The Abduction of Smith and Smith

by Rashad Harrison

  “I promise you, Mamma.” But even then, the lurid details went to work, tilling the soil, planting the seeds, laying foundations and erecting monuments, vivid and sensual in his young mind where none had been before. But they were there now, thanks to the brief tutelage his mother had given him. Now they were there, gilded, opulent, garish. Now his mother was asking him never to kneel at such altars. Even then he could feel the temptation rising, and he wasn’t sure if it was a promise he could truly keep.

  “Promise me,” she said again.

  “I promise.”

  “Heart to heart?” she took his little hand and placed it above her left bosom.

  “Heart to heart,” he said, pulling his hand away.

  “No,” she said. “Don’t pull away from me in shame. There should be no shame between you and I. There should be no shame in this room. Down there, in those quarters, there should be the shame. There should never be any shame in this room. Heart to heart,” she said, again placing his hand above her bosom.

  Archer looked her in the eye. “I promise, Mamma. Heart to heart.”

  14

  Maggie watched her patrons through the two-way mirror.

  “Mrs. O’Connell.”

  She hadn’t heard Clement enter. “Yes.”

  “I’m afraid our concerns about Jupiter are warranted.”

  “How so?”

  “We were all set to round up men to crew some ships, and Jupiter was nowhere to be found. Had to hire muscle off the docks. We crimped two men—one from a brothel, the other from an opium den. They’re down below. I went to his room and he wasn’t there. But I did find this.” Clement handed her a box. Inside were a deed to ten acres of land in San Joaquin, and five thousand dollars.

  “Dear God. So Dalmore was right.”

  “Seems so, ma’am.”

  “Why would he betray me, Clement? Have I treated him so poorly?”

  “You’ve been more than fair, ma’am, but it’s possible that he just wanted to be free of this business. Made himself conspicuous so he’d be of no use to you. You can’t do this forever.”

  “Where is he now?” asked Maggie.

  “Word is the Scourge of Dublin just got beat by a Negro. I’m certain it’s him.”

  “And now my shadow is famous.” Maggie stared through the mirror, absently toying with her pearls. “Clement,” she said without looking at him.

  “Yes?”

  “If Jupiter wants peace, then we should give it to him.” She faced Clement. “Permanently.”

  “Of course, Mrs. O’Connell.”

  • • •

  Sonya and the boy read the sign outside the O’Connell Hotel.

  “Come on,” she said to him.

  “I don’t think we can go in here, Mamma.”

  Clement stopped them at the door. “The boy’s right. You can’t come in here.”

  Sonya couldn’t speak. She handed the folded poster to the man.

  Clement smoothed it out and read. He looked at her, then the boy. “Wait right here.”

  The drunken men presented their vacant gazes. Those that didn’t look at her with contempt looked at her with lust. She brought the boy closer and her coat tighter around her.

  Clement reappeared. “Follow me.”

  He led them up brass steps, behind the bar, then to a room filled with exotic artifacts. Chinese, it seemed to Sonya.

  Maggie was seated, reading a book. She marked her place and closed the edition of Robinson Crusoe. “Nonsense. Men are always acting like boys to prove their manhood. Why does it seem that men are always searching for adventure while we women have it thrust upon us?” She stood; well-dressed. “Hello, my name is Margaret O’Connell, but please, call me Maggie.”

  Sonya managed a smile.

  “I see that you have brought me this poster. What is it that I can do for you?”

  Sonya tried to locate her resolve and express her intentions directly to this white woman. “Ma’am, I—”

  “Please, call me Maggie.”

  “Miss Maggie—”

  “Just Maggie.”

  “Maggie, I am the woman on that poster.”

  Maggie looked at the poster. “My God, it is you. I must say that it does not do you justice. You are quite beautiful.”

  “Thank you . . . Maggie.”

  Maggie smiled.

  “It says that a J. Smith is looking for me. I have come to see him. Before the war, the ‘J’ was for Jupiter. Don’t know if it still means that.” She felt a pain in her throat. Her voice broke. It was hard saying his name.

