Soon, a lookout gave the cry, “Sail to windward!”
Sailors climbed onto the rails, pushing for a view.
The captain hurried out of his cabin and up to the fo’c’sle. “Lookout, what’s the status of the ship?”
“Approaching larboard, sir,” came the faint response.
The captain took out his spyglass. “’Tis a slaver,” he said to Mr. Pocock and Bairn as he peered through the spyglass. “Mr. Pocock, furl the sails and slow the ship in the event that the captain of the slaver requires assistance. But if not, I do not desire a speak-to. I’ll be in my cabin.” He handed the spyglass to Bairn and strode back to his cabin.
Mr. Pocock glanced uncomfortably at Bairn. “My gout’s been acting up. If you don’t mind . . .” He handed the speaking trumpet to Bairn and hobbled away to the officers’ quarters. Bairn was left to act on behalf of the officers with the slave ship.
Seamen gathered to the larboard side to watch the approaching ship. Even the most hardened sailors were silent, mouths covered with their kerchiefs. The stench from the slave ship sucked the air from Bairn’s lungs and he wished for a cloth to mask the odor, but dared not. He felt he must look the part of the officer. When the sails were furled and the ship slowed, he steadied the powerful spyglass on the edge of the foretop to take a closer look at the slave ship. He felt a tug at his elbow and turned to see Felix.
“Have I nae told you to ne’er come up on the fo’c’sle deck without permission?”
“I vant to see.”
Bairn’s gaze swept the deck to make sure the captain and first mate were nowhere in sight. “Have you ever seen a slave ship?”
“No.”
Anna appeared at the bottom of the ladder, scrunching her nose. “Felix!”
“He’s here, Anna, looking through the spyglass. Come on up. You can rest assured that the captain won’t be comin’ out of his cabin until we’ve long passed the slave ship.”
“A slave ship?” Tentatively, Anna climbed the ladder and joined them. “Is that what the smell is?”
Bairn nodded. “Aye, and ’tis windward, so we’re gettin’ a full dose with what wind we have.” Though cold, there was a stifling absence of air. “It’s not so unusual to see them in the summer months. They come from the south, from the western coast of Africa.”
Anna stood at the railing. “Where is it going?”
“Possibly t’the Caribbean islands. But this one is west and quite far north, so mayhap ’tis headin’ to the southern colonies.”
“Can I see slaves?” Felix asked.
Anna gave him a sharp look.
Bairn adjusted the spyglass for the boy to peer through. “’Tis not a pleasant sight, laddie. Hell has taken up residence on earth. This one is ridin’ low in the water. My guess is it must have five or six hundred Africans on board.” Then he went silent.
Fascinated, Felix peered through the scope. “Vhat are they throwing in the vater?”
Bairn didn’t bother to look. “Dead Africans,” he said stiffly. “They throw over the day’s dead.”
“But . . . some are still moving.”
Bairn kept his eyes averted. “And those who are near dead.”
The closer the ship got, the stronger the smell, the more horrific the sight. Soon the ship was close enough that they could see the faces of the slaves—gaunt, hopeless. Most were naked. The slaver’s crew poured buckets of salt water over them.
Felix lowered the spyglass and looked at Bairn with troubled eyes. “Vhy do dey not get up?”
“Because they are in chains.”
He caught the pitiful wince in Anna’s eyes as they flickered straight down to the jagged raised scars on his ankles, bared from his boots after climbing the ratlines this morning to fasten a mooring to a spar. He hadn’t thought to put them back on. He knew what was running through that quick mind of hers: Was he once someone’s slave?
“I did not know that human beings could do such a thing to each other,” Anna whispered, tears running down her face. “How do they bear it?”
He lifted his gaze back to her face. “Where is your just and loving God now, Anna?”
She spun on him, eyes flashing sparks at him. “God? You think this is God’s handiwork? You blame God for this tragedy? This is not God’s doing. This is the Devil’s deed!”
The slave ship was approaching, drifting westward. The captain of the slave ship shouted out, “Ahoy! We are low on water. Have you any to spare?”
