He quickly walked to her, then stopped, careful to keep his distance. “Wait, please, Nadyha.”
“Why?” she asked brusquely.
“I just would like to talk to you. Please.”
She stopped, and stood before him, but with her head bowed.
Quietly Gage said, “I just wanted to ask you a question. It’s—I don’t understand, really. I thought we were getting to be friends. Good friends.”
“Yes, I thought—” she murmured, then, with a jerk, stood up straight to stare at him defiantly. “That’s not a question.”
Helplessly Gage pleaded, “Have I done something to make you angry with me, Nadyha? If I have, please tell me.”
Unthinking, he reached out to her, and she recoiled. “Don’t,” she said coldly. “No, Gage, I’m not angry. Not any more.”
She brushed past him and disappeared.
With despair Gage thought, I know, Lord. I can’t always have the answer that I want . . .
CHAPTER TWENTY
It was almost noon as the Queen of Bohemia came into New Orleans. Mid-August, it was a sweltering, glaring day, with wavy heat-shimmers rising from the city. The light hurt Gage’s eyes, and he pulled his wide-brimmed hat lower to shadow his face. He had the beginnings of a headache.
He stood in solitude on the Hurricane Deck, far at the stern, on the starboard side of the boat. He was watching their smooth glide through the busy port. They were nearing the Queen’s permanent slip, at the levee entrance by the French Market. At the Port of New Orleans, the smaller steamers could dock nose-in, but the larger ones were required to always dock starboard, or right-hand side, when facing the front of the boat, alongside the dock. First Pilot Stephen Carruthers always docked the Queen in the major ports, and Gage observed, as he had before, that Carruthers was something of a hotshot, seeming always to come in too fast, make the right-hand angled turn rather sharply, and at the very last minute signal “Slow” to the engine room, so that they had to let off almost all of the steam at once, and it screamed sharply and dramatically from the ’scape pipes as they came into their portage.
Below him, on the Salon Deck and the lower third-class Promenade Deck, all of the passengers were gathered. It was customary for the passengers to go out on the decks when they were coming into port, especially when they were coming into home port. Always a crowd gathered when the Queen of Bohemia docked, families and friends of passengers, and onlookers who just wanted to watch one of the floating palaces in her stately grace.
Gage watched as they passed the solid line of riverboats docked in New Orleans. He saw the Sunset West, a rather small steamer, but with fancy gingerbread work and bright white paint trimmed in blue and yellow. Then came the Matoaka Maiden, and Gage studied her, for she was a sidewheeler, and idly he wondered about the difference for passengers from a sternwheeler. Did the two wheels make twice as much noise? Could you hear them throughout the boat? Then he thought that it wouldn’t matter on the Matoaka Maiden, for she was clearly only a cargo hauler, with no Texas Deck. Right now roustabouts were just finishing up loading her with barrels and crates.
Next was the Imperious, a mid-sized passenger steamer, and then the C. J. Berkeley, a businesslike, trim cargo vessel. Gage wondered about the Imperious. Denny had told him that although she was only about two-thirds the size of the Queen of Bohemia, she had fifty-six nicely appointed staterooms and a Grand Salon and Ballroom, and ladies’ salons and men’s cardrooms and saloons. She did a very brisk business, Denny had said, and his uncle considered her one of the Queen’s main competitions for second-class passengers. Gage wondered if she needed a purser. He now knew that he was fully competent to be a chief bookkeeper for a steamer. Although the Queen’s purser, A. J. Ruffin, was a riverman, it was rather unusual for a lifelong crewman of a riverboat to become a purser. Gage had learned that most all of the larger passenger boats hired bookkeepers, not rivermen, to manage their finances.
The thoughts depressed him. He didn’t want to be on the Imperious, or on any other passenger steamer. He wanted to stay on the Queen of Bohemia. But it was impossible. He realized that now it was just too painful for him to be here, around Nadyha. Glancing behind him, he looked across the boat, over to the port side, where Nadyha’s stateroom was just below. She would be there, he knew, not out in the crowds on deck. Her doors would be open. He wondered what she was doing now. Probably sitting on the deck, watching the eastern bank of the Mississippi River. Dully Gage reflected that now he could see one reason for his beginning headache; low, black threatening thunderclouds were coming in from the southeast. Often Gage had a headache before a big storm; he thought it must have something to do with the air pressure.
