Chapter 12: Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire

I’m about to scream, when the man who has just entered places his hand over my mouth.

“You’ve a nasty tendency to try and scream at inappropriate moments, Andrea. If you’re planning on making a career of this type of work, then I suggest you cure yourself of the habit.”

It’s Richard Allen! What’s he doing here? But I can’t ask as he’s signalled for complete silence. He guides us along the side of the ship, keeping low as we move towards the gangplank. We have to step over two dead pirates on our way.

“Sorry about them, but I had to silence them when they saw you arrive on the deck. You need a bit more practise at creeping around ships at night,” he whispers to me.

We reach the gangplank and Richard looks around to see if anyone is about. He seems satisfied that the coast is clear.

“Follow me. If we’re seen I’ll try to delay them. If that happens then run for your lives.”

We quietly walk towards the side street not far from the ship. We almost make it when there are shouts from the ship. It seems they’ve discovered that Eloise is missing, and now they’ve seen us making our escape.

“Quick, run,” says Richard as he readies the rifle he has been carrying on his shoulder.

Without looking back Eloise and I run along the street. We hear shots and the sound of men running behind us. Dressed as we are, we can’t possibly outrun them as far as the house. Even if we did, there’s noone there who could defend us from armed men, and we would only be placing Mama and Annie in danger. More shots echo behind us, and we duck into a side alley.

We must find safety. We pass the Jolly Sailor inn, but it has already closed for the night. It must be after eleven o’clock and Fort Royal is very strict about drinking hours. Then I remember there may be one place still open for business; but a respectable lady would never enter such premises. Unless of course she had armed men chasing her, intent on killing her.

“This way, Eloise,” I cry, nearly out of breath.

A short zigzag through some side streets and we’re there. Madame Baxter’s Sporting House. Which is a fancy name for a brothel. Sure enough there are lights still on. I knock on the door and after few moments Madame Baxter opens the door.

“Please may we come in?” I ask, trying to catch my breath.

She steps aside and ushers us into her office. She doesn’t seem impressed.

“You street girls are always getting into trouble. Look at you both. You have blood all over the back of your dress, and you look and smell as though you’ve been in a brewery all night.”

“No, it’s not like that. We...” I begin to say. She stops me using a tone of voice I thought only Mama was capable of using.

“I’m not interested in excuses. I’ve heard them all before. I’ll give you clean dresses, but you’ll have to work to pay for them. Well, what do you say? Yes, or back on the street?”

I look at Eloise who shrugs and gives a nod of agreement. I reluctantly agree knowing we face almost certain death if we go back out onto the street. Our fates are sealed.