Ocean's Justice

by Demelza Carlton

  I accepted the cup and lifted it to my lips.

  "No, wait! You'll burn yourself if you –" He tried to snatch the cup from my fingers.

  Too late. My mouthful of hot liquid burned both my tongue and the roof of my mouth, but I couldn't emit my wail of pain without spitting the tea in William's face. Whimpering, I swallowed, feeling the heat slide down my throat. Betrayed, I stared at William. Had he intended to hurt me?

  His stricken expression told me the answer, followed by his anguished tone as he said, "Did you hurt yourself? I'm so sorry. I didn't realise you wouldn't know what to do with tea. Here, you sip it slowly, like this." He lifted his own cup and slurped a small amount of liquid. I scanned his face for signs of distress or pain, but there was none. "You try it." He took another tiny sip.

  I cautiously grasped my cup again and brought it to my mouth with both shaking hands. Slowly, I tipped it so that a tiny trickle hit my tongue. Now it didn't burn me – but I could taste the foul brew. It was like drinking diluted mangrove mud. I think I preferred the burn to the taste. Yet, in the face of William's desperate expression, I drank it anyway and was rewarded by his nervous smile.

  "My mum always said a cup of tea could soothe all the troubles in the world. No matter how far from home we are, at least there's tea," he said.

  "Tea?" I enquired, pointing at our cups.

  William grinned. "An important word to remember, lass. Where there's tea, there's civilisation."

  Trying not to grimace, I drank the stuff, wondering what kind of backward people willingly drank river mud.

  Four

  Once dinner was over, William escorted me back to my cabin. I noticed he braced his arms against the bulkheads as he walked, to maintain his balance as the ship moved in the stormy swell, and I found myself doing the same. The ship's motion made my stomach queasy, but the feeling soon passed as I learned to move with the ship. After all, my tiny raft had moved far more in the waves and I'd managed to sleep on that. I hummed quietly to myself as we walked, feeling my body relax further as the soothing song did its work.

  When we reached my cabin, William closed the door and turned to face me. His face seemed paler than before. He covered his mouth quickly, as if he were attempting to mask the sound of his belch. "Beg pardon, lass." He swallowed a couple of times before he continued, "The captain and I agreed that it'd be best if I stayed here tonight. For your safety, of course."

  Between his troubled expression, darkened eyes and rigid stance, I found grounds for a strong premonition of danger. Something was wrong and I didn't trust this stranger enough. I pointed at him, then extended my arm toward the door. "Go," I said.

  He stood firm, shaking his head. "No go. Whether you like it or not, lass, you won't budge me. You'll be sleeping in the upper bunk tonight and I'll take the one below you." His pointed finger stabbed at me, the upper bunk, himself and the lower bunk, while his angry eyes challenged me.

  I held his gaze for a few long seconds, before deciding to scramble up the ladder to the top bunk. I stretched out on the thin mattress, suddenly realising how tired I was. The ship moved in the waves, rocking me like a mother would a fretful baby. I opened my eyes to find William watching me.

  "Rest, Maria. I swear you have nothing to fear from me. I'll be a right gentleman, here below you." With slow, deliberate movements, he lay down on the lower bunk, where I'd been sleeping only a few hours before. "I know you don't know a thing about me, but I'd change that if I could. How about I tell you a little about myself? Let me know if you grow bored, lass." His voice became gentler and more reflective.

  Deciding I must have imagined the risk, I relaxed. I was hardly helpless – as he'd find out if he did pose a danger to me. In the meantime, I'd conserve my energy and listen to his melodic voice.

