“Chained!” Marsh roared.
At that Toby Lanyard finally raised his head, and nodded. “Mister Billy says I is a slave agin, never mind I got no freedom papers. He chains us all up when we ain’t workin’.”
Sour Billy Tipton reached behind him and pulled out his knife. “How’d you get loose?” he demanded.
“I broke his chains, Mister Tipton,” said a voice from above them. They all looked up. On top of the texas, Joshua York stood staring down at them. His white suit shone against the morning sun, and a gray cloak was rippling in the wind. “Now,” said York, “kindly let go of Captain Marsh.”
“It’s daylight out,” the stout young hand said, pointing at the sun with his oak cudgel. He sounded scared.
“You get yourself out of here,” Sour Billy Tipton said to York, his neck craned back awkwardly so he could see the interloper. “You try anything and I’m calling Mister Julian.”
Joshua York smiled. “Really?” he said, glancing at the sun. It was clearly visible now, a burning yellow eye amidst a blaze of red and orange clouds. “Do you imagine he’d come?”
Sour Billy’s tongue flicked nervously across his thin lips. “You don’t scare me none.” He hefted his knife. “It’s day and you’re all alone.”
“No he ain’t,”said Toby Lanyard. Toby’s hands had come out from behind his back. There was a meat cleaver in one of them and a big ragged-edged carving knife in the other. Sour Billy Tipton stared and took a step backward.
Abner Marsh glanced over his shoulder. Noseless was still squinting up at Joshua. His grip had loosened just a little. Marsh saw his chance. With all his strength he threw himself back into the giant, and Noseless stumbled and went down. Abner Marsh landed on top of him, all three hundred pounds, and the giant grunted like a cannonball had just caught him in the gut, and all the breath went out of him, and Marsh wrenched free his arm and rolled. He checked his roll barely in time—a knife sprung up quivering in the deck an inch in front of his face. Marsh swallowed hard, and then smiled. He yanked the blade free and got to his feet.
The man with the cudgel had taken two quick steps forward and thought better of it. Now he stepped back, and Joshua jumped quicker than Marsh could blink, landed behind the man, warded off a wild blow of the live oak club, and all of a sudden the heavy youth was on the deck, out cold. Marsh hadn’t even seen the blow that did it.
“Leave me alone!” Sour Billy said. He was retreating before Toby. He retreated right into Marsh, who grabbed him and spun him around and slammed him up against a door. “Don’t kill me!” Billy squealed. Marsh pressed an arm against his windpipe and leaned into him, pushing the knife up against Billy’s skinny ribs, over the heart. Those ice-colored eyes had gone wide and scared. “Don’t!” he choked.
“Why the hell not?”
“Abner!” warned Joshua, and Marsh glanced back just in time to see Noseless come surging to his feet. He made an animal noise and lunged forward, and then Toby moved faster than Marsh ever would have imagined, and the giant stumbled to his knees, choking on his own blood. Toby had made a single slash with that carving knife, and opened his throat for him. Blood came pouring out, and Noseless blinked his squinty little eyes and raised his hands up against his neck, as if to catch it as it fell. Finally he collapsed.
“That was not necessary, Toby,” Joshua York said quietly. “I could have stopped him.”
Gentle Toby Lanyard just frowned, holding his cleaver and the bloody knife. “I ain’t so good as you is, Cap’n York,” he said. He turned to Marsh and Sour Billy. “Cut him open, Cap’n Marsh,” he urged. “I bet you Mister Billy ain’t got no heart in dere.”
“Don’t, Abner. One killing is enough.”
Abner Marsh heard both of them. He shoved the knife forward just enough to prick through Billy’s shirt and start a little trickle of bleeding. “You like that?” Marsh asked. Sweat plastered Billy’s lank hair to his brow. “You like it good enough when you’re holdin’ the knife, don’t you?”
Billy choked on his reply, and Marsh let up the pressure on his skinny neck enough to let him talk. “Don’t kill me!” Billy said, his voice gone thin and shrill. “It ain’t my doing, it’s Julian, he makes me do them things. He’ll kill me if I don’t do like he tells me!”
