The Deepest Waters, A Novel (13 page)

It was late in the afternoon. Laura felt so weak.

But she wasn’t alone. Every face on deck sagged from heat and hunger. Even the men shuffled their feet as they went about their tasks. This late in the day there was but a little shade to be had, and far too many seeking its few degrees of comfort. At least there was a steady wind. She wondered how many more hours they must travel before they reached Norfolk.

“Sail ho!” a loud voice rang out overhead.

Laura looked up to the crow’s nest, as did everyone on deck.

“Sail ho!”

The sailor pointed toward the northeast. Everyone ran across the deck to the port side, eyes scanning the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever he’d seen. Laura was amidships, but she didn’t see a thing. It was clear no one else did, either. Soon Captain Meade and Maylor were at the bow. The captain extended his telescope in the direction the sailor had pointed.

Laura watched him. After a few moments, he nodded his head. Then handed it off to Maylor.

The captain walked over to the rail dividing the two decks and shouted up to the crow’s nest. “Mr. Tompkins, if you please. She’s too far out for me to tell. Any sign of her direction?”

Laura looked up. Tompkins also had a telescope. “Aye, sir, I think . . . yes! She’s turning, sir. I do believe she’s seen our flag. She has, she’s turning in our direction.”

A big smile came over the captain’s face.

Everyone cheered and applauded.

Laura looked to the northeast again but still couldn’t see anything. A moment later Crabby jumped up beside her and looked over the rail. Laura patted her on the head. She heard footsteps and turned to see Micah coming up from the hold. Sweat poured off his face, but he wore his ever-present smile.

“I hear we seen a ship?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I haven’t seen it yet, but the captain has, and the sailor up there.”

“Then it’s for real. Take a while to see things down here. But you can be sure it’s for real.”

“That sailor said the ship was turning, coming our way.”

“Thank you, Lord,” he said. “I been down there prayin’ up a storm someone come. Just couldn’t see the Lord not feeding all these chillun, and you ladies been through so much.” He walked over next to Crabby and looked out.

A few minutes later, Melissa cried out from the bow, “I see it, I see it!” Soon, a number of others joined in. A few minutes more, Laura and Micah saw it too. Just a dot of white on the horizon.

But it was there.

Fifteen more minutes, and everyone could plainly see its sails.

It took just over an hour for the ships to draw near enough for the captains to communicate. The ship that had come to their aid was named the
Goodspeed
. It was instantly clear to Laura it was both larger and newer than the
Cutlass
. She counted fifteen crewmen on deck and in the rigging.

“A pretty ship, that one,” said Micah.

“It is,” said Laura. “What are they doing with that rowboat?” she asked.

“That not be a rowboat,” he said. “That be Cap’n Meade’s yawl. He sendin’ some men over to talk to the other captain ’bout our situation. See maybe he can buy some supplies. I heard Cap’n Meade say to Missuh Maylor, he really hope to get to New York instead of Norfolk. Partly to get you ladies where you ’specting to go, partly so that steamship company repay him for all he’s lost helping y’all.”

That seemed fair to Laura. If they could at least eat something, she didn’t care if she spent another day on this ship. She didn’t know anyone in Norfolk or New York.

She watched as the captain’s yawl, led by Maylor, reached the
Goodspeed
. Maylor stood and had a brief exchange with the other captain. The
Goodspeed
’s captain turned and said something to his crew. The men on deck burst into action. Soon, crates and barrels were handed down to Maylor’s crew. The crew and passengers onboard the
Cutlass
cheered and applauded, and the crew of the
Goodspeed
responded by waving back.

Captain Meade’s yawl sat low in the water with all the added cargo. Maylor waved off the next round of supplies. He reached up and shook hands with the other captain, who bent over the rail for the exchange. Something else was said, and Maylor’s crew began rowing back to the
Cutlass
.

Laura wondered what might be in those barrels and crates. She was surprised how hungry she was, and the hunger seemed to intensify with the hope of being fed.

“Would you look at that,” said Micah.

They both watched as another small boat lowered from the
Goodspeed
. Once it sat flat on the water, several crew members climbed down. Then the captain himself climbed aboard. More crates and barrels were lowered to the second boat until it, too, was full. The captain waved off the last crate, and his men started rowing toward the
Cutlass
.

“He bringin’ us more,” said Micah. “Just like Jesus, doin’ more than we can ask or think.”

Maylor’s boat reached the side of the
Cutlass
. “I best be helpin’ them with all that food,” Micah said.

As the food from Maylor’s boat was lifted aboard the
Cutlass
, Captain Meade stood nearby awaiting the arrival of the second boat. After the crew handed up the food, he helped the
Goodspeed
’s captain up and to his feet. Women and children crowded around. Laura was close enough to hear what they said.

