by Peter Troy
It’s about Satan’s fall from Heaven, Ethan answered, his heartbeat beginning to slow from its previously agitated state.
Oh, like in de Bible, the man replied. I have read de Bible sometimes.
Me too.
What is your name, young man? he asked.
Ethan tried to respond in a firm and confident manner, but then, when the man said E-tan? in response, it sounded a little like the way his Mam’d drop just enough of the ‘h’ so you’d hardly know it was missing. It was a harsher sound coming from the man, but Ethan didn’t want to correct him.
I am Suah … Soo-ah, the man replied and extended his hand, which Ethan shook, feelin’ his own hand disappear inside it while he did.
Dis is my favorite place on de ship too, next to up dere, Suah added, pointin’ to the small platform atop the mainmast. I let you go back to reading now, dis storm last two, t’ree days at least, so you must make today last.
Just as the man’d said, rain and chilly wind kept nearly everyone but the crew from walking on deck for the next three days, until, on the mornin’ of the fourth day, it passed completely and a warm sun began to emerge from behind them in the east. But the storm had taken its toll on them all. Several people below had the fever, and the worst news of all was that they hadn’t made even a single day’s progress in the last three. When the hour above came that day, Ethan carried Paradise Lost with him again, wondering if maybe he’d see the African Suah, who had grown in stature in Ethan’s eyes, the way he’d predicted the storm would linger just as long as it had. He went right to his reading spot, leanin’ against the wet ropes, and letting himself become transported into Milton’s world of the Archangels and the Son of God and battles and eternal damnation.
So … more of Paradise, the familiar voice of Suah bellowed from behind him, just a few minutes after he’d settled into place. How did you like dat storm, Etan?
You were right, Ethan replied with a smile, becomin’ more comfortable with the man’s gentle nature, despite his dark-as-night skin and giant arms.
Yes. I know dis sea, the man said, sitting on a barrel next to Ethan. I first cross it when I was smaller dan you and de Spaniards take me from my home in Africa to Coo-bah. I work in da sugar fields until I am almost a man, and den I run off and hide on anudder ship an’ cross da sea again. Dis is fifteen times for me crossing dis Atlantic. Someday I will go back home.
Just like Odysseus, Ethan said, as if his previous assumptions had been proven correct.
Like how? Suah asked.
And Ethan spent the next half hour telling him all about the who, not the how, which was Odysseus, and the man who’d lived his favorite story ever. Then he learned more about Suah, who seemed happy to have at least one person on the ship to talk to, considering the way most of the passengers and crew steered clear of him, as far as Ethan could tell. Suah told him of how he’d learned to read from a man who used to work on this ship, and he even asked Ethan to see his book, readin’ a few lines aloud as a manner of proof. When he handed it back, Ethan read a little out loud, then passed it back to Suah again to read a few more stanzas, and so on it went for much of what was left of that hour. Suah sometimes needed help with the words, which made Ethan feel good, havin’ the chance to be the teacher rather than the student as he’d always been with Aislinn. And he forgot all about Mrs. Quigley and the supper and the washin’ until the call for them to return belowdecks reminded him how hungry he was. It was as if Suah understood what Ethan had missed, and reached into the pouch on the side of his shirt and handed Ethan a large chunk of bread.
I am sorry you miss your food, he said, nodding for Ethan to take all of it and not just the small piece he’d torn from it.
Will you be here tomorrow? Ethan asked.
I will. I have de night watch up above for some time, Suah replied.
I’ll bring The Odyssey wit’ me. I think you’ll like it better’n Paradise Lost.
It is your favorite one you say?
Yes, Ethan said as he chewed.
Den I will like to see it Etan. I will like to read of dis man you say travel de sea for more years dan I have … O-dish-is, he said.
THE FEVER’S SUNK ITS TEETH into the passenger bay before the fourth Sunday arrives, and Ethan sticks to his countin’ rather than listen to the moaning from the worst ones. It works pretty well until they move all the sick passengers to the stern right next to Ethan and the Quigleys, who get to slide closer to the bow. There’s at least a trickle of light there but still not enough to read by, and Ethan doesn’t much like this word quarantine everyone’s talking about, which best as he can tell is a way of marking off the ones gettin’ ready to die from the ones who aren’t.