“He kilt ol’ Hairy Mike, an’ Whitey, too,” Toby said, “an’ a mess o’ other folks. One man he burn up in the furnace, you could hear dat poor man screamin’ all over. Tole me I was a slave agin, Cap’n Marsh, and when I shows him my freedom papers he done rip ’em up an’ burn ’em. Cut him up, Cap’n.”
“He’s lyin’! Them are damn nigger lies!”
“Abner,” said Joshua, “let him go. You have his weapon, he’s harmless now. If you kill him like this, you’re no better than he is. He can help us, if anyone challenges us as we’re leaving. We still have to reach the yawl and get away.”
“Yawl,” said Abner Marsh. “To hell with the yawl. I’m takin’ my steamboat back.” He smiled at Sour Billy. “Billy here can get us in to Julian’s cabin, I reckon.”
Sour Billy swallowed hard. Marsh felt the lump of his Adam’s apple against his skin.
“If you attack Julian, you go alone,” Joshua said. “I will not help you.
Marsh craned his head around and stared at York in astonishment. “After all he done?”
All of a sudden Joshua looked awful weak and tired. “I cannot,” he whispered. “He is too strong, Abner. He is bloodmaster, he rules me. Even to dare this much goes against all the history of my people. He has bonded me to him a dozen times, forcing me to feed him with my blood. Each submission leaves me . . . weaker. More in his thrall. Abner, please understand. I could not do it. He would look at me with those eyes, and before I could take two steps I would be his. As likely as not it would be you I killed, not Julian.”
“Toby and me will do it then,” Marsh said.
“Abner, you would not have a chance. Listen to me. We can escape now. I’ve taken a great risk to save you. Do not throw it away.”
Marsh looked back at helpless Billy and thought on it. Maybe Joshua was right. Besides, his gun was gone now, they didn’t have nothing to hurt Julian with. Knives and meat cleavers sure wouldn’t do it, and Marsh wasn’t anxious to face Julian hand to hand. “We’ll go,” he said at last, “but after I kill this one.”
Sour Billy whimpered. “No,” he said. “Let me go, I’ll help you.” His pox-scarred face was moist. “It’s easy for you, with your damn fancy steamboat and all, I never had no choice, ain’t never had nothing, no family, no money, got to do like I’m told.”
“You ain’t the only one ever growed up poor,” Marsh said. “It ain’t no excuse. You made up your own goddamned mind to be like you are.” His hand was shaking. He wanted to shove the knife in so bad it hurt, but somehow he couldn’t, not like this. “Damn you,” Marsh said grudgingly. He let go of Billy’s throat and stepped backward, and Billy pitched forward to his knees. “Come on, you’re gettin’ us safe to that damn yawl.”
Toby made a sound of disgust, and Sour Billy eyed him warily. “Keep that damn nigger cook away from me! Him and that cleaver, you keep ’em away.”
“On your goddamn feet,” Marsh said. He looked over to Joshua, who was holding a hand against his forehead. “You all right?”
“The sun,” York said wearily. “We have to hurry.”
“Others,” said Marsh. “What about Karl Framm? He still alive?”
Joshua nodded, “Yes, and others, but we can’t free them all. We don’t have the time. This has taken too long as it is.”
Abner Marsh frowned. “Maybe so,” he said, “but I ain’t leaving without Mister Framm. Him and you are the only ones can pilot this steamer. If we take both of you, she’ll be stuck here, until we can come back.”
Joshua nodded. “He’s guarded. Billy, who is with Framm now?”
Sour Billy had struggled to his feet. “Valerie,” he said, and Marsh remembered that pale form and beckoning violet eyes, drawing h
im down into the darkness.
“Good,” said Joshua. “Hurry.” And then they were moving, Marsh keeping a wary eye on Sour Billy, Toby concealing his weapons within the folds and pockets of his coat. Framm’s cabin was up on the texas, but around on the far side of the boat. The window was curtained and shuttered, the door locked. Joshua shattered the lock with a single short blow of his hard white hand, and pushed it open. Marsh crowded in after him, pushing Sour Billy before him.
Framm was fully clothed, lying face down on the bed, dead to the world. But next to him a pale form sat up and stared at them from wide angry eyes. “Who . . . Joshua?” She rose from the bed swiftly. Her nightdress fell in white folds around her. “It’s day. What do you want?”
“Him,” said Joshua.
“It’s day,”Valerie insisted. Her eyes lingered on Marsh and Sour Billy. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving,” said Joshua York, “and Mister Framm is going with us.
