The Abduction of Smith and Smith

by Rashad Harrison

“I do . . . or did. I think my mind’s gone feeble,” Higgins said. “I’m so tired. The things I thought I knew I don’t know any longer. Maybe I never knew them at all.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Seek Barrett’s counsel.”

  “What, unbind him and leave him at the wheel?”

  “No, leave him bound, but bring him up on deck to instruct me.”

  “How will we know if he advises us in truth?”

  “Well, everyone’s life on this ship is in danger—his included. If we are lost, so is he.”

  Archer brought Barrett up and he laughed as Higgins struggled to navigate. Archer gave him a kick to the back of the legs. “Enough with your foolishness. Instruct Higgins,” Archer said.

  Everyone watched one another anxiously.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll make it home,” Archer heard himself say. He didn’t realize Jupiter stood next to him.

  “Of course we will,” Jupiter agreed.

  Barrett continued toying with Higgins as he instructed him. Archer watched and said nothing. What was the point in trying to save face now? The mutiny had already fallen apart. They would all, very likely, die soon.

  Barrett was having a good time—almost sputtering on himself as he prodded Higgins. Higgins looked at Archer as if to say, “Can’t you give him a poke to back him off?” Archer pretended not to receive the intended message. It didn’t matter anyway, for when he looked back at Barrett all that was jovial had left his face. The humor ceased, the jibing stopped.

  “What is it?” asked Higgins.

  Barrett kept silent, staring out past the bow onto the seam of the sea and sky. This too irritated Archer. “Speak up,” he demanded of Barrett. Still nothing. Archer looked at Barrett’s men. They too had a similar look on their faces. Singleton’s face, normally inscrutable, was now an artist’s palette of emotive colors.

  “You don’t see it?” asked Barrett finally. “How flat the sky and sea are? The pale gray and violet hue to them, like the lips of a corpse.”

  Archer did see it; the sea and sky looked like two planks or a flat rendering from an unskilled artist’s hands, removing all dimension from his subject.

  “Storm’s coming,” Barrett whispered.

  “Surely, you’ve sailed through storms before,” said Higgins.

  “I have, but this one could be something else. This one will test everything I have ever learned.”

  30

  Jupiter watched as rain fell on the Intono. The wind was fierce and relentless. “Untie me,” he heard Barrett call out to Archer. “Untie me, goddamn it!”

  “Just continue to instruct us,” Archer responded.

  “I can’t continue to yell over the storm. Soon, every time I speak I’ll end up with a mouthful of sea. We all will.”

  Archer thought for a moment. “How do I know this isn’t just a summer squall, and you’re using our ignorance to your advantage?”

  “Is that a chance you’d like to take? Does this seem like a summer squall to you?”

  Jupiter had had enough of this. He had tolerated the mutineers and their foolish undertaking primarily because they were white and he was black, and therefore he was outnumbered. It had gone far enough. Jupiter pushed his way through the wind, up the deck, and behind Barrett. He brought out his knife and cut the ropes that bound Barrett’s wrists and ankles.

  Archer pointed his gun at Jupiter as Barrett rushed past him and pushed Higgins aside. “He was meant to remain bound,” Archer said to Jupiter.

  “Let him steer,” said Jupiter. “Be smart about it.”

  “You dare to tell me to be smart?” Archer’s jaw clenched, a vein in his neck becoming visible. “The nerve of you.”

  “There will be time enough for fighting . . . hopefully,” Barrett called out. “I’ll need for you to untie my men, as well. We’ll be needing all hands on deck for this one. The likes of it I’ve never seen.”

  The anchors were secured to the deck. The life buoys were repositioned to the deep-sea line. In that weather, should a man go overboard no boat would be sent for him. The wheel was double manned, lifelines were rigged, weather-cloth spread. The wind and the sea seemed to scream, making it almost impossible to hear orders from the man next to you.

  They watched Barrett. His calm command of the ship in its crisis instilled in them the same calm and confidence. His mouth moved, his hands gestured; they could not hear him, yet they responded to his pantomimed orders intuitively, communicating through the silent link of crew and captain. Barrett motioned to Jupiter and Archer to assist him at the wheel. They tethered themselves to the base.

  “Don’t look back at the sea!” Barrett yelled to Jupiter through the wind.

  The ocean roared, Jupiter misunderstood the noise and looked back; the sight of the water, mountains of waves, made him shudder.

  Barrett grabbed Jupiter by his rain- and sea-soaked collar and pointed to the mainmast. “Watch!” he shouted in his ear.

  • • •

  The winds were unbearable. Mountains of water rose and fell on the ship. The sails billowed like an assaulted flag—lightning even struck one of them. Barrett stood at the helm like a regal figure at his throne, leading the tiny nation of the Intono through the battle with nature. A merciless wave shoved the ship to her side, sending Archer some six feet in the air, and likely overboard, had he not had the presence of mind to hold on to the railing. He hung on as the ship swayed relentlessly. His eyes pleaded with Jupiter. Jupiter ran over to Archer but the wetness of everything weakened his grip. Archer held on, clawing into the ship’s wood as blood dripped from his cracked fingernails. As the ship bobbed and bounced, so did Archer, slamming his face into the ship.