“Captain Meade, my name is Captain Benton of the
Goodspeed
.” They shook hands.

“It is my honor, sir,” said Meade, “to welcome you aboard my ship. I hardly have words to say to express my gratitude and that of my crew and passengers.”

Captain Benton smiled and looked at all present. He was shorter and of smaller frame than Meade but about the same age. “After your Mr. Maylor explained the nature of your distress, it is I who am honored to play a small part in your efforts to rescue these women and children.”

Captain Meade turned and faced the crowd. “Ladies, gentlemen . . . you’ve seen us loading these stores of food, more than we’ll need to reach New York by tomorrow. But Captain Benton didn’t just give us the necessities we asked for.” He pointed to the mound of crates and barrels. “In these are hams and chickens and potatoes and flour. Captain Benton will have us feasting for our remaining meals at sea.”

The response was immediate and loud. Laura clapped as well.

After the applause subsided, Captain Meade spoke again. “Captain Benton has refused to accept any repayment.”

Another round of applause and cheers.

Captain Benton held up his hands. “Please, please, this is a small thing. God has been good to me. You all have been through so much and have suffered such great loss. I only wish I could do more to assist you. Please know, my crew and I will be praying for your safe journey home. And that God would comfort you in the days ahead.”

Half the people watched as Captain Benton and his crew rowed back to their ship; half gathered around the crates and barrels of food, talking about what they hoped to eat for dinner. Laura walked to the opposite side of the ship, alone, and stared out at yet another sun beginning to set. Captain Benton’s comforting words had the opposite effect on her; they simply reminded her of the greatness of her loss.

A moment ago she was clapping for chicken and the taste of a cooked potato.

She’d happily eat gruel and hardtack for the balance of her life just to have John back again.

After an hour sipping drinks at the bar, Joel went outside and crossed South Street toward the steamship company’s dock. It was obvious the ship hadn’t arrived; the same-sized crowd still filled the area, spilling out into the street. Armored wagons still lined the curb.

He looked at his pocket watch. The
Vandervere
was over two hours late. By his estimate, his driver would have already made six passes by their agreed-upon rendezvous point. Joel had, perhaps, fifteen more minutes before he’d come around again. Enough time to investigate the current status of things.

He found a walkway along the back side of the steamship office that led down a narrow alley behind the building. It came out on the water side of the property. Just up ahead Joel saw the first-class passengers’ pavilion. Workers from the steamship office were passing out drinks and small sandwiches. He instantly regretted the money he’d just spent at the bar until he realized they were only serving iced tea.

He found a table next to a finely dressed man with a well-trimmed beard and spectacles. He appeared to be working through an entire plate of sandwiches. “Excuse me, my good man. Any news on the
Vandervere
?”

The man looked at him, finished chewing, and said, “No, and we are not pleased. We’ve been here for hours, and they think serving us sandwiches somehow makes up for it.”

“No one has come out with any news?”

He shook his head no and picked up another sandwich. “The wife has this huge dinner planned. Relatives coming from all over the city, welcoming home our son. Dinner is supposed to be served in thirty minutes. I dread coming home empty-handed.”

Joel felt almost the same way. His mother must be frantic now. She wasn’t a patient woman. Joel stood up. “Thanks for the information.”

The man nodded and kept chewing. Joel decided it was time to make something happen. He couldn’t wait here all night. He’d walked by several doors in the alleyway a few moments ago. Perhaps entrances for office staff. He went back and banged on the first one. No one answered. He walked to the second door. A sign beside the door read “Employee Entrance Only.” This time he banged until someone opened the door.

A young man dressed like a clerk opened it a crack. “I’m sorry, sir. This is for employees only.”

Joel shoved his boot in the opening just before the door shut. “Young man, open this door.”

“Please, sir. I’m not allowed to—”

“You will open this door or else get someone with the authority to open it. I am Joel Foster, vice president of the Foster Insurance firm. I’m not accustomed to being treated this way.”

“But sir . . .”

“If someone doesn’t open this door and speak with me this instant, I will walk around this building and tell that multitude out there that the
Vandervere
has sunk.”

There was a brief pause. “I will get someone. Please don’t do that.”

The door closed. Less than a minute later, it was opened by the same gentleman who’d spoken to the crowd an hour ago. “Mr. Foster, please come in, follow me. I’ll bring you to Mr. Holden’s office. He’s our vice president.”

Joel followed the man through a maze of paneled hallways toward a finely trimmed mahogany door. He stepped into a smoke-filled room. There was a large desk at one end, surrounded by bookshelves. The other end resembled a living room with rich leather furniture. Three men, about his age, sat on the chairs and sofa smoking cigars, studying a map spread across a coffee table. A tall, older man paced in front of the desk.

