The Deepest Waters, A Novel (9 page)

To John, this felt like everything he’d ever imagined the wrath of God to be.

The wind had died completely. The waves had stilled. It was a cloudless sky. The late afternoon sun, high overhead, burned incessantly. The thirst had become unbearable. His stomach growled and ached. There was no relief and no relief to come. And all day, no one had seen a single sail on the horizon.

“Here, John, it’s your turn.” Robert handed John the raincoat. The three men had decided they could derive at least some benefit from the coat, using it for shade. They rotated through shifts, approximately every thirty minutes.

John draped it over his head and shoulders. It actually seemed to yield some comfort. His eyes, now shielded from the sun’s glare, could distinguish the horizon. He noticed, as he had many times aboard the
Vandervere
, how the horizon curved ever so gently from one end to the other. You could only catch this effect when you had a full view of it like this, when you could see a clear line between the ocean and sky.

“Isn’t it absurd, John? That there was ever a time when men believed the world was flat?”

John heard Laura’s voice in his head, almost audibly. He closed his eyes, wanting to see her face, to remember the moment when she’d blurted this out. It came back to him quickly. The sounds of the sea filled his ears then, as well. They were riding along in his carriage near the cliffs by Seal Rocks beach, west of San Francisco. They’d stopped to take in the Pacific view and give Shasta a rest. The carriage roof shielded their eyes from the midday sun, much the way the raincoat did for him just now.

“You can see the earth curving plain as day,” Laura said, pointing to the horizon.

John looked to where she pointed then back to the look on her face, smiling.

“How could men who sailed out in the open sea for hundreds of years not notice that?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Have you ever seen those old drawings about what they thought would happen if they sailed out too far?”

John nodded. “Like the edge of a cliff, with the ocean dropping off like a waterfall.”

“Yes, and they drew all these absurd-looking sea monsters swimming about.” She sounded almost disgusted. “You men,” she said, looking at him now. “You’re always saying we’re the irrational ones.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do you hear that?” he said.

She stopped talking and listened. “Is that the seals?”

“That’s the seals.”

“Can we get out and see?”

“We have to get out to see.” He stepped out of the carriage and walked to her side, helping her step down. “I love it out here,” he said.

They started walking toward the edge, still holding hands. Laura instantly became aware of how high they were. “Oh John, let’s not get too close.” She squeezed his hand tight.

“We won’t. But we’ve got to get close enough to see them. I’ve been out here dozens of times. I know a perfect place where we can sit and take it all in. You won’t be afraid once you see. It’s over here.” He led her to his favorite spot.

“My, they are the noisiest things.”

“They’re even more humorous to look at. Especially the males. Big fat blubbery things.”

Laura laughed.

They sat on a small section of flat rocks, with an almost unhindered view of the sea. Just beyond the beach a number of small boulders poked out from the water. Most of the noise came from there, between the waves crashing and the seals shouting out to each other. It was a bright sunny day, but near the edge the wind whipped about, instantly creating a chill.

Laura was starting to shiver. “Here,” he said. He put his arm around her and pulled her close.

“Look at them all,” she said. “There must be hundreds of them. And look at that big arch there. There’s a hole right through the cliff.” She let go of his hand to point these things out. Laura always pointed.

“I knew you’d like that.”

“John, it’s a lovely place. I can see why you come here.”

“And why I wanted to share it with you,” he said. He was staring at her. She kept looking at the water and the seals, but John could see her noticing him out of the corner of her eye.

Slowly, she turned and matched his gaze. He leaned forward and kissed her gently.

It was their first kiss.

He hadn’t planned to kiss her today. He couldn’t help himself. It was just . . . the perfect time.

Thankfully, she kissed him back.

They kissed once more then each pulled away, just a few inches, and looked in each other’s eyes. “I love you, Laura.”

Another first.

A tear formed in one eye. “I love you too, John.”

He kissed her once more, then pulled out a handkerchief to catch the tear now sliding down her cheek.

Just then both of their heads snapped back in surprise, startled by the most grotesque sound. Then more sounds, even louder than the first. They turned to see two enormous males on the nearest rock island, banging their chests together and slapping their fins against the rocks.

They laughed hard at the sight.

“I think they’re both in love,” John said, “with that pretty one right there.” He pointed to a smaller female fleeing the scene. She dove into the water. One of the males backed off and flopped into the water after her.

John and Laura sat together, taking it in for fifteen more minutes or so. John looked up at the sun, then down at the beach, trying to gauge the tide. “There’s another place I’d like to show you on the way back to town.”

“Where is it?”

He stood up and helped her to her feet. As they walked back to the carriage, he said, “It’s down on the north side, a ways past the Golden Gate. If we leave now, we should get there close to low tide. The sand by the beach there is hard and smooth, easy to walk on. Sometimes there’s hundreds of starfish lying all around.” He helped her into her seat.

“I’d love to see that.”

“After we walk along the beach a ways, we’ll see an old shipwreck stuck in the sand, some old schooner. Don’t know how long it’s been there. But if the tide is low enough, we can walk right through the middle of it.” He snapped the reins. “Let’s go, boy.”

John had felt the wind full in his face as Shasta circled back, heading east. In the next moment, his daydream clashed with reality, as a sudden wind whipped the raincoat right off his head.

Robert caught it just before it fell in the water. Both he and Ramón were sitting up, taking what comfort they could in the wealth of the breeze. John looked around, saddened that this moment with Laura had vanished so abruptly.

“By my guess, you’ve still got about ten minutes with the raincoat, John.” It was Ramón.

“That’s all right,” he said. “You take a turn.”

Robert handed it to the ambassador.

John closed his eyes again, trying to see Laura, but it was no use. He thought about what he’d said to her, the joy of walking along the beach together through a shipwreck. It didn’t seem real then. A shipwreck. Not something to consider. Not something that actually happens to people.

He thought of the victims of that shipwreck near Black Point with something close to jealousy. Their ship had wrecked on the rocks near the shore. Most of them had probably survived. A simple matter of swimming a few dozen yards to the beach.

What he would give to see a shoreline again.

The next hour passed in silence. The earlier breeze had disappeared. The full heat of the sun once again took its toll. A growing weariness overwhelmed him, and he lay down to sleep. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if he didn’t awake again.

For the first time since boarding the
Cutlass
, Laura felt hot, even in the shade. During the afternoon, the sun had sapped what little energy she had left for the day. All the women were hot, but no one complained. The sails hung almost limp from the spars, only moving slightly for the occasional breeze. The
Cutlass
was barely moving. She knew this would likely delay their arrival in New York, but she was in no hurry.

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.”

“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.