  Again, Jupiter tried to grab him, but there was too much movement. “Somebody help me!” Three men came up behind him, each one anchoring the other as the first man held on to Jupiter’s waist. With all his might, he pulled Archer back on deck. They both lay on the deck, gasping for air. Jupiter almost asked if matters were settled between them, but thought better of it. The storm wasn’t over. There was still a chance that they might die.

  • • •

  The first mate plodded up the deck, battling the barrage of wind and water to get within earshot of Barrett. “Keep that main topsail set! We’ll keep a handle on her, even in this wind.”

  “What about those storms sails, Captain?”

  “Don’t bother. They’re not high enough to keep the ship from rolling about.”

  One of the men was already furling the sail. He did not hear the order and fell to the deck. The wind and sea were so loud that no one heard his screams as he fell, or the horrific sound of impact.

  Jupiter looked over to see Barrett screaming at the storm like some mad king. “You won’t defeat me! You can’t win!” The storm raged on for hours; each hour more difficult and frightening than the next, each seeming to make a promise that the Intono would be buried at the bottom of the sea. However, their determination was rewarded, and the men of the Intono were allowed to let their skin rise in gooseflesh as the wind stopped its continual assault and softened into a gentle whisper of a breeze.

  31

  Somewhere in the Atlantic

  “I am happy to report that my watch has been located,” said Mr. Cook. “I apologize to your son, ma’am.”

  Sonya looked at Jacob, then at Mr. Cook. “We accept. But let this be a lesson not to judge in such haste.”

  “Of course. Again, my apologies.”

  “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Sebastian said as he watched Mr. Cook walk away. He sidled up to her.

  He seemed to appear out of the mist. “What does?” she asked.

  “Watching an old man eat crow.” He gave Jacob a pat on the back and smiled at him. “Let’s say I show you a trick. Are you ready to learn?”

  Jacob nodded. Sebastian revea
led a deck of cards and asked him to pick one and place it back in the deck. “I will now tell you what card you picked.” Sebastian showed him the ace of spades. “Is this your card?”

  Jacob reached for a card. “This card is mine. But I know how you did it.”

  Sebastian smiled. “Go ahead, and tell me.”

  “I picked the card, but when I gave it back to you, you bent it a little so it felt different from the others.” Jacob showed him the subtle bend in the card.

  Sebastian looked dumbfounded.

  Sonya stifled a laugh. “My, my . . . Sebastian the Magnificent. You’re right, it does feel good. Watching an old man eat crow, that is.”

  Sebastian managed a smile and turned to Jacob. “That was an easy one. There are others more suited to your impressive talents. Would you like me to teach you?”

  Jacob nodded.

  32

  After the storm

  “He still living?” Jupiter asked.

  “Yes,” said Archer. The boy was still unconscious. Archer turned his head carefully, revealing a pulpy wound stretching from his ear to what should have been his temple.

  “Is he in pain?” someone asked.

  “Yes and no,” answered Archer. “He can feel but can’t communicate, or he is completely unaware.”

  “Can’t you give him something?”

  “No laudanum on board. Maybe there’s rum.”

  “Wouldn’t matter. He’s in no shape to swallow.”

  “We can’t just let him suffer.” Archer looked at Jupiter. “Why don’t you all rest,” he said. “I’ll watch him through the night and we will see how he does.”

  • • •

  That night Archer watched the boy. He remembered the first time he saw him, trembling in fear after being shanghaied. His chest rose and fell, his fingers twitched under the blankets, but he was essentially dead. Sea life was full of superstitions—wasn’t there one about keeping a mortally wounded man on a ship? He did not know. He leaned over the boy and adjusted his pillow. He should be comfortable. Comfortable. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but he had already put the pillow over the boy’s face, bearing down with all of his weight.

  33

  The Intono gathered to hear Captain Barrett speak. “All is forgiven, men. All is forgiven. You’ve suffered punishment enough, these last few hours. You’ve learned that nature—the seas—can be more ruthless, more merciless than any man. While nature gave birth to us, she is not like us. She strikes without warning, or rhyme or reason, but we as men can rise above it. You men have risen above it. Never mind what has come before. Never mind the differences that separated us. Never mind what titles we gave one another before now. On this day, the next, and all that follow, we shall regard one another as brothers.” A loud cheer came from them. Jupiter and Archer shared a look, but stayed quiet.

  • • •

  Calm weather gave the Intono a respite. Some of the men formed a circle and sang old songs. Jupiter and Archer recognized some of them from camps during the war. One of the men danced an Irish jig as the onlookers slapped a rhythm on wooden spoons.

  “Enough of this singing and dancing, lads. It’s time to hear your stories.” Barrett went around one by one. Some men came from as far away as Russia. Some men had wandered in from the plains, tired of boring farm life and drawn to the adventurous one that the West promised. Some were prospectors, fooled by the promise of El Dorado. But they all were like Jupiter and Archer, in search of something that they couldn’t find.

  “Your turn,” Barrett said to Archer.

  Archer looked away. “No story to tell.”

