Feb. 6, 1702: Neither the two passengers nor the captain has appeared on deck. Bert Hansen and myself have been given turns at the wheel. The food is good and plentiful and I have talked with the cook. His name is Charlie Lee. He is about twenty years old, half-black and half-Chinese. I’m thinking there is something between him and the cabin boy. We will dock in New York tomorrow.
Feb. 7, 1702: Too late to dock. We are riding at anchor. There is naught to be done, and after the evening meal we had a talk with Guy, Adam, and Bill. I have found out what it is that they take with their tea night and morning: opium. They have enough to last them the voyage.
“And should we need more, we have but to ask the Captain,” said Guy.
“Sure and he should be made of the stuff,” Sean Brady put in. “Seeing his name is Opium Jones.”
It seems they have shipped with Captain Jones before. “He pays double because he only wants certain type people on his ship.”
“And what type would that be?”
“Them as do the work, mind their own business, and keep their mouths shut to outsiders.”
Feb. 8, 1702: Today we docked in New York. Captain Jones appeared on deck and guided the ship into the harbor. I will say for him he knows his business when he chooses to mind it. A carriage was waiting at the pier and the two passengers got in and were driven away.
We were kept busy most of the day loading and unloading cargo under the supervision of Mr. Thomas. Captain Jones went ashore on business of some kind. In the late afternoon we were allowed ashore. There is more bustle here than in Boston and more ships, of course. We were immediately set upon by panderers extolling the beauty and sound condition of their whores. When we told them to be off and fuck their wares they showered us with insults from a safe distance.
I have a letter to the Pembertons, the parents of my stepmother, and father impressed on me the importance of paying my respects and instructed me in how to conduct myself. It seems that the Pemberton family is well known here, and I had no trouble finding the house, which is of red brick and very imposing, with four stories.
I rang the bell and a servant came to the door and asked my business in somewhat peremptory tones. I presented him with the letter. He told me to wait and went inside. When he returned a few minutes later, his manner was quite respectful. He told me that Mr. Pemberton would be happy to entertain me for dinner the following night at eight o’clock.
Feb. 9, 1702: This night I had dinner with the Pembertons. Arriving a few minutes early I walked up and down until the chimes sounded eight. My father has admonished me always to be punctual for appointments and never under any circumstances to be early. The servant showed me into an ornately furnished room with portraits and a marble fireplace.
Mr. Pemberton greeted me most politely. He is a trim smallish man with white hair and twinkling blue eyes. He then presented me to his wife, who extended a hand without getting up, smiling as though it hurt her to do so. I took an immediate dislike to her, which I am sure was reciprocated.
The other people present, I soon realized, were none other than the passengers on board The Great White: two of the strangest and most beautiful people I have ever seen. They are twins—one a boy, the other a girl—about twenty years old. They have greenish complexions, straight black hair, and jet-black eyes. Both possess such ease and grace of manner that I was quite dazzled. The names I believe are Juan and María Cocuera de Fuentes. When I shook hands with the boy a tremor passed through me and I was glad of the diversion when Mr. Pemberton offered me a glass of sherry. While we were having the sherry, a Mr. Vermer was announced. He is as portly as Mr. Pemberton is trim, and gives a great impression of wealth and power.
Shortly thereafter dinner was served. Mr. Pemberton took the head of the table, with Mr. Vermer on his right and María de Fuentes on his left. I was seated opposite Juan de Fuentes, with Mrs. Pemberton on my right—though I would gladly have been as far away from her as possible. The de Fuentes twins had come from Mexico and were on their way to Vera Cruz. The talk was mostly about business, trade, mining, and the produce of Mexico.
María spoke in her cool clear voice.… “Crops now grown only in the Middle and Far East could be introduced, since the soil and climate is suitable.”
I noted that the Pembertons and Mr. Vermer defer to the twins and listen respectfully to their opinions. Several times Mr. Pemberton addressed a question to me, and I answered briefly and politely, as my father had instructed me. When I told him I planned to be a sea captain he looked a little vague and distracted and said that the sea was a good thing for a young man … to be sure, a master’s certificate would do no harm. However, the opportunities in the family business were not to be overlooked.
