The Deepest Waters, A Novel

by Walsh, Dan

  There had been little activity on the ship that afternoon and barely any conversation. Except for Captain Meade occasionally yelling orders to his men. They appeared to be trying different experiments, anything to get the ship to move.

  The one hope of relief was the setting sun. She stood up and got in line for dinner rations. The women coming away from the food line carried even less gruel in their bowls than they had at breakfast. The odd thing was, this concerned her. She really was hungry, enough to find herself longing for something nearly inedible.

  As she drew close to the wooden table, Smitty dished things out. She had never seen him smile, and it wasn’t his custom to engage the ladies in small talk. But his face now was almost a scowl, as if deep in thought or else harboring some significant offense. She glanced at Micah off to the side washing bowls, smiling as he customarily did. When he saw her, he widened his grin further still.

  Laura turned and realized she was the last in line. She looked down into the big bowl and realized it was almost empty. Smitty scraped the sides just to come up with enough to form her serving.

  “Ma’am,” he said, nodding to her. He took the big bowl away and set it down beside Micah. He looked up at Captain Meade, who’d been standing on the deck above, looking over the rail at the proceedings. “A word with you, Captain, if I may,” Smitty said.

  The captain nodded then descended the wooden stairs.

  Laura took her bowl and stood off to the side, far enough to give the appearance of distance, but she wanted to hear what the two men said.

  “Captain,” Smitty said, “I know you gave orders to feed the women first, and I been cutting their rations steadily throughout the day, but look. The bowl’s empty. I don’t have enough for the men.”

  “Just make some more,” the captain said quietly. “Do it below. They can eat in my quarters. I’ll eat when they’re through.”

  “That’s just it, sir. Based on what you said, I divided up what we had into bags, so we’d have enough to make it to New York. You said you thought we’d be getting there by tomorrow afternoon. Begging the captain’s pardon, but I’m guessing with the wind dying down, that won’t happen now. I’ve already used most of tomorrow’s ration to finish out today.”

  “Smitty, just tell me . . . when will the food run out?”

  “That’s the point, sir. I have enough to scrape something up for the men tonight, then barely enough for breakfast tomorrow. After that, the cupboard’s bare.”

  19

  “I declare, two nights in a row. Gonna be mighty hard on ole Micah here after you ladies leave.” He was staring at the sunset, happy as could be. Crabby was lying behind him, half asleep.

  Laura didn’t find the sky quite as amazing as last night, but it was hard not to stand in awe. The sea was the calmest she’d ever seen. They stood near the bow. She looked down the railing toward the stern, as last night, totally lined with women taking in the view. Small groups of children played some kind of game on the deck near the mainmast. “Did you hear about the food?” Laura whispered.

  Micah looked at her, his expression unchanged. “Mean about it being gone?” he whispered back.

  She nodded.

  He looked back at the sunset.

  “You’re not concerned?”

  “It’ll be all right.”

  The food was awful and Laura was a bit perplexed at her own measure of alarm. But she’d never faced a time when . . . there wasn’t any. Before she’d met John, she didn’t always have money for new clothes or hats or books, but she’d never faced hunger.

  “I gone hungry many a time. ’Afore it ever gets too far, though, the Lord always provide. Can’t see him saving all you ladies and all them chillun, only to let y’all starve out here. Don’t seem his way.”

  He said it with such certainty.

  “You wait and see. Lord make the wind to pick up or bring some ship our way.” He looked at her and smiled. “It’ll be all right, you’ll see.”

  “I wish I had your level of faith,” she said. She felt a certain confidence just being with him.

  “You doin’ all right, you ask me. All you been through.”

  She had been through a lot. A picture of his scarred back flashed into her mind. She thought about what he’d said yesterday, how many times he’d been beaten. About watching his son being dragged away.

  He’d been through a good deal more.

  They stood in silence a few moments. He looked back at the sunset. She had many questions. “That was a brave thing you did today, saving that woman.” He kept looking at the sky, but she saw his smile get bigger. “I have to say, I was shocked when you jumped into the water. How did you learn to swim like that?”

  “Well,” he said, turning to her. He scratched his chin.

  “Actually, I am curious about that, but that wasn’t what shocked me.” She took a deep breath. “Don’t answer this if it’s inappropriate or it makes you feel uncomfortable.”

  He looked confused.

  “It was your back,” she whispered. “Before you jumped in the water, you took off your shirt. All those scars . . . I’ve never seen, I mean . . . how did you survive something like that?”

  “It weren’t just one whuppin’. Maybe four or five good ones done that. Truth is, your first question about my swimmin’ and how I got all them scars got the same answer.”

  Now she was confused.

  “See, when I was younger, much younger, I didn’t want to be no man’s slave. All I could think about was running away.”

  “I can understand why.”

  “Well, the first time I’s only fifteen. Got as far as the first river. That’s when I knew I had to learn me to swim. Can’t get far you can’t swim rivers. They all over the place down South.” He turned around to face her, his back against the railing. She sat on a wooden box nearby.

  “Got my first whuppin’ when the dogs traced me to the river’s edge.”

  “Where was this?”