  Barrett laughed. “Of course there is a story to tell. You end up on this ship, drugged and beaten, yet within a matter of weeks, you’ve put a knife to my throat and attempted to take my ship. Am I supposed to believe that before these incidents that I have mentioned, nothing has happened to you?” The men laughed. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe. What’s the connection between you two?”

  Archer said nothing. Jupiter spoke up. “I was bound on the plantation his father owned.”

  Barrett raised an eyebrow. “Slave and slave master, on the same ship?”

  “Former,” Archer and Jupiter said simultaneously.

  “And how is it that you both have ended up on my ship?” asked Barrett.

  “I followed him here . . . to seek retribution for my father.”

  “Meaning what?” asked Barrett.

  “Meaning he killed my father.”

  Everyone’s eyes ran to Jupiter like tiny insects.

  “He killed your father?” Barrett asked, still looking at Jupiter.

  “That’s right,” said Archer, gauging the mood. “This man killed my father.”

  “Is this true, Jupiter?”

  “In a way, but—”

  Barrett put up his hand. “You say this man killed your father. That’s hard and terrible stuff, but Archer . . . can you blame him?”

  Archer’s eyes widened.

  “Your father kept a man as chattel for all of his life. Preventing him from seeing all this world has to offer, making him believe that he was less than a man, denying him all the natural rights of a man—­family, property, discovery of his true nature and spirit. Why, if a man did that to me, the least he would deserve is a bullet in the head.”

  Archer began to tremble.

  Aye, aye, said the men behind Barrett.

  “Surely, you must understand Jupiter’s situation. I mean, here you were, bound against your will for a matter of days, yet you felt that was justification to put a knife to my throat.”

  Aye, said Barrett’s men.

  Archer remained silent, but his eyes revealed his rage.

  “That’s very hypocritical of you, Archer.” Barrett turned to Jupiter. “Did it happen as he says?”

  “It’s true I took his life,” said Jupiter, “but he was suffering from madness.”

  “Madness, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “He seemed to be syphilitic,” said Jupiter.

  “Syphilitic, you say?”

  “Yes, he seemed to be suffering from the symptoms.”

  “Symptoms? Jupiter, are you learned?”

  Jupiter was aware of their sudden anticipation. “Not as well as I should be, but I’ve picked up a few things.”

  “Where, might I ask, did you pick these things up?”

  “On the plantation. The Colonel . . . Archer’s father allowed me to use the books in his library.”

  “You don’t say. How rare, indeed. I spent a lot of time in the South, and there were few, if any, Southern gentlemen who would allow their slaves to be educated, to borrow books, or even he himself touch a book that a slave had touched. Rare indeed.”

  “Yes, the Colonel was a rare man,” said Jupiter.

  “So you come back to your former plantation and find your master wormed through by madness, and you decide to take his life and usher him along, because you cared for him in a way and it pained you to see him suffer?”

  “Yes, it was difficult.”

  “I can see that, Jupiter, I can. He was kind to you, but he was still your master. You could not have come and gone as you pleased, could you?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sure some of your family members were sold off.” Barrett turned to his men. “’Twas a common practice in the South.” They ­nodded.

  “Yes, that did happen.” Jupiter thought of his mother, how her family was scattered throughout the South until her arrangement with the Colonel kept them together.

  “And yet you were compassionate enough to end his life only to end his suffering.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, some of it’s right, not all of it,” said Barrett.

  “How do you mean?”

>   “Well, this man sold your family, kept you bound, and to ease his conscience, every now and then he’d let you read a book, exposing you to worlds you’d never know as long as you were his. A strange kind of torture, isn’t it?”

  Aye, it is, came from someone in the group.

  “Jupiter, you want us to believe that as you— How did you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Kill Archer’s father.”

  Jaw still trembling, Archer stared at Jupiter.

  “Strangled him,” said Jupiter finally.

  “Bare hands?” Barrett asked.

  “Canteen strap,” said Jupiter.

  “Canteen strap. Good way to kill a man,” Barrett said.

  Aye.

  “And you want us to believe that as you strangled him there wasn’t a hint of satisfaction?”

  Jupiter said nothing.

  Barrett smiled grimly, then promptly changed his demeanor and addressed Jupiter and Archer. “What’s done is done, men. It’s in the past. Everything you thought mattered belongs to the old world. We are entering a new world now. Leave the corpses in their graves.”

  Archer and Jupiter were locked in a gaze, not saying anything. The other men tried their best to gauge what was happening.

  “Look over yonder,” said a sailor holding a spyglass. “What is it?”

  Barrett went over and peered through the lens. “’Tis a ship.”

  “Ship? Naval vessel?”

  “Possibly,” said Barrett. “Or worse.”

  “Worse?”

  “Pirates.”

  34

  Jupiter and Archer were still locked in their gaze, but Jupiter’s mind was not on the present tension, or on the deck of that creaking ship; it was back on the plantation, years ago, before the war, when Jupiter and Archer were still children. Jupiter could see himself in that smoke-filled drawing room full of the other cigar-smoking, brandy-drinking plantation owners. The Colonel had allowed Jupiter to learn to read and borrow books from his library; in fact he’d encouraged it. He often quizzed Jupiter on the materials that he had read.