The Deepest Waters, A Novel (3 page)

The morning dragged on.

Time itself had slowed to where Laura could feel each minute pass. For the last several she’d watched a little girl try to gnaw the corner off of a biscuit. It made her grateful she’d lost her appetite.

“You don’t have to eat that thing,” Micah said to the girl, smiling.

“But I’m hungry.”

This broke the mother’s stare. She looked up from the deck at Micah. “I guess the cook isn’t used to making biscuits for so many,” she said. “Probably left them on too long.”

“Wish that were so,” said Micah. “They like that on purpose. Call it hardtack. I git the hard part, but not the tack part. Maybe ’cause it feel like tacks goin’ down.” He grinned, then leaned over and whispered, “Maybe one a’ you ladies can ask Captain Meade to give that cook Smitty a hand. Else you’ll be eatin’ like this all the way to New York.”

Laura smiled. It felt good to smile but somehow out of place.

“Just come to tell you ladies,” Micah said, “coffee’s ’bout ready, be a line right next to the one for biscuits.” He started to walk away, then turned and whispered to Laura. “Wanted to tell you fust. I make the coffee, and if you like coffee, you’ll like this.”

“Thank you, Micah.” Laura got up and followed him. The boat slid down a slight wave. She paused to steady her footing. Crabby emerged from somewhere and followed Micah, tail wagging.

Laura walked past a group of six men huddled off to the side, and fought a rush of resentment. They were the
Vandervere
men—the only
Vandervere
men—who’d survived. One looked at her, noticed her glaring, and quickly looked away.
You should look away.
She wished she had enough boldness to say what she really felt.

Why are you here . . . cowards, safe and sound, and my John is not?

She flashed back to an ugly scene that took place yesterday during the rescue. All day, small boats had rowed back and forth between the two ships, ferrying women and children to safety. The hurricane had passed, but the wind was still strong and the waves horrendous, mercilessly tossing the lifeboats about. Two hours on that lifeboat terrified her more than two days on the
Vandervere
battling the hurricane.

The wind and strong currents caused the ships to drift farther apart as each minute ticked by. By sunset, the gap between the ships had grown to four miles. Laura was the last woman to leave the
Vandervere
. She insisted she must stay with John. John and the captain pleaded with her.

John pulled her close. “Laura, you must go,” he said. “The captain won’t release the men until the last woman is safely away.”

“I can’t. What if they won’t release you? There are hundreds of men left. What if—”

He gently put his finger to her lips. “Laura, it’s in God’s hands. He brought us together. We must hope he’ll bring us together again.”

“Ma’am, there’s no more time,” yelled Lieutenant Ashcroft, a young officer on the lifeboat. “We must get underway.”

“Mrs. Foster,” the captain said gently. “Please.”

She looked the captain straight in the face. “Will you promise John will be on the next boat over?”

“I will do my best,” the captain said.

John and Laura hugged then kissed. A strong wave smashed against the ship, covering them in salt spray. The lifeboat rose and fell and banged against the side.

“Ma’am, please,” Ashcroft yelled. “We must go.”

She began to pull away. John handed her a black pouch. She knew what it was: all the gold they had saved for their trip. “Why are you giving me this?”

“Just take it, Laura. I’ll feel better if it’s with you.”

He led her to the rail’s edge. They quickly tied a rope around the bottom of her dress to keep it from blowing up as she lowered. Before taking her seat, the waves drenched her from top to bottom. She glanced at the others in the boat, about fifteen women and children. Three crew members manned the oars with the lieutenant. She sobbed uncontrollably as the little boat set off.

She turned back to watch John.

“I’ve written you a note, inside the pouch,” he yelled. “Don’t read it . . . unless you hear word that we—that we will not . . .” Tears poured down his cheeks. He looked away.

“John!” she screamed. “I must go back,” she said to Ashcroft.

“Mrs. Foster, that’s impossible.”

“John,” she shouted out again. “I love you.” The words hung a moment in the air then fell to the sea, already overcome by the wind and waves. She continued to watch him growing smaller. She waved constantly until a great commotion interrupted her. The lifeboat rocked back and forth. She thought it might tip over. Two men appeared in the water, one on each side. They grabbed the edge and each flung a leg over, trying to climb in.

“Hold on, what’s this?” a crew member yelled.

“You men get off,” shouted Ashcroft. “You’ll swamp the boat.” He grabbed one of their legs and threw it back over the side.

