1834
The sound of screaming women along with the shouting of men, brought Mercy out of her sleep. She stood up just as the door to the Captain's quarters was smashed open. Instinctively she reached for the gun, hidden in the drawer, next to the Captain's bed. At the same time her gaze caught the glistening tip of a sword as it protruded out of her Sir's chest. This time the screaming she heard was her own. James' body was kicked from behind, as the sword was pulled free. Two men stepped through, and both aimed their weapons at Mercy and silently dared her to continue her quest.
She lowered her hand and stood still as they approached. There was no rush to freedom, no chance to hide in the bowels of the ship, no way to win against two well-armed and well-trained men, so Mercy did nothing. They grabbed both of her arms and pushed her past the dead man, who had cared for her for the past three years.
On deck she saw the carnage that greeted her. James' men, were either dead or dying. Whomever had boarded the ship had spared no life, except the women. Mercy understood her fate, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. The other women, women who had just been commissioned by Blackhawk, three weeks ago, stood cowering in fear. Mercy went to them, and when the man, she assumed had led the attack, ordered his men to take the women, she was the only one that did not fight.
When they were on board the other ship, she along with the others, were taken to a room, where several more women sat on torn and dirty blankets. A lump of fear formed in Mercy's chest as her gaze took in the shackles on their legs and the collars on their necks. Their bodies were bruised, covered in feces, and looked both dehydrated and malnourished. Rape, was something Mercy had once been used to and as she looked at the women who had fought their captors, she knew no matter how hard she tried to please them, she would fail.
The first night she was given to the captain and three other men, as well as a woman who had coal for a heart. Mercy did as she was told, but she knew it did not matter. They reveled in the pain they delivered upon her person, but no matter how hard they hit her, they never broke a bone, nor did they break her skin.
For two weeks she and the women traveled; during this time another ship was taken and the men slaughtered, and the two women on board, the Captain's wife and daughter were taken captive. When the ship settled into a harbor that was unknown to Mercy, she sported two black eyes, a bruised and swollen lip, as well as fist size bruises on her abdomen, thighs, and chest. There were smaller ones as well, but again nothing that would not heal over time.
The women were all taken to stockyards that had been hastily constructed and were tethered to each other by a long chain that was secured to each woman's iron collar. A group of men and women, all dressed in what Mercy could only describe as regal finery, stood waiting for the auction to begin.
One by one women and men from various ships were led up three rickety stairs and paraded in front of the group. Eventually is was Mercy's turn. A man with rough hands, lifted her chin and forced her to stare at the crowd. She chose to look above them, not making eye contact with anyone, but instead choosing to look beyond their lustful eyes and greedy expression, taking in the endless sea behind them.
The shouted "Sold" barely brought her out of her musings, nor did the way she was handled by the man who pulled her off the stage and pushed her toward her new Master. Through swollen lids, she stared into a face bearing a frown and a deep furrowed brow. She felt his fingers wrap around her arm. She winced when the pads of his digits came in contact with a fresh bruise. A soft curse fell from his lips, and his grip slackened. "Come along and behave as you've been trained," the voice hissed, before tugging firmly, but gently on her person.
Mercy followed behind her Master, keeping two steps behind him and to his right. She glanced briefly around her, taking note of where they were going. A carriage waited along with two dark mares that stomped angrily at the smell of blood, urine, and fear that hung in the air from the slaves that were being sold.
When the two of them reached the steeds, the man opened the door and helped Mercy inside. Behind the closed door, he tapped the roof, signaling to the driver that he was ready to leave. The vehicle jerked forward and Mercy's new Master let out a long and heavy sigh. "Answer me truthfully," the man was saying, "are you Mercy -- Henry Tatewater's Mercy?"
Mercy's head snapped up and her eyes flickered over the man's face. She tried desperately to recognize his features and his style of dress, yet nothing came to her. The tip of her tongue darted out, moistening her broken lip. "I was once his," she whispered, before again reaching into her past and trying to determine who the man was.
"I thought as much and I can only guess that James' ship is no more, nor is James?"
Mercy's lower lip trembled. She closed her eyes, lowered her head and whispered the tale that had more questions than answers. The only thing she could confirm is that James was indeed no more.
"I'll admit, when they paraded you across the auction block, I doubted it was you. But even though it is obvious your prison has not been kind to you, you still emit an aura that cannot be denied."
Still Mercy said nothing as she listened to the man speak, hoping his voice would stir some memory buried deep inside her. He knew Tatewater. He knew James. "You were at the party, weren't you?" she asked, as she openly stared at his face.
He smiled wide. "And the card game, the one where James won you."
"I don't know you though. I kept to myself, unless Lady Evelyn pulled me somewhere and," she stopped talking and studied him again. Dawning filled her features when she found his image in her mind. "I do remember you now. But we were not introduced."
"No, we were not," he reached out and took one of her hands. Tenderly he stroked the top before turning it over. "I am Samuel Rueben, your new Master."
Mercy felt somewhat relieved that Rueben had purchased her. Though she knew nothing of him, she was aware of who his friends were. Thoughts of Evelyn washed over her and for a moment she felt a tightness in her chest that bordered on relief. She pushed it back, fearing that Rueben would fail in her eyes and not be as kindhearted as his acquaintances. For the first time in years Mercy ached for tenderness.
"Mercy, I won't ask much from you, not until you are fully healed. I also want you to know that I normally do not purchase slaves. My women have always been willing, but when I saw you, I was dumbstruck and astounded. Even more so when I realized it was indeed you and not my eyes deceiving me," he cleared his throat, "and Tatewater showed such emotion when he lost you -- I had to admit, I was curious from that day on as to what made you so delectable."
Mercy's lips rose in a small grin, before she answered back. "I have no qualms about being your slave, Master and if you have needs that must be met before my body heals, I will serve to provide for you in all ways."
