Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
She offered her hand for him to kiss, looking spellbound.
“And the enchanting Miss Merrick. So much beauty in one room! Ah…do I spy my favorite dance partner, Miss Octavia?”
Finally, he turned to Fiona. “My darling girl…Acushla.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek warmly. She reached for his hands, which he drew firmly to his chest.
“I scarcely recognize you, Fiona Kathleen. What the lady you have become…where is mo chailin beag? You’re the image of your sainted mother, by Christ, and every bit as beautiful.”
Richard, with a sardonic gleam to his smile, stood and offered his chair. “Please make yourself comfortable, Mr. Rafferty. We are awaiting your tale with bated breath.”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Rafferty.” Lady Amelia begged. “Please tell us what transpired during your absence.”
Her father settled himself by the fire, sighing heavily. “’Tis an incredible story, scarcely to be believed. Sometimes I wonder if I dreamed the entire adventure. But then, I reach for these.”
He took a black velvet pouch from inside his coat and slid open the drawstring, then poured the contents into his palm, holding it out for their inspection.
Lady Amelia drew a sharp breath. “Are those diamonds? I have never seen so many at once.”
Richard leaned forward, lifting his quizzing glass. The dazzling array of sparkling stones reflected in the light.
“Yes, Mother, diamonds indeed. And of extraordinary quality, if I judge correctly.”
“You do, Lord Seldon.” Her father nodded, replaced the diamonds, and tucked away the small bag. “The jeweler in Dublin who cut and polished them agreed.”
Fiona was stunned. A fortune in diamonds. “Athair, wherever did you acquire such gems?” She searched his weathered features, afraid of the answer. What might he do to gain such a treasure?
“Acushla, they are worth millions of pounds. You could buy any concert hall in Europe and play music wherever you please. You’re a wealthy woman now.”
She didn’t know what made her glance over at Richard, but his face was ashen.
Then his expression lightened, changing so quickly it might have never happened.
“How serendipitous, Fiona,” he said. “And just in the nick of time, as the saying goes. You have our complete attention, Mr. Rafferty…how did you come by such extraordinary riches?”
He sat back. “As you may know, I departed Bridgetown for Dublin over two years ago. Things in Barbados had become volatile and slave rebellions erupted in every part of the island. Your Uncle Carlisle and I vowed from the beginning to employ paid workers. We abhorred the rampant mistreatment of slaves on the island. Our sugar production thrived using free men, whereas many others were failing. But Bussa, the leader of the slaves, urged all natives, bound or not, to drive out the Europeans by any means necessary. Even our fair labor practices were little protection. Carlisle passed by cholera amid this chaos in the summer of 1815, the same disease that took my dear wife the year before. I was thankful you had returned to Dublin, Fiona, and couldn’t see the sorrow and death that seized your beloved island. ”
Her father’s lean face grew dark with memories.
“The plantation was difficult to manage without Carlisle, as he had handled all the business aspects.
Each day more workers left to join the uprising.
The cane spoiled in the fields, and our grand house fell into disrepair.
Finally, I had no choice but to flee, alone and near penniless.
“No sooner had I left Bridgetown and set sail into the Caribbean than a terrible storm blew up. For hours, our schooner barely managed to stay afloat. In the end, the huge waves and heavy winds took their toll. Our foremast splintered, and the mainsail fell in tatters. The ship capsized, and I jumped overboard before she went under, clinging to a piece of the mast in the roiling sea. As I struggled to stay afloat, I heard the cries of drowning men around me and could do nothing to help them. Soon, darkness fell. I held on for dear life, tossed about and exhausted, to survive a miserable night. Finally, the sun rose, golden in the sky, and what do you think I saw? There, in front of me, was land!”
“Was that when you became a pirate?” Octavia breathed.
“Ah, colleen, for that you must wait until the end of my tale.” He laughed.
“I saw the dark shape of mountains in the distance and realized the current had swept my makeshift raft into a wide river, surrounded by wetlands and jungle. What country or continent, I could not tell. With the meager strength that remained, I swam to shore, collapsing on the sand. I have no idea how long I lay there but awoke to see the sun high in a sky as clear as sapphire. ’Twas a great river basin around me, and beyond the sand, jungle and mountains as far as I could see.
“My only option was to follow the river into the jungle, and I did so, struggling for hours, pushing aside thick vines and low-hanging branches. Surely no human had passed here before. Caimans sunbathing along the river’s edge watched me with glittering eyes, occasionally slapping their broad tails in a warning that made me shudder.
With every step I took, exotic birds and bright parrots flew from trees, squawking and screeching, and red-brown monkeys scrambled above me.
With my throat parched and my belly gnawing with hunger, I blindly stumbled onward.
“I knew I could not continue much longer without water, but I dared not try to drink among the reptiles that populated the riverbanks. Miniature yellow bananas and ripe maracuja hung everywhere, and I snatched them from the stalks, pushing the fruit into my mouth like a beast. I managed to fill my belly and ease my terrible thirst. The day was ending when I heard the sound of running water. A miniature waterfall hid among the shadows, with a shallow pool below. I fell into the water and drank in huge gulps, splashing about and scrubbing the salty grime from my body. I saw the sluggish river ahead branched off into three tributaries, and while debating which one to follow, I had the strangest feeling someone watched.”
“Was it the headhunters?” Octavia burst out. “The ones who shrink your head like in Robinson Crusoe?”
“My goodness, Richard, what have you been giving this child to read?” Lady Amelia repressed a shudder. “Shrunken heads, indeed. I am surprised she doesn’t have nightmares.”
“Octavia is surprisingly bloodthirsty, Mother,” he agreed.
“Pray continue, Mr. Rafferty,” Valentina intervened. “I would be terrified in your place. Were you alone?”
“No sooner had I emerged from the water than I was surrounded by a band of dark-skinned natives, each with a tall spear.”
“Natives! Were they cannibals?” Octavia bounced up and down on the sofa with glee.
Lady Amelia squeaked in alarm. “Cannibals!”
“I prayed to my maker; that’s no lie. But I stood like a statue, with my heart pounding in my chest, and faced them squarely. All I possessed were my tattered shirt and breeches and the gold medallion of Saint Patrick on my chest.”
“Who is Saint Patrick?” Octavia looked puzzled.
“Why, Saint Patrick is the patron saint of travelers, and I am convinced he protected me on this particular journey. The native who came forward reached only to my chin. Deep scars marred his right cheek and one brown shoulder. It looked as if he had been mauled at some point. From his stance and the impressive web of animal teeth and shells around his neck, I took him for the group’s leader.
The man peered closely at my medal, speaking a language I could not understand.
“Impulsively, I removed it and extended my hand.
He stared at me with the blackest eyes I had ever seen, frowning, and I wondered if I might die on that very spot.
Then he took my medallion and slipped it around his neck, questioning me in that strange tongue.
In an awkward pantomime, I pointed toward water and made the motion of a boat, then to the sky and showed the whirling of a storm.
He moved his arms as if swimming, and I nodded vigorously.
“‘Ka-pok, Ka-pok,’ he said, slapping his breast.