by Ralph Helfer
Bram’s life in the dark hold hadn’t prepared him for the sudden blast of bright afternoon sunlight. His eyes burned in the dazzling glow, and he was forced to shut them, letting the hand shove him stumbling in the right direction. He heard voices around him.
“Who’s the kid?”
“Where’d they find that?”
“Peeuuwww! Hey, how about taking a bath?”
The “hand” spearheaded Bram rudely upstairs, across planks, through narrow passageways, and up more stairs until he was finally pushed through an oval-shaped door. As his eyes became accustomed to the light, he found himself in what he later learned was the wheelhouse. Its handsome walls, ceiling, and floors were of hard oak and polished to a sheen that could only be outdone by the beauty of the shiny brass handrail, window frames, piles, and couplings. Most impressive of all was the great steering wheel. A sailor stood with his hands on the wheel, steadily watching the horizon.
“What is your name?” came the authoritative voice of Captain Patel from the front of the cabin.
Bram turned to see a man in a uniform whose jacket was adorned with bars of color. His dark skin accented his white turban. He had thick eyebrows and very intense brown eyes. He stood by the round porthole and had been peering out at the ocean through a pair of binoculars.
“Bram, sir. Bram Gunterstein.”
“What are you doing on my ship?”
“You have my elephant, sir—that is, the circus does.”
As he approached Bram, the binoculars dangled around the captain’s neck. “What do you mean, your elephant? Mr. North purchased all the animals in this circus.”
“Yes, sir, that’s true but, well, you see my father died, and he told me to take care of Mo—that’s my elephant, only the circus people call her Jumbo…and they don’t like me calling her Modoc, but we can’t be separated…”
“Wait a minute!” ordered the captain. “Now let’s get something straight here, young one. The animals, all the animals, belong to Mr. North. You are a stowaway, and I have the power to throw you overboard!”
The captain had stepped within halitosis range and was becoming more enraged as he continued. “Now,” he bellowed, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, nor do I care. I will instruct the purser to hand you over to the local authorities at our first port of call. Until then, you will work in the galley for your room and board. Is that understood?”
“But, sir, Mo…” Bram stammered.
“Not another word out of you, boy!” snapped the captain. He turned to the man who was still holding Bram by the neck. “Get this person out of here and show him what life can be like for a stowaway!”
“Aye-aye, sir. Come on, punk, move it.”
For a moment the sailor released his hand. The blood rushing back into his neck made Bram feel faint, but immediately pressure was reapplied. Bram let out a yelp and was led away.
Pushed through a series of corridors and a pair of swinging doors, he found himself in the ship’s huge galley. A number of crewmen scurried around, cooking, washing dishes, peeling vegetables. The atmosphere was chaotic. Pots and pans banged against one another. People were shouting. Crates of food slid across the floor. A man in a chef’s hat and a dirty apron barked orders at everyone. It seemed no one could do anything to please him. The cook looked down at the prisoner and his warden.
“What is it?” he shouted.
“Stowaway. Captain’s orders that he work a full schedule in the galley till we get to port.” With this, the viselike grip released Bram.
This was the first time Bram had a chance to see the face of the man with the bulldog clutch. His burly features were as large as his body, his hands twice the size of a normal man’s. Bram silently nicknamed the man Hands. Later he found that others did the same.
Each day for a span of twelve hours, Bram cleaned, washed, and dried the dishes for every person on the ship. The detergents and soaps were so hard on his hands that by the end of the day they were sore, cracked, and bleeding.
Sometimes Bram slipped out for a bit of fresh air. It was great to be out on deck. Warm, salty Indian breezes from the east blew gently. The calm sea swept as far as he could see. Dolphins escorted the ship on its journey, their glistening, arched bodies diving in unison as though protecting the ship. Sometimes, when enormous waves broke over the bow, gushing water onto the deck, he marveled how the great ship plowed through like a knife through butter. It felt good to be alive.
“Do you think, sir, if I finished my chores early, there’s a chance I could go below and see Modoc?”