  “Near a place called Beaufort, a ways south of Charleston. Where my second massah took me.” He smiled. “Maybe I couldn’t swim, but I sure could climb. Saw them dogs runnin’ at me, yes’m, I sure could climb. But they got me down from that tree, those men pointin’ they rifles at my face. They drag me toward this wagon, them dogs bitin’ at me all the while. See here?” He turned his forearms over.

  Laura saw maybe a dozen little pink specks on both.

  “Still there after all these years. They tied me up, throwed me into the back of that wagon. Ride all the way back to Beaufort. Ain’t had no food or water the whole time I been gone, and they wouldn’t give me none when we got back.”

  “How many days?”

  “Maybe three or four by then. But that was nothin’ compared to what come next. My massah—when he see me—his eyes full of fire. Shoutin’ about how good he been to me, and after all he done for me, this how I repay him. Had his men drag me into the back corner of the barn where they hang all the tobacco to dry. So dark in there. They tie me up so my feet be hangin’ off the ground. Then he whup me with a strap, hard as he can, must be twenty, thirty times. I’m screamin’ how sorry I am, how I never gonna do this again, but he don’t hear me over all his yellin’ about how he gonna teach me a lesson I never gonna forget. Finally, I just stop screamin’ ’cause I be so weak and on account of the pain.”

  It was the most horrible story she had ever heard.

  “Then they just leave me there, two full days, hanging like them leaves.”

  “No one looked after your wounds?”

  “No, ma’am. Brung me no food or water neither.” He looked up toward the sky. “I’s just a boy, really. That first time I wasn’t runnin’ to be free. Just wanted to find my mama, be back home for a while.” His eyes got watery, but he wiped them with his hand.

  Laura got teary also. She couldn’t fathom people treating each other this way. But she knew it must go on all the time in the South. Even now, young slaves were probably running away, getting
caught, and being beaten just like Micah had been. She wondered how many were hanging right now in dark barns and cellars, their backs in shreds, hungry and afraid.

  “Well,” he said, turning back around to face the sunset. “Guess you could say I didn’t learn my lesson.”

  “You ran away again?”

  “Five mo’ times in the next ten years. Each time I get a little farther. One time got all the way to Richmond. I’s free almost four weeks in a row.”

  “And each time you got beaten like the first?”

  “All but that last time I did. My massah didn’t wanna pay to have me sent back, so he sold me right there in Richmond. My new massah brung me back to Fredericksburg. That’s where I stayed. Where I had my wife and my three chillun. That massah told me if I don’t run, I could have me a family. But he don’t tell me, when they get older, he gonna sell ’em off, one by one.”

  Laura stood up and walked to the spot on the railing next to Micah. She wanted to quickly change the subject for him. “So you stopped running away once you got to Fredericksburg.”

  “I did. I was gettin’ too old and too tired to keep tryin.’ Figured God must want me to be a slave for some reason. Why, even my own people helped me get caught. Twice it was other slaves turned me in. They hid me and fed me, said they’d help me. But then they give me up. One of my worst beatings was at the hand of another slave, a foreman this one massah put in charge of all the rest. For a white man’s title, some better food, and a nicer roof over his head, he treat his own kind somethin’ awful. So I decided to stay put. Take life as it comes. How I spent the next thirty years, right up until the cap’n bought me.”

  He looked over at her. “Pains me to tell it.”

  “I’m so sorry, Micah. I shouldn’t have pried.”

  “No, I don’t mind you hearing the worst part, long as I tell you the best part. The part why I really don’t have to run away no more.”

  “I’d like to hear that.”

  “Somethin’ Eli read me one of them times he was reading from the Bible. Gospel of John, I think. Somethin’ Jesus say. Soon as I heard it, I knew I’d never fo’get it. Had Eli read it to me three times. Jesus say, ‘Whoever committeth sin is a slave of sin, and a slave does not abideth in the house forever, but a son do. They’fore, if the Son maketh you free, you be free indeed.’ All at once it come to me . . . no man is free when his heart ain’t free. All them massahs I have, and all the bad things they done to me . . . they may be free the way man see it, but not the way Jesus see it. ’Cause they ain’t free in here.” He pointed to his heart. “But if Jesus can make my heart free, can’t no man make a slave of me. Maybe they can on this earth, the way man judge a thing. But one day, God will set everythin’ right. ’Tween then and now, Jesus set my heart free from all the hate and fear and sadness inside. And . . . if the Son maketh you free, you be free indeed.”

  His big, radiant smile returned.

  Laura pondered again how this man who had lost everything dear to him in this world had come to possess such a profound faith in the world to come. It was so strong, it allowed him to soar, almost effortlessly, above all the hatred and fear and sadness. Things she still battled in her heart every day.

  Lately, every minute of the day.

  With all she had gained in this world and, even now, with all she had lost, her own faith seemed so shallow, so ineffective. She longed to know the freedom Micah enjoyed. Hearing his story did yield one immediate benefit: it allowed her to temporarily set her own losses aside. But she couldn’t help but wonder what John would do if he had just heard this same story. He would find a way to help Micah.

  Somehow.

  She had no idea what she could possibly do, but she also knew somehow she must try.