The Queen was out in the middle of the river. As they passed the C. J. Berkeley, Stephen Carruthers made his signature sharp right-hand turn, angling in toward the Queen of Bohemia’s berth. Gage admired Carruthers; he may be a showoff, but he knew his piloting. Though the turn was hard and fast, it was exactly timed and coming around left just sharp enough to be flashy but not jarring. Gage watched as they slid gracefully toward the docks, waiting for the scream of the ’scape pipes.
But that wasn’t the screams that he heard next.
THE MATOAKA MAIDEN WAS owned and piloted by a German man, a stern and businesslike sailor who had been in the German navy. She was strictly a freight hauler, because Captain Arnim Schulteiss would have no nonsense with passengers on his boat. Shrewdly, during the war, he had figured out the most lucrative freight to haul on the Mississippi River: arms and munitions. The New Orleans Armory, taken over by the Union in 1862, supplied arms to every fort along the Mississippi River. Still now, after the peace, the armory was working at full capacity, making more rifles, more artillery shells, more cannon.
And more gunpowder. That was what was in the barrels that Gage saw.
Captain Schulteiss was a careful, methodical man. When the Matoaka Maiden had first gotten the contract to haul gunpowder, Shulteiss flatly stipulated that the Federal Army would pay for special racks to hold the barrels, to make them completely secure, instead of just stacking them on the deck. These were simple square wooden racks made of pine, with crosspieces to make a square compartment for each barrel with about two inches of clearance on all sides. The compartments had a thin layer of hay that helped stabilize the barrels. This system had worked marvelously. The Matoaka Maiden had never had loose barrels, never had any leaking barrels, and the racks had stayed strong and fast all that time.
But now, after three years, a single screw had worked loose from one of the crosspieces of one of the racks. It thrust out from the wood about a half-inch, and was hidden in the hay. A crewman set the barrel into the compartment, and it seemed to him that the hay was too thick, for the barrel wasn’t settling evenly. He pushed. The screw caught one of the metal barrel hoops. It caused a spark.
Of course, these last few seconds of the Matoaka Maiden were never known.
MAYBE I SHOULD JUST get a room at some little boardinghouse in the city and look for a job. Stay off the river and away from—
Gage lost his conscious thought, his breath, his hearing, and his connection to the earth. The blast blew him ten feet backwards. He landed with a painful thud on his back and lay there, stunned. He saw an enormous scarlet and black fireball rising above him. Then the fiery debris started raining down.
It took him a few seconds to recover his senses, although to Gage it seemed like a long time, struggling to breathe, staring around with uncomprehending eyes, the only sounds in his head that of stupendous roaring.
His pants leg was on fire. Gage jumped up and smothered it with his hands. Looking around, he saw that there were many big chunks of flaming wood falling on the Hurricane Deck, too many and too fiery for him to pick up and toss overboard. Already the wooden deck had caught fire in several places. He tried to run to the steps leading down to the Texas Deck, dodging the flaming wood shards, but as he neared it he could see that the steps were on fire.
&nbs
p; Without breaking stride he made a U-turn and ran to the port side of the boat. He vaulted over the railing, then grabbed two uprights and slid down them. Making a kicking motion with his legs, he swung, then landed. He was on the deck in front of Nadyha’s stateroom.
Horror was in his mind, and it only increased when he saw the scene.
Boldo was between the beds, trying to cower down against the wall. The sounds he was making were wrenching; he bawled, a loud moan that sounded like a man wailing: NNOOOooh, NNNOOOOoooooh, NNOOOoooh! Baro and Bitti were in their canvas bag on the bed, shivering with fear.
Anca was at the stateroom door, and smoke crept in from underneath it, hellishly wreathing her. She was standing upright, clawing at the door, her ears flattened completely, snarling. Gage saw dozens of long deep splintered scratches in the wood, and blood on the door from her paws. She looked back at Gage, her eyes narrowed to fierce glowing slits. Savagely she roared.
