Richmond hung his head lower in shame. “We are a wicked lot, are we not? We want the land that bore these people. Then we plunder the resources above and below that land. Next, we want to enslave the people born on that land. And now we take their names and culture, trying to rob them of the very heavens above.
“I know I’m not better than you Captain Brannigan. I act fully complicit in this vile adventure. I only wish I had other means to make my family whole than going in league with such evil.”
Captain Brannigan’s eyes narrowed into cold slits. “Listen Richmond, let’s make this perfectly clear. Our world is made up of two sides; the victors and the vanquished. There is no quarter for sentiments less you get caught with the latter.
“So let me say this again. Everyone and everything on this ship have a date with the docks in Savannah. In my opinion, the only danger I see is that some of this crew have too much sympathy and not enough conviction. So let’s fix course now and prepare to meet the bountiful fortune of our fate!”
A sullen First Mate Miller relented to the captain’s order. “Aye Captain Brannigan; we will change Isabella’s course right now. Hawkins! Longstreet! Take all the captives below. And have the men make course due south west towards Savannah, Georgia. We have a change of plans.”
“But Miller,” replied Seaman Hawkins above the compounding din of foul weather. “We are damn well past the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, and nearing that English coast by the minute. Is there any way to spot Turner’s rendezvous ship so we can salvage a deal?”
Brannigan strode towards Hawkins. “Are you mute man? When we lost Turner, everything to do with the English plans went with him. I did not expect him to be killed by a darkie on the sail over. That includes not knowing the name of our contact ship. I will not risk my cargo on chancing an inquiry of any unknown ship in that area!
“Can you imagine being caught by British authorities, spending the rest of your days rotting in an English prison? Plus having to endure peppering and vexing by smug abolitionists? We are making do with the situation at hand. Does that satisfy you?”
“The satisfaction Captain Brannigan is not mine to obtain,” replied Hawkins. “For if we do change course and go headlong into Desmond’s Yard Lot, this voyage will answer to the sea! After sailing world over for half a lifetime, I know the Atlantic tests our full mettle in the best of times.
“Why don’t we just take a better chance? All of these captives sold their land and possessions back in Nova Scotia. Keep their proceeds and drop them off on the nearest shoreline in England! That should be a fair payday indeed, including all the advance monies of course.”
Captain Brannigan stood ramrod sharp as he stroked his chin. “Hawkins, do you really think that’s a good idea after everything I’ve said?”
Seaman Hawkins stood unwavering in his conviction. “Yes Captain Brannigan, I do.”
Brannigan pivoted around to give a glance to all those gathered about him. “Does anyone else share the opinion of Seaman Hawkins?” shouted the captain.
Only the thrusting nag of Isabella driving through sea and rain offered any sound in return. “Well now Hawkins. It seems like we are headed to Savannah on the basis of that vote. Though to calm your fears a little, step forward and pray with me for the ship’s safe passage.”
Hawkins was despondent, though dutifully came forward in response to the captain’s request. “There’s a good man Hawkins. Please kneel beside me and let us pray for our safe passage to Savannah.”
Hawkins slowly lowered his head and knelt on the cold salt licked deck. Hawkins’s final thoughts were lost in the whipping mist of sea spray as Captain Brannigan drew a broadsword, cleaving his bent head with its glinting blade.
Brannigan wheeled about in cold satisfaction. “Does anyone else question my authority on Isabella?” he screamed. “I said none of you will get between me and my reward in Savannah. I will meet any similar hint of protest with the sweet swing of my blade! You two; clean this mess up and throw it overboard. Now let’s make hard and fast due southwest towards our payday!”
The murderous captain began to walk towards his quarters before turning around abruptly. “There’s another matter making the rage in me burn brightly. You all better get off your high horses of morality if you still ride one! We’re all hard men in a dirty trade that has no quarter for pity. Not one of you was forced to take on your position. Each man came forward knowing we are doing the devil’s work for devil’s pay. Nothing is sacred in the slave trade.”
Eyes spread wide in shocked disbelief. Yet within a few moments, First Mate Miller had composed himself enough to bellow out orders.
“Alright now, just don’t stand there; you all heard the captain! I want those sails pointed out and our new course compassed and charted. We are onwards to Savannah!”
Fast paced movement accompanying frantic action confirmed the approval of each sailor to this change of plans. Captain Brannigan made no room for doubt as to his vile determination.
Afternoon passed with the threatening weight of today’s overtures tiring both mind and body. As a somber evening shadowed Isabella, not one person save the captain was confident in their position. It was this omnipresent fear which pushed the crew ever onwards, making good on Captain Brannigan’s directives.
As evening steadily drew its dark coat over failing daylight, the night crew was still in slumber. But it was an uneasy calm indeed. For every sailor realized a stark reality that afternoon. It was gravely apparent that not one of them was secure in their position. From now on, a crewman’s life was worth little more than the very captives they guarded; without bounty probably less.
Amidst this heightened tension, there was one crewman who time ago mistrusted their captain’s temperament. Seaman Simon heard tell from an old sailing mate of how Brannigan undercut wages on a previous voyage. When Simon was hired on, he knew of this indiscretion, though needed work desperately.
