit her rather loosely, put on the white shirt and the waistcoat, added the tie, and then slipped into the roughly made black shoes, which were somewhat too large for her. Topping it off, she put on the coat, which came down to her knees, and buttoned it across the front. She had no mirror, but she could see that the clothing covered the curves of her body well enough.

To complete the boyish look, she began to pin her hair up, and when she had fastened it as tightly as she could, she tied it up with a silk scarf so it would not come loose. She put on the large hat with the floppy brim, and was relieved to find that it fit nicely over all the hair piled on her head. The last step was to scrub at her face until all traces of powder and rouge were gone, and then she brushed her hand across the floor and picked up enough dust to scour her face with it.

Finally she stowed the money she had brought in an inner pocket of the coat and stared out the window at the overcast afternoon. She was impatient for darkness to arrive. As she watched the crowd, everyone seemed to be headed down toward the wharf. She could hear two men who had passed beneath her window, one of them saying, “It won't be much of a match.”

“You don' think so, Henry? Who is this fellow they found to fight the champ?”

“Never 'eard of him, but 'e won't be no match for Big Ben. . . .”

Their voices faded as they headed down the street. Taking a deep breath, Sabrina left her room and found she could walk through the lobby with no one paying any particular attention to her. She held her breath as she stepped out onto the street, wondering if she really looked like a man. She ignored the vendors she passed who begged her to buy their wares.

“Buy a 'andkerchief, mister?” A young woman held up a handkerchief, and Sabrina was pleased that the woman thought she was a man.

She pulled a coin from her pocket and, making her voice as deep as she could, said, “That's a nice kerchief.”

“Oh, thank you, sir!” The young woman took the coin, her eyes bright.

The crowd all seemed to be going the same way, and most of the talk that Sabrina was able to pick up was of the match that was to come. She listened carefully, moving slowly, until finally a woman stepped out of the shadows of an alley and took her by the arm. She was a rather chubby woman with a heavily painted face, and she said impudently, “Come along, husband. I'll show yer a good time.”

Sabrina was shocked. She knew prostitutes inhabited London but had never seen one—at least not this close. The woman's face was pitted, and her face was so covered with paint it was difficult to tell her age. Sabrina shook her head and muttered no and took the woman's curse as she went on down the street.

Finally she reached the wharf and found herself in the middle of the milling crowd. Drawn up close to the shore was a barge. Sabrina could see that a square had been marked off in the middle of the barge with four posts marking the corners and ropes running about the square. Two men were cleaning the surface of the ring, and crowds of men were jostling for good seats around it.

She edged in toward the gangway until she was stopped by a man who said, “Half a crown admission.” He held his hand out and waited until Sabrina had fished the coin out of her pocket. She made her way onto the wharf and determined where she could get a good view of the action. Vendors selling beer and gin moved among the crowd, shouting the virtues of their wares. Every spectator, it seemed, was smoking. Sabrina pulled out one of the cigars she had purchased but realized she had no match.

“'Ere, you need a light?”

Sabrina turned to her right, where a tall, lean man held his own cigar out. Putting the cigar in her mouth, she touched the other end to the glowing tip of the man's cigar. She had never smoked in her life, but she had seen enough men doing it. She got the cigar going, but then suddenly her throat was full of smoke. She began to cough, and the tall man beside her patted her on the back. “Come now, lad, none of that!”

Sabrina quickly drew back. “I'm all right,” she said huskily.

“You come to many bouts?”

“No. As a matter of fact, this is my first.”

“You tell me that! Well, let me explain the rules to you. . . .”

Sabrina was content to listen to her neighbor. He evidently loved the sound of his own voice, and it was, indeed, a pleasant voice. In fact, it was the best thing about the man, apparently. “It's like this, you see. When a man gets knocked down or thrown down, he's got thirty seconds to come to scratch.”

“‘Come to scratch'? What's that?”

“Until he can come back to the middle of the ring and start fighting again. There ain't no hittin' below the belt allowed, and no strikin' a man that's fallen, don't you see.”

“How long does the fight last?”

“How long? Well, you
are
a chicken, ain't you? It lasts until one of the men ain't able to come to scratch. Every time a man goes down, that's one round. I seen one bout once where there was a hundred twenty-seven rounds.”