  “Oh my dear, I know the war tore apart a great deal of families. White and Negro. Are you his sister?”

  Sonya did not like the way she said sister. Too much hiss and venom in the first syllable. She felt her back straighten. Her cheeks grow warm. “I am his wife.”

  “Dear heavens. I didn’t know he had a wife . . . still living. He spoke of a woman he loved in another life, but I had no idea that I would have the pleasure of meeting her face-to-face.”

  “Please . . . where can I find Jupiter?”

  “Well, my dear, I hate to break this to you. It truly is hard as a woman to tell you this. But I am afraid he has left the country. He has gone on a foolish chase after some woman. To Liberia.”

  “Liberia? That’s me that he’s chasing after. He’s gone already?”

  “He just left a few days ago. My dear, are you telling me that he has left looking for you, gone halfway around the world to some God-forsaken country, and you are still here?”

  “I knew he’d been told that I was going there, but I had no idea he’d leave so soon.”

  “Yes, he left very soon, as soon as he heard the news, in fact. He must really love you. I did not know you were the same woman, which is why I assumed you were his sister. Heavens, what will we do? I can’t stand by and watch this. You must get to Liberia and meet him there.”

  “I wish that I could, but I don’t have the money for passage. I was hoping that I would find him before he left.”

  “I see . . . Sonya, I read a lot of books, novels that help me to escape the lack of civilization in this city. I am a fool for romance, and I would love to be your benefactor. Please let me see to it that you receive safe passage to Liberia.”

  “Ma’am, I couldn’t do such a thing. I don’t know if I will ever be able to repay you.”

  “It’s quite all right. Jupiter left in such a hurry that I failed to pay him all of his wages I owe him.” Maggie went to her desk and retrieved the money. “Here you are. That should be more than enough.”

  Sonya’s wrist bent unexpectedly. Who knew that so many little sheets of paper could weigh so much? “Unpaid wages? What is it that Jupiter did for you?”

  Maggie smiled. “Why, whatever I asked him to. Now take this and go, and promise me that you will write me when the two of you are reunited. It would please my heart so. You can write, can’t you?”

  “She can, but I’m helping her,” said the little boy. “She’s getting better every day.” Sonya squeezed his shoulder hard.

  “That is quite admirable. I know that Jupiter can write. I want you to insist that he fulfill my request. I know how men are about writing letters. I am sure you can assert your feminine wiles to make him complete the task. I don’t want you to spare any details—from the moment your eyes meet, your first embrace, and even your first kiss.”

  Maggie squeezed Sonya’s hand—too tightly, Sonya thought.

  “I will do that.” Sonya tightened her grip on Maggie’s hand. “I promise you.”

  “You are too kind. Now go, my angel.” Maggie pulled her hand away, then leaned in and kissed Sonya on the forehead.

  • • •

  Maggie sipped her tea, licked her lips, and registered the laudanum’s brief, medicinal numb. She
was a long way from the wild and painful days of the gold rush. There were men scattered across the seas who, if they knew her role in their fate, would happily slit her throat.

  She was smart enough to know that she would never have the fortune of succumbing to such a dramatic demise; like the jade figurines from various places throughout the Orient, and the vibrant watercolors from Nagasaki, she would become another curio among the others, collecting dust within that opulent interior.

  The drug was taking effect. She imagined all of her victims thanking her for granting them the opportunity for adventure on the high seas. They watched her. She heard their voices, though their lips did not move. She thought she heard the door to her room open. “Jupiter?” But she was alone.

  15

  He entered the secret tunnel that ran under Maggie’s to the shore. Clement would be there. His knuckles hurt—too many beatings for one night. He had won each fight, but somehow he’d lost everything. Sonya, and now a son. The nights spent crimping for Maggie were over.

  The candles on the walls were lit. Someone had been crimped. He saw two men, unconscious and slumped against the wall. The wood planks above creaked down dust on them. He felt a strange relief seeing them there. Clement and Maggie could go about their business without him. Getting out would be that much easier.