“What do you think this is, boy, a pleasure trip? Have you forgotten who you are? What you’ve done? And if you finish early, I’ve got a few other things you could be doing.” The cook stormed off, banging the pots with his meat cleaver.
Every so often a loud siren would stun the crew and passengers into silence, as the captain’s voice barked out an announcement or important instruction. Today he declared that it had been three weeks since they had left port, and that The Ghanjee was ahead of schedule by two days. The captain said he was pleased with the ship’s condition, and all hands could expect a bit more money for their efforts when they reached their destination.
This brought a rousing cheer from the crew on all decks. He went on to say that the weather predictions were “balmy winds and calm seas.” The captain also announced that the next day at 0800 hours there would be an inspection of the entire ship in preparation for landing on Asian shores.
The cook called his galley crew together and spewed a list of instructions to ensure that everything would be shipshape. Bram’s workload nearly doubled and kept him working late into the night. He fell into his cot exhausted and didn’t stir until five o’clock the next morning when ship’s bell rang the hour.
Arriving at the galley, he noticed everyone was wearing his topside uniform, and the general atmosphere was as polished as the brass on the steering wheel. One of the sailors handed him a package.
“Here, put this on.”
Bram’s eyes lit up when he pulled out the uniform of a midshipman. Hastily scrambling into it, he found the uniform a bit large, but was rewarded by his reflection in the stainless steel sheeting of the galley. Then a hat was passed to him. The brim had been stuffed with paper, allowing for a good fit.
For the first time since coming aboard, Bram felt like one of the crew. He had a sense of belonging. He had found friends. He had seen to it that his area had been polished to a “spit shine” like never before. Not a crumb could be found. Everything was in place. This would be the first time he would see the captain since the fateful day of his “capture.” A boatswain’s whistle sounded. The galley crew formed a line from the doorway to the back of the galley. Cook had been careful to point Bram’s way to his place in line.
Captain Patel appeared at the doorway, followed closely by Hands. Cook called for attention, and there was a salute. Bram didn’t know if he should salute or not, and after a fumbled gesture, wished that he hadn’t. The captain walked through the galley, occasionally wiping his gloved hand over a piece of kitchenware. Seeming pleased, the captain started back down the line when he came to an abrupt halt in front of Bram.
“How’s your elephant, son?” asked the captain.
Bram felt this an odd question under the circumstances. He knew the captain was trying to trick him into a revelation; Bram had been forbidden to see Modoc, and the captain knew it.
“I haven’t seen her, as you asked, sir.”
“I hear from the cook you’re doing a fair job.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmmm. Each day, after you’ve done your chores, you may see him.”
Bram could hardly contain his reaction. He felt as if the chains of the captain’s order that had been around him suddenly had been broken. He felt lighter.
“Her, sir. She’s a she.”
“Don’t contradict the captain, boy!” Hands snapped.
“Well,” the captain continued,
“whatever, you may see her for a bit, but only her. You are not to visit the other animals. Understood, boy?”
“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!” Bram’s eyes shifted up and down, afraid to stay locked too long with the captain’s. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the ever-stern Hands smiling just slightly.
“Hmmm,” nodded the Captain. The great man saluted the crew, the crew saluted back, and then he was gone from the galley.
That evening Bram retraced his steps into the hold. Corridor after corridor angled down into the belly of the ship. Lighting was sparse and the superstructure of the ship looked alike everywhere. Reaching an intersection of three tunnellike passageways, he stood bewildered, wondering which to take. Raising cupped hands to his lips he took a deep breath and shouted “Mooodooooc…” The echoes reverberated throughout the curved ceilings and walls. He called again. “Mooodoooc…”
Sounding not unlike the awakening of a brontosaurus from a million-year sleep, the powerful reply came. Mighty and strong, it exploded down the middle corridor—so powerful one might expect to see that prehistoric monster following its voice up the passageway.
A smile covered Bram’s face as he raced down the corridor. “Mosie! Mosie!” he yelled.