Bairn sent Johnny Reed to the Great Cabin to ask the captain for permission to release some barrels of casked water to the slaver. Back came a prompt and terse reply: “Nay.”
Bairn’s eyes closed, then he picked up the speaking trumpet. “We have no water to spare.” Silently, he added, May God forgive me. He kept his head down.
Anna stood right next to him. “But what will they do without water?”
“Most likely, they will reduce their cargo.”
“What does that mean?”
“They will start winnowin’ the cargo.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
He turned to face her, angry for what she was making him say. “They will chain a group of Africans together and shove them overboard, one by one.” He pointed to the slave ship. “As they are doin’ now.”
She gripped her elbows, hugging herself as if she felt a sudden chill. “To die.”
“Of course! ’Tis a more merciful death for the cargo than dehydration.” He had heard recently of a slaver that started with six hundred Africans and reached port with only two hundred.
“They’re not cargo.” Anna’s voice trembled as she spoke. “They’re human beings.”
Bairn stiffened. “Slavery ’tis the backbone of the British empire.” And a lucrative trade for the captain and investors. He defended it, but in truth the practice sickened him, especially conditions on a ship like this one.
“If they need water, why can’t you give them water?”
“Because we have a responsibility to our own ship first. The passengers and the crew. That is the captain’s orders and captain’s orders are law.”
She stared at him. “Felix, geh un holl mir Christian. Aa Levi Wenger. Yetz!”
Felix hopped off the fo’c’sle deck, ran along the upper deck, disappeared into the lower deck, and returned in a moment, dragging Christian and the Mennonite minister Levi Wenger along with him. Anna met them at the ladder and spoke rapidly to them. Christian’s face went blank, then he climbed up on the fo’c’sle deck and took the spyglass from Bairn to peer at the slave ship. Slowly, he lowered the spyglass and passed it to Levi Wenger. Then the two men spoke together in quiet voices.
“Geb ihnen unser Wasser,” Christian said.
Bairn looked at Anna, stunned.
“He wants you to give them our water.”
“I cannae do that. The captain wouldn’t allow it.”
“Not the crew’s water. Just the passengers’.”
Bairn shook his head. “You don’t know what yer asking. We’re already running low on water. I cannae allow that.”
Christian and Anna exchanged a look. “Would you ask the captain?” she said.
Curious Germans emerged from the mustiness and the dankness of the lower deck, blinked warily, and looked about for the source of the smell.
Bairn blew a puff of air out of his cheeks. “I will ask the captain. And he will say no.” He crossed the deck to the Great Cabin in three strides, such was his confidence that the captain would dismiss this ridiculous request.
But the captain surprised Bairn. Surprised and disappointed him. As long as the passengers agreed to pay full passage for everyone now, the captain would allow them to share half their water supplies with the slave ship. The crew would be under strict orders not to share water with the passengers. “If that’s how the Peculiars want to use their resources, so be it,” Captain Stedman said to Bairn with a curt dismissal.
Anna explained the condition to Christian an
d Levi, and both men nodded, then spoke to those who were on the upper deck. Most of the passengers held handkerchiefs over their noses. Some were weeping. Bairn couldn’t hear them from the fo’c’sle deck, but he saw beards and prayer caps nod in agreement.
Why? Why would they do this?
“Anna, the captain said he would put the crew under orders t’not share water. He meant what he said. Not even water for the animals.”
“We won’t ask any seaman for water. I promise.”
He wanted to shake her, to make her see what danger they were putting themselves in. “Dinnae let this happen! Why would you put yer people in that kind of jeopardy? ’Tis tantamount to suicide.”
“We believe that God will supply our needs.”
“Remember that when you lie parched on your hammock, tongue swollen, eyes bulgin’, desperate for a sip of fresh water.”
“If that is what will become of us, then at least we will meet God with a clean conscience. We will have done all we could to help those poor people.”
“Anna, you dinnae ken what yer doin’ to yerselves! Why?”
