The Downeaster: Deadly Voyage

by Paul Thomas Fuhrman

  “The mate’s right, Sweets. There’ll be a hanging, justice, or we founder and die. Believe it. See, there’s but one bird now and it waits and wants Craig’s soul.”

  It took no time for the news of the murder to spread. Both Carver and a still reluctant Lennon kept Ezra from calling the captain. Twenty heated men are hard to control, and the sound of their anger was close to that of fury. If nothing was done, Griffin would hear them and be on deck with his pistol. Duder kept Sweets back, apart from the crew.

  Carver mustered the men in naval fashion, assembling them amidships and by watch. “There’s been a murder; Elder’s been slaughtered. There’s a witness. You’ll draw straws to form a jury. Not the boys, no, only men, able-bodied and ordinary.

  “Now, I’ll not have any of you shirk your duty. If there’s to be law, if there’s to be justice, who else is there but you? Look aft. Do you see that bird? There are men here who know what it wants.” Carver listened to hear the older men and watched their eyes.

  One portsider shouted out, “Hang the Jonah!”

  “Silence!”

  Carver stared the man down and silence held sway. He then said, “I’ll not have mob justice! There’ll be no more murder. Justice is work for cool minds, serious minds.”

  The boatswain passed among the two watches and had the men draw straws from his fist. Some men were reluctant to draw; others gladly did so. One man lost his composure on drawing a short straw. John Stedwin took it and gave him his own. Stedwin then looked to the first mate, who gave him permission to take the man’s place.

  Carver imposed silence by looking at each man, letting his dark eyes represent not only his rank but also his natural authority. “Bring Craig aft.”

  Craig stood there; his hands were bound behind him. His rib ached from being hurled to the deck, blood still oozed from the fresh wound on his forehead. He heard Carver clearly.

  “You’re to have a trial. There’s a witness. You can confront him; you can ask him any question. Now swear on this Bible you’ll tell the truth.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Are you innocent or guilty?”

  Craig said nothing.

  “I said, are you innocent or guilty? What do you say?”

  Craig turned toward Carver, smiled, and seemed to almost chuckle. He said nothing.

  “Very well. You have nothing to say for or against yourself. I call Ordinary Seaman Harold Smith to testify, to tell the jury what he saw.” Smitty was sworn to the truth. He told the men what he saw while looking directly at Samuel Craig. The men watched Smitty’s and Craig’s eyes.

  Craig was surprised to hear the first mate ask him if he had any question for the witness or if he cared to make a statement. Craig remained silent; however, his face mocked Carver.

  Carver again said, “Very well.” He turned then to the jury and asked if they had any question for Craig or the witness. Several of the men turned angry eyes toward Craig, but nothing was asked of him or Smitty.

  Priest watched Craig’s face. He saw flashes of pleasure, of defiance, of pride, and of hate. The sight froze Priest’s soul. In Craig he saw evil that killed for the pleasure of it. He knew it was he, Nicholas Priest, who was the intended victim and not Jeremy Ernst. Priest felt regret. The schools, his parents, all injustice real and imagined, were insignificant compared to what Samuel Craig had done. If there are some events that change men’s lives, the first acknowledgment of pure evil is one, the first undeniable knowledge that it walks among us.

  “Stedwin, take the jury forward of the cabin and bring me their verdict. Everybody must agree. A guilty verdict means hanging.”

  The word “hanging” caused several members of the jury to turn their heads sharply and look at Carver. “You heard me. Do your duty.”

  The men filed forward of the deck cabin. Stedwin’s voice carried, and he was heard to say, “Do you have any doubts? Then thumbs up he walks, thumbs down he hangs.” Stedwin and the jury returned. “Mr. Carver, he’s guilty. He hangs.”

  Priest relieved the helm with Smallbridge, Lennon’s orders. Richard Ernst still knelt by his brother and wept, barely aware that a trial had taken place and justice was to be rendered. When offered the chance to witness the hanging, he declined.

