The Abduction of Smith and Smith

by Rashad Harrison

  “I can do it,” said Higgins.

  “You? You’ve manned a vessel?” asked Archer.

  “No, but I’ve seen it done many, many times. It has been a while, but I am sure that I can recall enough to get us back to shore. We haven’t yet gone far enough to lose our path.”

  “If we overtake Barrett and his men, you are certain that you can get us back?”

  “Aye, I am certain. You have my word.”

  • • •

  You have my word . . .

  Barrett closed the cover of the brass amplifier tubing that ran from the crew’s quarters to Barrett’s. He went to his desk and wrote the names Higgins, Jupiter, and Archer. He drew a line through each of them.

  The Orpheus. Somewhere in the Atlantic . . .

  Sonya and Jacob had boarded the ship called Orpheus. Five other families were headed for Liberia as well. By now, Sonya was well-traveled, but she had never been on a ship. She marveled at the size of it, even though it was of modest tonnage. A woman of adventure, she had now crossed the country twice, and was about to cross an ocean for the first time. She thought about the grueling journey west with Titus and other former slaves, how they met hostility at every turn.

  She thought about the letter she had received from her only friend, who had immigrated to Liberia before the war and after her master had freed her on his deathbed on the condition that she left for the new nation. It spoke of how great and brimming with opportunity the country was. America would never willingly give them this brand of liberty. For a Negro, this was the only place of true freedom. The letter was ten years old. Sonya hoped that everything in it would still hold true.

  • • •

  Dearest Sonya,

  I hope this letter reaches you in good spirits. I am safe and happy here in Liberia. In fact, I am flourishing. There is no greater testament to the magic of this country than my ability to read and write. I did not speak these words to another soul. I write to you, Sonya, in my own hand. There is a strong moral center here. There are Christians of all sorts. They have built hospitals and schools—in which I have received my education—and they work to introduce the Natives to the teachings of Christ. And the Natives seem grateful for it. They have embraced us warmly, just as they have Jesus. The tropical climate requires some adjustment, but Liberia is a land of abundance. There is work for everyone, there is food and shelter for everyone, and there is love for everyone, as this country is free from the hate, free from the oppression of America. This country is free. Liberia is the best for the Negro, for home is always the best place. I hope that one day you will do more than visit me. I hope that you will join me.

  Mary Parham,

  African Colonization Society

  Monrovia, Liberia

  26

  Jupiter, Archer, and Higgins worked to repair one of the masts that had been damaged during the squall. Higgins was more concerned with seizing the ship than repairing it.

  Singleton walked the deck. Archer and Higgins dispersed when he came in earshot. He hovered over Jupiter while he worked.

  Jupiter acknowledged him with a nod.

  “I’ve noticed the men acting strangely,” said Singleton.

  “Have you?” Jupiter kept working.

  “Yes, I have. I’ve also noticed that they act strangely around you, as well. Maybe I am alone in these observations. Have you noticed something . . . off about the ship?”

  Jupiter looked around. “I’ve noticed that Barrett is the captain, but he is not its master.”

  “That’s very astute of you. Is there something going on with the men that I should know about?”

  “Not that I would know of—sir.”

  Singleton leaned over Jupiter’s shoulder. Jupiter could smell his floral perfume. “I could pay you handsomely . . . find you work on any ship you’d like.”

  Jupiter looked at him. “I never want to see another ship as long as I live.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “I want to see my wife and son,” said Jupiter.

  “Are they still in San Francisco?”

  “No. They are waiting for me in Liberia.”

  “Liberia?” Singleton paused for a moment and stared into the blue-gray water. “I think I can be of some assistance. My employer has ships that reach every corner of this earth. I am sure that once we arrive in Shanghai, we can find one headed to the Dark Continent. Your wife and child, what are their names?”

  27

  The Orpheus. Somewhere in the Atlantic.

  One of the other colored passengers grabbed Jacob by the shoulders and shook him. “Where’s my watch, you little thief?” Jacob struggled in the man’s grip.

  Sonya ran over to them. “Unhand my son!”

  “This little scamp has stolen my pocket watch.”

  “What are you saying? My son would never . . . Jacob, do you know what this man is talking about?”

  “No, Mamma, I didn’t steal anything.”

  “He’s a liar,” said the man. “I saw the way he surveyed us in the cabin, assessing what we had, all of our belongings. He’s a little too curious for my tastes. He was obviously seeing what could be taken.”

  “Sir, I can assure you that we have no need to take anything from you,” said Sonya.

  “My father gave me that watch on his deathbed. You think this is the kind of riffraff we should bring to the new country? One who would steal a watch from his brethren?”

  “He did no such thing. If you brought the watch on board with you, it is still on board.”