Mr. Vermer expressed concern with regard to the political instability of Mexico. María de Fuentes replied that the introduction of suitable crops would undoubtedly produce a tranquilizing and stabilizing effect. She has a way of underscoring certain words with a special import. Mr. Vermer nodded and said, “Ah yes, sound economy brings sound politics.”
I had a feeling that the talk would have been more open if I had not been present. Why then, I asked myself, had I been invited? The words of my father came back to me: “In the course of any meeting, try to discover what it is that is wanted from you.” While I could not decide what it was, I knew that something very definite was wanted and expected from me. I surmised further that Mrs. Pemberton was less convinced of my potential usefulness than her husband, and that she considered my presence at the dinner table a hindrance and a waste of time.
At one point Juan de Fuentes looked straight into my eyes and once again I felt a tremor run through me and for a second had a most curious impression that we were alone at the table.
After dinner, I excused myself to return to the ship since we will be sailing before noon.
Feb. 10, 1702: The twins arrived shortly before sailing. Captain Jones took the wheel on leaving the harbor. We are heading south with a good wind. Weather very damp and cold.
Feb. 11, 1702: This morning I awoke with a sore throat, my head throbbing and feverish, and a congestion in my lungs—feeling barely able to rise from my bunk. Adam smiled and told me that the remedy was to hand. He carefully measured out six drops of opium tincture and I downed it with hot tea. In a few minutes a feeling of warmth and comfort spread from the back of my neck through my body. The soreness in my throat and the aching in my head disappeared as if by magic. I have been able to take my watch without difficulty. When I came in to sleep, the dose was repeated. There is an extraordinary clarity in my thoughts. I am unable to sleep. Writing this by candle.
I am asking myself where I come from, how I got here, and who I am. From earliest memory I have felt myself a stranger in the village of Harbor Point where I was born. Who was I? I remember mourning doves calling from the woods in summer dawn, and the long cold shut-in winters. Who was I? The stranger was footsteps in the snow a long time ago.
And who are the others—Brady, Hansen, Paco, Todd? Strangers like myself. I think that we came from another world and have been stranded here like mariners on some barren and hostile shore. I never felt that what we did together was wrong, but I fully understood the necessity and wisdom of concealing it from the villagers. Now that there is no need for concealment, I feel as if this ship is the home I had left and thought never to find again. But the voyage will end of course, and what then?
I know that my father will shortly be a wealthy man and that I could become, in course of time, wealthy myself. The prospect holds little appeal. Of what use is wealth if I must conform to customs that are as meaningless to me as they are obstructive of my true inclinations and desires? I am minded to seek my fortunes in the Red Sea or in South America. Perhaps I could find employment with the de Fuentes family.
Now the face of Juan drifts before my eyes, and divorced by the effects of opium from the urgings and pricklings of lust I can examine the vision dispassionately. I feel not only attraction but kins
hip. He too is a stranger, but he moves with ease and confidence among the terrestrials.
SHORE LEAVE
Feb. 12, 1702: For some reason we will not dock at Charleston as planned. The weather is milder each day.
The de Fuentes twins now walk about the deck familiarizing themselves with all the workings and parts of the ship. Everything they do or say seems to have some hidden purpose. Juan has asked me many questions relative to my trade as a gunsmith. Would it be possible to shoot arrows from a gun? I replied that it would and suddenly saw a picture of Indians attacking a settlement with arrows tipped in burning pitch. I cannot recall where I saw this picture before, probably in Boston. As the picture flashed through my mind Juan nodded and smiled and walked away. His twin sister has the manner and directness of a man, with none of the coy enticing ways usually found in her sex. In any case female blandishments would here fall on barren soil. Yet I must confess myself more attracted to her than to any woman I have yet seen.
Feb. 13, 1702: Good winds and fair weather continue. We no longer need our greatcoats.