  ***

  Craig saw Eoghan Gabriel walk to the boatswain’s locker with Duder and Stedwin. He thought of holystones. They returned with a coil of fresh hemp three strand and two wooden blocks. Gabriel directed the hemp line to be wet down with the fire pump and stretched the wet line between two wing capstans. Gabriel, Duder, and Stedwin then climbed the main-mast to the main-top, laid out on the main course, and rigged a gun-tackle purchase, the tackle fall secured with a Mathew Walker’s knot, the other a hangman’s noose. Craig’s legs started to shake as he understood what the two blocks meant; he would not plummet and die instantly. Gabriel, Duder, and Stedwin returned to the deck, bound Craig’s ankles, checked the knots securing his hands behind his back, and tied his arms to his sides. “Fuck you, Duder.”

  “Do you want the hood?”

  “Hell, no!” Craig shouted. “See that, Priestie? Who’s got a pair now?”

  The ship’s bell rang out five times, ding-ding, ding-ding, d-i-n-g. Craig tried to stretch the sound of the last ding from a second to an hour. He turned his eyes and saw the bird. He saw Priest silently on duty at the helm. He wondered if the boy wanted to see the show. He wondered if Priest’s focus was the compass card and lubber line or the shake of the main topgallant. Are you watching? Can you even stand to?

  The deck caught the rays of the sun.

  Holystoning. Holystoning. He remembered the warmth of the sun radiating from the deck. I’m cold.

  He wanted coffee, its smell, its warmth, its flood in his throat, and asked for it. Bishop brought the coffee gently to his lips, offering the cup again. Craig smiled. Bishop nodded. Craig’s eyes were wet.

  Samuel Craig felt the noose tighten and felt the hangman’s knot rest behind his left ear. He felt every abrasive fiber of the damp hemp. He searched to see the sky and sea, and then the albatross high above the white horse caps soaring nearly black against the brilliant gray and silver-streaked clouds.

  “This ain’t nothing. I ain’t about to lose anything worth keeping. I’m glad it’s over.” He heard the albatross beckon him with a high-pitched yelp.

  Carver asked, “Have you any last words? Do you want to pray? We’ll say a prayer if you want it. Would you like a hymn?”

  “Damn you all. You’ll see me in hell. I’ll be waiting for you!”

  Carver answered, “You’re about to die. Is that all you can say?”

  The slack was taken out of the rope; the noose pressed against his neck, resting above the Adam’s apple. Craig wept.

  Perlie, sing to me.

  The boatswain spoke. “I want you men to face aft. Put the rope over your shoulder and grip it with both hands. Don’t let go. When I say run, you run aft. Run hard. I’ll tell you when to belay.”

  No, Perlie, no.

  Five men of the port watch, no boys, formed a line and turned their backs to him. Their hands curled around the line as they brought it over their right shoulders.

  “Damn you! I said, damn you!”

  Perlie, Mama—they...

  “Run!”

  Isaac Griffin heard the boatswain shout, “Run,” and the sound of men’s feet running, then stopping suddenly. Sleep was behind him and fear, cold fear upon him. He bolted from his chair and took his pistol from the drawer below his bunk. He ran from his cabin, ran through the cabin door, and turning windward around the after deckhouse, he saw the still-jerking body of Samuel Craig held a fathom off the deck by five silent men. He raised the pistol in the air and fired two shots instinctively, uselessly. Craig fell to the deck into the pool of his own urine beneath his feet, dead.

  “What the hell happened here? Carver! What in hell have you done?” Carver and Lennon stood before their captain. The crew stood in a tight knot at the backs of the
two mates. The younger men, the hotter heads, clutched the handles of their knives.

  Lennon saw this and stared them down. “No! Get yews hands off those knives. There’s been enough killing and murder.”

  Carver spoke. He tried as best he could to make a proper report. “Elder’s been murdered. Craig killed him, sir.”

  Griffin gained his composure. He put his pistol in his belt and directed Carver to show him the body of Jeremy Ernst. He felt for a pulse, placed his ear over the dead boy’s mouth, rose, and calmly said, “He’s dead. What happened here?”

  The men felt reassured to see the captain do this, his duty, the expected, and to acknowledge Richard, softly, warmly, by placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder as if he were a son.

  Carver spoke. “Look aft, Captain. The albatross are gone. They followed us since the Horn. The first one left with Jeremy, the second with Craig. There’s no evil now. The devil’s been paid in full.”

  “Nonsense! They’re birds! They follow us because we dump our garbage overboard.”

