A Simple Deception

XXV

"Alright, move," instructed the captain, as he removed the knife from the lamp. Alex quickly took away his shirt and Captain Whitfield pressed the blade against Belle's seeping abdomen.

The sound or the smell, Alex was unsure which was worse. The burning of the skin was sickening, but Belle did not make a sound, nor did she stir from her unconsciousness. With each burn, Belle's slice sealed. The bleeding stopped but she did not rouse. Alex kept hold of her hand; his fingers pressed against her wrist feeling for the soft pulse that gave him hope.

"She may yet die," uttered Captain Whitfield when he was finished burning the wound.

Alex knew that to be true. Despite the fact that she was no longer bleeding, Belle had lost a lot of blood.

"The wound may fester. If it does, she will be dead in a matter of hours. Or, the poor child may die sooner from the loss of blood," the captain continued regretfully. "How old is she? Does she have family?"

"I don't know," replied Alex, realising that Belle had never told him her exact age. He had thought she might be nineteen or twenty, but with how weak and lifeless she looked now, she could well have been younger. "But she doesn't have family." She had told him how she had come to have her name.

Belle Desjardins. Beauty of the Gardens. She was named for where she was found. Abandoned and alone, even at birth. God, thought Alex, she had to live. She had to know friendship, freedom, love. Belle had to know love.

***

Alex did not have much to do with Captain Whitfield's crew. Even if they did take issue with their presence on board, he did not venture outside the cargo hold. Alex remained at Belle's side for the best part of a week as they sailed through the Caribbean for Port-au-Prince.

He kept the wound clean and watched it intently for evidence of disease. While it looked shocking and would scar terribly, it did not swell or heat with fever.

Belle remained pale, made worse by her already gaunt features from a lack of food, but her pulse beat steadily, and it did grow stronger each day. Alex hated to fall asleep. Even as she seemed to improve, Alex didn't want to wake up to find that she'd died while he hadn't been with her properly.

A bad wind had made the journey from Road Town to Port-au-Prince stretch out to a week, but by the seventh day, Belle's eyes finally flickered open.

If it was possible, her eyes seemed lighter, more golden, then they ever had before. She struggled to focus as her eyes lethargically found Alex beside her.

"Hurts," she croaked weakly, her voice hoarse.

Alex held onto her hand tightly. She was laying on a makeshift bed of flour sacks, dressed in sailors' garb that was far too big for her tiny frame. He felt her forehead for fever for quite possibly the thousandth time that week and was relieved to find her cool. She was awake. She was going to be alright.

"I know," he whispered. He couldn't know what a burn like hers felt like, or the pain from a sabre, but he had known pain, and he wished it could take it away. Alex couldn't help as a tear rolled down his cheek. Lord, he wanted this to be over. He didn't want to be afraid anymore.

"What happened to me?" wearily asked Belle, her eyes terribly frightened.

"You survived," calmly replied Alex. "We were nearly found but you survived. You have a wound on your stomach but it's clean and there's no disease." He thought back to how Belle tended him when he had woken up on the smuggler's ship. She had assured him of the very same thing. "We are sailing for Haiti now."

But the fear in Belle's eyes did not fully go away. "Did ... has anyone ... did anyone ...?"

She didn't need to finish the question. Alex knew what she wanted to ask. And he hated that she felt the need to. He hated that her experiences had made this a fear that lived with her constantly.

"No," Alex said emphatically. "I won't ever let that happen to you again," he promised.

Belle nodded ever so slightly, accepting his promise.

Later that same afternoon, Captain Whitfield's ship arrived in Port-au-Prince. Or, in view of Port-au-Prince. The ship could not dock in Haiti.

"We daren't approach," Captain Whitfield told Alex. He had come down to inform them that they had arrived. "Everyone who sales these parts heard of the massacre. I don't know what the attitude is like now, but I won't risk my crew."

Alex knew of the massacre Captain Whitfield was talking about. After the revolution, nearly every white man, woman and child on the island was killed. It was one bloody mess after another, and Alex understood the captain's reluctance to risk his life and his crew's.

"I understand," replied Alex. "I can't thank you enough for what you've risked for us already." Alex had barely spoken to the captain in the last week save for when he came to ask after Belle. But he now realised this was goodbye. It could well be the last time that Alex ever saw this man, the man who could well be his father.

"Can you swim?"

"Well enough," replied Alex.

"We are about a half mile offshore. I can give you a kisbee ring for her, to drag her to shore." Captain Whitfield produced a floatation ring from outside the cargo hold and held it out to Alex. "I am only sorry I cannot do more."

Alex wanted to say it. He wanted to at least ask. The captain was kind. Compassionate at least. But would he remain so if he learned he was not only aiding slaves, but that he was the father of one? Alex didn't have the time to debate with himself. What he knew for certain was that he did have a mother, and she was on an island half a mile away.

"I won't forget what you did for us, Captain," Alex said sincerely. "I am indebted to you."

"That's no life for a man," replied the captain. "That's no life for an animal. Go on then," he urged. "Go and live." He smiled, the skin crinkling around his blue eyes.

Alex couldn't help but smile back at him. "I hope we have not delayed you too badly. I wish you a good journey onto New Orleans."

"Be safe now, boy," he paused. "I never did get your name, either of you, I realise. I can't very well pray for 'boy' and 'girl'." He looked over to Belle, he was still lying on the flour sacks. "Comment tu t'appelles?" he asked her.

"Je m'appelle Belle," Belle replied softly.

"Alex," was all Alex said in reply. "My name is Alex."

"Alex, Belle," repeated Captain Whitfield. "Godspeed."

-----

You guys, come in close, because I don't want Laura to hear this ....

.... but I think we finally did it!! I think we finally guilted the psycho writing this to throw us a damn bone!!!!! MONDAY CHAPTER, WHO IS SHE? We should accuse her of being evil more often ;)

Hahaha, well, I hope you enjoyed it! I couldn't leave my poor Belle hanging for long. I want so many good things for her! I have so much left to write for her, and she has soooo much more to her than meets the eye. 

But in all seriousness, I've just been neglecting my work to write this. I should be writing reports oops. But as you know, I write books I want to read and I NEEDED to know the Belle was going to be okay even if I knew she was going to be in my head hahaha. 

I've added two more books to this series yay. I'm not ready to leave this family yet. 

Book 6: A Fiery Dalliance

Book 7: A Secret Ambition

Those ideas came to me over the weekend. I've had one of the names for the characters written down for a few weeks trying to figure out who he was going to be and it finally came to me. I'm excited for you to meet them :)

Vote and comment!!