Feb. 14, 1702: We are now off the coast of Florida and seldom out of sight of land since there are many islands. Dolphins leap about the prow and flying fish scatter before us in silver showers. We are now able to work without shirts but Mr. Thomas has cautioned us to be careful of sunburn and to expose ourselves only for minutes at a time. Captain Jones appears on deck, scanning the islands through his telescope. I think he plans to put in at one of the islands for fresh water and provisions.
Feb. 15, 1702: Despite Mr. Thomas’s warning, both Bert and myself have painful sunburns from the waist up, owing to our fair complexions, whereas Clinch, Sean, and Paco are unaffected. Bill, Guy, and Adam never take their shirts off. Charlie Lee, the cook, has some skill as physician though without formal training. He has given us an ointment to rub on our bodies, which has afforded considerable relief, and we have both taken some drops of opium tincture. Adam has given me a small bottle and showed me how to measure out the correct dose. He tells me the amount he takes would make us deathly sick and could be lethal.
Feb. 16, 1702: I am now recovered from the sunburn and my body is beginning to acquire a protective tan. This morning we all gathered at the rail to witness a great commotion in the water a few hundred yards ahead, occasioned by mackerel leaping to escape larger fish. Mr. Thomas gave the order to lower sail and issued fishing poles with spoons and triple hooks.
In a short time a number of great fish were flapping on the deck. These fish are known as yellowtails and are highly esteemed for the table. We were kept busy cleaning the fish, at which of course we are adept from our experience on the Great Lakes. Some were reserved for immediate use and the others salted and laid away. After the blood was washed from the decks we hoisted sail and proceeded on our way. The fresh fish has provided a most welcome change from a diet of salt cod and cornmeal, although the flavor is not as delicate as fish from fresh water.
Feb. 18, 1702: Dreamed this morning I was in a large workshop with tools, a forge, and gun parts scattered on a bench. I was examining a gun with a number of barrels welded together. I was trying to arrive at a method of firing the barrels in sequence. Juan was standing to one side and behind me. He pointed to an iron wheel with a handle and said something I did not catch because at this moment Clinch Todd came off his watch and awakened me, grumbling that we had ejaculated all over his blankets.
The wind has fallen and we are moving now at a few knots an hour.
Feb. 19, 20, 21, 1702: We are almost becalmed and take advantage of the slow movement to fish from the deck. I hooked a shark and the pole was torn from my hands and lost.
We seem to float on a sea of glass, like a painted ship. Tempers are short. Brady and Mr. Thomas got into an altercation and I thought they would come to blows.
Feb. 22, 1702: Today we put ashore on an uninhabited island to take on water and what provisions we could find. Captain Jones had spotted a stream through his telescope. We anchored in a bay between two points of land about two hundred yards from a beach with coconut palms behind it. The water here is so clear that you can see fish swimming at a considerable depth. We are sure at least to find abundant coconuts.
Mr. Thomas, Bert Hansen, Clinch Todd, Paco, Jerry the cabin boy and myself put ashore in a boat loaded with water kegs. We filled the kegs with fresh water and loaded them into the boat. Todd and Paco rowed back to the ship and returned with empty kegs. When sufficient water had been collected, we filled the boat a number of times with coconuts. It was now after noon. Mr. Thomas then gave us the rest of the day off to explore the island, admonishing us to be back on the beach before sundown. Before returning to the ship he issued to each of us a cutlass for the unlikely event we should encounter dangerous animals or hidden natives.
Following the stream we climbed to the summit of the island, a distance of about six hundred feet. From the summit we had a fine view of the whole island. The Great White appeared at that distance like a toy. On the far side of the island are a number of small bays and inlets, and we made our way down to a little beach surrounded on both sides by overhanging rocks. Here we stripped off our clothes and swam in the bay for half an hour, being careful not to venture too far out for fear of sharks. The water is wonderfully warm and buoyant, quite unlike the swimming in freshwater lakes.
Feeling hunger after our swim, we put out lines which we had brought and soon took a number of the fish known as red snapper, each one two or three pounds in weight. Five fish we fried in a pan, leaving the others on a string through the gills in the water. This most delectable fish we ate with our fingers, washing the meat down with coconut milk.