  He was tired of snatching men off the street and rationalizing their abductions. These men had likely done bad things—he certainly had. One of them moaned and then mumbled something indecipherable. Jupiter could tell he had been taken from an opium den. He must have had some painful memories to run from; the smoke creates some distance but they catch up every time. Jupiter could understand that kind of sadness. In a sense, they were brothers. Jupiter knelt to get a closer look at him.

  He thought the dim light played tricks on his eyes. He lifted the man’s slumped head. Archer?

  Was it real? Had he been killed fighting the Scourge and his soul was now in the underworld?

  He slapped Archer and shook him. Archer opened his eyes.

  “We’ve got to get you out of here,” said Jupiter. “Can you stand?”

  Archer’s pupils drifted under his lids.

  “Taking another confession, Father?” Clement entered with two men Jupiter had never seen before.

  “You can’t take this man, Clement.”

  “Oh, now it is this one that I cannot have. What, is he not corrupted enough for you?”

  “I came to tell you I’m done. I’m leaving and I’m taking him with me.”

  “Are you telling me or asking me?”

  “I’m asking, Clement. I don’t have another fight in me.”

  “That’s too bad, Jupiter. Fortunately, they do.”

  • • •

  Archer was still in the opium haze, not sure of what he was seeing. The shadows’ images bled into one another with a liquid viscosity. He asked the men on the floor next to him what was going on—did they see these apparitions too? They did not answer, but he pressed with a whisper. “What’s going on?” Again, they did not answer. Finally, he mustered enough strength to give one of them a shake. The man’s hat fell off. Archer was going to apologize, but then the man’s head fell off. Instead of flesh and tendons, he saw only a neck full of straw and hay.

  • • •

  He had dutifully removed terrors of the war from his memory castle. Yet every so often they would sneak in, returning distorted and more horrific from their time without shelter.

  Jupiter was the first to fall into the hole; the rest of the regiment fell in afterward. There were twenty of them in the dark, already weak and now broken by the fall. Somewhere in the darkness, a voice that did not belong to any of the enlisted men said, “You shall pay for what you have done.” There was the smell of sulfur and the temperature in the darkness began to rise. Still no light, no images, nothing, only the heat. Then the smell of burning flesh. Then the screams. To the point where the smell became so intense that the screams were no longer screams but something more: bloodcurdling animal anguish. The shouting continued and Jupiter covered his ears. He did not realize it was his own muffled screams.

  • • •

  Jupiter felt a flare of pain in his cheek, then opened his eyes. Clement lorded over him. “Why were you so protective of that sorry sod? What’s his connection to you?”

  Jupiter looked at Archer slumped in a corner.

  “His father was my master before the war.”

  Clement whistled softly. “I wish I had time for a glass of rum and that story.”

  “Rum sounds nice, and there’s always time for a good story.”

  “Not this time, I’m afraid. I’ve already granted you an extension. She wanted me to kill you, you know.”

  “Then why didn’t you?” He could not move his hands; they were tied behind him.

  Clement paced and rubbed his brow. “Guilty, I suppose. She still thinks you took care of Hutchins for the Chinese.”

  “I told her it wasn’t me.”

  “I know. I made sure she didn’t believe you.”

  Jupiter nodded, although he was still confused. “Why?”

  “This whole way of doing things is coming to an end—for her at least. She’s above it. I never should have exposed her to the crimp. Mr. O’Connell would have had my throat slit, were he living. She deserves better. You must have seen it too—with your sudden birth of a conscience and all. Dalmore will come to her aide, and in gratitude, she’ll marry him and leave this unsavory work to men like us. I had to get her away from you. I saw her coming from your room that night. She cares for you, but that would bring her a world of pain that I cannot allow. Since I am the one who brought you in, it’s only right that I be the one to remove you.”

  Jupiter shook his head and laughed. “You think making a woman like Maggie become indebted to a man like Dalmore is helping her? You couldn’t be a bigger fool.”