She lifted her chin. “‘For I was hungry and you gave me no meal, I was thirsty, and you gave me no drink.’”
He felt a jolt run through him, as shocking as if she had struck him. “So that’s it? Yer quotin’ the Good Book to me like a preacher? Words on a page will bring dry comfort in a week’s time if we don’t get any rain.”
She kept her eyes on the slave ship. “You might be surprised by God’s response.”
Something so moving passed over her face, he found himself nearly holding his breath. She truly believed this, that God would answer her request as if He was at her beck and call. “More likely you will all die an agonizing death by thirst.”
“We’re not going to die of thirst,” Anna said. “We’re not.” Though, she sounded less confident.
To that he only grunted. “So you say.” They were oblivious to the dangers around them. He shook his head. Some people were too thick and too stubborn to heed advice.
He took a deep breath to calm himself before he picked up the speaking trumpet and shouted to the slave ship, “Aye. We have water to spare.” He crossed to the center of the fo’c’sle deck to speak to the gathered crowd, gesturing to the companionway. “All passengers below, if you please.”
Felix relinquished the spyglass to Bairn without any argument. He and Anna joined the other passengers at the waist as they drifted silently down the companionway.
Head down, Bairn ignored the stares of his crew as he gave orders to release half the casks of the passengers’ water. They rolled the water over to the longboats while his anger simmered and stewed. After the water had been delivered to the slave ship, he directed the men to drop the sails, drawing the sheets taut so what meager wind there was could be caught in the canvas. The ship’s bell rang, signaling a watch change.
For the rest of the day, the seamen talked softly amongst themselves, not joking for a change, not horsing around, just talking quietly about the slave ship, about the Charming Nancy, and about what lay before them. Bairn climbed the ratlines as high as he could, watching until the topgallant sails of the slave ship disappeared from view, downstream and downwind.
May Anna’s God have mercy on them, he prayed, because the sun and the sea and the wind would not.
17
August 27th, 1737
One day had slipped by, then two, with not a cloud in the sky. Three days after the meeting of the slave ship, Christian had announced another cut in water rations for the passengers. They had already been rationed to four pints per day per person. Then it was two pints per day. Then one.
Four days later, the passengers finished the last of their casked water. Truly out. And not a cloud floated in the sky. After Christian finished morning devotions, the passengers drifted back to their sleeping areas. Most everyone lay on their hammocks or pallets or bunks, doing only what was necessary, tired and irritable. No one was fit to keep company with a grizzly bear.
Anna sought out Christian as he put his Bible back in his chest. “Did we make a mistake?”
“No,” Christian said. His big and gentle heart could have done nothing else but share water with the slaves. “God often uses the practical to lead to the spiritual. Scripture is full of such examples.”
A few hours later, a shriek of happiness startled everyone. “I found another barrel of water!” Felix shouted from the center of the lower deck. He pointed to the barrel that held up the screw jack, grinning and nodding.
Indeed, it was a barrel and it seemed to be filled with liquid. The passengers gathered, laughing and clapping Felix on the back. Here they had been living amongst this barrel for weeks now and never gave it another thought. Right under their noses was the very thing they needed to survive. Anna grinned with happiness, trying not to feel smug. A fine example of the practical leading to the spiritual!
Christian worked his way through the group that surrounded the barrel. He seemed uncertain as he examined the screw jack. “Anna, go ask Bairn about this. We cannot jeopardize the safety of the ship.”
Anna hurried upstairs and found Bairn in his carpenter’s shop. After she explained what they wanted to do, he followed her below decks, ducking under the low beamed ceiling so he didn’t hit his head. He went straight to the barrel, examining it. “Aye, ’tis water from Plymouth.” He pointed out the water marking on the barrel.
Felix watched, fascinated, as Bairn checked the screw jack, the timber, and the barrel.
He knocked the top of it and heard a hollow sound.
“It’s empty,” Anna said, puzzled.