  "I have two brothers and a sister. While all three of them were content to stay in Scotland, working, marrying and bringing up their children as McGregors have been doing for centuries, I was never content. I wanted adventure, like I read in my books. Too young to enlist in the Great War, I did my engineering studies with many other lads who were eager to work on all the new technological advances. Warships, weapons, vehicles that could travel further and faster than anything we'd ever seen. My best friend was a lad who'd lived in Japan for all his life – Japanese mother, English father. He was fascinated by improving land for higher crop yields – he said with all the new scientific discoveries in chemistry, we could grow enough food for everyone and no one would ever starve again. Crazy, I tell you – but it turned out his father was a partner in a shipping venture which shipped some of these miracle growth agents to Japan. The chemicals come from mines and extracting the raw material is quite an undertaking. So when he heard of a position on the other side of the world, he thought of me. He and his father wrote letters to some very important people and the next thing I knew, I was hired to run a guano mine in a place I've never heard of. But first, I had to be trained to represent Britain in its colonies, for that's what this place is. All it did was scare the hell out of me.

  "A few weeks at the Imperial Institute in London, on the Tropical African Administrative Service training course and I'm supposed to be an expert at managing a new colony. I'm an engineer. I know steam and mining, like my father and my grandfather. There are so many insects that can kill you in Africa, I don't know half the names. And no one's ever heard of the place I'm going – except to tell horrible stories about it. They say there are crabs there – bigger than coconuts – that can crack your head open as you sleep..." The words faded as the man retched and I heard liquid spatter. He coughed and said, "Beg pardon, lass. No one told me I'd be sick as a dog on the sea. Give me land and I'll never leave it again. I imagine you feel the same way."

  I peered over the side of the bunk, just in time to see him set the bucket on the floor and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

  "One good thing about tasteless food is that it's not so bad bringing it back up again. I learned that in the North Atlantic, fresh out of Liverpool. Captain Foster said that the storm was something called a hurricane. The Americans can keep the damned things, I tell you, lass..."

  His deep, purring voice continued, lulling me to sleep. I came to understand that "lass" was his name for me and I wondered what it meant. I slipped into a doze, feeling comfortable for the first time.

  A creak and a clunk jerked me from sleep to alertness. The door swung open against the bulkhead and a shadow blocked the corridor lights.

  "Women aboard ship is bad luck," a new voice growled. The sound was menacing and my eyes scanned the room in search of a weapon. The hulking new man grumbled some more, but his words meant as much to me as the rumbling steam engine beneath us. More worrying were the steps he took into the room – approaching the bunks.

  I drew in a silent breath, steeling myself for whatever I'd need to do in order to defend myself.

  The man leaned over the lower bunk and seized William. "Send you back to the ocean where you belong," the man grunted, trying to lift him.

  In a flurry of blankets, William delivered a blow to the man – whether from his fist or foot, I couldn't tell – and sent him crashing against the bulkhead. William's fist caught the man under the chin next, jerking his head up before his whole body slid down the wall to slump on the deck.

  "Get out of here, Barrett. If I ever see you near the girl again, I'll break your jaw and throw you overboard instead."

  The man – Barrett, I presumed – scrambled to his feet and staggered to the doorway, holding onto the bulkhead as he struggled to remain upright. "The girl will curse and kill us all, McGregor. She's a siren, sent to seduce us and sink the ship. You're defending a monster."

  "Shut your mouth before I break some more of your teeth. Maria's been through enough. She doesn't need to hear your superstitious nonsense and nor do I. Go make yourself useful and stoke the boiler. The sooner we get to shore the sooner you'll be shot of her – and me, too. Until then – if you have anything to say
to her, you can say it to me and I'll decide if she needs to hear it or if I need to smash your face." I didn't understand William's angry words, but his meaning was clear – he pointed at the door and the other man left, spitting bitterly on the deck.

  Strange – both here tonight and on the mess deck, I'd seen the other men regard William with an odd mixture of contempt and respect. Much like I regarded my elders, the women who had sent me so far from home. Yet this man didn't seem much older than I. I wished I could ask him how he'd earned a reputation that made the larger man back down, or the whole crew stand up, as they had in the mess.

  I was surprised to feel William's warm hand over mine.

  "Like I said, I'll make sure no harm comes to you, lass. I may be ill, but I'm still a match for any man on this crew."

  I stared at William until I became lost in his liquid eyes and he laughed at me. His laughter lit a warmth inside me that I hadn't felt since Giuseppe – but Giuseppe was dead by my hands. He would never touch me again and I vowed no other man would, either. My heart and my love belonged to a dead man.

