by Terry Grosz
“We will wait until we see the odds,” Jacob said, also through clenched teeth. “If they are not good, we must bide our time and do as we are told. Then when the opportunity arises, we will strike and kill everyone responsible for this.”
The soft pitching and yawing of the vessel continued to worked its magic on the two men. The vomiting began again in earnest until both men figured they had expelled everything they held, including some necessary body parts. Then Jacob remembered their rifles, cash, and saddlebag of gold nuggets. A quick scan of the dank hold in which they lay revealed nothing but a cat-sized black rat staring back at them from several feet away.
“Git, you son of a bitch,” yelled Jacob, and the rat, sensing this would not be an easy dinner, scurried out of sight into the blackness of the hold.
By now the other man who had been brought to the ship with the brothers began groaning and bleeding even more heavily from his head wound. Soon he quieted and moved no more. Then the light of a lantern penetrated the dank hold, and two barefoot seamen approached the jumble of men who had been shanghaied earlier that afternoon.
“All right, you lubbers, rise to your feet so the captain can see you,” yelled a scrawny man with a heavy beard. The command was followed by a swift kick to all three men by the man holding the lantern. Martin rolled over and exploded to his feet so fast the two antagonists did not have time to move out of his way. One swift kick to the groin felled the man with the mouth, and the one with the lantern dropped it and attempted to escape back up the ladder. Martin threw a shoulder block into the man, crushing him against the stairway and causing him to scream in intense pain. Jacob, surprised by his brother’s actions, rolled over to the fallen sailor, who was softly groaning. Squirming around, he attempted to get the man’s knife with his tied hands so he could cut his bonds. Then he heard the thundering of feet from the deck above, and down the stairway into the hold came more men. Soon the two brothers were beaten senseless by four other sailors with belaying pins.
About an hour went by before the brothers awoke again.
“Jacob, are you all right?” asked Martin, his voice sounding very worried in the dark of the hold.
Rolling over and aware of the intense pain coming from his neck, head, and shoulders, Jacob said, “Well, I have felt better. How about you?”
“I am all right except for a ringing in my head that won’t go away,” Martin answered.
“Next time I tell you to lay low until we can strike, you had better damn well listen to me. I can’t remember when I have taken such a beating and couldn’t fight back,” Jacob mumbled through a badly split and still bleeding upper lip.
“Sorry, brother. That won’t happen again—at least not until you feel ready to act,” said a contrite and very sore Martin.
A short while later, the soft padding of bare feet could be heard once again coming down the stairs. Rolling over, both men waited to see what fate awaited them this time.
“Gangway,” yelled a booming, commanding voice as the men on the stairway split to let a monster of a man through. “I am the chief boatswain’s mate on this here ship called the Sea Witch, and you mates now work for me. Grab ’em up and let’s take the three of them topside to the captain for a look-see.”
The hands roughly grabbed the three men and dragged them up the stairway and out into the light of day on deck. Then the three men were hurled down on the decking at the feet of a man who was obviously the captain.
For a long time the captain just looked down on the three men. Then he said, “This one here is dead. Toss his miserable carcass overboard, and the sharks can have an early dinner.” Two sailors rushed forward, quickly picked up the man with the crushed skull, and tossed his body overboard. Then the captain looked down on Jacob and Martin.
“Which one started giving you men all the trouble?” he asked. “That one!” said the scrawny one with the heavy beard as he pointed to Martin.
The look in Martin’s eyes foretold that they were looking at a mouthy dead man if he ever got the chance. The mouthy one, seeing the deadly look in Martin’s eyes, drifted back into the group of sailors standing around the captain for the protection their numbers offered.
“Lash him to the main,” said the captain.
The sailors split Martin’s buckskin shirt open down the back and lashed him to the main mast. Then, taking a whip that had been coiled in his belt, the captain methodically lashed it across Martin’s broad back in a practiced way until Martin finally fainted from the pain.
