by F. M. Parker
Varick turned to the gathering of women. “You will now be safe for the rest of the trip to New York.”
The Mormon women stared back, their faces pale at the violent beating of the sailor.
Caroline felt horrified. She was looking directly at the captain. His lips, swollen and cut, protruded from the coarse, heavy beard on his face. She knew without doubt that in the struggle in the darkness of the compartment her foot had struck that ugly face. The captain was the rapist, not Timson, with his boyish beard. She broke from her trance and hastened through the women to Rowley.
“Mathias,” she said, catching him by the arm, “Timson was not the man who hurt Esther or me.”
“What do you mean?” asked Mathias. “How do you know that?”
“Look at the captain’s face. See the bruises on his mouth? I kicked the attacker in the face. And awfully hard. Timson’s face was not injured before the captain beat him. But the captain’s has been hurt. And the face I kicked had a coarse beard, like the captain’s.”
Mathias wheeled about to look at Varick. Caroline also turned.
The captain was intently watching them. His eyes locked with Caroline’s across the distance separating them. Caroline tried to break her sight free, but it seemed as if she were bound to the captain with a band of steel. And time was frozen, continuing for an age. Then Varick wheeled and walked forward along the ship’s deck.
“Oh! Oh!” Caroline whispered in a frightened voice. “Now he realizes that I know he is the guilty one and not Timson.” Her fear was a cold lump in her breast.
“You could be wrong about him,” said Mathias. “He did find the key in among Timson’s clothing.”
“Was the locker locked?”
“No.”
“Then anyone could have put the key there. Or Varick could have had it in his hand and only pretended to find it. Isn’t that possible?”
“Yes. But I still say you could be mistaken. After all, he is the master of the ship.”
“Yes, a slave ship. And are men of position less likely to be wicked than others?”
“No. Surely not.”
“I’m not wrong about the captain. And you know it too. You saw his face and the look in his eyes.”
“Even if you are right, there is nothing I can do now. Nor you, either. You can tell your story to the authorities when we land in New York.”
“If I live that long,” said Caroline. “He is an evil, violent man. He did that terrible thing to Esther. And he enjoyed hitting poor Timson. Didn’t you see his expression? He will try to find a way to silence me.”
“You must be very careful,” said Mathias. “Don’t be alone at any time.”
Caroline gripped Mathias’s arm. “Kill him. You of all the people can get close to him. You are strong. Catch him when he’s not looking and shove him into the ocean. Kill him before he kills me or hurts some other member of our people.”
Mathias backed away, breaking Caroline’s hold on his arm. “What are you saying? Kill him? I’ve never killed anybody. God forbids that most unholy crime.”
“Yes! I want you to kill him, unholy or not.”
“Never. I could never do that.”
Caroline studied the handsome face. “No, I see that you couldn’t.”
She turned from the missionary and walked away from him and across the deck to the far side of the ship. She watched the heaving waves of the dark sea. She trembled with her fear.
***
Caroline held to the stanchion that supported the upper deck and stared out into the sea from the fantail of the African Blackbird. She was deeply disappointed in the response Mathias had given her about killing Varick. Had she been a man, she would surely strike at the captain before he could harm her.
She released her hold on the metal column for a moment and pulled her coat more tightly around her body. The wind was increasing as the ship drove ever closer to the storm lying dead ahead. The waves were building, cresting higher and higher. The seabirds were gone, hiding from the danger of the storm. Caroline wished she could as easily hide from the murderous captain.
One of the waves broke under the thrust of the wind and sprayed across the deck to strike Caroline. She caught her breath at the sudden dousing of cold salt water. She turned to go below. It would be safer and warmer in the women’s quarters.
Caroline saw Hobbs, Timson’s young friend, making his way along the deck. He walked sprattle-legged to keep his balance on the pitching ship. A comical walk, but his face held only gloom and sadness.
He called out to Caroline. “I hoped you might be on deck so that I could talk with you.”
