by Lance Morcan
Later, as he watched the performers from the comfort of the pricey gallery seats, his mind wandered. He thought back to the reception he’d received from his sisters and their families the day he’d arrived home. Sissy and Alice had both married since he’d last seen them. Sissy was pregnant with her first child and Alice had two children. Both sisters had showered him with kisses and demanded to know every single thing that had happened to him since the shipwreck.
Nathan had learned from them that their father had contracted consumption – or tuberculosis as it would later be called – and had taken enforced early retirement as a result of that. They’d pleaded with their young brother to see Johnson Senior and make his peace with him before he died, but Nathan had refused. No amount of pleading would persuade him to reconcile with the father who had beaten him and left him with so many bad boyhood memories.
Johnson Senior, who still resided in the family home – albeit with a live-in nurse to care for him – had tried to make contact with his son on at least four occasions, but each time Nathan had ignored him.
#
Three months and countless drinks and hangovers later, Nathan was walking along downtown Philadelphia’s main street. He’d just finished pleasuring a sophisticate whose husband was away on business, and he was en route to a rendezvous with friends at a local bar where, if recent experience was anything to go by, he’d drink until he couldn’t remember his name.
Approaching him was an old man who shuffled along with the aid of a walking stick. It wasn’t until the man was a few feet away that Nathan recognized him. It’s my father! At first he wondered if he was mistaken. The old man was a shadow of the vibrant sea captain he remembered.
Johnson Senior resembled a skeleton. The disease that ravaged him had taken its toll and he clearly didn’t have long to live.
Nathan pretended he hadn’t recognized his father, but as he walked by Johnson Senior grabbed his arm.
“Son!” Johnson Senior rasped.
Nathan looked at him, vacant, as if his father was a stranger.
“It’s me. Your father.”
As Nathan looked into his father’s blue eyes, he was taken back to the last time he’d seen him. He’d been caught in his father’s out-of-bounds study, and a drunk Johnson Senior had punished him by beating him mercilessly about the head. “I’m sorry,” he said to the older man, “I don’t remember you.” Nathan shook his father’s hand from his arm and resumed walking.
Behind him, he could feel his father’s eyes boring into his back. Nathan quickened his stride. He hoped that would be the last time he’d ever see his father. It was.
#
On the anniversary of his first year back in Philadelphia, Nathan took stock of his life. Nothing had changed yet everything had changed. On the one hand, life was still one giddy round of drinking, partying and whoring; on the other hand, he’d had an epiphany.
It happened exactly one month after he’d seen his father in the street. Johnson Senior had died at home alone. He’d been given a send-off worthy of one of Philadelphia’s finest citizens. Nathan hadn’t attended the funeral despite the exhortations of his sisters.
Six weeks after the funeral, Nathan and his sisters had been summonsed to the downtown office of their father’s lawyer, a Mister Chumly Cummins, to hear the reading of Johnson Senior’s will.
To Sissy and Alice, their father bequeathed his entire monetary fortune, which was substantial to say the least.
To Nathan, he left his trading company, Johnson Traders. More an empire than a company, its vast holdings included three sailing ships, vacant plots of prime land on America’s east and west coasts, shares including a ten per cent shareholding in the Port of San Francisco, and many thousands of dollars worth of unsold goods procured in the course of recent trades.
In one sweep of the pen, Johnson Senior had ensured his three children would never want for anything and could see out their days in total comfort if not absolute luxury.
But that wasn’t all. To each of his children, he’d also left a personalized letter. It was the contents of Johnson Senior’s letter to his son that provided Nathan with the epiphany that was about to change his life.
Nathan hadn’t read the letter until a week after the reading of the will. He wasn’t sure he wanted to read it and had even contemplated destroying it. Finally, he read it, but only because he thought it likely it would pertain to the running of the company he’d inherited, and not for any sentimental reason.
The letter read:
Dear Nathan
It is with a heavy heart I write this to you, my only son.
I cannot take back the deeds, or misdeeds, I have done and I know I can never expect your forgiveness for the way I treated you growing up. I could blame the liquor or the pressures of business for my actions, but I know they are but hollow excuses.
I grieved for you when your ship went down and you were believed dead. How my heart soared when I learned you had survived.
I grieved for you again when you refused to see me on your return. And I grieved for myself, and cursed myself, for not being a worthy father.
If I could have my time again I would do things differently. That much I know. Believe me when I say I am proud of you, son. Your dear mother would be proud of you, too.
Despite my many faults, I ran a sound and honest business. I hereby bequeath it to you and trust you will profit handsomely from it in the years ahead.
Your father,
Benjamin Johnson
Johnson Senior’s words of love and regret made not the slightest impression on Nathan, and did nothing to change his low opinion of his father. They reminded him of an old Makah saying: Words are like clouds in the sky for even the faintest wind will blow them away. However, Johnson Senior’s reference to his business had gotten Nathan thinking.
As one of Philadelphia’s wealthiest citizens, and one of the youngest members of the nouveau riche on the entire eastern seaboard, he knew the world was his oyster. He could do anything he liked. He could even retire if he wanted to and party all day, every day. Tempting though that idea was, he felt he owed it to himself to do something with his life.
