“Well boys, looks like we got ourselves a new bidder out there.” The auctioneer quickly recovered himself and resumed. “That’s two hundred and twenty-five dollars, do I hear two hundred and thirty?” he said pointedly looking at the bidder in front of Bram. “Two hundred and thirty dollars, anyone?”
There was expectation in the air and a whiff of fear as the two hundred or so spectators waited, in gleeful anticipation, for the auctioneer’s gavel to fall and announce the owner of the most exotic property King’s Port had ever seen.
The body of the bidder seemed to quiver where he stood, his large hairy hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white against his skin. All at once he made a noise; it came from the back of his throat and was somewhere between a hiss and a growl. Then he swung out his massive arm, elbowing the unfortunate soul next to him in the throat, and strode slowly away, looking over his shoulder only once to fix his bulging eyes on Bram’s face, then he disappeared amongst the crowd of men.
Bram felt a flicker of fear at the hatred in the man’s eyes but he was immediately distracted from it by the sound of the auctioneer.
“...two hundred and twenty-five dollars going twice.” A pause, then, “Sold! To the man in the brown greatcoat.”
A cheer erupted from the crowd and Bram felt his back being slapped and his hands grabbed in congratulations. Shouts of “Go get ‘er boy!” and other lewd comments seemed to come from every side and Bram was overwhelmed by the magnitude of what had just happened.
Oblivious to Bram’s distress the crowd drove him forward to a table to the right of the platform where he was asked to hand over the money. His hands shook as he signed the property agreement. He felt a little light-headed at the thought of purchasing a human being. Feeling the lightness in the money pouch against his chest only served to remind him again that not only had he just purchased a person and was standing there waiting for the deed to a human being, but he had spent the entire sum of the church’s money to do it. How would he explain it all to his congregation? Would they simply throw him out of the pulpit, or hand him over to the sheriff to be charged with fraud? After all, he had organized the fund raiser for the bell, he had been placed in charge of buying it, they had trusted him with the money.
Bram started to lift his hand to massage his forehead when he felt it snatched out of the air and enveloped in the grip of the girl’s previous owner, Aiden Carney. In his other hand he felt the man pressing the deed and then clapping him on the back and congratulating him on his purchase.
As if from a distance Bram heard Carney speaking in his British accent and telling him how lucky he was to be the proud owner of such a splendid specimen of God’s handiwork. God’s handiwork? In Bram’s muddled state, he caught only that one phrase. It seemed incongruous that this horrid man who had stolen this poor girl from her homeland and then sold her to the highest bidder could refer to her as “God’s handiwork.”
The lunacy of it snapped Bram out of his stupor and he looked at the man for the first time. Carney, still vigorously clasping his hand, could not have looked less like a slave trader than Bram himself did. A short man with a large pot belly, Carney had a grip on Bram’s hand that was strong and firm. His smiling face, which could only truly be described as jolly, held an unexpected firmness. It was clear that this was a commander of men. The softness of Carney’s exterior did an excellent job of disguising the core of the inner man. Yet looking into Carney’s smiling blue eyes Bram felt that he could somehow see in to the depths of the man and it was as black as night and as evil as sin. An involuntary shiver ran through Bram’s body and he released Carney’s hand as fast as if he had just realized he was holding onto a rattlesnake. Mr. Carney didn’t appear to notice. It was obvious from the greedy, gleeful look in his eyes that he had received what he had expected for the girl, maybe even more. It also seemed he was happy to get her off his hands, because he hustled away from Bram and started shouting to the burly seamen to bring her out and hand her over to Mister Armstrong.
As Bram waited for the girl to be delivered to him, he considered fleeing. After all, he had effectively stopped her from being sold into prostitution. She was free now. Bram glanced over his shoulder to look for the fastest and most effective means of escape when the girl’s face flashed before his eyes.
Bram stood his ground. For better or for worse she was his responsibility now. If he were to leave her she’d most certainly be forced into prostitution, forced once again into the slavery from which Bram had momentarily spared her. Thea will know what to do with her, Bram thought and while he waited he kicked stones around the dock.