“I’m sorry about your friend,” Caroline said.
“He did not do what the captain said.”
“I know that.”
The youth looked sharply at Caroline. “You do?”
Caroline nodded. “The captain did it. Did you see his bruised mouth? I kicked him in the face when he grabbed me in the dark. I got loose. But then poor Esther got caught.”
“The bastard,” cursed the seamen. “The goddamn bastard. He killed Tim for a crime he committed.
“Your friend is dead?”
“Yes. I just came from talking with the doctor. The captain beat him to death.”
“I’m sorry for you,” said Caroline. “And I’m afraid for my own life too. Varick knows I’m aware that he’s the guilty one. I believe he will try to kill me so that I can’t tell what I know to the authorities.”
“You must protect yourself. I’ll do what I can to keep an eye on the captain, but I’ll be on watch some of the time. Usually I won’t be able to get close enough to you to be of much help.”
Caroline pointed at the knife on the seamen’s belt. “I need a weapon. Would you sell me your knife?”
“No, but I’ll give it to you.” He unbuckled the belt holding the sheathed knife. “You must carry it on you all the time,” he said.
“I will. Every minute.”
“Let me tell you how to use a blade. The captain is a big, thick-boned man. Don’t try to stab him through the chest. You could hit a bone and only lightly wound him. Stab straight for his neck—or his stomach, just below the ribs.” The seaman pulled the knife from the sheath and made two motions with it to show Caroline how. “If you go for his stomach, point the knife slightly upward. Maybe that way you can reach his lungs or, if you’re real lucky, his heart.”
The seaman grinned wickedly at Caroline. “Then slice sideways. The knife is damn sharp. It’ll cut a mean hole. Spill his guts on the deck.”
“I understand.” Caroline shivered as he placed the handle of the weapon in her hand and pressed her fingers around it.
“If he comes close, don’t think, just stab and kill him,” said the seaman.
“I’ll try, but he’s awfully big.”
“The knife, if you use it quick, will make you almost as big as he is,” said the seaman.
***
The storm came with uncanny speed, seeming to jump from the horizon toward them. A great, dark, slate-gray cloud killed the sun and drove upon the African Blackbird. The plunging ship was hurled into a twilight world drained of all color.
The rolling waves became peaked and frothed with white sea foam. The spume crests grew, building to run level with the ship’s smokestacks. One of the waves, taller than the others, broke against the side of the ship and poured across the deck. Some of the water tumbled down an open hatchway.
The cold water fell upon Caroline and two other women as they made their way along a passageway leading to the food locker that contained the Mormons’ provisions. The women darted from under the open hatchway and hurried on down the dimly lit passageway with their baskets. Cold wind and wetness, and the rolling, pitching ship, were now commonplace and no longer spoken of. There was only the food that must be taken to the compartments and prepared for the people.
The women filled their baskets with foodstuffs and filed out of the locker. Caroline was last to leave. Th
e task of closing the hatch fell to her. She set her basket down and started to pull on the dog arms, one after the other, to secure the hatch. The other two women continued on with their loads.
Caroline finished closing the hatch of the locker. Again she hoisted her basket and went on, bracing herself against the plunging ship with her elbows sliding along the metal bulkheads.
At an open side portal Caroline drew in her elbow, planning to use the opposite bulkhead for support to hold her on her feet. As she leaned away, a pair of long arms shot out and grabbed her. Before she could utter a sound, a huge hand clamped her mouth and she was jerked toward the open hatchway. An arm of the man encircled her waist, lifted her bodily, and swept her into the side compartment.
Caroline dropped her basket of foodstuff. Her hands jumped up to pry away the hand that covered her mouth. She must scream for help. The man’s hand was unmovable, locked to her face.
“Gotcha, Miss Green Eyes,” Varick whispered in her ear. He kicked the hatch closed.