Nadyha was standing a couple of feet behind Anca, holding onto her leash. She sobbed fitfully and kept screaming, “Anca! Anca, no! Anca, please!” and yanking hard on the leash.
Instantly Gage crossed to Nadyha, put his hands on her upper arms, and roughly turned her around to face him. Her terrified stare held only panic. “Nadyha!” he shouted. “Nadya! Listen to me!” She still stared up at him, her eyes stretched impossibly wide, her gaze uncomprehending. Gage shook her, hard.
A slight flicker of anger showed in her eyes, and she kept jerking around to stare at Anca, but she didn’t struggle against Gage.
The room was filling with smoke, even though the French doors were standing wide open. Boldo cried; Anca roared. From faraway they could hear screams and hoarse shouts.
In a slightly quieter tone Gage said, “Nadyha, please listen to me. Anca is frightened because you’re frightened. If you can calm down, then we can get Anca calmed down.”
Nadyha stopped sobbing and yanking uselessly on Anca’s leash, but Gage could tell that he still wasn’t getting through to her. He put both of his hands on Nadyha’s face and gently turned her to face him. “Nadyha, please listen to me. I love you, my darling, I love you more than my own life. If I have to stand here and burn with you, I will. But we don’t have to die. I can get us out of this, all of us. But you have to calm down.”
“Wh—what?” She kept trying to wrench around to look at Anca. With soft but insistent pressure on her face Gage kept her focused on him. “You need to be calm, and get past the fear. It’s time to pray, Nadyha. Just forget everything, close your eyes, and pray.”
After long moments, she swallowed hard, then bowed her head and closed her eyes, and Gage dropped his hands from her face. He heard her speak: “Amaro Dad, kai san ande o cheri, ke tijiro anav t’avel svintsime . . .” He joined her, saying the Lord’s Prayer in Romany. By the time they finished Nadyha was calm, her face composed, and she had stopped crying.
She stepped close to Gage and gave him a fierce, hard hug. “Thank you,” she said simply. Then she turned to Anca and very slowly walked to stand by her. The cougar still was snarling and clawing. “Anca,” Nadyha said as quietly and calmly as she could. “Anca, te’ sorthene. Anca, it’s all right,” she kept saying over and over again. Anca finally dropped down on all fours and looked up at Nadyha. Her ears were still flattened, and her eyes still spit yellow fire, but she stopped growling and snarling. Nadyha stroked her head a few times, still murmuring soothingly. Then she dropped to her knees, and leaned forward, and they touched noses.
Anca was calm.
Nadyha walked to Boldo, knelt down, and enveloped him in a hug. “Boldo, silly old bear, it’ll be all right, don’t cry any more, dinili bear . . .” Finally the bear stopped moaning, though to Gage his foolish bear-face still looked as frightened as a child’s.
Nadyha came to her feet and asked Gage, “What do we do?”
“We get off this boat,” he said. Slinging the puppies’ canvas bag over his shoulder, he pointed to the door and said, “We can’t go that way, it looks like the hallway’s on fire. We’ll have to go to the servants’ stairs.”
“Along the deck?” Nadyha asked.
“Yes, that little door down in about the middle of the boat. Keep hold of Anca’s leash. Will Boldo follow?”
She turned to the bear and said in a normal, everyday voice, “Boldo, come on, we’re leaving now.” The bear obediently got on all fours and followed Nadyha and Anca out onto the deck.
When they got outside, Gage quickly closed the doors and he and Nadyha looked around.
The Queen had staggered at the concussion of the blast, and then she had slewed around so that now the port side of the boat was directly facing the east bank. Gage wondered, because he had seen several boats along Algiers Point before, but now no other vessel was in sight. On their left were the windows of Zedekiah Wainwright’s stateroom, which were regular windows, not French doors. They were open, and grimly Gage saw smoke billowing out of them. He could see nothing past the stern of the boat because of the thick, dark cindered clouds.