Bursting into the open area where the animals were housed, Bram caught Modoc mid-trunk, hanging on as she swung him high in the air, trumpeting all the while. Emma, Tina, and Krono all stood by and Bram gave each a tremendous hug, returning to Modoc once again. Bram and Modoc talked for hours, each in his own way—Bram gabbing on and on about all that had happened to him, Modoc mumbling and squeaking while touching him all over with the tip of her trunk. Bram examined each part of the big elephant, head, face, legs, trunk, for cuts and bruises…
Bram never returned to his bunk that night.
13
THE WEATHER HAD TAKEN a turn for the worse. Winds swept across the freighter with increasing intensity, rain began to fall, lightly at first and then harder, and the mighty vessel plowed slowly through the ever-roughening seas. The waves broke higher and tempers were shorter. A freak storm for this time of the year had whipped the ocean into giant waves that crashed down on The Ghanjee from bow to stern. Suddenly there came the boatswain’s whistle.
“This is the captain speaking,” boomed the big man’s voice throughout the ship. “As you can see, we have encountered a determined tempest. All personnel, except those previously instructed, are ordered below decks, and are to stay there until the storm has abated. At present we are some fourteen nautical miles from the coastline of India. A broadcast has been sent to the port authority in Calcutta to advise them of our position.”
While the crew hastened to secure galley equipment, Bram dashed to look out the porthole. Never in his wildest thoughts would he have imagined the sight that greeted his eyes. There was no sun, no warm breeze or seagulls wafting nearby. Their dolphin escort was nowhere to be seen. Satan’s own demon was rising from the dark waters to howl and blow wet rain and gloom on those sailing helplessly below. The Ghanjee rested in the palm of his reptilian hand, and he tossed and jerked the great ship like a toy. Huge waves crashed against the porthole, as if a door was slamming to avoid human eyes not meant to see more. Bram had to hurry and help batten the hatches closed. The crew settled in to wait out the violent storm.
It roared all day and night, whipping mercilessly at the vessel, plunging it into deep watery valleys, then lifting it as if it were a feather up to the lofty white-capped peaks, then crashing it back down to the valley again. The water raged and roiled, always turbulent. The crew spoke openly about the seriousness of the matter, but Bram could think only of Mo and the other animals in the hold below deck. He slipped away at every opportunity to comfort the elephants. The upheaval of the ship made it impossible to prepare the regular hot-cooked meals for the crew, so small solid foods were passed out to them—apples, bread, oranges, cheese sandwiches, and fresh water. Many of the crew and passengers alike were unable to keep their food down, and some were toughing out the storm in sickbay.
Kelly appeared in the galley. “Bram, how are you holding up?”
Bram turned, surprised to find his friend there. “Not so good, I guess. Everybody’s worried about the storm.” He suddenly noticed some kitchenware sliding by them as the pitch of the ship turned drastically starboard. He caught it before it could fall. “You don’t think anything bad could happen…do you?”
“Naw, it’ll blow over soon. This old ship is unsinkable.”
“I heard the boatswain talking to Cook. He said the captain sent out a distress call to the mainland, so maybe something is happening we don’t know about.”
“It’s just a precaution, nothing more.” A strange pallor swept over Kelly’s face, and suddenly he didn’t sound very convincing. “You take care now. I’ll see you later.” Kelly hurried away.
Bram spent that night with the elephants. No one could have slept, even if he’d wanted to. The storm had whipped itself into hurricane proportions and the great ocean ruled the ship now. Bram, knowing nothing about the sea and the ships that sail upon it, believed the captain had everything under control.
The elephants were restless and moody, rocking back and forth, and had a difficult time keeping their balance. The ship pitched and rolled like a rubber ball tossed about on the waves. The elephants trumpeted, ears thrust forward in a frozen position, eyes opened wide, bodies shivering in fear. Bram stayed by them, comforting them, talking about nothing special, just a nonstop line of gentle chatter while he ran his hands over their heads and trunks. He could almost hear his father’s voice:
“Touching is one of the most important things a trainer can do for his elephant, Bram. Remember, it’s the best form of communication, better than any known verbal language.”