“Cut him down and toss a bucket of seawater on the wounds,” said the captain as he slowly rerolled his whip and placed it back under his belt.
When the seawater hit Martin’s back, even though he was out cold, he moaned softly in pain as the salt stung the ripped and bleeding flesh.
“Chief boatswain’s mate,” bellowed the captain, “I want these two horses of men kept healthy. They will be of advantage to us once under way and harvesting the fur seals and sea otter. If nothing else, they will be good fodder for rowing the killing boats.”
By the captain’s feet, Jacob spied his saddlebags holding the gold nuggets. Stepping forward and looking the captain straight in the eye, he said, “Captain, what about my saddlebags at your feet? What is in there belongs to me and my brother.”
“You forfeited any rights you had when you came aboard my ship,” the captain yelled. “Lash his arrogant ass to the main as well,” he screamed as his eyes almost popped out of his head in crazed fury.
Within moments Jacob was feeling the sting of the whip. He vowed not to pass out so he could remember every bit of pain he would inflict on the captain when he had the chance to kill him for this and for what he had done to his brother. On the fifteenth lash, however, Jacob found himself slumping into a quiet and darkened world without pain.
Coming to, Jacob could feel the pain in his back from the lashing plus that of several rats tearing at his torn, bloody flesh!
Staggering to his feet, he shook off the rats, which continued feeding on his back as he rose. As they fell off, he smashed one flat with the heel of his moccasin. Instantly the other two rats were on the dead one, dragging it off into the darkness of the hold to be eaten. Then Jacob heard his brother softly moaning off to his left.
Reaching out to the sound in the darkened hold and feeling his brother’s shoulder, he asked, “Martin, can you hear me?”
“Yes, and by God I sure do hurt. I really pity those you and I finally get our hands on when it comes time to kill them,” Martin answered in a voice weakened by the beating.
“I agree on all counts, but for now we need to lay low and not make a stir until we heal up and feel we can win. Then and only then will we make our move,” Jacob uttered through gritted teeth.
The dark, wet hold became silent as the men quietly endured the pain in their backs and fended off the hungry rats coming at them in droves, energized by the smell of fresh blood.
“Avast, ye lubbers,” came a voice from the top of the stairs as the hatch was thrown open once again and muted light and fresh salt air streamed in. “Move your miserable carcasses from down there and up onto the deck. We have work to do, and you might as well get started in your new life.”
Painfully staggering up the stairs, the brothers emerged into the dim light of a deck shrouded with a wet, heavy fog.
“I am Able Seaman John Paul. The captain has assigned you two lubbers to me, and between the three of us, we have our ship’s duties to perform. Now, for your own good, I suggest we try and get along. Currently we are at least sixty miles from the shore and heading north to the sealing grounds off the coast of Canada. If either of you wants to escape and cares to swim that far, now is the time to have at it.”
There was a long pause as John Paul looked closely at the faces of the brothers for their reactions to his words. Not seeing any emotion other than cold stares, he continued, “Now, there is some able seamen’s clothing behind you. It is warmer and will wear better than those bucks
kin duds you are wearing. I suggest you get rid of your old clothing and put on the new.”
Jacob and Martin sorted through the pile of discarded clothing until they found some that more or less fitted their massive frames. However, it took both of them several minutes to put on their shirts because of the pain from their badly damaged backs.
“By cracky, the two of you just might make seamen yet,” exclaimed John Paul as he looked them over approvingly. “Now, we must holly-stone the aft decking by the rendering pots. That is where we skin our catch and render out their fat. That portion of the deck gets covered with fats and oils during the butchering and skinning process. So we must holly stone the deck or it gets too slick to walk on.” John Paul pointed a bony finger toward the plunging bow of the ship and said, “Aft is thataway.”