  “Sir, maybe I can be of assistance,” said one of the passengers who had come upon the scene. “Why don’t you unhand the boy?” A tall man, skin like polished ebony, an easy smile, moved over to them gracefully. He placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. As he did so, the man released Jacob. “Sir, it has been my understanding that when an item goes missing while on a ship, one could easily suspect the crew. Inform the boatswain or captain, and I’m sure they will perform a thorough search of the crew’s quarters. Usually, the search is enough to scare the culprit, and then the missing item mysteriously resurfaces. These kinds of things happen when the crew is of a different persuasion than the passengers. They think we will be too scared to speak up. But the fearful type is not among us, am I right?”

  The man nodded.

  “You do see the logic in this?”

  The man locked eyes with him. “Yes, I do.”

  “You’ll go tell the captain of your missing property. You will insist that he search the crew’s quarters. If nothing turns up, then we will revisit the situation and search our own quarters. Isn’t that right?”

  The man nodded.

  “Good. Be on your way.”

  The man stepped away and looked as if he were unsure in which direction to head. He looked back at the stranger, who pointed in the direction of the captain’s cabin.

  “Thank you for your assistance,” said Sonya.

  “Not at all, Miss . . .”

  “Mrs. Smith.”

  The man tipped his hat. “Mrs. Smith.”

  “This is my son, Jacob.”

  “Jacob? Well, Mrs. Smith and Jacob, I am Sebastian the Magnificent.”

  • • •

  Barrett ate his supper. The spoon stopped above the bowl when he heard footsteps. “Come in,” he said before a request was made. Singleton came in.

  “Whenever I see you, Barrett, you are always eating in here. You never join me in the galley.”

  “I prefer eating alone.”

  “I suppose that makes sense. I can’t claim to be good company.”

  Barrett said nothing.

  Singleton sat across from Barrett. “The men are unhappy.”

  “Bad food, no rest, and no women—men are always unhappy on a ship.”

  “There is somet
hing amiss with them—the men.”

  Barrett stared at Singleton. “You’ve been talking with the men?”

  “Just one.”

  “Just one? So you have a spy amongst the crew?”

  “Spy is such an ugly word. I prefer familiaris.”

  “I have never heard that word before, but it sounds like something caused by an unwashed backside.”

  “As you wish, Barrett, but there is a plan afoot.”

  “I know.” Barrett returned to his food.

  “You know? Then why aren’t you doing something about it?”

  “I’m sailing this ship and its cargo to Shanghai. Nothing shall stop me.”

  “You’ve got a mutinous crew on your hands. We are all in danger.”

  “What does your man suggest we do?”

  “He’s not equipped to handle—”

  “No, he’s not equipped, nor are you.”

  “Barrett, what will you do?”

  “I shall finish eating my supper. . . . Any man that threatens to take my ship shall get a bullet in the head or lungs full of seawater.”

  Singleton stared.

  “And then it would just be the two of us,” said Barrett. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Me at the helm—I could teach you how to rig a sail. A two-man crew—no, three. I forgot about your spy. It would be a challenge—a ship this size—but I think I can whip the two of you into shape. I could turn you into a proper sailor in no time.”

  Singleton reached into his jacket and pulled out a straight razor. He left it clasped.

  “Singleton, are you planning to shave? I wouldn’t want hair in my food.”

  “My employer expects that this ship takes its cargo to Shanghai. As long as the cargo arrives, then he will be satisfied. There is no prerequisite that you arrive with it.”

  “Careful, Singleton. You think that you could align yourself with them, get rid of me, and that they would let you live?”

  Singleton blinked.

  “In either scenario you’re a dead man. You said work them harder, and I worked them harder. I listened to you once, but not again. You’re quite histrionic, Singleton, and I don’t like talking to another man in these soothing tones. But not to worry, I know how to handle a ship, and I know how to handle men. I’ve grown tired of this conversation. Please leave.”

  Singleton stood.

  There was a knock at the door. “Captain Barrett, it’s Higgins. May I enter?”

  Singleton looked at Barrett.

  He nodded.

  Singleton unclasped his razor.

  Barrett took his pistol from the drawer, and held it under the desk. “Come in,” he said.

  Higgins rushed through the door. Singleton swung his razor, and Higgins dodged the swipe.

  Barrett fired his pistol, barely missing Singleton’s head as Higgins tackled him.

  Archer ran in wielding a knife, followed by five others.

  Higgins and Singleton rolled on the floor of the cabin, fighting for control of the razor. Barrett fired two shots at them indiscriminately, before Archer knocked the pistol down and brought the knife to Barrett’s throat.

  Barrett laughed. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve had such soft hands near my flesh. It’s been a long time at sea. A man can get lonely.”

  “Stop talking now,” said Archer.

  Higgins got the best of Singleton and took the razor.

  “I can feel his hands shake. His never held a knife to a man’s throat before.” They led Barrett out of the quarters. They marched Barrett onto the deck for everyone to see. Archer spoke first. “All I want is to go home. We do not wish to harm anyone. If you let us do that, it will stay that way.”

  Barrett laughed. “And who will do that? I’d rather throw you overboard than sail you back home.”

  “We don’t need you, Captain Barrett. I’ll sail us home,” said Higgins.

  Barrett said, “You sail? You couldn’t lead a dung beetle to shit.”