“Nay. Some of the liquid evaporates from a barrel. The headspace is called the ullage.” He knocked the center of it and it sounded entirely different. “The bulging middle portion of the barrel is called the bilge. In the middle of the bilge is a hole in the barrel called the bung hole, which is corked with a bung.” He walked around the other side of the barrel. “There. The bung.”
“If we use the water, will it weaken the timber?”
“Perhaps if it were completely emptied, it could, but I think a few bucketfuls wouldn’t hurt.” He looked around. “Felix, go fetch me a bucket or pitcher. Even a cup.”
Felix disappeared into the crowd and returned with a tin cup. Bairn used the claw of his hammer to pull out the bung. Water poured out of the hole. Sweet, blessed relief!
But not to Bairn. He jammed the bung back into the hole to stop the flow of water. He sniffed the water, then tasted it and spit it out. “’Tis brackish.” He gave the cup to Anna with a trace of apology in his eyes. She sniffed it and passed it to Christian. It smelled foul.
“It would make you deathly ill to drink that.” Bairn rose to his feet. “I’m sorry. I truly am.” And he was. “Anna, come with me to the upper deck.”
They walked side by side down the lower deck and up the companionway, and although Anna felt the stares of other passengers, she didn’t care.
At the top of the stairwell, Bairn turned to her. “Anna, let me help. I’ll give you water. Or beer. The captain didn’t say anything about sharin’ beer.”
“No. Thank you, but no. You will need that water yourself. And we don’t drink beer.” She tried to swallow through the dryness in her throat. “It will rain soon. I’m sure of it.” She was so sure of it. She was sure God was going to do this for them, but the situation was getting worse. And worse.
He wiped the sweat off the back of his neck and said, “Anna, yer the ones who have put God to this foolish test.”
“It wasn’t a test. We gave up our water because we are trusting in the mercy of the Lord to take care of us.”
“And does He? Is your good Lord taking care of you?”
He wasn’t mocking her, she could see in his eyes that he simply couldn’t fathom why they did what they did. It was a question only an outsider would ask. Anyone from their church was born knowing the answer. “Bairn, our story is not meant to be read by itse
lf. Think of the slaves. At least they have a chance to live now. They have a story of their own.”
“Mayhap you put an expectation on the Almighty that He has no plans ta meet. What will you do when all hope is gone?”
“Broken expectations aren’t meant to crush our hopes, but to free us to put our confidence in God alone. They aren’t meant to make us give up, but look up.”
He had a puzzled look in his eyes, etched with a type of hunger.
As she thought of what to say to make him understand, he reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand, gazing at her so tenderly, it hurt to look at him. In a voice that was deep and roughened with feelings, he said, “All you need to do is to ask, just say the word, and I will give you me water.” His gaze broke from hers and he turned to leave her then.
She stayed at the top of the stairs, watching him stride down the deck toward his shop, his boots rapping across the deck planks. She found her growing appreciation for him blurred by confusion.
She had come to admire his tenderness and strength. His kindness too. But he didn’t understand; he’d had such trouble understanding her and her faith. He told her that all she needed to do was to say the word and he would give her his water. But she could never, ever ask.
That evening in the lower deck, nobody spoke. Nobody said a word. There was nothing to say.
August 28th, 1737
Christian warned everyone not to ask the sailors for water, but he didn’t say anything about paying the sailors for water. Felix had discovered that casked water fetched two shillings a pint; Cook’s leftover water, gray from cooking, could be had for ninepence a quart. It worked for a few days. But then he ran out of money.
He dropped down on his knees to keep out of sight as he worked his way around the ship. In a corner, he saw a sailor slumped over a basket of oakum, snoring.
Queenie was peering down at him from the forecastle. The cat waved her tail back and forth. Felix glared at her. “Jump on me now, cat, and I’ll lock you in the hold all day.” The cat meowed as if she knew he was bluffing.
He noticed another seaman dip a tin cup into a cask of water and gulp it down, watched drips of precious water drain off his whiskers, trickle down his cheeks. Felix licked his dry lips. The seaman tossed the cup on the deck and Felix thought about scooting over to pick up the cup and lick the insides. He was that thirsty.
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