Walking forward, the three men were soon scrubbing the decks with buckets of seawater and pumice stones. Throughout the process, Jacob and Martin continued dry-heaving with continuing bouts of seasickness. By now nothing came up because it had been two days since they had eaten.
Soon the ship broke free of the damp, misting fog, and the brothers had their first chance to look around. They saw nothing but empty sea for miles and a large fog bank to the east covering the land. Looking at each other, their eyes said it all.
We will wait for now, thought Jacob. We need to see how many other men are on board and how many of them are like us, looking to escape. And figure out how to run this ship without sinking it on some rocks.
“I know what ye are thinking, lad, and I would warn ye away from such thoughts,” said John Paul, squinting at Jacob. “I am in the same boat, having been shanghaied four years ago. Since then I have had the chance to look around and see if I could escape. The captain and those loyal to him are hard cases, and they run a tight ship. But if ye do figger out a way, count me in, for I would like to see my family on the mainland once again afore I become meat for the crabs.”
Jacob and Martin did not let their feelings show any more during that conversation, not knowing if they could trust John Paul. However, they kept the possibility of having him as a comrade in arms in the back of their minds in case it came to choosing sides in a mutiny.
For the next several weeks John Paul and the brothers quietly worked together as instructed by the captain. During that time, John Paul taught the brothers about shipboard life. They learned knot tying, how to set and release the sails, how to weather their less frequent bouts with seasickness, and how to stomach the lousy food served by the ship’s cook. They also learned to avoid the captain and blows from the chief boatswain’s mate. And they began to learn the sealing and sea otter fur trade and oil business.
Since they did not have the complete confidence of the captain, they had to watch the harvesting process from the ship’s rail. The process included lowering four or five whaleboats, each carrying two rowers and a tillerman who also acted as a shooter. The boats would approach resting seals and sea lions on the rocky coasts and shoot into the massed animals, killing as many as they could before they slipped off the rocks and into the deep. Then they would fire at those trying to swim away, trying to kill them with head shots so they would not sink immediately.
The process for taking sea otters was different. The killing boats would quietly move into a resting pod of sea otters in the kelp beds and begin head-shooting the hapless, trusting animals. Those that did not sink were retrieved and loaded into the longboats. Once the boats were loaded with fresh carcasses, they returned to the mother ship and offloaded their catch. Then, as with the seals and sea lions, a crew onboard began skinning their catches and stretching the valuable furs on metal hoops. The skin sides were fleshed out, salted down, and placed forward in a special fur hold. The bodies were then placed in the huge shipboard rendering pots and the fat rendered. When the oil had floated to the surface of the pot, it was ladled off, poured into wooden kegs, and bunged shut. Those casks of valuable oil were also placed forward in the ship in a separate hold to be sold later for use in lamps, lubricants, and additive to various patent medicines. Then the carcasses were thrown overboard to the waiting sharks except for some select pieces, which were mostly served to the crew in a strong-tasting, oily stew accompanied by wormy hardtack.
One day Jacob got a plan and, after discussing it with his brother, approached the captain and said, “Captain, I have a plan on how to increase your harvest of sea otters and seals if you are interested.”
The captain looked long and hard at the man he considered a troublemaker and then said, “It had better be good, or it’s back to the mast and the sting of the whip.”
Figuring he would just add the man’s acid tone to the list of grievances he was holding in his breast, Jacob continued, “My brother and I are better shots than all of your men put together. We spent years in the West as mountain men and were known throughout the region as the keenest shooters among all the trappers. My brother and I, since we are part of the crew and because all of us get a cut of that which is taken, wish to improve not only our lot but that of the ship’s company. We figure we can do that by doubling the kill with less use of powder and ball if you are inclined to consider my suggestion.”
Looking down on Jacob from the bridge, the captain considered his words. He still did not trust either of the two men even though they had somewhat assimilated into his crew after being shanghaied. However, that level of adjustment was not normal, to his way of thinking. It was best he kept his guard up against these two bearded giants, no matter how well they seemed to adapt to life onboard. But he was also a greedy man, and what Jacob had said was in fact true. His best shooters missed more than they hit even on their better days.