The man on the other side got in, knocking a mother against her little girl. Laura recognized him, a gambler who rarely left the card table in the saloon deck.

“Let me in,” the other man cried. “I can’t go back, I’ll drown.”

A crewman was about to smash his fingers with a board. “Wait,” said the lieutenant. “Bring him aboard. We’re too far out. He can’t make it back.”

“With respect, sir. We’re gonna reward him for jumping ship?”

“He just wants to live,” Ashcroft said. “That’s not a crime.”

“But sir, the lottery.”

“It’s too late for that,” said Ashcroft. Two crewmen helped him aboard.

“What does he mean about a lottery?” Laura asked.

“It’s nothing,” said Ashcroft.

“It’s not nothing,” said the gambler. “They spread word to the men of a lottery, to see who gets on the lifeboats after the women are off.”

“Shut up, Simons,” said Ashcroft.

“You do the odds, ladies. Four hundred men left, a rapidly sinking ship, twenty spots for each boat.” He turned and looked at the three other crewmen. “You men aren’t stupid. You know as well as I, this is the last boat going to the
Cutlass
.”

They all looked at Lieutenant Ashcroft.

“Ignore him,” he ordered. “Keep rowing or we’ll never close the gap.”

“That’s right,” the gambler said. “Keep rowing, men. But as you do, look at the sun. We might just get there before dark. I estimate two hours to close the distance. You think any more lifeboats will go out after dark? It would be suicide. I heard the captain say he didn’t think the
Vandervere
would last past midnight.”

The women all looked at Ashcroft. “Lieutenant,” one of them said. “Tell us it’s not true.”

“Please, ladies. I have every intention of turning this boat around as soon as you are safely aboard the
Cutlass
.”

“Ah . . . intentions,” said the gambler. “A wonderful thing—”

Ashcroft struck him in the mouth, knocking Simons over. “I told you to shut up!”

After righting himself, Simons had rubbed his jaw and said, “Guess that proves my point.”

Lieutenant Ashcroft had apologized for his outburst and kept assuring the women they would most certainly be going back for the men.

Laura held up her tin cup, and Micah filled it to the brim with hot coffee. Quickly a line of women formed behind her. She turned and walked past the gambler Simons, standing next to Lieutenant Ashcroft. It was odd seeing them together.

Last evening, when they finally had arrived at the
Cutlass
, things went exactly as the gambler had said. It was almost completely dark. The lieutenant had argued valiantly, pleading for the crewmen to return with him to the
Vandervere
. None would; they all just looked away. Several women had even offered to pay the men large sums of gold.

Finally, Captain Meade of the
Cutlass
intervened. “Lieutenant,” he’d said. “Please climb aboard. All has been done that can be done. There’s no hope of finding the
Vandervere
in conditions like these. You must see that. You’ve done your duty. It’s in God’s hands now.”

Reluctantly, Ashcroft had conceded.

Laura set the cup of coffee down on a wooden barrel and reached for the black pouch John had given her, tied now to her belt.

His note was inside.

She desperately wanted to read it, if only to hear his words alive in her mind once more. But she dreaded what the words might say, what reading them now would mean. She wasn’t ready. She reached for the metal cup instead.

Like a gull eyes a fish, the eyes of Ayden Maul fixed on a black pouch tied to a woman’s belt. She was drinking a cup of coffee. He knew the pouch was full of gold.

Maul stood on a rope ladder halfway up the mainmast, with a keen view of all the ship’s guests below. A pathetic-looking lot. One would never imagine the wealth they had brought aboard this ship. From what he’d seen, her pouch was just about average.

When the rescue operation began yesterday, no one knew who these people were or where they’d come from. Best he could tell, he was the only one that cared now. Bunch of stinking churchgoers and Bible readers on this
Cutlass
crew. This was Maul’s first voyage among them, so of course they’d given him the worst jobs and dirtiest chores. Treated him barely better than that old Negro slave. When he’d been hired, Captain Meade gave him this talk about how he was giving him a chance to better himself. “Ayden,” he’d said, “you show me you’re worthy, and I’ll consider a better wage for you our next time out.”

Maul already had a better wage in mind for this time out.

He didn’t see himself on this ship one day past New York harbor. He’d been small-talking these ladies a bit, pretending to care. They were all from San Francisco or thereabouts. The ones who’d struck it rich in the gold rush. He’d heard there was so much gold floating around up there they didn’t even use paper money. Men bought shots of whiskey with a pinch of gold dust.