A thunderous wave rammed the ship. The vessel rolled far starboard. Varick grew tense, waiting for the ship to right herself. Slowly the tons of stone ballast in her keel brought the ship back to her feet.
Varick spun Caroline to face him. “Don’t yell and I’ll release your mouth,” he said. “Do you understand?” Even if she screamed, no one could hear her through the steel door and above the roar of the sea.
Caroline nodded against his hand. She could barely see his face in the weak light coming from the single porthole.
The captain removed his hand. Immediately he slapped her a stinging blow to the side of the head. “Just to show you I mean for you to obey,” he growled.
Caroline staggered backward, caught herself. “Please don’t hit me again,” she said in a trembling voice. The tremble in her voice was real, for she was deathly afraid of the huge captain, who stood swaying easily to the roll of the ship. Her mind raced to devise a plan to escape alive.
“I’ll let you do what you did to Esther, and I’ll never tell anybody what you’ve done.”
You dumb little bitch, thought Varick. Don’t you know that I’m going to break your little neck regardless of what you give me. “That’s a bargain,” he said.
“Let me take off my coat and dress first,” said Caroline.
Varick took one step backward. His face split open to smile in evil anticipation.
Caroline slid out of her coat and dropped it on the deck. Her hands went to the buttons on the side of her dress. She turned that side slightly away from Varick. Her legs were wobbly. Her heart thrashed like a crazy thing. Her fingers fumbled at the buttons. Could she go through with it? She must if she was to live.
Her hand slid inside her dress. Her fingers encircled the handle of the sailor’s knife, the weapon awkward in her grasp. She had asked someone to kill Varick. Did she have the courage to try to do it herself?
She glanced at the large bulk of the man. He was like a giant to her.
Caroline slid the knife from the waist of her dress. Perhaps the captain would not immediately recognize what it was in the dim light. The man’s neck was too high for her to reach easily. The stomach had to be the target. She lunged forward, stabbing out, plunging the knife to the hilt in the man’s shirtfront. Instantly she cut sideways as the seaman had told her to do. She felt the keenly honed blade slice muscle and intestines. She jerked the knife free.
Varick reacted by instinct. His fist lashed out, landing a stunning blow to her face. She crashed backward into the bulkhead. Varick started for her.
Abruptly the captain halted. He put his hand against his stomach and looked down. A surprised, disbelieving expression poured into his eyes.
Caroline gained her feet. She had expected to see the captain fall. But he seemed unhurt. She must cut him again, before he attacked her. She tightened her grip on the knife and leapt forward. She thrust out savagely with the weapon.
The blade caught for an instant on the captain’s belt buckle. She felt the edge of her panic, for she was within easy reach of his big hands. Then the knife slid past the obstruction and into the burly body of the man. She jumped hurriedly back before he could hit her again.
Varick looked up at Caroline and his mouth came open, as if he wanted to say something. He stepped toward her. As he came closer he leaned forward, farther and farther. He fell, his face smashing into the iron plates of the ship’s deck at Caroline’s feet.
She backed against the bulkhead and stared down at the captain. She must get away. She moved to the hatch, yanked it open, and stepped into the passageway.
A hand touched her arm. Caroline whirled and crouched, the knife extended.
The young seaman, Hobbs, thrust up his hands and backed away hastily.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Hobbs said quickly. “I saw the captain coming aft toward the women’s quarters and followed him. I was worried about you.”
“I killed him!” Caroline gasped, straightening.
“The captain?”
“Yes, he’s in there.” Caroline’s voice was as thin as a ghost’s.
“Good for you,” said Hobbs. He glanced hastily along the passageway, then back at Caroline. “You’re sure he’s dead?”
“I’m pretty sure. I stabbed him twice. He fell hard. What’ll I do?”
“Throw the son of a bitch to the sharks.”
“You’re right. No one must ever find his body.”
“I’ll carry him topside and dump him overboard.”
“Won’t you be seen?”
“The storm is bad. There’ll be nobody on deck.”