“And if you can’t? What then?” the captain asked with interest.
“Then you can take me and my brother’s share of the take and keep it for yourself,” Jacob replied with a grin, realizing he had the captain’s rapt attention even though the man tried hard not to show it.
“All right, tomorrow you will go out with my chief boatswain’s mate. He will be armed as well, and if you try anything he will shoot you and dump your miserable carcass overboard!” the captain said with a vicious look.
Jacob returned to his skinning and fleshing detail. On the way, he caught Martin’s eye and winked. Their escape plan was being set into motion.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Hunt for the Sea Otter and Freedom
The following morning, when the longboats were lowered, Jacob sat in the front of one of them. Sitting immediately behind him was the grim-faced chief boatswain’s mate with two Remington .44-caliber pistols tucked into his belt. Two other men at the oars pulled hard, and soon their boat was in a giant kelp bed full of the unsuspecting, gentle sea otters.
“It is time, mountain man. Let me see what you can do. Just remember, if you so much as squirm the wrong way, I will shoot you in the back of the head and dump your carcass overboard!” snarled the chief boatswain’s mate.
Lying in the bow were four rifles. Taking one up, Jacob hefted it and checked its sights. Sighting on a large sea otter some thirty yards away, he cleanly killed the animal with a head shot. Without looking back, he handed the empty rifle into the hands of a rower behind him who was acting as loader, grabbed the next rifle, and cleanly killed another otter. Handing that rifle back, he continued the routine until all the rifles were empty or being reloaded. This process was repeated eighteen times until the chief boatswain’s mate said, “Let’s load up what we have already killed. I think we may have a load of otters that might swamp the boat if we try to load any more on board.”
All the floating dead otters were loaded into the boat, and with only about three inches of freeboard, they carefully rowed back to the mother ship. Jacob could tell the captain was pleased as he looked down into the boat. They were fully loaded with sea-otter carcasses and had come back before any other killing boats could even think of returning.
“Eighteen shots and eighteen sea otters,” the ch
ief boatswain’s mate yelled up to the captain. Jacob could tell by the look on the captain’s face that he was awestruck over their success and Jacob’s shooting ability.
“Offload the catch, and let’s see what he can do once again,” shouted down the captain.
The hot-and-heavy killing action continued all day long. Even the chief boatswain’s mate lowered his guard and helped load the rifles so more otters could be killed faster by the sharp- shooting mountain man. By day’s end Jacob had killed 113 sea otters and 2 harbor seals that had wandered into his killing zone. The other three boats hunting in the same area brought in only 87 animals altogether!
The next morning when the boats were lowered, Jacob sat in the bow of one and Martin in another. Throughout that day and the others that followed, the crack shooting of Jacob and Martin kept the skinning and fleshing crews more than busy. With the end of each day of shooting success, Jacob and Martin noticed the crew becoming more friendly to them, as did the ship’s cook. They were finding many choice morsels of food in their tin plates now that they had become the ship’s top shooters. The cook realized that every day the brothers went out meant that his pockets, like those of his shipmates, would be lined with more proceeds than ever before.
Soon the Sea Witch was loaded to the gunwales with valuable hides and kegs of marine mammal oil. In fact, the ship ran out of wooden kegs in which to store the oil, and the extra carcasses had to be tossed overboard without being rendered. The hold used to store furs was full, and extra furs were being stored in the captain’s mess, his bedroom, and in every other place where they could be kept dry. Finally their supply of salt ran out, and the captain had to turn the ship south toward the nearest port where he could offload his catch. It was two months earlier than he had ever left the killing grounds!
Another benefit to the two brothers was that those in the crew loyal to the captain were slowly lowering their guards more and more as they accepted the two ex-mountain men as genuine sealers and shipboard mates.