Feeling a great drowsiness after eating, we all lay down naked in the shade of a rock, Jerry with his head on my stomach and I in turn resting my head on Bert Hansen’s stomach. Clinch and Paco lay on their backs, side by side, with an arm around the other’s shoulders. The heat, our full stomachs, and the sound of gently lapping waves put us into a light sleep which lasted for about an hour.
I woke with a strong erection and found my companions in the same condition. We stood up stretching and comparing.
The breeze was rising and it was getting towards sundown. We put out our lines and caught enough fish to make a goodly string, and made our way back to the beach as speedily as possible. Jerry kept us all laughing, slashing with his cutlass at trees and branches with fierce snarls and pirate cries. Adam and Bill rowed ashore and took us back to the ship. Sail was raised and we got under way.
While we were gone a number of different fish had been taken from the ship, and for supper we had a spicy fish stew with grated coconut.
A shout from Jerry while we were eating brought us all to the rail, where we witnessed a wondrous sight known as the green flash, which occurs a moment after sunset. The whole western sky lit up a brilliant luminous green.
LETTRE DE MARQUE
Feb. 28, 1702: Today we were captured by pirates. At five o’clock in the afternoon a heavily armed ship came abreast of us flying the Dutch flag, which was then lowered and the black pirate flag raised. We were carrying no cannon, so resistance was out of the question and Captain Jones immediately gave the order to raise the flag of truce. We all gathered on deck, including the de Fuentes twins, who were impassive as always, scanning the pirate ship critically as if to assess its worth.
Shortly thereafter a boat was lowered and it rowed towards us. Standing in the stern was a slim blond youth, his gold-braided coat glittering in the sun. Beside him was a youth in short gray pants and shirt with a red scarf around his neck. The boat was rowed by what appeared to be a crew of women, singing as they rowed and turning towards us to leer and wink with their painted faces.
The companionway was lowered and the “women” scrambled aboard with the agility of monkeys and posted themselves about the deck with muskets and cutlasses. I perceived that they were, in fact, handsome youths in women’s garb, their costumes being Oriental, of colored silks and broca
de. The two youths then stepped on board, the one with his gold-braided coat open at the waist to show his slender brown chest and stomach, a brace of pistols inlaid with silver, and a cutlass at his belt. He was a striking figure: blond hair tied in a knot at the back of his head, aristocratic and well-formed features, possessing a most lordly bearing and grace of manner.
Captain Jones stepped forward. “I am Captain Jones, master of The Great White.”
“And I am Captain Strobe, second in command on The Siren,” said the youth.
They shook hands most amiably and if I am any judge are not strangers to each other. I was immediately convinced that the “capture” had been prearranged between them. Strobe then received the keys to the armory. Turning to us, he assured us that we had nothing to fear for our lives. He would take over the conduct of the ship and set its course, his men acting under the orders of Mr. Kelley, the quartermaster. He indicated the youth in gray shorts, who was leaning against the rail immobile as a statue, his face without expression, his pale gray eyes turned up towards the rigging. We would continue to act under the orders of Mr. Thomas.
Several of the boys descended to the boat and began passing up seabags containing apparently the personal effects of the boarding crew. When the boat was cleared, Strobe conducted Captain Jones and the de Fuentes twins to the companionway and two boys rowed them back to The Siren. Captain Strobe then opened a small keg of rum and the boys produced tankards from their bags. Approaching us in a purposeful and insinuating manner, wriggling their buttocks, they passed around little clay pipes.
“Hashish. Very good.”
When it came my turn to smoke it caused me to cough greatly but soon I felt a lifting of my spirits and a vividness of pictures in my mind—together with a prickling in my groin and buttocks. Drums and flutes appeared and the boys began to dance and as they danced stripped off their clothes until they were dancing stark naked on the brightly colored silk scarves and dresses strewn about the deck. Captain Strobe stood on the poop deck playing a silver flute, the notes seeming to fall from a distant star. Only Mr. Thomas, at Strobe’s side, seemed totally unconcerned, and for a second his bulky form was transparent before my eyes—probably an illusion produced by the drug.
Cities of the Red Night Page 6