  "Good night, Maria."

  I didn't dare speak a word – I understood so little of what he said and needed to learn so much before I could communicate.

  Five

  What if I could never return home again? What if I had to make my life with these people, in a world I didn't understand? Alone. I hugged my knees to my chest, peering out the porthole at the matching grey sky and seas. I could do what Barrett had suggested last night – throw myself into the waves and let the ocean take me.

  William knocked on the bulkhead beside me, startling me out of my gloomy thoughts. "I brought you a gift, lass. Something no lady should be without." He held out a piece of tortoiseshell, carved into a row of teeth. "I bought this for my sister. I meant to send it to her before we left Fremantle, but I forgot. Now it's yours."

  I took the gift from him, smiling my thanks.

  "I don't mean to sound rude, but I think the words you're after are, 'Thank you.'" He imitated my smile and the way I bowed my head, then raised his voice to a high-pitched squeak. "Thank you, William."

  I stared at him, then slowly repeated the words. "Th...thank you, William."

  "You're welcome, lass. Now, I have a favour to ask. An ulterior motive, perhaps." He paused, but I didn't say a word, so he continued, "Back home, they say a girl with her hair unbound is unleashing a storm to sink ships at sea. Maybe that's just the North Sea and the Indian Ocean's too big to be controlled by a woman's hair, but it makes me nervous and Captain Foster's been worried since we left port. Would you...would you please pin your hair up?" He coughed. "If you don't know how, would you let me do it? The sister I bought the comb for...I used to help her with her hair before school in the mornings. She said I had gentler hands than Mum." He sat beside me on the bed and lifted a cautious hand toward my hair. He stroked the salt-encrusted length of it, right down to the ends lying on the bed beside me. "Now, I heard one of the Singhs asking Allchin for some cooking oil for his hair, so while Allchin was serving breakfast, I liberated some for you." He lifted a large can that I hadn't noticed until now and he shook it, so I could hear the slosh of a little liquid inside. "Would you...would you like me to help you?"

  I looked at him, longing to be able to answer him – or even understand his question.

  "I wish you could understand me. I'm sure you'll let me know if you want me to stop." He lifted the can over my head and I felt something trickle through my hair. I kept my eyes on William's scared smile, hoping I didn't look equally nervous. He set the can down with a clatter and lifted both hands to my head. "I suppose I just have to spread this through your hair." He threaded his fingers through my hair, gently massaging my scalp with his fingertips, then smoothed my hair between his hands.

  I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation. No one had ever touched me like this. Not my mother, not my friends, not even Giuseppe. A quiet moan of pleasure escaped from my lips and my eyes shot open, staring at William in panic.

  He chuckled. "I believe that's a most emphatic 'yes'. More, Maria?"

  A word I understood! I beamed. "Yes. Oh, yes, William. Thank you."

  He leaned closer to me. "You should turn around, so I can reach your hair better. If you moan like that again, God help me, but I'm going to have to kiss you." He wrapped his hands around my hair, pulling it toward him, and I twisted my body away from his to make it easier. "That's probably safest. Comb?"

  I felt William pluck the comb from my fingers and start stroking it through my hair, pulling the tangles from my tresses. He said, "My sister used to tell me all her troubles when I did her hair. As if the comb loosened her tongue. I doubt you'll be as forthcoming, but if you have anything you wish to say, I'm listening, lass."

  Wishing I had some way of thanking him for his kindness, I stared down at my body, covered in borrowed clothes. This was all I had and something in the hesitant way he touched me told me that my body wasn't the sort of currency he'd accept. But what else did I have to offer?

  The ship rolled beneath us and I clutched at the bunk to avoid being pitched onto the floor, remembering William's illness last night. There was one thing I could offer.

  My voice quiet and quivering at first, I lifted it in the same soothing song I'd hummed last night – the one that had calmed my unsettled stomach. Breathing deeper, I increased the volume, putting more power into my voice. This song reminded me of home and the family I might never see again, but it was also the sound of comfort, for my mother had sung the same melody for as long as I could remember. Once I'd started, I couldn't stop. I sang of loss and grief, but I also sang of hope, for the unexpected bliss this man held in his skilful hands.