Marsh told Toby to keep an eye on Billy, and went over to the bed. Karl Framm didn’t move. Marsh rolled him over. There were wounds on his neck, and dried blood on his shirt and his chin. He moved limply, heavily, and showed no signs of waking. But he was still breathing.
“The thirst was on me,” Valerie said, her voice small, looking from Marsh to York. “After the hunt . . . I had no choice . . . Damon gave him to me.”
“Is he still alive?” Joshua asked.
“Yes,” said Marsh. “We’ll have to carry him, though.” He stood up and gestured. “Toby, Billy, you take him down to the yawl.”
“Joshua, please,”Valerie pleaded. Standing there in her nightdress, she looked helpless and afraid. It was hard to see her the way she’d been on the Eli Reynolds, or imagine her drinking Framm’s blood. “When Damon finds him gone, he will punish me. Please, don’t.”
Joshua hesitated. “We must take him, Valerie.”
“Take me too, then!” she said. “Please.”
“It is day.”
“If you can risk it, I can. I’m strong. I’m not afraid.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Joshua insisted.
“If you leave me here, Damon will be certain I helped you,” Valerie said. “He’ll punish me. Haven’t I been punished enough? He hates me, Joshua . . . he hates me because I loved you. Help me. I don’t want it . . . the thirst. I don’t! Please, Joshua, let me come with you!”
Abner Marsh could see her fear, and all of a sudden she no longer seemed like one of them, only like a woman, a human woman begging for help. “Let her come, Joshua.”
“Dress, then,” Joshua York said. “Hurry. Wear some of Mister Framm’s clothing. It’s heavier than your own, and will cover more of your skin.”
“Yes,” she said. She slipped off the nightdress to reveal a slender white body, high full breasts, strong legs. From a drawer she got one of Framm’s shirts and buttoned it on. In barely a minute she was dressed; trousers, boots, vest and coat, a slouch hat. All of it was too big for her, but it didn’t seem to hinder her movement.
“C’mon,” Marsh snapped.
Billy and Toby carried Framm between them. The pilot was still unconscious, and his boots scraped along the deck as they hurried to the stair. Marsh came just behind them, his hand on the knife, which he kept shoved through his belt, concealed by the hang of his jacket. Valerie and Joshua brought up the rear.
The grand saloon was full of passengers, a few of whom eyed them curiously, but no one said anything. Down on the main deck, they had to step over sleeping deckhands, none of them men Marsh recognized. As they approached the sounding yawl, a couple of men moved toward them. “Where you goin’?” one demanded.
“None of your concern,” Sour Billy said. “We’re taking Framm here for some doctoring. Seems he ain’t feeling good. Both of you, now, help us get him into the yawl.”
One of the men hesitated, staring at Valerie and Joshua. Clearly it was the first time he’d seen either by day. “Does Julian know about this?” he said. Others were watching from all around the main deck, Marsh saw. He held the knife tightly, ready to slit Sour Billy’s goddamn throat if he said one wrong word.
“You giving me lip, Tim?” Billy asked coldly. “You better think of what happened to Alligator George, maybe. Now move your damn ass and do like I told you!”
Tim flinched and jumped to obey. Three others rushed to help him, and in no time at all the yawl was in the water alongside the steamer, and Karl Framm had been lowered into it. Joshua helped Valerie step across, and Toby hopped down after them. The deck was lined with curious hands now. Abner Marsh moved real close to Sour Billy Tipton and whispered, “You done real good so far. Now get into the yawl.”
Sour Billy looked at him. “You said you’d let me go,” he said.
“I lied,” Marsh said. “You’re stayin’ with us till we’re out of here.”
Sour Billy backed away. “No,” he said. “You’re just goin’ to kill me.” He raised his voice. “Stop them!” he shouted. “They had me prisoner, they’re running off, stop them!” He wrenched backward, out of Marsh’s reach. Marsh cussed and pulled loose the knife but it was too late, all the deckhands and rousters were moving toward him. A couple had knives of their own, he saw. “Kill him!” Sour Billy was yelling. “Get Julian, get help, kill them!”