If I’m ever gonna do something, it has to be now.
Despite the foolishness and immaturity he’d demonstrated since his return to Philadelphia, he was wise enough to recognize he needed to change. He vowed to change immediately.
As he folded the letter away, he noticed his father had written something on the back of it. It read:
P.S. - I am sure you will agree there is now no further need for a continuation of the monthly cash deposits into your bank account. I have discontinued those. - B.J.
So now Nathan knew for sure why the monthly deposits had recently ceased. He’d already guessed his father had been making the deposits as they stopped as soon as he died.
In the weeks ahead, Nathan threw himself into his father’s business. It wasn’t that hard. Johnson Senior had surrounded himself with good people, and Nathan retained them and made good use of them. While he had the casting vote in all company matters, he gave the company’s senior managers even more autonomy than his father had given them. That didn’t always work out, and he had to fire one or two, but Nathan learned fast and the business continued to prosper.
After six months as the new head of Johnson Traders, it was as if Johnson Senior had never been away. At the end of Nathan’s first year at the helm, the company posted a record profit.
35
South Atlantic, 1848
Nearly two weeks later, beneath clear winter skies, Minstrel rounded Africa’s scenic Cape of Good Hope, at the bottom of Cape Colony. Passengers and crew were treated to the sight of a rugged coastline interspersed with white sand beaches. Neat cottages nestled in the valleys reminded some of Devon.
The Drakes, along with most of the other passengers, had been on deck to view the spectacle ever since the cape had been sighted hours earlier. They were all rugged up in their warmest coats
and scarves, the heat of the Tropics long forgotten.
As Minstrel merged with scores of other craft in Cape Town’s beautiful harbor, children squealed with delight when a pod of dolphins provided an impromptu escort for the brigantine. The dolphins were almost close enough to touch. Several performed spectacular somersaults alongside Minstrel, prompting more squeals from the children and cheers from the adults.
The passengers’ eyes were drawn to the majestic Table Mountain. Towering over Cape Town like a granite sentinel, it was impossible to miss. Atop it was a narrow blanket of cloud which ran its full length. The cloud cover was likened to a tablecloth by Miss Finch, and Susannah thought that most apt. When Susannah thought about the mountain’s name, she realized others had thought it apt also.
First impressions of Minstrel’s latest destination were highly favorable. Even before stepping ashore, passengers and crew were unanimous in their praise of the British colony that would one day be known as South Africa.
After weeks at sea, everyone was looking forward to the stopover. For Susannah, her excitement was tempered by the fact she hadn’t completely recovered from the near-catastrophic collision with the barque and the events that led up to it. The young Englishwoman now viewed those events as shameful, and had prayed frequently for forgiveness.
Susannah hadn’t seen Goldie since that night for he’d remained incarcerated in the hold. She feared what fate awaited him in Cape Town and fervently hoped he wouldn’t be punished further.
“Everything alright, my dear?” It was Drake Senior who asked. He’d noticed his daughter seemed distracted.
“Of course, papa.” Susannah forced a smile.
Drake Senior wasn’t fooled. He knew his daughter well enough to know when she had something on her mind. The extra time she’d set aside recently for her daily prayers and bible studies was a clue that Susannah may be wrestling with some inner torment. The clergyman smiled and placed a caring arm around her. “Well, you know I’m here for you if you need to talk to someone,” he said tenderly.
“Thank you, papa.” Susannah leaned her head on Drake Senior’s shoulder. How she wished she could go back and undo the events leading up to that recent night. She’d slept poorly ever since. Her dreams had been filled with Goldie; in some she was with him, making love. The more she prayed and asked God for forgiveness, the more sexually explicit her dreams had become.
Susannah was starting to feel like she was trapped between two worlds: the strict religious world she’d been born into and the secular world – the world that allowed for more freedom of expression – that she was beginning to realize her heart desired.
The one bright spot in her life was her father was recovering well from his wounds. Since his setback after discharging himself from hospital in Bata, he was getting stronger every day and was almost back to his old self. Susannah clung to that and forced all other thoughts from her mind.
#
Later that morning, as the Drakes and other passengers lined up on deck in preparation for going ashore, a now sober Captain Mathers gave them the same pep talk he delivered on arrival in every new stopover port.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I would remind you we are only here for four days,” Mathers said.
Everyone was aware the original ten-day stopover had been cut because of the delays Minstrel had experienced in Bata.
Mathers continued, “In that time we will be reprovisioning Minstrel. As always, take care ashore, watch the children closely and never venture anywhere alone.”
As the captain rambled on, several male passengers – the single men in particular – were growing impatient. They couldn’t wait to hit the bars and, in some cases, the brothels in town.
“Departure is scheduled for mid-morning June twenty-ninth, and anyone not on board then will be left behind!” Mathers warned as the men finally broke ranks and strode down the gangplank onto the wharf.
As the Drakes queued to descend the gangplank, Susannah caught her first and last glimpse of Goldie. The rigger had been brought up on deck and was being addressed by the first mate Paxton. Having spent so long in the hold, he looked pale and drawn.