  “Listen, Captain, my family has been to sea since England, at least one hundred fifty years. My grandpa told me about those birds, their eyebrows—cape albatross. He’d learned it from his father. Craig was a Jonah. I don’t care what you do about my ship. It’s in the Bible, Jonah. I’ll not be cursed. I’ll not have the child in Sally’s womb cursed. These men know it too. Justice had to be done or the devil would take us, all hands. “

  Griffin looked at his mates and looked at his crew. He saw fear. He saw anger. He saw the crew was not under his control, held in line only because of the Smith and Wesson Russian at his side.

  “What did you do?”

  “We gave him a trial, Captain. Smitty saw the whole thing—swore to it. We gave Craig a chance to defend himself. All he did was curse us. We drew straws for the jury—only men. He was found guilty and hung. We hung him proper too. Let him say last words. Offered him a hood. Offered to say a prayer for his soul. He cursed us. He just cursed us.”

  Lennon spoke. “Captain, this ain’t da time. Look at them, yer men.”

  Griffin lowered his head. “Get that rope off him. Bring them both aft and prepare them for burial. Tomorrow, tomorrow at noon, all hands.”

  Sam Duder became angry. “It ain’t right that the boy be buried with his killer. It ain’t right at all.”

  “Just bring them aft and prepare their shrouds. You can keep them apart. I’ll do what’s right by Elder. I’ll do what’s right, Sam. Carver, you and Lennon go below. I have the deck. Take Younger, Priest, and Smallbridge with you. Noyes and Reuben can take the bodies aft; use a passenger stateroom for Elder. Here, take my pistol with you.”

  The ship’s master walked forward toward the main-mast. “Gather round, now. I’ve words to say. Gather around me.

  “All of us are in this and it is finished. Two men are dead and that’s that. Can’t bring them back, can’t call this all back either. We have to live with it. We’ll all answer to our God for what we’ve done, but you’ll not answer to me and not now or ever.

  “Listen. Damn it. I said listen to me. I mean this. We all signed on to sail this ship. I’m going to do that, and that’s what I expect of you. We’re all in this together, master, mates, day men, and crew. I’ll not speak of it again, and neither will you. Now, go back to work.”

  Griffin then paused and slowly, deliberately looked the men in their eyes. His face was calm, without anger. Griffin then stood with his back exposed to his men and slowly walked aft to the cabin. One by one, the men watched and then returned to their work.

  ***

  Griffin finished reviewing the deck log and then prepared his daily entry for the ship’s log. The deck log related to the navigation of the ship, the ship’s log to key events such as births, deaths, and marriages, and whatever the master felt important enough to write down.

  “Ezra, ask the mates and the apprentices to step in, please.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  The mates thought they knew why they were called, but the apprentices were surprised.

  “Here’s what I’ve prepared for the ship’s official log. I want both mates to sign as witnesses.” He then read aloud.

  “A witness, Harold Smith, Ordinary Seaman, of New Hampshire, was questioned about the death of Apprentice Jeremy Ernst. Smith provided sworn testimony that he saw Samuel Craig stab Jeremy Ernst in the back in cold blood, causing instant death. Examination of the body indicated the wound may have broken a rib and thrust through the heart, causing both internal and external bleeding and instantaneous death.

  “Craig is believed to have committed suicide when found out by the crew. He ended his own life by jumping overboard. Sea state and fog prevented launching a boat. May God have mercy on his soul.

  “Richard, Jeremy’s laid out in a passenger stateroom. I am sorry for your loss. I don’t have words to tell you how sorry I am for you and your brother. Even if I had them, I don’t know how much comfort they would be to you. All I can do now is to bury him at sea. It’s a good burial, a Christian burial, a burial for a seaman. You’ll see. You’ll stand next to me. All hands will be there; the ship will lie-to.

  “We all liked your brother. He earned the crew’s respect. He was a good shipmate. That’s the most we can give him, to call him shipmate and give him our respect and love. We all have lost a shipmate.

  “I want you and the other apprentices to have supper with me and the mates tonight, to sleep aft too. We all understand your grief. We all share it. Go and be with Jeremy now. The men will pay their respects and want to talk to you, to comfort you. We all care.