Marsh grabbed the rope holding the yawl to the steamer, parted it with one swift stroke of the knife, and threw the blade at Billy’s yapping mouth. But it was a bad throw, and anyhow Sour Billy ducked. Someone grabbed Marsh’s jacket. He hit him hard across the face, and shoved him into the men behind him. The yawl was drifting with the current now. Marsh moved to step across before it went out of reach. Joshua was yelling for him to hurry, but somebody caught him around the throat and yanked him back. Abner Marsh kicked back furiously, but the man held on, and the yawl was getting farther away, downstream, Joshua was yelling, and Marsh thought he was done for. Then Toby Lanyard’s goddamn cleaver went whizzing by his ear, taking off a piece of it as it went, and the arm around his throat fell away as Marsh felt blood spatter his shoulder. He threw himself forward, towards the yawl, and made about half the distance, hitting the water heavily, belly first. It took all the breath out of him, and the cold was a shock. Abner Marsh flailed and thrashed and took in a mouthful of water and river mud before he surfaced. He saw the yawl drifting rapidly away, downstream, and paddled toward it. A rock or a knife or something splashed right alongside his head, and another fell a yard in front of him, but Toby had unshipped the oars and was slowing the boat a little, and Marsh reached it and threw an arm over the side. He nearly tipped the boat over trying to climb in, but Joshua had him, and he pulled, and before he knew it Marsh was lying on the bottom of the yawl, blowing out water. When he pulled himself up, they were twenty yards from the Fevre Dream, and moving off swiftly as the current got them firmly in its grasp. Sour Billy Tipton had gotten himself a pistol from somewhere, and was standing on the forecastle popping away at them, but he wasn’t hitting anything.
“Damn him,” Marsh said. “I should have killed him, Joshua.”
“If you had, we would never had gotten away.”
Marsh frowned. “Hell. Maybe. Maybe it would have been worth it anyway.” He looked around the yawl. Toby was rowing, looking like he badly needed help. Marsh took another oar. Karl Framm was still unconscious. Marsh wondered how much blood Valerie had taken. Valerie herself didn’t look so good. Huddled up in Framm’s clothing, his hat pulled low over her face, she looked like she was shrivelling in the light. Her pale skin already looked vaguely pinkish, and those big violet eyes seemed small and dim and pained. He wondered if they’d got away after all, as he slipped the oar into the water and put his back into it. His arm hurt, his ear was bleeding, and the sun was bright and rising.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
On the Mississippi River,
October 1857
Abner Marsh hadn’t rowed a sounding yawl in more than twenty years. With only him and Toby pulling, it was damne
d hard work, even going with the current. His arms and back were complaining fiercely within the half-hour. Marsh grunted and kept on rowing. The Fevre Dream was out of sight now, vanished behind them. The sun was creeping up the sky, and the river had grown very wide. It looked to be almost a mile across.
“It hurts,” Valerie said.
Joshua York said, “Cover yourself.”
“I’m burning,”she said. “I never thought it would be like this.” She looked up at the sun and shied away as if struck. Marsh was startled by the vivid redness of her face.
Joshua York started to move toward her, and stopped suddenly, looking unsteady. He put a hand up against his brow and took a slow deliberate breath. Then, carefully, he edged closer. “Sit in my shadow,” he said. “Pull down your hat.”
Valerie curled up in the bottom of the yawl, practically in Joshua’s lap. He reached down and straightened the collar of her jacket in an oddly tender manner, then rested his hand on the back of her head.
Down here, Marsh noted, the riverbanks were shorn of all timber but for an occasional row of ornamental saplings. Instead they saw carefully cultivated fields to either side, flat and endless, here and there interrupted by the splendor of a big Greek-Revival plantation house, its cupola overlooking the wide, tranquil river. Ahead on the western shore, a pile of smouldering bagasse, the refuse of sugarcane stalks, was sending up a column of acrid gray smoke. The pile was big as a house; the smoke spread in a shroud across the river. Marsh couldn’t see no flames. “Maybe we ought to put in,” he said to Joshua. “There’s plantations all around us.”
Joshua had closed his eyes. He opened them when Marsh spoke. “No,” he said. “We are too close. We must put more distance between us and them. Billy may be coming after us on foot along the shore, and when night falls . . .” He left the rest unsaid.
Abner Marsh grunted and rowed. Joshua closed his eyes again, and pulled his wide-brimmed white hat lower.
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