Bram remembered his father’s lesson, and knew this was a time when it was needed most. The rocking of the vessel was becoming more violent. The wind forced its way down into the hold, howling and whistling its high-pitched screech. When Emma started to lose her footing, he swiftly put his shoulder to her leg and pushed with all his might to stop her slide, but to no avail. Bram looked up just in time to avoid Emma’s crash to the floor. He was thrown across the room, sliding in the wetness until his fall was abruptly halted by his crashing into an iron support column.
Roaring in panic, Emma righted herself, only to collide with Tina. Then a loud snap! Emma, in her fall, pulled one of her back leg chains out of the steel ring bolted to the floor. Bram knew if the elephants got loose he wouldn’t be able to control them. Water was seeping in from somewhere and spreading throughout the hold.
In the midst of the elephant melee, movement caught Bram’s eye. Across from the elephants, back in the shadows of the cabin, something moved. As the ship plunged into yet another watery abyss, it moved again. Straining to see in the near-darkness, he finally saw it. One of the chains holding the huge army cannon had broken loose and was slapping at its side with each roll of the ship. The cannon was moving!
Bram could scarcely bear to think of the consequences if it broke loose. It had moved only a few inches, but it was straining against its remaining safety chains. He bolted into the corridor, yelling for help, slipping several times in the water. On the wall was a large box marked EMERGENCY. Bram threw open the door and pressed the button. A loud horn began to sound, hooting in three intervals each. Within seconds, half a dozen men came running up the corridor. Kelly was one of them.
“Bram! What’s wrong!” he yelled, dashing after the boy.
“Where’s Jake? I need him!” Bram screamed, not even turning his head.
“In sickbay! Fell against a railing and hurt his shoulder! He can’t help anyone. What’s happened?”
“The cannon!” Bram shouted back. “It’s broken some of its moorings, and it’s moving! If it starts to roll around in there with the elephants…it must weigh tons!”
Kelly understood at once. Water had risen in the hold and was sloshing around the elephants’ knees
. It was difficult for the men to get a stable foothold and some leverage to tie ropes on the cannon; they were slipping and falling from the pitching and rolling of the ship.
Snap!
The cannon broke another chain. This time the monster slid forward three or four feet. It would take only one good pitch for the other chains to break. Bram began to panic. Water was causing other cargo to shift and break loose. Pallets were being washed out from underneath, and the boxes and equipment were floating in the water. Some thrashed about.
The realization of the ship actually sinking hit Bram. Everybody would drown! Everything would drown. Bram fingered the pliers in his pocket, trying to decide whether to unscrew the swivel link and set the elephants free. He forced the thought from his head. Modoc was holding strong. The others had found a way to stand by bracing against one another, with Mo in the center. The weight was on her, but she held firm and steady. Bram left the elephants to go help the men secure the cannon.
The oak beams were creaking and groaning like a human in agony. Two men had started a bilge pump but were having little success in lowering the water. The Ghanjee dove stern-first into yet another deep valley. The cannon lurched forward, snapping the remaining chains and dragging all the men with it. The great iron weapon of war rolled out into the middle of the floor and stopped—a mere six feet from the elephants. The next plunge from the bow rolled the monster back into its “cave,” as if it were an animal preparing to launch a new attack.
The cannon was huge, much more formidable up close than it had been under its canopy. Kelly shouted, breaking Bram’s frozen stance.
“Bram! Loosen the elephants! We won’t be able to hold it again!”
Bram awoke from his fearful stupor, aware that he was already moving. He slipped his head through the cord that hung from the bull hook around his neck, freeing his hands. Racing from one elephant to another, he unscrewed the swivel. First Tina, who was now screaming in fear, then Krono, Emma, and finally Modoc. She was standing in two feet of water. Bram had to grope under water for the swivel when he felt the next deep roll of the ship. It threw him against Mo’s legs, knocking the pliers from his hand. Swearing in exasperation, Bram saw the cannon shift direction and start its journey toward Modoc.