Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(45)

Trahern consulted his list, finding one name left.

“You would be John Ruark,” he stated rather than asked and was surprised at the rush of words he stirred from the fellow.

“Aye, sir.” Ruark affected a slight brogue to disguise his origin. Too many of the islanders were touchy about the mainland colonies. “And I can read, write, and cipher.”

Trahern cocked his head as if listening to every word.

“My back is strong and my teeth are sound.” Ruark drew back his lips, displaying the gleaming whiteness for a moment. “I can pull my weight, given a good meal of course, and I hope I shall prove worthy of all your family has invested in me.”

“My wife is dead. I have only a daughter,” Trahern murmured absently and then silently rebuked himself for chatting with the man. “But you are a colonial, from New York or Boston I would guess. How did you come to be on the sale block?”

Ruark drew a sharp breath and stroked his chin. “A slight misunderstanding with several redcoats. The magistrate was not in the least considerate and believed them over me.”

It was not completely untrue. He had not taken kindly to being rudely dragged from a sound sleep, and he had reacted instinctively, breaking the captain’s jaw as he found out later.

Trahern nodded slowly and seemed to accept the tale until he spoke. “You are a man of some wisdom, and I think there is much more to your story, but,” he shrugged, “that day will out. I care little for what you were, only for what you are.”

The bondslave, John Ruark, quietly considered his master, having already realized that he would have to tread lightly when dealing with him, for the man was as sharp-witted as it had been rumored. Still, the truth had a way of coming out, and since he could think of no words worthy of his effort, Ruark held his tongue.

Leaving him, Trahern went to stand before the line of men, bracing his legs wide and resting his hands on the knob of his walking stick. Slowly he studied them.

“This is Los Camellos,” he began. “Named by a Spaniard but deeded to me. I am lord mayor, sheriff, and justice here. You have been bonded to me for debts unpaid. You will be apprised of your debt and its progress upon request to my bookkeeper. You will be paid for Sundays and holidays, but sickness and otherwise are your own account. Your wage will be sixpence a day for each day that you work. On the first of each month you will receive for each day you have worked, tuppence for your needs; tuppence to go against your debt, and tuppence which will be repaid for your keep. If you work hard and advance yourselves, you will receive more and may adjust the payments as you see fit.” Pausing, he looked hard at Ruark. “I expect some of you will pay out your debts in as little as five or six years. You may then work for passage back to England or wherever you would go, or you may, if you wish, settle here. You have been given the wherewithal to keep yourselves clothed and clean. Tend your clothes carefully, for whatever else you get you will have to pay for. ‘Twill be some time before you have any money and then precious little.”

Trahern ceased and held his silence until he had their complete and undivided attention.

“There are two ways to get into serious trouble here. The first is to abuse or steal anything of mine, and most everything here is mine. The second is to upset or annoy any of the people already here. Do you have any questions?”

He waited but there were no volunteers. The squire relaxed his stance and stood more at ease.

“You will be given three days of light chores to recover from the voyage. After that you will be expected to spend the daylight hours in productive labor. You will begin your toil the day after Christmas. Good day to you all.”

Without a further glance he mounted to his carriage, leaving Ralston to see to them. The gaunt man stepped before them as the barouche departed. Slapping the palm of his gloved hand with the ever-present quirt, he began to speak.

“ ‘Tis Squire Trahern’s way to be soft with his slaves.” His sneer was just barely detectable. “Rest assured it would not be my way, but I must go on to other duties. You will be quartered in an old stable above the town until you go to the fields, and you will be given light work at the dock or plantation. This man,”—he indicated the one who had guarded them—“will be your overseer. He will report to either myself or Trahern. Until you are adjudged worthy of trust, you will stay near the stable at all times that you are not engaged in work. If you have not already noted,”—he swept his whip toward the hills and then the beach—“there is nowhere to hide, at least not for long.” Here he seemed almost pained. “You will be given time to rest and will be fed expensively.” With the next words he warmed to his topic. “But you will be expected to earn your keep and then some.”