  I let the last note hang in the air before I silenced it, wishing there was more I could offer him.

  William lifted my hair, laying it over my shoulder, and placed the end in my hand. I looked down and saw the satin ribbon that bound the braided length – braided just like the rope that Giuseppe had tried and failed to hold on to in the surging waves. The waves that had stolen him from me and drowned him. I burst into tears.

  "Here – here." William's arms folded around me, almost crushing me to his chest. I'd never been held so securely – never felt this safe with anyone. "I didn't think I did such a bad job. You look beautiful, Maria, and with your amazing voice and lovely song, you've absolutely bewitched me. The crew will stop calling you a sea monster now they see how beautiful you are. They'll call you an enchantress instead."

  Embarrassed, I tried to stem the flood. I swallowed hard, staring fixedly at the fishbone pattern of my braid. He had done me another kindness and I'd responded by soaking his shirt with silly tears. "Thank you, William," I said steadily. "Thank you."

  William's grip on me tightened as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded piece of cloth. Pressing the handkerchief into my hand, he replied, "Any time, lass. The song alone was worth it. Now let's hope we've seen the end of storms for this voyage." He seemed thoughtful for a moment, before he added, "How'd you like me to give you a grand tour of the ship?"

  I heard the question in his tone, but he could have been asking me for anything. Staring into his eyes, I found myself nodding.

  He took my hand. "Then come with me."

  Six

  As we headed down the corridor toward the washroom, he tucked my arm under his, laying my fingers across his cotton-clad forearm. "The washroom you know," he said, waving his hand at the empty room. "There's another on the other side of the ship, where most of the crew sleep, for only the captain's quarters have running water. Captain's quarters are two doors down from ours." He pointed at a closed door, then turned into a corridor I hadn't used before and rounded a corner. "Here – crew quarters." William led me into a corridor almost identical to the one where our cabin was, only this had far more doors, much closer together.

  I heard the sounds of splashing and raised men's voices, then laughter as a pale, gangly figure burst into the
corridor.

  "That's not funny! Those are the last pants I have, what with loaning one pair to Maria and all!" Charlie shouted reedily, the muscles in his bare backside clenching as he drew himself up. He turned, caught sight of us, and emitted a very feminine shriek as he tried to cover his genitals with his hands. One hand would have sufficed in the cold morning air.

  I burst out laughing, which made Charlie's face turn red.

  "Mr McGregor, you could have warned us," Charlie complained, edging back into the washroom. "Miss Maria shouldn't see men when we're...when we're..." His words were drowned out by a wave of loud laughter from inside the washroom.

  I advanced, but William grabbed my arm. His cheeks were flushed, too. "Probably not the best place for a lady like yourself. We get pretty rowdy without women present and some of the men are in no fit state to be seen. We'd better start with the hold." His voice sounded uneasy and I wondered what I'd done to unsettle him. Was it my laughter at Charlie's unfortunate shrinkage? Surely he hadn't expected me to admire the modestly endowed boy.

  William led the way silently down ladders and corridors until we were in the echoing bowels of the ship. Here, overhead lights provided all the illumination – no natural light percolated to this depth. He fastened his hands on a wheel set in the middle of a metal door and wrenched the wheel around. Several squeaky turns later, William pulled the wheel toward him and the door swung open with a protesting creak. "This is the cargo hold. Some sort of mineral Australia's shipping to Belgium for the factories there. It looks like the mud we pump out of the coal mines back home – not useful at all!" He pulled a tube out of his pocket and a weak beam of light shot out of the end of it, splashing against the far wall of the hold. Beneath the beam was a pool of dark mud, bounded by walls and a metal catwalk that ran around the edges of the large space. The light beam rose to illuminate the hatch in the ceiling. "One of the port inspectors fell through the hatch before they sealed it. He almost drowned before they pulled him out – that stuff is like quicksand. It'll suck you under without a trace if no one hears you scream."