by C.S. Grady
***
22 June 1847
I put a break here to separate this from the previous part of the letter, since I have written the above, Tragedy has befallen the ship, six crew dead, with the losses on the first trip I have had to conscript passengers to keep the ship sailing, they are not happy.
Last night while most of us slept, Bento, my first mate at the helm thought he could circle around a storm. He was dead wrong. The storm seemed to dance, and as he attempted to move east, it cut him off and before I was woken by the ship listing dangerously to port, we were in the thick of it.
More than once, while I stood on deck I saw waves that could have swallowed the ship whole, when one broke to our starboard Bento was swept aside and lost to the sea. Knowing I need a second hand on the wheel Kristoff appeared instantly and was a great help in keeping the ship alive.
The fool Bento had let the men lax on their duty and the lanyards holding the mainsail started to unravel. Before I could call to a hand to secure them, Kristoff was off in the rigging. He single handedly re-furled the mainsail. Suddenly the dark sky lit up brighter then noon sun, as lighting danced on and around the mast. I feared the worst, as my eyes adjusted, and the lightning died I saw the silhouette of Kristoff clinging to the yards waving down to me. I motioned for him to get back to the deck, and then it happened.
One flash of lighting I could see Kristoff making his way across the quarters, then seconds later, the next flash he was gone. The yards broke off, he was killed, I am sorry.
I know I can be no consolation, you have now lost both your son and husband to the sea, I want you to understand, your son saved us all not once but twice. The loss of your one has saved many. I understand if you do not write back. I have taken your son, and for that, I am truly sorry.
My love and condolences,
Capt. Aurel Fuchs
4 August 1847
Captain Fuchs,
My dear Aurel, you have no blame in the tragedy that befell my young Kristoff anymore then I, or his father before him. I knew the day he was born Kristoff would follow his father; I had only hoped he would not follow so quickly to the grave.
Thank you for the kind letter, and the time you spent with him, the months on the ship with you helped him realize more about his father, and his love for the sea. I have enclosed a copy of the letter he sent from the California. I hope it will help give you the closure you need to stop avoiding me; I have lost a son, and a husband. Please do not also make me loose a friend.
Thank you,
Marry Ann Fuchs
2 March 1848
Dear Mother,
We have made it to California, the Monument is a great ship, it seems to ride above the rolling seas, and its sails catch every gust of wind. I now have a better understanding of why Dad would spend so much time at sea. Over the years his comings, so short, and his goings, so long. It seemed like just as we were getting close, he was gone. It was long enough to show what I could be, and sometimes when the wind blows right, I feel his spirit fill my body.
When we set out from New York Uncle Aurel, well I guess I should call him Captain Fuchs, wanted to keep my relation to him secret. Hoping the men would accept me as just a greenhorn and not his nephew on top of that. I got a week of being the greenhorn, well only a greenhorn. Suddenly they stopped calling me names, stopped making me work alone, or do all the bad jobs. It seems one of the passengers recognized me as your son, which led directly to the crew figuring out I was the Captains Nephew. In a way, things got worse. They treated me as if I was just a passenger, as if I could not get my hands dirty. The Captain wanted to call them out and tell them to treat me as any other hand. I refused knowing that is not how father would have wanted it done. I could almost hear him tell me, if they deal you down and dirty in a way you do not deserve, you will feel better if you take it like a man. If you let them drive you crazy, boy, they win. Shake it off and get licks in when you can because the heart is all that matters in the end.
I tried Mother; I tried for weeks to make them see I was there to work not be my uncles nephew. It was late one evening, I was not on watch, they never let me take a night watch, they thought I need by beauty sleep, I saw the glint of metal a head. I told the watchman, a man called Old Shote, what I had seen. He just told me to get some sleep, aint many ships out this far and I was seeing things. At first, I wanted to go tell Captain what I had seen, but figured that if I did, they would say, I was just ratting out Old Shote. I decided to do what I thought Father would do; I roused a few of the men.
The first person I came to, Willie, turned red when I told him. Started yelling at me, said he did not care who I was, I should never wake a hand unless told to by a senior. I stood up to him, well as best I could, he was a head and a half taller than me, and twice as wide. Looked him in the eyes and told him, there is something on the waves coming our way and he could yell at me or rouse a few more boys and see what is coming. He bellowed that if I were wrong no family relations would save my hide.
Just as we got back on deck, Old Shote rang the warning bell. A dark sailed ship was just off our port side with about six men with hooks and daggers in hand Willie and the three men he woke did not spare a second. In unison they all bellowed 'Pirates!' and like a well rehearsed dance they sprang into action. One darted to the Stern and began reading the small cannon mounted on the deck. One barreled down the stairs to wake more men. Willie and the last pulled pikes from a rack around the mast.
I followed Willie, grabbed a pike, and along with the other braced ourselves for the attack. Torch light started pouring from below deck, each man carried with him a hatchet or short sword. By the time the other ship had closed the gap the entire crew was rallied, armed, and ready to defend the Monument. For a long and silent minute, the ships sailed side by side.
Then suddenly a loud boom shattered the silence, a chain-shot tore through the dark sails of the other ship. As if that was the call to begin, ropes with hooks crossed the dark, The Monument men began chopping the mooring lines, Captain faired the cannon again. The chain-shot took the mast down and the other ship lurched, and started to fall behind.
Suddenly a man appeared before me, I do not know where he came from, he took a swipe at me with a knife, and I froze. I closed my eye, listened, in that I could hear Father's voice on the wind. Endings always come too fast; they come too fast but pass too slow. As the knife raced toward me as inevitable as the tide, the man seemed to jerk, his faces contorted and he dropped the knife, and then crumpled to the ground. Willie stood over the body; he gave me a slight nod, and returned to defending the rest of the ship.
We sailed the rest of the night on alert, the ship never returned. We did not lose anyone and there was only minimal damage to the ship. Captain decided to wait till we put in next to make repairs, so the next day was spent slowly crawling along the coast as we slept.
The next morning I was assigned to swabbie, I got to mop the deck. It was the first day since my secret came out, I was given a real assignment, I was a greenhorn again.
The last few weeks have been great; I have blisters on my hands, and bruises on my knees. After a hard day's work, I sit with the rest of the crew and hear them tell stories of 'Sturm,' a sailor many of them had sailed with, they all revered him. The stories of this sailor, this 'Strum' some of them sounded familiar, when I asked the men who he was, none of them knew his real name, or a ship that he sailed on.
One evening, I was eating with Captain, and I told him about one of the stories I had heard with the crew, I asked him if this 'Strum' was real. The low laugh that rumbled in Uncle Fuchs seemed to shake the table. He finally told me, as you may already know that the 'Sturm' was father.
Most of these men never sailed with father, yet they all spoke of him as if he were their friend, as if they had pulled line with him personally. After the trip out here, all those months on the boat, I understand why he kept leaving us; I unde
rstand why he always returned to the sea. I can feel it now, these is something about standing next to a man who has your life in his hands, something about having some depend on you to trust his life in your hands.
I know you did not want me to come, but I am grateful you did not make me stay home. I know my father now. He always told me his heart lay in me. I hope to make him proud.
I will see you soon, weather permitting.
Love you,
Kristoff