The man turned as Joel walked in. “Mr. Foster, correct?” the older man asked, extending his hand. “I’m Arthur Holden. How can I help you?”

Joel noticed something he’d recognized in the face of many a businessman over the years—panic, covered by a fake smile and bright eyes. They were definitely hiding something. “You can tell me what’s going on, the real story, not the fabrication your man here told us an hour ago.”

Holden acted surprised. “I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Foster.”

“What are those men doing over there with those maps?”

Holden looked at them. “They’re trying to estimate the
Vandervere
’s whereabouts based on the information provided by our sister ship in Charleston.”

“And if they figure it out, will you be sending your man out to the crowd with an update?”

Holden hesitated. “We’re not sure.”

“Mr. Holden, people have been waiting for over two hours.”

“With respect, Mr. Foster, what benefit is there in telling them something we can’t possibly be sure of?”

“You may not be certain, but you must know something, some general idea of when the ship will arrive. How far off course could it be? I’ve heard the
Vandervere
has made this trip over forty times. Yesterday, one of your men boasted of how accurate these steamships are. How they’re no longer dependent on the wind.”

“They are very reliable.”

“So . . . what are we talking about? Two more hours of waiting? Two more days?”

Holden walked behind his desk but didn’t sit down.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Joel said. “Well, here’s what I know . . . I am a busy man who cannot afford to wait around for hours for a ship to arrive.”

“We are sorry, Mr. Foster. We—”

“I’m not finished.” Joel walked over to Holden’s desk. He pulled a business card out of his coat pocket and wrote on the back. He handed it to Holden. “My card. The address of our family home is on the back. You send a courier to that address the minute the ship arrives or when you know it will.”

“I think we can arrange that,” Holden said.

“Yes, I think you can.”

Joel walked two blocks to the rendezvous point. He didn’t have to wait five minutes before the carriage arrived. Sweat poured off the young driver’s face.

The driver held the carriage door open.

“To my parents’ house, Eli,” said Joel.

“Your brother’s ship did not arrive, sir?”

“No, and they don’t know when it will, either.” He stepped in. “They’ll send someone when it does,” he said through the window. “After you drop me off to explain things to my mother, I’ll need you to take me around to my house. Then stay on call in case that courier arrives.”

“I understand, sir.”

Fifteen minutes later, the carriage pulled up to the family home. “I won’t be long,” said Joel.

“I’ll be here, Mr. Foster.” He stepped down and opened the door.

Joel walked slowly up the granite steps, trying to think of what to say. Beryl opened the door and received his hat.

“Will you be staying, sir?”

“Once again no, Beryl. Mother still upstairs?”

“Actually, no, Mr. Foster. I believe she’s in the dining room.”

That’s good, Joel thought. At least she’s finally eating.

“Is that you, Joel?” she called out.

“It is, Mother,” he yelled back, “but only me.”

Allison ran out of the dining room. “What’s wrong? Where’s John?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, unsure if he believed it. “His ship is just late.” Allison followed him into the dining room. His mother sat at the head of the table, at her end. She was looking down, rubbing her temples. His father wasn’t present, but that wasn’t unusual. He missed dinner most evenings.

“I can’t believe this,” she said. “I’ve been on pins and needles all afternoon, my heart feels like it’s going to burst. And after all this, no John?” She looked up at Joel and Allison. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

Allison took her seat.

Joel remained standing. “Mother, you’re the one who thought these new ships are always on time. I’m the one who said there’s no such thing.”

“So what now?” she asked. “Aren’t you going to eat? Have a seat, we’ll fix you a plate. Roast beef, corn, potatoes . . . and what’s that Southern pie Sally made?”

“Sweet potato pie,” Allison said.

“Stop, Mother. I can’t stay.” He wanted to, desperately. They had the best cook in Gramercy Park and, since Sally came, the best desserts as well. “You know Evelyn expects me to eat at home every now and then.”

“So when will John’s ship come?” asked Allison.

“They don’t know,” said Joel. “Not exactly. Some storm off the Carolina coast got all the ships off schedule.”

“A storm?” his mother asked.

“Not to worry,” said Joel. “It just slowed everything down. When the ship does arrive, the steamship company will send a courier right to your door.”

“And then what?” she asked.

“Then you’ll call for the driver to come get me, and I’ll go pick John up.”

“Can I go with you?” asked Allison.

“No.”

“Why not? It’s a big carriage. I won’t be any trouble.”

He looked at his mother for support.

“I think it would be good for your sister to go. It’s been too long since all my children shared the same carriage.”

Joel sighed. “Well, I’ve got to be going.”

The things he had to put up with to stay on her good side.