  “Don’t say much. Look at their eyes. That’s where their sentiments are, if they could say them. Tell them, ‘Thank you.’ ”

  Richard Ernst left the captain’s office with the two apprentices. Priest went on deck to let Duder know where he would be. Duder acknowledged this silently and pointed aft. “There’s no birds there. It’s over, Sweets. See? Some things ain’t understood, but they’re still true.”

  Griffin and the mates were still in the reception area. Griffin looked at his two mates. “I think the crew’s ready to follow us now. I told the crew we are all in this together and no one is to say another word about it. Peleg, I know you felt anger and fear. Damn it, give me some credit! What angers me is you forgot your duty to inform me, to call me on deck, the loyalty you owe me.

  “Both of you—it was your duty to call me. I needed to have been called. We’ve a lazarette aboard this ship, and Craig belonged there and in irons. Someone would kill him. Who? I don’t care. Who would protect him? That would have been better. Now all of us will be liars. I gave orders for you to call me and you ignored them. I may have hanged him myself if it meant this ship, keeping the crew.”

  Both mates heard their captain. Carver’s face showed resignation. Lennon spoke up. “Captain, what about Peleg’s ship?”

  “No, I’ll not discuss it. We’ll bury Jeremy tomorrow. We’ll give him a shipmate’s farewell. You’ll get the men ready, Peleg.”

  “Captain, the men will want to know what’s in the log.”

  “Here, take it.”

  Griffin watched his mates leave. He opened his desk drawer and took paper and pen to write his letter to Kayleigh MacKenna. He held the pen in his hand and heard the ship’s bell ring out the hour of the watch. More than thirty minutes had passed and nothing had been written except the date. He reached for the deck log, read it again and then again, and wrote:

  My Dearest Kayleigh,

  We’ve had moderate breezes and cloudy weather throughout the last 24 hours. The wind has remained steady all throughout the day and night from the north by west. It has been quite cool. All sail has been set.

  Unfortunately we have not been able to head up better than west by north 3/4 north most of the day. We have seen no birds or flying fish since daybreak. The two great cape albatross that have trailed us daily are no longer there. There’s been a death. We’ve lost Jeremy Erns
t. I’ll bury him tomorrow. We all mourn for him.

  You know my fondness for the poems of John Donne. Today the bell tolls for a boy and for all of us together. I have not the words to comfort his brother, although my heart compels me to do so. Tomorrow I will bury him according to tradition. The men will stand silently and pray. Perhaps a hymn will be sung. We all suffer at such moments and reach to each other for comfort. Perhaps the soul of this departed boy will rejoice to escape the confines of an earthly grave and feel the expanse and freedom of the sea, to soar majestically on broad white wings above all the temporal suffering below...

  Griffin was momentarily startled by the sound of something being jettisoned, then what seemed to be a cheer cut short by Lennon’s shouting. He shoved his chair back and prepared to go forward when he then heard the familiar grind of holystones purifying his deck.

  Still standing, he picked up Melville from his shelf and turned to chapter nine of Moby-Dick.

  “With this sin of disobedience in him, Jonah still further flouts at God, by seeking to flee from Him... Delight is to him, whom all the waves of the billows of the seas of the boisterous mob can never shake from this sure Keel of the Ages. And eternal delight and deliciousness will be his, who coming to lay him down, can say with his final breath—O Father!—chiefly known to me by Thy rod—mortal or immortal, here I die. I have striven to be Thine, more than to be this world’s, or mine own. Yet this is nothing; I leave eternity to Thee; for what is man that he should live out the lifetime of his God?”

  Forty-Six

  Burial at Sea

  Few and short were the prayers said,

  and spoke we not of sorrow;

  But steadfastly gazed upon the face that was dead,

  And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

  —Charles Wolfe

  Saturday, August 24, 1872

  Lat 27˚27΄46˝N, Long 124˚36΄30˝W

  September 4, 1872

  My Dearest Kayleigh,

  We made good 186 miles in the last 24 hours. The wind has been consistent coming from the NNW. This has given us some time to rest, as I’ve not had to call both watches on deck. The ship is starting to look as if she had just been built. We’ve worked at painting everything above the waterline and Peleg Carver has been methodically overhauling the rigging mast by mast. Our older sails are now bent.