By the time the thirtieth day of the voyage arrives, his count of people who’ll never make it to America is up to five, and the hour above becomes more of a refuge each day, as much for the chance to read with Suah as to escape the dreariness of the cargo bay. Suah generally brings some salted fish or pieces of bread, which he offers to share with Ethan, but mostly he lets Ethan eat all of it. After the first two days, Ethan feels guilty about the food since the Quigleys don’t get any of it, but Suah tells him they’d want it this way, too.
Then Mr. Quigley doesn’t wake up on their thirty-fifth day at sea. Ethan climbs down from the upper bunk that mornin’ to use the necessary, and there he is, eyes opened and staring at the bunk above him, but not a breath to be heard from him, as Mrs. Quigley sniffles back the water runnin’ down her face from her eyes and nose. He’s been sick but didn’t want to let on and get moved a few feet over to the quarantine section with the people gettin’ ready to die. And now it’ll be over the side of the boat with him, and a mention in the Father’s sermon on Sunday.
Later that day, when the crewman comes down to tell them their time above has come, Ethan tries to rouse Mrs. Quigley, who’s been lyin’ quiet in her bunk since her husband was tossed into the ocean that mornin’. When he walks around to face her, he sees the same blank stare that’d been on his mother’s face on the docks in Liverpool, and he understands now that it must be the look of a woman who’s seen her whole family disappear before her own eyes. She says nothing to him but touches the back of his hand as it rests on her shoulder, then rolls over to her other side, leavin’ Ethan to walk up to the top deck alone.
One of the crewmen says that they’d spotted a fishing vessel in the mornin’ and that means they can’t be too far from land. It’s enough to cheer Ethan a little despite the death of Mr. Quigley and the fact that Suah’s been shifted to the day watch atop the mainmast again, which means they can’t read together anymore. When it’s time to go below, Ethan hopes that the news might encourage Mrs. Quigley, but as he approaches the top of the stairway, Suah grabs his arm.
I need de boy to help me, he says to the crewman conducting the passengers back belowdecks. He leads Ethan all the way to the bow of the ship and places him into a vacant storage space behind the captain’s quarters.
Stay here Etan, Suah says. It is important dat you do not move until I come back.
Ethan settles in amidst a pile of ropes tied to the rear anchor, afraid for the first time since they boarded the ship, wondering why Suah needs his help, then hopin’ it’ll somehow involve climbing to the top of the mainmast. It’s dark before Suah returns and hands Ethan a piece of salted fish and some soft rice. Ethan swallows it down in less than a minute, licking his palms to get any final morsels, and then Suah quietly leads him across the poorly lit deck to a compartment behind the storage cabin.
You will stay here my friend, he says to Ethan, and opens the wooden flap. Stay here Etan, and do not leave until I come to see you again.
Ethan hesitates, finally asking, What d’ya need me to help you wit’, Suah?
Dis right here. I need you to stay here and not to come out unless I say it is safe.
He pats him on the head and it’s not much reassurance, but Ethan follows his orders, slidin’ himself in between the wooden barrels s
tored there. He can feel that they’re empty, but the smell makes it clear that they’d held supplies of salted fish. A few minutes later the flap opens again and Suah hands him two empty sacks made of very coarse fibers.
Stay warm wit’ dese Etan, he whispers. I will return tomorrow.
Ethan passes a mostly sleepless night and finally dozes off when daylight comes, and he’s able to read himself to sleep by the sunlight seeping through the cracks. It isn’t until midday, when the passengers from belowdecks are brought up for their hour above, that Suah finally returns. He brings him two more handfuls of food—more than Ethan had on a typical day throughout the trip—and pretends to move the barrels around as Ethan eats it. When he stands up, an excruciating tingle runs down the insides of both of Ethan’s legs, and it takes a few minutes before the feeling begins to return to them. He tells Suah he wants to go below to check on Mrs. Quigley, but Suah only shakes his head.