“He’s bigger than you. Can you carry him up the ladder?”
“He’s a big sonofabitch. But for Timson, I’ll get it done.” Hobbs stepped into the compartment.
A moment later Hobbs emerged with the large body of Varick slung over his shoulder. “He’s sure dead. You did a good job on him,” he told Caroline with pride.
He walked a few paces along the passageway to the nearest ladder leading up to the main deck. He stopped and looked back at Caroline, who followed close behind him.
“You go up topside and tell me if it’s clear.”
Caroline hastily climbed to the deck above. The cold sea spray stung her face as she scanned about through the weak light of the storm.
“No one in sight,” she called down the hatchway.
The seaman had climbed behind Caroline. Now he clambered out of the hatchway with his heavy load. Immediately he headed for the ship’s starboard side. As he moved, the ship rolled dangerously, slanting the deck at a steep angle. The seaman’s pace increased to a trot as he headed straight for the railing.
Caroline thought for an instant that both Hobbs and his burden were going over the side. However, at the last possible second, the seaman’s hand flashed out and snagged hold of one of the guy wires angling down from the smokestacks. At the same time he heaved with his shoulder. The body of Varick sailed away, twisting, the arms flinging out. The corpse fell into a trough at the base of a huge wave. The wave collapsed upon Varick, driving him down. Then there was only the storm-tossed, foam-crested water remaining.
Hobbs laughed a wild laugh as he returned to Caroline. “The stinking murderer is gone to the fishes. He’s beat my friend Timson there.”
He stopped laughing and quietly watched Caroline. “You did the right thing. But never tell a living soul what we did today or we’ll both hang. Go get your provisions and act like nothing has happened. I’ll clean up the blood on the deck of the compartment.” His eyes studied Caroline’s strained face. “Do you hear me? You did the right thing. He deserved to die. He surely would have killed you.”
“I know you’re right,” Caroline said with a shudder. She went back down the hatchway ahead of Hobbs.
13
On the morning of the twenty-eighth day at sea the African Blackbird sailed into the port of New York, riding in on the spring tide as it inexorably invaded the coastline. Caroline stood on t
he deck and looked ahead at the teeming, bustling wharf and the tall stone-and-brick buildings of the city as the ship slowed and crept up to the dock.
The steel side of the vessel nudged the pilings with a grating noise. At an order from the second mate, thick hemp hawsers snaked down from the deck of the ship. The men onshore scrambled to catch the lines and make them fast to iron cleats on the dock. The African Blackbird was once again tied to the land of the earth.
“All secure,” the second mate shouted up to the first mate on the bridge of the ship and watching down.
The engines died. As the vibration and noise ceased, a surge of voices raised in joyous approval, broke from the Mormon converts.
Caroline hurried below deck and gathered her possessions. She climbed back topside and filed along with the men, women, and children toward the gangway.
Seaman Hobbs was near the gangway as Caroline left carrying her bundle. He winked at her and smiled in his mischievous, boyish way. She smiled back at him. They had spoken but half a dozen times together in the days since the death of Varick, and then only a few words. She liked him.
Every cabin, hold, and locker had been searched for the captain. When he could not be found, the first mate had declared him lost at sea and took command of the ship.
Mathias had tried to discuss the death of the captain with Caroline, telling her that she no longer had anything to fear. She had merely shrugged her shoulders and said, “Perhaps the Lord saw fit to destroy my enemy.” She walked away. Mathias stared after her with a perplexed expression on his handsome face.
As Caroline passed by Hobbs a sense of sadness came over her. He was the second good friend she had lost in less than a month. Though she traveled with more than a hundred and fifty people, she felt alone, prey to events far beyond her or the entire group to control.
She came off the gangway and onto the dock. After nearly a month at sea she was once again on firm footing. To her surprise the dock seemed to heave beneath her legs. It was not until she had taken several steps that her mind accepted the fact she did not walk upon a pitching ship’s deck.