  20

  “Micah, Captain needs you. Downstairs in his cabin.” It was Maylor, the first mate.

  “Yessuh, Missuh Maylor.” Micah stood. “Been such a pleasure chattin’ with you, Mrs. Foster.”

  “It’s been my honor.” She glanced at Maylor, who seemed totally bewildered by her remark.

  As Micah climbed down the wooden stairway, Maylor said, “Captain needs you to clean up. The men ate in his quarters tonight. Shouldn’t take you too long.”

  Laura said, “Can I help?”

  “Sorry, ma’am. Captain said he just wanted Micah on this.” He turned, and both men disappeared below.

  Laura turned and looked back at the sunset, the brightest colors all drained away. But it was still something to see the sky mirrored so perfectly against the ocean. She realized that the serenity of this scene would be lost on Captain Meade and his men. For them, it meant just one thing: dead sails. She leaned over the railing and noticed the ship hardly moving at all. But at least her talk with Micah had dispelled any concerns of want and starvation.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going over the rail now.”

  Laura stood up straight and turned to see Melissa smiling at her. “Can’t say I haven’t thought about it a time or two,” she said.

  “That was a nice thing you did for that woman today.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Yes, you did,” said Melissa. “It’s one thing to talk about helping someone or feeling sympathy. You take action. You reached right into your gold pouch and helped everyone see what they could do for her. When it was over . . . well, it was the first time I’ve seen so many smiles on this ship.”

  “Thank you,” Laura said. “Guess it must be nice not to have to hide your smiles so much.”

  “It really is. Although I don’t see how this benevolent mood can last. Everyone’s back to staring out to sea, with nothing but time on their hands.”

  “Well, if that happens, you keep your smile. You have no reason to feel guilty, just because you haven’t suffered a loss. Where do you suppose he is now, your Tom?”

  Melissa’s face lit up. “He should be waiting for me in New York. Tomorrow is the day the Vandervere was supposed to arrive.”

  Laura had completely forgotten.

  “Looks like we could be a few days late. Well, I think I’m going to head toward the bow, see if I can catch some kind of breeze.” They exchanged smiles, and she walked away.

  Laura stared out to sea. She stood there a number of minutes. For the moment her mind was as calm as the water. When she looked to her left, Melissa was standing beside her again.

  “It’s no better up there,” she said. For a few moments, neither said a word. “I know we don’t know each other, Laura, but I want you to know, I am sorry for your loss. What was your husband’s name?”

  Laura hated hearing John spoken of in the past tense. “John,” she said. She wanted to change the subject quickly. “So, what brought you out to San Francisco?”

  “I needed to get away from Philadelphia. Tom and I were in love, at least I thought we were. But his family wanted him to marry a girl from another family—a better family, socially speaking. They pressured him and he finally gave in, and we broke it off.”

  “Were you engaged?”

  “Not officially, but I was sure he was about to ask me any day. Instead, he wrote me a letter explaining how he did love me but that we could never be together.”

  “I’m sorry—what an awful thing to do.”

  “The worst day of my life. My brother invited me to come out West with him so I wouldn’t have to face the pain every day. So, I left.”

  “I went out West with my brother too,” Laura said. “Three years ago. His name is Michael. Our cousin went with us. They helped me get situated in San Francisco, then they headed north looking for gold.”

  It pained her to think of it now, but the hundreds, actually thousands, of men in San Francisco formed the strength of her brother’s appeal for Laura to join them. Their parents had died the year before, and Michael had decided to use his part of the inheritance to join the gold rush. “Laura,” he’d said, “there aren’t any men left in the church or in the neighborhood to pursue you. They’ve all marr
ied or moved away. I’ve read in San Francisco there are at least five men for every woman. You’re bound to find someone to marry you. Please come with us.”

  Michael could be kind, but he had no idea how much he’d hurt her talking this way. No matter the humiliation, it had worked. Remembering this now, though, only added to her sorrow. The truth was, no one had wanted her back East, and in San Francisco there had only been John. In her whole life there had only ever been John.

  And now he was gone.

  Pretending more interest than she felt, she turned her attention back to Melissa. “Obviously, your Tom had a change of heart,” she said quickly.

  “Yes! He did,” said Melissa. “At the end of July he wrote me this wonderfully long letter begging my forgiveness and proposing marriage.”

  “What happened?” It was actually helping to hear all this.

  “He said he knew he could never be happy with anyone but me, and finally persuaded his parents to change their minds. His mother was the main obstacle, but Tom said even she gave in. He said he wouldn’t give her a moment’s peace until she did.”

  “I’m happy for you,” said Laura, glad to feel any measure of happiness inside.

  Even if only for a few moments, even if only for someone else.

  His pockets were full.

  It amazed Ayden Maul, how heavy this stuff was. At the most, he’d only held a small nugget before, and that had belonged to someone else.

  But this . . . was all his.

  He folded over the last blanket from the last stash of gold he’d stolen from and slowly panned the room. The hold looked just as he’d found it. It was hard to pull himself away. Mustn’t get greedy, he thought. Better to leave now before he got caught. Besides, with the winds dying down he had at least one more night to come back for a third dip.