But wait—had he imagined it?
He got to his feet and went to the post where he’d seen the sign. In the light of day he had no problem reading the bulletin:
NOTICE OF A WIFE TO BE SOLD AT NOON
ST. ALBAN’S TOWN SQUARE
SATURDAY, JULY 19, 1710
IN ACCORDANCE WITH ENGLISH LAW THAT PROVIDETH
A MAN MAY SELL HIS WIFE IF HE DO SO IN OPEN MARKET
AND SHE GIVETH HER PERMISSION BY WEARING A HALTER
ROUND HER NECK;
THIS MAN, PHILIP WINTER SHALL SELL HIS WIFE HESTER
IN SUCH A MANNER ON SATURDAY THE 19th of JULY, 1710.
BUYER MUST AGREE TO ACCEPT HESTER WINTER AS SHE BE,
WITH ALL HER FAULTS.
Pim wanted to make himself more presentable by jumping in the river or ocean, whichever was closer, but after inquiring the time from a horrified passerby, he was afraid he’d miss the auction. He went to the nearest house and knocked on the door and offered to pay a half-crown for a basin of water.
“That’s a fair price for the basin,” the woman allowed, “but where would I get another? You’ll have to try someone else.”
“I’d be buyin’ only the water in the basin, Mum.”
“What? Are you daft? Be gone, or I’ll call my husband.”
Pim produced the coin.
“I’ve only got used water,” she said.
“How used?”
“Two days worth. But it’s a full basin. You want it?”
“Aye, and a rag to scrub with.”
The lady of the house eyed Pim closely, scrunched her nose and said, “Is that vomit in your beard?”
“Aye, Mum.”
“Well in that case you may keep the rag. I wouldn’t want to touch it after you’ve used it.”
“You’re too kind.”
“I’d rather bring a horse turd into my home.”
“Yes, Mum. Thank you.”
Pim did what he could with the basin of used water, though it smelled worse to him than he did. When he got to the town square he sat on a rock and waited for Captain Jack, whom he sensed was drawing near. Ten minutes later Jack Hawley was standing over him, chewing him out.
“Are you insane? If they see you here they’ll lock you up!”
“I’m not a pirate no more, Cap’n.”
“What?”
“My sweet Darla’s dead, and I’m gonna buy this wife what’s bein’ sold today.”
This was shaping up to be Jack’s most interesting shore leave ever. He tried to picture Abby Winter’s mother marrying the wild and wooly pirate, Mr. Pim. An unintended smile crossed his face.
“What’s so funny?” Pim growled.
“Easy, man. I’m sorry for your loss. I never met Darla, but I know she was special to you. I meant no offense by the smile. It’s just the thought of you settling down. Pim: a landlubber!”
Pim nodded. Then said, “You know this woman what’s to be sold today?”
“I don’t, though I suspect she’ll be happy to marry a kind-hearted soul such as yourself.”
“Thank you, Jack. I’m not picky. I’m sure she’ll do.”
Jack looked him over. “You’re sober?”
“Mostly. I think.”
“Good. Looks like you had a rough night pining for Darla.”
“Aye. And I drank some, too.”
“And coughed some back, by the look of it.”
“Aye.”
“You need some money?”
“Why, thank you Cap’n, but no, I did no whorin’ so I’m flush.”
“Well, do me a favor and act like you know me not.”
A hurt expression creased Pim’s face.
Jack said, “I’m not ashamed to be in your company, but if some townie recognizes you, they’ll lock us both up and I won’t be able to rescue you.”
Pim nodded. “Aye, you always was a smart one, Cap’n.”
“And Mr. Pim?”
“Aye?”
“I’m proud to have served with you.”
Pim’s eyes moistened. “It’s been an honor, Jack.”
“Good luck man.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Chapter 12
Wife selling always followed the same public ritual. The wife—in this case, the gray-faced but comely Hester Winter, was led into town by her husband Philip with her hands bound and a halter around her neck. In most cases, wife selling was a spur of the moment decision, and the husband had to make a big noise to draw a crowd. But the enterprising Philip had thought to post notice of his upcoming sale, and so the town square was packed with leering men, derisive women, and ill-mannered children, most of whom shouted profanities and vulgar insults at Hester.
As Philip got his wife onto the auction block, he displayed a wide, shit-eating grin and bade the crowd to gather near, since he was preparing to take bids. Hester’s eyes searched the crowd, hoping to spot Thomas Griffin, but there were too many people. From behind her, a crude boy of about nine jumped onto the block and lifted the back of her skirt with one hand and held his nose with the other as his friends hooted and jeered. Philip laughed and swatted at the boy in a playful manner, which did nothing to dissuade him from raising Hester’s dress again, and higher. Soon, half a dozen brats were taking turns spanking her rump Finally Philip called an end to the abuse.
“Who’ll offer me a crown?”
“Does her privates work?” one man shouted.
Hester squeezed her eyes shut and reminded herself a better life was moments away.
“Her privates?” Philip said. “They work right well, mate, if your equipment be long enough to reach the prize.” He gave an exaggerated stage wink and received some scattered chortling in return.
“Does she cook?” said another.
“She ain’t the worst I’ve et,” Philip said.
“How much discount are you offering for that face?” the fishmonger’s wife yelled out.
“Already factored in the bidding, Missus. Why, are you interested in marryin’ her yourself?” Philip made a lewd gesture and the crowd laughed.
Hester was thankful Philip had made Abby stay home. Thomas Griffin had obviously changed his mind, and now that she thought about it, why wouldn’t he? He was a respectable businessman with a shop on the far side of the square. If he purchased her he’d be a laughing stock. Hester hadn’t considered that possibility the three times she let him take her behind the counter. Ah well, men lied. What could she do about it now but accept her fate.
“I’ll give the crown,” someone said.
Hester opened her eyes and found the bidder, a young man, twenty at most, with curly brown hair and a lopsided grin that showed some gnarled brown teeth. Half his face was puckered from a fire, and he was missing an ear on that side. But he had broad shoulders and looked strong, and seemed kind.
Hester smiled at him.
“See that, son? She likes you!”
Someone else offered a sovereign, someone Hester couldn’t see from her vantage point. She thought how strange it would be if she wound up married to someone she’d never even seen before.
“How ‘bout it son?” Philip said to the curly haired boy. “Can you beat a sovereign?”
Hester looked at him hopefully. He might not be much to look at, she thought, but she had facial problems of her own, and no right to complain. This boy wasn’t a Thomas Griffin in appearance or property, but he seemed a step above her husband.
The boy looked at Hester with sorrow in his eyes. He mouthed the words, “I’m sorry,” and she nodded.
“Don’t that just break your heart folks?” Philip said. “Is there no one here who’ll lend this poor boy a few paltry coins to help him find his true love?”
“Can we work it out in trade?” said a crippled man with a scar on his scalp that was so large and had healed so poorly, it looked like he’d grown a colony of little pink mushrooms on his head.
Hester shuddered.
“Don’t think she likes you, Grady,” Philip said.