These ladies and their husbands were all on that steamship, heading back East to show off. That’s not how they put it, but it’s what he knew. All those men going down on that steamship yesterday would have given their women the last of their gold when they parted.

Like that little black pouch on that woman down there. Maul hadn’t figured it out yet, but the right idea would come. Before they reached New York, he’d have enough gold so he’d never have to work again.

“Hey, Maul.” He looked down. It was Maylor, the captain’s first mate. “You ain’t getting paid to stand there. Tie off that line and get down here. The decks need scrubbing.”

“Aye, sir,” he said.

It wouldn’t be long now.

“You need to go right back down that hatch and change.”

“Why?”

“You look absolutely ridiculous.”

“It’s only for today, until my clothes dry out. Captain Meade told the crew to let us borrow their extra clothes.”

Laura looked over her shoulder at a young woman and her mother. She tried to remember their names but couldn’t. The young girl did look ridiculous. She wore a tan shirt with puffy sleeves, several sizes too big.

“Those pants,” the mother said. “You’re wearing pants . . . oh, Sarah.”

“I couldn’t come out in just a shirt, Mother.”

“What would your father—?”

The mother’s expression froze as the realization sunk in. Her father wouldn’t say anything. He was gone. The mother’s eyes slowly dropped to the deck. Laura glanced at the daughter. She ran and fell at her mother’s feet, crying. The mother put her arms around her shoulders.

Laura quickly walked away. But from scenes like this, there was no relief.

It was midday. The sun was shining high overhead. A cooling breeze blew across the deck. Bright clouds accented the brilliant blue sky and brought out the deep sapphire blues in the sea. Laura saw these things and knew they should affect her, but they did not. A collective heaviness cast a gray pall over every corner of the ship. It hung in the air like a thick fog from which no one could escape.

She walked toward the bow and found an open spot near the railing. The bottom half was solid and did a fair job of blocking the wind. She sat down, pulled her knees close, and slid her shawl up over her head. It was the closest thing to being alone.

“Lord,” she whispered as quietly as she could. “I’m just . . . I’m so sad. I can’t think, I can’t feel. Now I have no one. I don’t understand. Why did you give me John? I was already used to being alone.”

She felt the ship move forward beneath her, heard the gentle splashes as the bow cut through the waves. She knew the
Cutlass
was on course for New York. Before Captain Meade went below, he had announced something about the winds being favorable today and how they were making good speed.

But even if the ship should double or triple its speed . . . it wasn’t taking her anywhere she cared to go.

Laura was awakened by a sniffing sound. She didn’t even remember falling asleep. She pulled the shawl off her head and looked into Crabby’s smiling face. The dog took a few steps back and sat. She had something between her teeth. “What you got there, girl?” She reached out to pet her head.

“Something I made for her,” Micah said from off to the side.

Laura looked up. He was rolling up a long stretch of rope. “It looks kind of like a crab,” she said.

“What I was aimin’ for. Made a’ cloth and stuffin’. She wants you to throw it, and she’ll fetch it back.”

Laura reached for the toy. “Will she let go?”

“Not till you wrestle it a few minutes. She’ll growl, but it’s a happy one. You’re the only lady on the ship she come to. I seen her sitting there right next to you, ’bout the last thirty minutes. Guess she got tired of waitin’ on you to wake up.”

Laura tossed the crab down to the lower part of the main deck. It didn’t go far but slid a few feet more. Crabby took off. She lunged for it but slipped past it. Her body spun around and slid right into a bucket full of soapy water, knocking it over. A crewman had been sitting beside it, using it to scrub the deck. The water spilled all over his pants. He slammed his scrub brush down and stood up.

“Stupid dog,” he yelled, loud enough to turn every head in his direction. “Had about enough of you and your stupid foolishness. Come here.”

Crabby reacted to the man, cowering in fear.

The man reached over and with one hand grabbed her by the nape of her neck. He slung her back, ready to throw her over the side.

The next moment shocked everyone.

Laura had never seen a man move so fast. Just like that, and Micah was right beside him. He grabbed the crewman’s arm, froze it in place, then swung his leg around in a motion that swept the crewman’s feet out from under him. He crashed to the deck and let out a loud moan. Crabby ran off and hid behind Micah.

The man rolled over, looked up at Micah with eyes full of hate. “Why, you stinking black savage. I’ll teach you to lay a hand on me.”

