Fool's Gold
Page 5
still remember that trip to India.”
“Aye. That was one hell of a blow rounding the tip of Africa.” His mind dwelled for a moment in the shadows of his memories. “That reminds me. I’ve been meaning to ask you why you ever went into slaving.”
Arnold shuddered as the memories he had tried to kill off with drink once again haunted him. “Damn. If there’s one person that I can’t fool with lies, it be you, Captain. Well, maybe my wife, too.”
“Good wives are like that, you know. They keep you walking the straight and narrow instead of walking off of planks after mermaids or barmaids. Anyway, why’d you do it?”
“I…” Arnold’s trembling slowly subsided. “Oh what the hell? I be too tired and old to lie about it anymore. I don’t know why I did it. But I wish to me dying day I never had.”
“Are you trying to forget your slaving days by drowning yourself in a bottle?”
“That’s what me wife says. Sometimes I be thinking I’d be better off dead than having the memories torment me all the time. Maybe if I was from a family of privilege I could’ve been a captain like you. You weren’t that much older than me when you were me first captain.”
“I was 18. There were some even younger than that who became captains. I started at eight years old as a cabin boy, you know. Seems like a lifetime ago, it’s been so long ago.” The captain sat back down. “So I suppose this boy of yours wants to be a cabin boy, too. Bit old for that isn’t he?”
“He be 20. It wouldn’t work if he was in your cabin, either. Says he can only get his bearings if he can be looking out at the horizon for a spell.”
“One of those, eh? Okay, okay. I’ll put him up on deck to pull watch. But if he falls overboard you don’t get his half fare back. That’s what you owe me, in advance, before you drink it up, instead.” He held out his hand.
Arnold winced as he counted out the payment. “Aye, you’re still the captain that runs the tightest ship on all of the seven seas. You mind if I go below and bring him up for air? I needs to get food down him so he can be getting his strength back.”
“Go ahead. Bring him up to the wheelhouse.”
Arnold held on to whatever was within reach as he navigated the deck and the steps down to the boiler room. The temperature grew increasingly hotter as he approached it. He quickly found the sailor in charge.
“The captain wants to see Rudolph.”
“And who might you be?”
“Arnold Thompson, my good man.”
The gaunt sailor ignored Arnold’s extended hand. “We don’t be letting no passengers down here. They might trip and land in the fire. That would make a terrible smell and stink up the whole ship.” He poked Arnold’s fat belly.
“Well, no worry there, matey. I sailed three of the seven seas with your captain, that I did.”
“All right, all right then. No more of your talk. Rudolph!”
The seasick coal shoveler stumbled over to his boss. “Yes?”
“Go with this man to the captain. He might have to carry you up, you look mighty green around your gills again.”
Rudolph swayed and grabbed Arnold as they went topside. The blast of cold spray reminded him of the water that his family members had tossed on his face to revive him from his many drinking bouts. Arnold shoved a loaf of bread into Rudolph’s hand.
“Nibble on this. And eat the rest of your meals up here on deck right before you goes on watch. That’ll help you keep them down. It took quite a bit of doing but the captain will be having you on deck to pull watch from now on.”
The first hope that he had felt in days lifted Rudolph’s spirits. “Danka. Danka. Now I not buried at sea.”
“No way, son. You’re like me very own flesh and blood. All the missus and me have is three daughters. You be like me son I never had.”
When they reached the wheelhouse the captain shook his head. He quickly dismissed Arnold.
“Good day, Captain. Be seeing you at supper, then?” Arnold did not wait for an answer. The captain’s scowl chased him out through the door.
The captain addressed Rudolph for the first time. “So the boiler room’s not your kettle of fish then?”
“Sorry, Herr Captain. First time ocean.” Rudolph gazed through the window at the horizon, which helped to restore his equilibrium.
The captain’s expression softened. “Well there might be a duty more to your liking. I want you to pull watch up on deck. It’ll be six hours on and six hours off. The rest of the crew will appreciate that since they’ll have less watch to pull. Okay, then. Report to First Mate Roberts.”