The Queen was wallowing, aimlessly floating back away from the docks, toward the middle of the river. The sun was now shrouded with a black pall of smoke. The air was filled with the harsh smell of burning, and was clouded with ash. Even as they hesitated, a chunk of burning overhang from the Hurricane Deck fell down onto the deck, just a few feet from them. “C’mon,” Gage said, and grabbed Nadyha’s hand. They ran down the deck, and Gage was grateful that the French doors of the first-class staterooms were all shut. It would have been time-consuming to have to ram all of those doors closed to clear the way on deck.
The problem, Gage thought as they fled, was that the only outside steps that ran all the way from the Texas Deck down to the main cargo deck were at the stern on the starboard side. Gage had already seen up on the Hurricane Deck that the stairway was on fire; he was fairly certain that much of the starboard side of the ship was burning. Even if he and Nadyha had been able to go down the first-class hallway to the interior stairs that went down to the Moravian Salon, those stairs were on the starboard side of the ship. Gage said a hurried prayer of thanks that he knew of this tiny servants’ stairs, which were on the port side.
Because Gage had been so curious, he knew about the interior servants’ stairwell amidships, and he knew that it ran from the first-class deck down to the third-class deck but not all the way down to the main deck. Gage thought fast. When they reached the third-class deck, they could use the port steps at the bow that all third-class passengers used when they boarded, since they weren’t allowed on the Grand Entrance staircase that led only up to the Moravian Salon. After boarding, because passengers were strictly forbidden to go down to the main deck, the stairs were barred by an iron gate. Gage told himself that he would take care of that, even if he had to chew it open. He glanced over the side. It was a full thirty-foot drop down to the water from here. Gage knew that he had to get them down to a lower deck.
They reached the narrow door leading into the stairs and Gage wrenched it open. He smelled smoke, but it didn’t come roiling out. Holding it open, he motioned Nadyha to go first. She went, with Anca’s leash in her hand, but then the leash tightened. Both Anca and Boldo hesitated. Clearly they didn’t want to go into the dark, tight, smoky place. “It’s ho-kay, Anca,” Nadyha said. “Come with me, Boldo.” She walked in, and they followed. The stairs were steep and narrow, and almost as tightly wound as a spiral staircase. The stairwell was windowless, and the only lights were one small gas lamp on each landing, but they were out, and they groped along in almost complete darkness. Gage went weak-kneed when he saw the darkened lamps, because it was the first time he’d thought about the gas lines. The crew must have gotten to the mains very quickly to shut them off.
Gage thought now that his hearing was returning. The stairwell was deserted and quiet, although they could still hear the ’scape pipes huffing, and it occurred to Gage that they were still under power.
Nadyha walked in front; behind her, Anca glid
ed down the steps, her haunches lowered. Boldo went down the stairs on all fours with surprising agility. Gage brought up the rear. The puppies were wiggling, and kept trying to climb out of the bag. Gage wished he’d fashioned the bag so that it would close. He kept his left hand on the bag, pinching the middle of it shut so that the puppies could only just stick their heads out.
Nadyha started coughing, but she wasn’t choking. The stairwell was filled with smoke, but it wasn’t thick and suffocating. Gage asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Gage—where are we going? What are we going to do?”
“When we get down to third class, don’t go out into the stateroom passageway, just go out the door onto the deck. Then we’ll go up to the bow and use those stairs to get down on the main deck.”
They reached the landing on the second-class deck, and now they could hear shouts and screams, a continuous din that was curiously muted because they were at the end of such a small, narrow hallway. As Gage had known she would, Nadyha hesitated. “Gage, what about Baba Simza and Mirella and Niçu? And Cara?” she asked with anguish.
“I’ve been praying,” he said simply. “I have to save you, Nadyha. Niçu will take care of the others. After you’re safe, if I can, I’ll come back.”
She nodded and dashed tears from her eyes, then continued down.
They burst out of the door onto the promenade of the third-class deck. The harsh noise of a panicked crowd assaulted their ears. They looked to their right, toward the bow, blinking in the daylight glare after being in the dark stairwell. A mass of people were on the deck, crowding around the narrow stairway, pushing, shoving, cursing, shouting. Even as they watched, a man shoved a woman and she toppled over the railing to fall screaming to the river below.
The River Palace: A Water Wheel Novel #3 Page 33