Then, when the hires were told of potential spoils, Simon assessed his situation further. Based on his old mate’s words, he doubted whether this promise to share in large bounty would ever be honored. But a powerful debtor was pressing hard for Simon to satisfy a lingering debt.
Knowing his wages would not cover the due, he needed to find a quick way to avoid severe reprisal for this obligation. Finally, Simon’s mistrust of Brannigan combined with a desperate need for funds to formulate his plan to take material gain.
After hatching his plan, he told his good companion Gerald. Thus their partnership was formed. But still ahead lay the last critical element to their plot. They knew there was only one window of opportunity between shift changes that would leave the safety boats area deserted.
Carefully, when darkness shielded movement, Simon and Gerald put spare clothing in the shape of a body underneath their respective bed sheets. Next, meeting at the foot of the same stairs ascended earlier today, they stole their way on deck. Upon making sure no one was in the safety boats area, they found craft number five.
“We must work quickly Gerald!” hissed Simon. “Luckily this howling wind will drown out the sound of our boat hitting water. Now tie theses lowering ropes through the safety boat loops. Then tie the other ends to the lowering hooks on the ship.”
Despite straining under such heavy weight, their greed provided all the energy they required to land their craft into water. Then a final farewell was offered to Isabella.
“So long Brannigan!” spoke Simon into the darkness. “See how he did up Hawkins? I told you what he’s all about. Count your blessings Gerald. It looks like he’ll need to make do on just captain’s fees. That’s before the crew demands what was promised to them!”
Immediately they dived together into the depths. Surfacing beside the craft, they cut away all holding ropes. Now free of the ship, their next battle had only begun.
“Damn this mess!” cursed a physically drained Gerald. “
It will be hard to establish our bearings in this tossing!”
“Don’t worry Gerald,” replied a calming Simon. “Captain Brannigan needed to hit the south west coast of England for his rendezvous. We can do the same. I reckon we should be close at this point. I overheard First Mate Miller say so to the captain yesterday. But there’s a major risk.”
Gerald’s unease continued to grow. “What’s that Simon?”
“If this storm blows us too far off course, we will not hit any land. We could be cast adrift for days or weeks. In that case, we’ll starve to death on the Atlantic. It’s all or nothing Gerald. That’s our fate now.”
As the whirling tempest slowly gained strength, they struggled to carry their planned course. But Desmond’s Yard Lot was having none of it. For now they were pitted in a life and death struggle, with their very lives in the balance. Neither crewman knew if they would come through it alive.
When the night shift’s turn on deck arrived, rain continued to gather momentum, in step with biting wind. Monetary gain would be cold comfort to many of them under such miserable conditions. Perceiving this, Captain Brannigan made his presence felt amidst the adverse environment. Lest anyone performed their chores at half step, the imposing figure paced about, speaking with vulgar enticement about future spoils.
“Just remember what this hard work is all about. Each and every one of you will soon be reveling in the ample tidings of fortune. A little bit of foul weather now will only make our rewards that much sweeter!
“When we arrive in Savannah, we will meet this planter Harriston Smith’s companion immediately. Soon after the lucre will be ours and this chattel theirs for the taking. With my share I figure to lead a gentleman’s life!”
Each sailor heard these ongoing torrents of encouragement from Captain Brannigan while stormy weather picked up strength. Yet these promises were only good on this side of the living. Who could guess when the maniacal whims of Captain Brannigan were best served by their own departure?
Try as he may, another serious threat began piecing Brannigan’s patchy veil of assurances. Each minute which passed brought them closer to the unforgiving heart of Desmond’s Yard Lot. Being in the midst of this calamitous precipitation did not help to quell years of lore about this legendary spot. Even if one were fortunate enough to survive Brannigan’s volatile hand, there was a possibility that Desmond’s unrequited lust for wrecks would tear apart life and limb.
In the thick of this unyielding tension, Richmond could not forget burdensome pains of conscience. Initially, he was very willing to sacrifice most customs of decency to obtain his share of booty. Such a prize would help uplift the lot of his treasured family.
Now the notion of survival burned a new temperament within. Richmond’s instinct prodded him into action. He acknowledged a worse toll would be suffered by his family if he did not return. In other words, any crew man’s life was steadily compromised by the negligent actions of Captain Brannigan. If there were any chance left to salvage hope, reason had to arrive quickly.
Summoning the extra courage that only self-preservation could muster, Richmond strode in bold steps towards Captain Brannigan. He proceeded to shout above the clanging storm.
“Before you take any action, you must hear me out captain! I signed on this voyage of my own volition as you know. I was prepared to take any reasonable risk necessary to secure some gain, as true as any other sailor here.
“But I plead with you to look around this evening! Surely we are chancing fate itself to sail into the heart of Desmond’s Yard Lot. I am not a superstitious person, but there must be a reason for its ill fame! If we could just find a way around it, we’d lose only a few days. A small price indeed when our very lives may be at stake. Sakes alive; did you see that in the near distance?”