“Aye, Captain.” This phrase was the first that the crew had taught Rudolph.
“And maybe think about staying on land from now on. In all my years of sailing I’ve never seen anyone get as seasick as you.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Captain Smith had served on eight vessels and commanded three of them. When he first sailed as a cabin boy, every vessel depended on the winds and currents to carry it to the desired ports. Now the introduction of steamships would gradually render the great sailing ships as slower, more expensive means of hauling passengers and freight. He reluctantly had signed on as captain of this ship. Doing so made him long for the days when he and his crew were at the mercy of the sea and its ever-changing weather. Even though the vessel that he now commanded was touted as safer and superior to the ships that he fondly recalled, he was leery of the dangers that many ignored. On a previous voyage one of his crew had died, and two were badly injured when a boiler exploded.
His wife was weary of his continual absences and looked forward to his last voyage. “Don’t ever marry a sailor.” She told her three daughters. “Unless you don’t mind the loneliness and worry that comes with it.” Such talk had not kept any of her five sons from going to sea.
Rudolph slowly regained his strength as his appetite returned and food began to stay inside of him. By the third day of his new assignment he was wolfing down every meal. He found that pulling watch for six hours and then being off for six hours to be a strange work schedule but not being dreadfully seasick more than made up for it. As he settled into the new routine he occasionally found time to chat with Arnold.
“Looks like you’re getting your natural color back, me boy.”
“But some passengers sick.” Rudolph glanced toward a poor soul whose head hung over the ship’s rail as she lost her evening meal.
Arnold shrugged. “Be happy when you get peaceful waters. Life has too many storms as it is.”
Such philosophizing meant little to Rudolph. The only thing that he now hoped for was the sight of land, land on which he could abandon ship forever.
5
Thomas enjoyed an easier trip across the Atlantic. Two other indentured servants, a Frenchman and a Pole, accompanied him. The three were fluent only in their native tongues; but each knew a bit of English. The Pole and Frenchman also had studied German as schoolboys. Thus, they were able to carry on passable conversation, which they used to pass the time. The other two willingly told Thomas what seemed to be their life stories and even parts of their ancestors’ lives.
The one from France spoke of how a handful of his forebears had their lives end suddenly strapped face down on the guillotine even though they had been on the front lines of the French Revolution. They had angered someone who found revenge by labeling them enemies of the revolution. Their headless bodies had been tossed into a mass grave and their heads stuck on pikes and paraded around Paris to terrorize any who might entertain second thoughts about the revolution. Such violence had caused his as then unmet parents to be to flee from Paris to the countryside. Otherwise they may have never met, he concluded. This emigrant from France believed that a better life awaited him.
The one from Poland told stories of how his ancestors too often had been caught in the middle. First it had been the czars of Russia dominating his country. After that Napoleon’s armies trampled over it on their way to and from Moscow. He ruefully explained that
his country’s geographic location invited trouble. It was not a question of if another invasion would happen but only of when. After long discussions with his parents they all had concluded that such treatment of their land and its citizens would probably continue, maybe the next time from the Germans. He gave a sidelong glance at Thomas to see how he might react to the mention of his homeland and its potential for aggression.
Thomas merely smirked. Looking for common ground, he said that Germans had not liked Napoleon either. He was now thankful for the history lessons that he had absorbed over the years from the old man at his village’s Gasthaus. As for future invasions of Poland, Thomas said it would be the Prussians who would do it, not those from his homeland of Bavaria. Resigned to his life as a fugitive, Thomas had concluded that the more vague he was about his past the less likely he was to be caught and sent back to Germany to stand trial. When his turn came to tell his story and especially the reasons for his being desperate enough to become a servant, he painted a sketchy tale. He did this by constantly shifting the focus back to his newfound friends. He spoke in simple German for their sakes.
“You smart.” He pointed at them in hope that gestures would help their understanding. “What you leave not good. America good, yah?”
“Why you go America?” The Frenchman prodded.
Thomas frowned as he sifted through his past for a safe altered version of reality. “Tired of farm. Work,