It is very bad down dere Etan, he tells him. Many people are sick with de fever. Dis is why I keep you here.
But Ethan feels all the more certain that he should go and look after Mrs. Quigley then, and he begins to step out of the storage compartment to do just that. Suah grabs hold of both of Ethan’s shoulders and bends down enough to be just a foot or so from Ethan’s face. There is no familiar smile to ease the sharpness of his jawline or the intimidation of his dark-eyed stare, and Ethan immediately knows that this is not a matter to be negotiated.
You go an’ walk around up here for a little while, Suah says, but do not go down dere again. It is how de woman—Misses …
Quigley, Ethan says.
Yes … it is how she will want it.
So it’s back into the storage compartment, where two more nights pass in the same manner. Aside from the cramped space, Ethan’s life is actually better here than it’d been below. He has more to eat, what with Suah slippin’ him food twice a day, and he’s able to read for as many hours as the sun is up. But he becomes very lonely by the third day, and when Suah insists he stay there for what should be the final night of the voyage, Ethan begins to expect the worst.
Did more people die? he asks.
Suah shakes his head, but he’s not a good liar and Ethan presses him for the truth.
Some, is all he concedes.
Mrs. Quigley? Is she one o’ dem?
Suah shakes his head again, more convincingly it seems, and Ethan’s relieved. He resumes his position for another evening amidst the smelly fish barrels, and Suah promises that this will be the last night. It’s dawn the next day when a crewman opens the storage bin and is startled to see Ethan.
Get outta there ya little shit, he says. Doncha wanna see America?
Strugglin’ to stand up, he looks around and sees the passengers from above deck staring out across the water toward the brown mass on the horizon. It’s the first time in weeks that he’s seen anything in any direction except ocean. Less than an hour later the people from the lower levels begin to make their way to the main deck, with the crew saying that they’ll be docking that afternoon and they’ll have to get the stink off ’em if you’re to be let into America, haha. Ethan looks around for Mrs. Quigley, figuring she must’ve worried terribly about him. He wants to make sure that she knows he’s all right, that she hasn’t lost another one. But when he doesn’t see her with the people who are already above deck, he’s soon a fish swimming against the stream making his way past the crowd still climbin’ the stairs. She’s nowhere to be found.
She’s gone lad, Donnegan says from across the aisle. Sure she’ll be happy t’see her family once again.
And Ethan wants to explode at the old man with a fury of swears and fists to punish him for the way he cursed them all by calling this a Coffin Ship in the first place. But he can’t do that.
How many doyed? is all he manages to ask.
Dere’s been a few each day since you wandered off, Donnegan says, shakin’ his head. She went yesterday mahrnin’, den t’ree more last night make it noineteen b’my count.
The Lord Sussex eventually docks at a pier that looks as if it’s equipped for ships about half its size. The crewmen arrange the passengers into several rows across the length of the deck with the sickest or weakest-looking passengers all in the center, the strongest on the outside. It’s mostly the passengers who’d had the tiny cabins above deck standing on the outside, and Ethan stands in the second row between them and the sickly-looking people who are squeezed into the middle of the pack. Behind him two men are talking about the Captain and the First Mate, who disembarked just a few minutes before. They go on about bribes and quarantines and how they’re worried about whether they’ll be allowed in the country what with all the dead from the trip. Ethan can’t help but hear it, but his mind is clouded with sadness for Mrs. Quigley and now resentment toward Suah for keepin’ him above deck and not letting him do anything to save her. Then the Captain and First Mate walk out of the small building with another man, who wears a uniform and has a wooden slate in his hands with a large parchment against it.
Move them along, quickly and orderly, the Captain calls to his crew, and at once the mob begins to move. One hundred ninety-five of ’em, he says to the port official. Within the regulations, and all of ’em fine and healthy.
