I glanced round quickly. “Who, me?”
“Of course you, silly.”
“Nick—I mean, Nicholas Robbins.” I glanced round again, knowing that if anyone caught me talking to Miss Elizabeth, I was dead. Even though I liked her fine, I wished she'd go away.
“Well, hello, then.” She breathed deeply, looking about.
“Why, it's a right fine day, Mr. Robbins. Don't you think?”
“Uh—well—aye.”
I milked awhile in silence, trying to think of something to say. But all I could think of was how the old man was going to kill me. Trice? Hanging? Maybe he would just fling me overboard as a waste of grub. No need for a burial. “Uh—Miss Elizabeth, if anyone catches me talking to you, why, the old man—I mean— you know, Captain Thorn—” I choked on my words, for she plunked herself on the deck beside me, arranging her skirts as if she were sitting for a picnic, placing her cat on her lap.
Oh, dear sweet holy angels in heaven. I'm in trouble now.
The cat meowed and Elizabeth rubbed its head.
“What's its name?” I asked, unable to think of anything smarter to say.
“Prince Albert. I found him by the waterfront a week before we set sail. He was lost and hungry.” She stroked the cat and I heard it purr. “Gets awful lonesome in the cabin by myself, you know. I'm not allowed to talk to anyone except Cook and Duff. My parents, well, they watch my every move as if I was going to do something horrid. Stand in the sun without a bonnet or climb the mainmast dressed in nothing but my petticoats or something equally silly.”
“Oh.” I kept glancing round to see if we were being watched. My neck prickled as I imagined Thorndike grabbing me from behind and shaking me like a dog shakes a rat.
“Of course, Mother and Father had a fit when I brought the cat aboard. They have a fit about everything. Said the best thing for it was the dinner table.” Seeing the expression on my face, she laughed. “Oh, Nick—can I call you that?—I'm only kidding! No, they let me keep it, but only if it doesn't make any noise or pester them.” She was silent, hugging the cat, seeming lost in thought. Then she said, “You're different from the rest of them.”
I milked faster. “How so?”
“I don't know. It's just that you—you seem so … nice.”
Nice? Being nice was about as exciting as a wart. I wanted to appear rugged and strong and as brave as Dexter.
“Oh, don't look so disappointed! Nice is good!”
When I said nothing, she said, “In fact, you remind me of my brother.”
“Your brother?” I hadn't recalled seeing a boy around.
“Aye. You look just like Thomas. It was the first thing I noticed when I saw you.”
“Where is he?”
She shrugged. “He was lost at sea a couple years ago. Father said he was the finest whaleman he'd ever seen and would have made a fine captain. He was already second mate.”
“Oh, sorry,” I said, meanwhile thinking, Terrific! I look like Thorndike's dead son. Me—a pathetic excuse for a whaleman and a blubbering girl besides. “I—I really shouldn't be talking to you, Miss Elizabeth. I could get into a heap of trouble, you know.”
Her eyes brightened and she grinned impishly. “But you're not talking, I am.”
Ninny bleated and nibbled my hair. I couldn't help smiling and scratching her side. “All done now. You're a good girl, Ninny.”
“See? That's what I mean. How many men would pat a goat and tell her she's a good girl?”
I was stumped. “How many?”
She covered her mouth with her hand and laughed again.
I felt my face flush bright as a tomato, realizing I'd just made a perfect fool of myself. Again. “I—I'd better go, Miss Elizabeth. Sorry about your brother.” I grabbed the milk bucket, but before I could dash away like the idiot I was, she put her hand on my arm.
“Please don't change. Don't become like everybody else. Please.” Her blue eyes were clear, sad somehow. “And I'm sorry about what Father said to you the other day. He's like that sometimes. I think you bring out the worst in him.”
“Why?” I couldn't help asking.
She shrugged. “I don't know. I—I guess because you're not my brother and never will be.”
I tried to swallow, my mouth dry as sand. “Bye,” I croaked, slopping milk out of the bucket as I stumbled toward the galley, remembering the old man's words, Ye make me sick to look at ye.
I told Dexter about my looking like Thorndike's dead son. Lying on his bunk, chest bare, Dexter was quiet for a moment, running a hand through his hair. “Of all the blasted luck,” he finally whispered. “Wouldn't you rather have put up with a few bugs?”
“You're the one who was drooling, saying she was the ship of your dreams. I was just following you.”
“You know, Nick, it would be real nice if you had a brain for yourself now and then. Take my advice. Keep your nose clean and steer clear of Thorndike. In about six weeks we'll be at the Sandwich Islands and it's good-bye, Sea Hawk. Think you can do that, or is that too tough to figure?” So saying, he pulled his calico curtain closed, shutting me out.
Well. Real brotherly-like.
Little more than a month later, come one afternoon, just as I was climbing down the main shrouds after my spell as lookout, I heard a “Psst!” and saw a white handkerchief fluttering on the end of a fishing pole. The other end of the pole was hidden behind the steerage companionway, beneath the amidship shelter. Though it was a few feet abaft the mainmast and therefore in “officers' country,” it seemed as if someone was trying to get my attention. Seeing the mates busy elsewhere, I crept over.
I peered round the companionway. There, crouching, holding the pole, was Elizabeth. “Oh, hello, Nicholas. I was hoping I'd catch a nice tall fish today.”
I licked my lips, my heart doing a somersault. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to get your attention, what do you think?”
“What for?”
“I have something for you.” She set down the pole, grabbed a sack from behind her, and handed it to me.
“What's in it?”
“Go ahead, open it.”