  “I know enough to get us back home,” said Higgins. “I encourage you to keep your criticisms to yourself. ’Tis both wise and helpful for someone who wishes to stay alive.”

  “As you wish.”

  Archer secured Barrett in his quarters and bound him with ropes at his ankles and wrists.

  “You know you are a fool to follow him,” said Barrett.

  “I just want to return home safely. I have a . . . woman and a boy,” said Archer. “We both do.”

  “Then why aren’t you leading? Why follow such an idiot. You’re a born leader. I can see it in you.”

  “Ah, your tongue is so silver, Captain.”

  “Aye it is, but I am both accurate and sincere.”

  “If I need your advice, I will ask for it directly.”

  “Please do, and know that I am always here at your beck and call.”

  “I’ll take note of that,” Archer said as he tightened the ropes around Barrett.

  28

  Somewhere in the Atlantic

  “Sebastian the Magnificent?” asked Sonya. “A strange name.”

  “Yes, in this context, off the stage and away from an audience, it is quite strange.”

  “You are a performer?”

  “Performer? A conjuror, an illusionist, a spectral medium, the best magician our dusky race—or any other—has to offer.”

  “A magician?” asked Jacob.

  “That’s right, a magician. Are you a follower of the dark arts?” he asked with a sly smile. “Do the spirits speak to you, offering you entry into the locked parts of the human psyche?”

  Jacob shook his head.

  Sonya grabbed the boy’s hand. “We are a Christian family.”

  “Of course. I am a Christian as well. I am merely profiting from the gifts the Great Spirit has given me. I meant no offense.”

  “Why is a magician on a ship headed for Liberia?” asked Sonya.

  “I for the same reason all of us are headed there. Opportunity. I’m sure you know all of the obstacles America has put in our way. It’s even more difficult for people in my line of entertainment. Very difficult indeed. I’ve had my equipment damaged, assistant harmed, threats made. I am a great magician, but making that kind of hatred disappear is a trick that even I couldn’t pull off. But in Liberia, we will have a need for entertainment, and escape from the burden of all that nation-building, and I intend to provide it.”

  “You intend to be the nation’s sole entertainer?”

  “Oh, I certainly hope not. But I will open a theater where I will perform, and the proceeds will go to opening a school for the arts. Hopefully, that will trigger the beginning of a scene for entertainment and culture. Little sister theaters will dot the country.”

  He was ambitious. Sonya liked that.

  “And maybe you will be my first student,” he said to a smiling Jacob. “And what about you, Mrs. Smith? What are your plans?”

  “Sonya . . .”

  “Sonya.”

  “I plan to meet my husband there.”

  “I see. A pioneer, is he? Already establishing stability for you and the boy. Commendable. Where in Liberia is he? What business is he in?”

  Sonya looked out into the sea, as gray as the sky above it. “Honestly, I don’t know. We were separated during the war. I only learned recently that he was alive and headed for Liberia.”

  “How sad, how fortuitous—but how exciting. You had no notion of coming to Liberia before learning of your husband?”

  “Strange, but the idea of it has been in the back of my mind for some time. A friend of mine when I was in bondage was freed by her master on the condition that she left for Liberia. I received a letter from her once. She wrote of things I never thought possible.”

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” said Sebastian.

 
“Yes, he does,” said Sonya. “The greatest magician of them all.”

  Sebastian looked at Jacob. “So, what were you doing in the cabin? I saw you looking about. It was as if you were devouring everything with your eyes.”

  “Oh, I was just remembering things.”

  “Remembering?”

  Jacob nodded.

  Sebastian scratched his chin. “What was the name of the couple on the top bunk at the left of the cabin?”

  “The Prices.”

  “How many trunks did they bring with them?”

  “Four.”

  “What passenger brought the most trunks with them?”

  “The Cooks.”

  “And how many did they bring?”

  “Seven.”

  Sebastian smiled. “A memorizationalist. Impressive.” Sebastian leaned in close to Jacob’s ear. “I’m sure if you think back and remember correctly the Cooks only brought six trunks.”

  Jacob squinted, then nodded a moment later. “You’re right. Six trunks.”

  “Talented boy you have here.”

  “He gets it from his father,” said Sonya.

  “What a great gift to bestow. A talent like that could be well utilized in my act.”

  Jacob looked at Sonya. “Mamma?”

  She put her arm around Jacob and brought him closer. “I’d have to speak to my husband about it first, but I must admit it doesn’t seem likely.”

  “Well, the trip is long; give it some thought.” He tipped his hat. “It was a pleasure meeting both of you.”

  In front of him the sun was setting, cloaking him in shadow as he walked toward it. He looks, thought Sonya, like the antique sculptures of Moors that rich white men kept in their drawing rooms.

  29

  Higgins spent three hours or so getting acquainted with the wheel—and then the next three days staring at the sails, at the maps, at the stars. They were lost. Archer didn’t have to ask; Higgins’s face betrayed him.

  “I thought you knew how to sail this damned ship,” said Archer.