  Clement knelt to Jupiter’s level. “You are not as smart as you think you are. I have been providing you with answers. How foolish can I be if I possess all the information that you desire?”

  Jupiter stared.

  “Your wife and son paid a visit to Maggie.”

  Jupiter struggled in his shackles and let out a primal scream. Clement watched with pity. When he was spent and heaving, he looked at Clement. “Did you hurt them?”

  “How could you ask me that? Haven’t you been listening? I am not a monster.”

  “Where are they?”

  “We didn’t have the heart to tell them what happened to you. Luckily, your wife provided a story. She’s gone to find you in Liberia. Maggie was generous enough to give her the payment from Mr. Lin that I discovered in your room. Should set them up nicely in Africa, I suppose. Nothing there but huts and savages.”

  He thought about her waiting for him again. Alone in a foreign country, how long would it take for her to stop waiting this time? “Spare me the suspense, Clement. How does this end?”

  “You know how this ends. You’ll be placed on a ship. A life of adventure awaits you . . .”

  16

  The rocking roused him. Surprised by the soothing motion, his eyes opened with an eager flutter—his vision was blurred by the blow’s lingering mist—hoping that all of the preceding events were imagined and just one of the vivid nightmares that had plagued him as of late. A dark figure leaned in rhythm with the oars sluicing the water. The other figure pointed to a ship in the distance. Jupiter knew this routine all too well. It was no dream.

  He looked out beyond the edge of the skiff and saw the moon reflected in the temporary mirror of the water’s surface—tormented and agitated by small torrents made by the oar. Archer, where was he? The weight on his shoulder was not his deadened arm as he thought but the slumped and unconscious Archer leaning on him.

  Soon there was only moonlight and a large ship. He knew all too
well what awaited him inside its hull.The lantern blinked its ominous signal to the approaching skiff. The oarsman turned to recognize it. Jupiter lunged for an oar as it rose from the water.

  “Move fast, man, he’s awake!” He grabbed hold of the wooden plank, but he could not turn it round and bring it hard against the oarsman’s head. He was too late and there was another man behind him watching over Archer and himself. The man brought down the club against Jupiter’s head, sending him back into submission as he stared into the half-open eyes of Archer, who moaned something unintelligible. They were moving farther from land, but he still heard the water as it gently kissed the shore. It was so peaceful that it scared him.

  • • •

  He saw figures unknown to him, but was keenly aware at how effortlessly he was moving. What is happening? thought Archer. He observed the shadow play and thought he heard himself laugh but was not sure; the opium was still massaging his brain. It had been so long since he had not felt any pain in his leg, yet here he was, gliding, flying! But to where? Even in this state he could tell that this dark tunnel did not lead to something good. Had that been Jupiter he saw? Or just a shadow of a phantom in the opium den? Had he tried to kill Jupiter . . . and failed? Only to have Jupiter overtake him . . . kill him? Was he now headed toward purgatory? If he didn’t know before, he was certain when he saw the small boat. Those silent waters must be the river Styx.

  17

  The Intono was roughly six hundred tons, one hundred forty feet in length, twenty feet in depth, and its beam was thirty-two feet tall. Her hold had seen a variety of common cargo, from copper and molasses to guano and ice—but she was not unfamiliar with intrigue: embargoed cotton, opium, and guns had also all been welcomed aboard.

  • • •

  Jupiter looked around the ship. There were other men on board, captured like Archer and him. They were bound at the wrist and hurried over to the other bound men. Their captors conferred with each other, and two other men waited silently at the forecastle. Jupiter noticed the burliest of the men first. He had a broad chest with thinning red hair. Faint spots dotted his skin like splattered rust-water. Jupiter knew he was Irish. There was a young boy trembling in silence. There were no calluses on his hands: he had never been on a ship before. Among them was a Chinese man who did not look at Jupiter or Archer or any of the men; he did not look at anything at all, he stared without aim.