They pass the official who stands with arms folded as if assessing the passengers for fitness. But when Ethan walks by he notices that the official stares at a point halfway up the mainmast, not lookin’ at a single passenger as they set foot in their new country. The disembarkation is completed with great haste, as if covering a wrongdoing quickly before anyone notices. Members of the crew even help the frailest carry their possessions off the ship, and in a matter of minutes the pier goes from nearly empty to swarming with a hundred ninety-five people and all their worldly possessions. And as Ethan steps off the gangway and onto the dock, he is filled with more thoughts and emotions than he can keep track of all at once. He looks back at the ship to see if maybe Suah is there on deck or atop the mainmast, forgetting about his anger of just a few moments before and hoping his friend can give him some direction on where to go. But there is no sign of him, and he is pulled along with the crowd of people for a while until he walks out on an adjacent empty dock to figure out what to do next.
He’s become so accustomed to being on his own that he almost forgets to look for his Da and brother Seanny, who Mam had written to before they left for Newry. But now, remembering, he can’t imagine finding them in all this mess of people. Boys not much older than Ethan swarm the docks, grabbing people’s bags and runnin’ off with them. When they’ve run far enough away so that the tired and hungry men stop chasing them, the thieves rifle through the bags and toss aside the books or clothes or trinkets that are of no value to them, pocketing little bits of jewelry and whatever money they find. Determined that they won’t do the same thing to him, Ethan takes out his books and the few clothes he has in his satchel, and spreads them out separately along the bit of pier that he occupies. When one of the boys approaches him and sees Ethan’s feeble possessions laid out before him, he curses at him and then turns toward another victim.
Within the first hour, most of those off the ship venture one way or another into the giant city before them, and the vultures leave right along with them. But there is still no sign of his Da or Seanny, just an endless stream of buildings as tall as anything he’s seen in his life. And he decides to wait for a while longer before venturing out into it in search of the place called Brooklyn, where his Da’s last letter said he and Seanny now live.
When the crewmen from the Lord Sussex begin to dump the few remaining pieces of rotted fish and salted pork into the harbor, Ethan almost instinctively jumps in to salvage what he can, but the seagulls quickly swarm in before he can act. And he can’t help but feel that New York, that all of America will be like this, swarms of people and young boys and seagulls even, waiting to grab whatever they can before anyone else has the chance. Life here, he thinks, will be faster than anything
he’d known along the Lane back home.
Two even shifts now, the Captain calls out to his men from over on the deck of the Lord Sussex. You have three hours each shift, then back on the ship to clean the resta this filth! Get a bath, a meal, whatever you will, but if you’re past the time of your shift, don’t expect to be paid the resta your wages.
Some of the crewmen walk down the gangway, Suah among them, and Ethan’s happy to see his friend again. Amidst such spectacle, he forgets for a moment about how angry he was just a little while ago that Suah hadn’t told him about Mrs. Quigley and the fever. He waves to him as soon as he’s off the gangway, and Suah smiles and walks over to the pier where Ethan is seated.
There you are Etan, he says, apparently unaware that Ethan would have any reason to be angry with him. I worry about you dis morning but I was up above and could not see you.
But quickly comforted by his friend’s presence, Ethan remembers to be mad again.
Mrs. Quigley doyed, he offers, as if confronting Suah with the truth. You said she was okay, an’ then when I went below today, I found out she doyed yesterday mahrnin’.
Suah just shakes his head and then says, Yes, I am sorry that she dies, Etan. When I see her last she is very sick and I think she will not make it. I am sorry for your loss.
It doesn’t seem like much of an explanation, and as Suah asks Ethan about his brother and Da, and explains that the passenger ships coming into New York land on the other side of the island, which is probably where they’ve gone to look for him, Ethan is listenin’ only halfway at best. They will come to find him soon, he assures him, but Ethan’s not ready to believe another one of Suah’s promises.
Well, dis is not a good place for a young boy just new to de country, Suah says, and sits down beside Ethan. I will wait wit’ you Etan, and if dey do not come today, I will hide you away back on de ship for de night and we will find dem before de ship leave in t’ree days. But first … he says, then leaves off as he stands back up and signals to Ethan to wait right there.