Captain Brannigan ignored his last sentence, instead fixing Richmond with a rage close to explosion. “Look around you Richmond! Do you think I have the patience to listen to your whining once more? I have reached the end of my tether with you. Despite your words, you are more than superstitious. I now see you as a liability to the ship. Therefore I …”
A splitting fork of magnificent lightning lit up this outrageous nightfall. It was followed almost instantaneously by an enormous ear splitting thunder clap. Through it all, a chorus of shrill screams pierced the howling nighttime tempest.
“Watch out everyone! We may be hit!” shouted someone consumed in desperate fear.
Heralding that moment, another jagged spine of lightening ripped apart their close horizon on the south of Isabella’s bow. This action was followed by a second burst of thunder, sent down from the vibrating ceiling of tumultuous black sky.
Captain Brannigan steadied himself before speaking. “Damn the temperament of you all! We see some lightening and I hear cowardly sailors crying out in fear. And your ranting is getting on my last nerve Richmond! Like I was saying, you’re serving no good use to the success of this voyage. Therefore, I want you to prepare for walking the plank.”
Richmond quickly assessed his choices on hearing this dreadful news. He barely had time to formulate his first option when a spectacular chorus held all in frightful awe. A gigantic crescendo from the fathomless organs of sky above smashed all other sounds into pale submission. Preceding the shuddering onslaught, multiple daggers of lightning were thrown about the tossing ship.
In defiance of Captain Brannigan’s disregard, all the ship’s masts were struck and snapped like large twigs. Those crew members in the vicinity were thrown below or crushed to death. Desmond was preparing to claim another victim in its unforgiving clenches.
Through all the tumult, gale force winds began to whip up the sea, washing over Isabella in humungous sweeps. Those not clinging to something sturdy were now swept overboard to certain peril. Further moments passed before a jolting lurch turned into a sickening groan from the hull below.
“Captain, captain!” came forth a harried sailor from below deck. “Isabella has been hit in the hull and is taking on water fast! What shall we do?”
Brannigan’s earlier confidence was beginning a slow fade into indecision. “Bring all the captives above deck. Make sure they know to hold on to something solid or else they’ll be washed overboard. Get a few sailors below to see if we can patch her up down there. Go now and be quick about it!”
The captain could see he had already lost the bulk of his crew. His only hope was those men working feverishly below could stop the intake of water. Just moments later he had his answer. The same sailor returned with a look of imminent danger plastered to his soggy face.
“Captain Brannigan, the report from below is not good! The holes are too big. There are not enough supplies or manpower to repair them. I tried to find Simon and Gerald, two of our best repair men, but they appear to have vanished. By the looks of it, Isabella will go down!”
Brannigan took in the alarming news while looking desperately around his deck. “Listen man, where are the safety boats?” he finally cried out. “Why don’t I see them anywhere?”
More grave news met his inquiry. “The lads were in the process of getting them ready to launch, when a couple of heavy waves washed them and the boats overboard. My guess is that they have carried too far away by now. They are as good as gone captain.”
Joining the harrowing drama was every captive from below. Upon gaining the deck, a fair number were taken overboard by rolling waves washing high over Isabella’s sides. Those fortunate enough to heed the sailor’s warning clung for dear life to anything solid. But as minutes raced forward, the ship began to sink.
Captain Brannigan rushed to his quarters. There he kept the advances from their English partners and Harriston Smith, along with passenger valuables. To his complete horror, none of it could be found. He quickly reappeared on deck and yelled above the surging gale.
“Now look here everyone! All our monies and valuables have been stolen!
As well, we have no safety boats. The ship cannot be repaired, and she is about to go down. Use your best judgment, though we have no tangible options for escape.
“Therefore I hereby declare each man and woman’s survival is of their individual concern. I wish you all the best of chance while trying to survive this wretched mess!”
No sooner had those words left his mouth than Isabella began sinking. The scene became a collage of delusional action accompanying desperate measures. Piercing shrieks of panic collided with pained howls of mortal destruction. Every captive made it their supreme mission to find a way to survive this sordid catastrophe.
All of Isabella’s crew had thrown themselves to sea in hopes of finding some means to ride out Desmond’s gale. Their captain followed suit, leaving the remainder to fend for themselves. In the thick of it, Fortune acted quickly to try and locate Dainty. He was soon successful.
“Dainty, my sweet Dainty, where is our son!” he screamed. “You heard what the captain said. We’re about to lose Isabella to the sea!”
She looked deep into his frantic eyes while delivering her response. “He’s gone Fortune! There was no way he would be a slave to some bastard master! I chose freedom for our son. So I hid him on a boat in which two crew members were plotting to escape. It was all I could do to save our son’s future. You must believe I did it for his best chance!”
Dainty started collapsing under the emotional weight of these powerful events. Instinctively Fortune caught her, putting her limp body close to his powerful frame.
“You did well Dainty! I’m proud of your quick thinking. Damn it, none of this would have happened if I didn’t fail in my duty! You’ve given our son half a chance if those deserters have a craft. None of us here have even one safety boat to carry us.
“But now we have to survive to see Cody again! None of those wretched crewmen will help us. They all jumped overboard. Fools better hope to reach a spare boat or two, because this storm will make quick work of them. As for us, I have only one idea.”
The Watchman's Grace Page 23