Micah instantly retreated to the submissive posture Laura had seen previously. “I’s only tryin’ to keep you from makin’ a big mistake, suh,” he said. “Can’t be throwin’ Crabby over the side like that. Cap’n wouldn’t want that.”

The crewman ignored him and reached for a leather strap hanging nearby on a nail. He swung it around and whipped Micah over and over. Laura screamed for him to stop. Women and children throughout the deck yelled at him to stop, but he kept beating him. Micah fell to the deck, covered his face with his hands. Crabby charged at the man, but he kicked her to the side, then whipped her too.

Laura hurried toward the scene, not sure what to do. Just then she saw a man lunge forward and grab hold of the crewman’s hand, the one holding the strap. “Hit that man again, and I’ll wrap this strap around your neck,” he said.

As she got closer, she saw it was Lieutenant Ashcroft, from the
Vandervere
.

“Take your hand off me,” the crewman shouted.

Instead, Ashcroft moved his face within a handsbreadth of the man. “I don’t know if Captain Meade believes in flogging, but you say another word and I’ll flog you myself to within an inch of your life.”

The crewman’s face broke, his anger suddenly dissolved. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Didn’t recognize you without your uniform.” He let the strap fall to the deck and stepped back.

“What’s going on here?” Captain Meade yelled as he made his way to the main deck. Everyone backed away and made room. “Lieutenant? Maul? What’s all this about?” He looked down at Micah, saw the welts on his face and arms. Micah got up.

Several women shouted their renditions, filling the deck with noise and confusion.

“Silence, ladies, if you please,” the captain said over it all. They instantly obeyed.

“I was just teaching this slave here a lesson,” said the crewman.

“You were beating him senseless,” Ashcroft said.

“What did he do?” asked the captain. “One at a time, gentlemen. Starting with you, Lieutenant.”

“Sir, I didn’t actually see what the slave did, just saw your Mr. Maul here whipping him with that strap.”

“Beg your pardon, Captain, but this slave here grabbed my arm and threw me to the deck.”

“What?” Captain Meade asked. He looked at Micah, standing now. “I find that hard to believe.”

Laura couldn’t stand by any longer. “Captain, I beg your pardon, but I saw the whole thing.”

“I’m not finished,” Maul said.

Captain Meade looked at Micah. Laura saw something like compassion in his eyes. “Go on, miss . . .”

“My name is Laura,
Mrs
. Laura Foster.” She explained in a few sentences what really happened.

The captain shook his head as he understood. “Maul, you had no cause to whip him like that. He’s not your slave, and you are the lowest ranking man on the crew. And Micah, I can’t have you striking the crew, no matter what. Do you understand? You could have asked one of the other men to intervene.”

Micah nodded. “Cap’n, may I say somethin’?”

“What?”

“I meant no harm to Missuh Maul here. I truly didn’t. But there weren’t time. He had Crabby in his hand, another second he’d a’ flung her over that rail. Rate we be movin,’ she’d be a goner for sure.”

Laura remembered what Micah had said about the captain liking Crabby too.

He turned to Maul, a stern look in his eyes. “Mr. Maul. I’m only going to say this once. You are new on this crew so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt.” He bent down and looked at Crabby hiding behind Micah’s legs. He put his hand out, and she ran right to him, her tail wagging furiously. “Crabby here is under my protection.”

“Yes, sir,” said Maul.

“I don’t care what she does that you don’t like, don’t you ever lay a hand on her or Micah again. Are we clear?”

Maul looked at Micah then down at Crabby, his hatred still present but subdued. “I understand, Captain. Won’t happen again, sir.”

“My apologies, ladies,” the captain announced, standing to his feet. “A bit of misunderstanding here, is all. Sorry to have disturbed your peace. I’ve been informed that dinner will be served in about one hour. While I have your attention, I might as well inform you . . . we are running low on provisions. As I said, we will share with you whatever we have, but I had no way of knowing how much it would take to feed over a hundred mouths a day. Our cook tells me if we don’t go to half rations, we’ll run out a day or so before reaching New York. So . . .” He smiled ever so slightly. “I regret to say, not only will the food be terrible, but there will be less of it.”

Everyone laughed. The comment seemed to sweep away the tension on deck.

For everyone, Laura observed, except Mr. Maul. He bent over and picked up his bucket. As he stood, he gave her a wicked hateful stare.