Susannah caught Goldie’s eye when she drew level with him. She mouthed the word Sorry to him as she passed by. He smiled at her. The young woman felt relieved and grateful all at once. Goldie’s smile had signaled to her that he didn’t blame her one jot for what had happened.
Later, Susannah would learn that other than having his pay docked, Goldie had been released without further punishment.
After spending an enjoyable afternoon ashore, the Drakes dined as guests of Harry Kemp. The colonel had been invited to dine at the home of old family friends, and had assured Susannah and her father that two extra guests would be most welcome. That turned out to be true, and all three shared a wonderful evening at the home of a retired London surgeon and his charming Dutch wife.
Susannah struck up such a rapport with the Dutchwoman she accepted an invitation to stay over for a couple of days. For the young Englishwoman, those two days flew by and she regretted she had to return to Minstrel so soon. Before departing, she assured her generous hosts she’d remain in contact by letter.
For Minstrel’s passengers, the first few days in Cape Town passed without incident. Then tragedy struck.
The morning before Minstrel’s scheduled departure, one of the female passengers reported her husband had not returned from a visit ashore the previous night. Bill Compton, a God-fearing gentleman, had gone ashore to purchase medicine for the youngest of his three children.
When he hadn’t returned, his wife Thelma thought he may have decided to overnight on shore for some reason. However, when he didn’t show up the following morning, she knew something wasn’t right.
True to form, Captain Mathers was too drunk to arrange a search party, so his first mate Paxton took over. A dozen men – passengers and crew – were quickly appointed to search for the missing man. Drake Senior had volunteered to join the search party, but Susannah had intervened, pointing out he was not yet back to full health and needed to conserve his energy. His protestations had been quelled by the timely intervention of Miss Finch, who proved a valuable ally for Susannah at such times.
#
When the scheduled day of departure dawned for Minstrel and her passengers, Bill Compton still hadn’t been found. Thelma Compton was beside herself with worry, and Susannah took it upon herself to stay by her side to comfort her and help care for her three children.
No-one could imagine departing Cape Town minus a passenger. No-one, that is, except Captain Mathers. He’d sobered up after hearing of Compton’s disappearance and was, to his credit, helping coordinate the search effort. However, he was also threatening to stick to the mid-morning departure time he’d scheduled.
Only Harry Kemp’s intervention dissuaded the captain from carrying out his threat. As the man who had chartered Minstrel, and who ultimately paid for Mathers’ services, the colonel had final say on such matters. Mathers’ authority only exceeded Kemp’s on matters of on-board safety and other maritime issues when at sea.
Despite every able-bodied man aboard Minstrel now being involved in the search, the day passed without Compton being found. One day led to another and then yet another. Thelma Compton hadn’t slept in all that time and was now ill with worry.
By the dawning of the fourth extra day, Kemp had to make a decision. He consulted with Mathers and with several male passengers whose opinion he respected, but his mind was already made up. “We have to depart now,” he said after some heated debate.
The others – of whom Drake Senior was one – finally agreed. As a still sober Mathers had pointed out, they could keep searching for another month for no different result.
“Someone should break the news to Missus Compton,” Kemp said.
“I will do that,” Drake Senior offered.
“I don’t envy her decision,” Mathers said.
Everyone knew what decision he referred to: Thel
ma Compton had to decide whether to relocate herself and her children ashore in the hope she’d be reunited with her husband, or continue on to New Zealand without him. It was a hellish decision for any woman to make and none of the men envied her.
“I’ll inform her now,” Drake Senior said, taking his leave.
The others watched him go. Each was pleased it wasn’t himself who had to deliver the news.
Drake Senior found Thelma in a drawing room that adjoined the dining room. The distressed woman was being comforted, as always, by Susannah. Miss Finch was nearby, watching over the three Compton children.
Thelma took one look at Drake Senior’s face and burst into tears. She knew what was coming.
The clergyman placed a caring hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Missus Compton,” he murmured. “We can wait no longer.”
Although the announcement came as no surprise, Thelma let out a heart-rending cry of anguish.
Susannah held her tight. At the same time she looked up at Drake Senior. “Papa, surely we can delay departure another twenty-four hours?”
Drake Senior shot his daughter an angry glance that told her now was the time for a united front, not for prevarication. “I’m sorry Colonel Kemp has made his decision. We can wait no longer.”
“What am I to do?” Thelma implored.
Drake Senior had been dreading that question. He’d been expecting it, but had no answer. “That’s for you to decide,” he said at length. “No-one else can make that decision.”
36
Pacific Ocean, 1841
The two weeks it took for Besieged to reach Norfolk Island was uneventful enough. Jack’s days were spent scrubbing decks, cleaning and emptying latrines, and attending to whatever menial task first mate Quincy Adams threw his way; his nights were spent interned in the hold.
A day out from Norfolk Island, everything changed. A fierce storm swept in from the north, preventing the schooner from approaching the island’s harbor and transferring supplies from ship to shore. It also prevented Captain Jones from handing over his uninvited passenger to the penal settlement’s authorities.