Even before I looked inside, I knew what I'd find. I'd smelled them all afternoon, the aroma wafting up to the mastheads, making my stomach growl and bringing dreams of home. “Gingersnaps,” I said, my mouth watering.
“I baked them today with Mother. I made extra for you.” She smiled as the breeze ruffled the ribbons on her bonnet. “Thought you might be tired of fo'c'sle food.”
I wanted to tell her how much I appreciated her baking extra cookies for me. Actually, what I really wanted to tell her was how lovely she looked today. How I liked the way her eyes sparkled when she talked, like sunlight on the ocean. But just as I opened my mouth to thank her, Captain Thorndike emerged from the aft companionway and began peering round as he always did. “I—I've got to go,” I blurted, and hurried away, stuffing the bag down my shirt.
When I reached the windlass, I glanced back. Thorndike was staring at me. Elizabeth stood by the steerage companionway where I'd left her, her back to her father, a wounded expression on her face. She waved a tiny wave, only lifting a few fingers.
I turned away, not daring to wave back while the old man's eyes bored holes through me. Blast Thorndike! A bitter taste grew in my mouth even as the spicy smell of gingersnaps surrounded me, the cookies warm against my skin.
Only two weeks to go, I thought. Then Thorndike, Elizabeth, and the Sea Hawk will be only a memory.
he whale's tooth my father had given me was stuffed down my shirt. I also had my ditty box, which held my soap, my comb, my mirror, and whatnot. I couldn't take too much; I didn't want to look suspicious. As it was, I wore my pea jacket to cover it all up, plus two pairs of dungarees, hoping I wouldn't look too stuffy walking round Honolulu.
The Sea Hawk was to set sail for the Arctic in the morning. It was the starboard watch's last shore leave. We were to return by nine o'clock that evening, but
Dexter and I had other plans.
So after spending more than five months aboard the Sea Hawk, enduring much suffering and tribulation, we left the whaler and set off for a spot we'd visited before. Full of grog shops and hotels and seedy characters, the haole district was the perfect place to get lost until the Sea Hawk was far away.
It was well after ten o'clock and we were into our third grog shop when a gentleman sitting at a table remarked, “Say, you boys look mighty thirsty.”
Dexter and I glanced at each other. It would seem odd to walk into a grog shop and not be thirsty. “Uh—but we don't have much money,” said Dexter. “Maybe enough for a drop or two.”
The gentleman smiled. “First drink's on me.” Dressed in a suit, he was middle-aged, with salt-and-pepper hair. A gold chain draped across his vest front and disappeared into a pocket.
So we spliced the main brace for a spell while I wondered who the gentleman was, why he was in a dirty grog shop, and why he seemed concerned with our thirst. I grew increasingly warm under my several layers of clothes, especially as the man began to ask questions.
“From New Bedford, are you?”
“How did you know?” I asked.
“This place is a regular Tower of Babel. I pride myself on working out the languages and dialects.” He lit a pipe. “So, fellows, what ship are you from?”
Dexter frowned, seeming to try and focus. “One of those out there in the harbor, I expect.”
The gentleman nodded. “I see, I see. Headed off to the Arctic, then, are you?”
“Sooner or later.” Dexter took a swallow of his drink.
“I hear the Arctic can be tough, that lots of boys are deserting to avoid its displeasures. Know anything about that, boys?”
I shook my head, my eyes wide as saucers and innocent as a babe's.
Dexter ran a hand through his sandy hair. “Pardon my asking, Mr.—uh—Mr.—”
“McGuire.”
“Mr. McGuire, but who are you, and what concern is it of yours?”
“A fair question, young friend. Allow me to explain.” Mr. McGuire withdrew a badge from his pocket. “Constable of the police. I'm on the lookout for deserters. I'm afraid I need to see your passports.”
“Passports?” we both asked.
“I'm sure you are aware, no sailors are allowed to spend the night ashore without permission from the governor. If you want to tell me what ship you belong to, I can make certain you're escorted safely aboard. Without a ship, I'll need a passport.”
Dexter looked at me, horrified. I knew what he was thinking, for I was thinking the same. We hadn't even run away yet, and already we were caught! Just our luck to sit down to chat with the constable of the police! “Uh—we left our passports outside in my bag. C'mon, Nick, let's go fetch them.”
“I—I'm right behind you.”
The constable smiled. “Very well, gentlemen, we'll go out together.”
When we stood, the constable stood too, and when we hurried to the door, he was behind me, his hand on my shoulder. Outside, a storm had started. Rain fell in torrents. Already streams of mud gushed down the streets. Now what? I stepped out into the rain after Dexter. And when the constable hesitated for just a moment, Dexter shoved me, hard. “Run!” he cried. “Run!”
I ran, my heart slamming against my chest.
Behind me I heard a whistle blast. “After them! After them!” From everywhere came the hue and cry of men rushing toward the sound. Blood and thunder, they're everywhere!
I raced up one street and down another, Dexter on my heels, the whale's tooth and my ditty box bouncing hard and sharp against me. Rain spattered my face. I could hardly see.
“They went this way!” I heard someone cry.
When I turned to go one way, Dexter yanked me in the opposite direction. “We've got to make it out of the city and into the hills!” Down another street we sprinted, past huts, past homes and stores built of lumber.
By now my lungs burned. God have mercy!
Up ahead at one of the houses, a light burned. Beneath the light, people reclined in chairs on a porch. Over the sounds of my ragged breathing, my brogans sucking in and out of the mud, the drone of rain, I heard laughter, voices.
“C'mon,” gasped Dexter, “hurry! They're right behind us!” But as I entered the circle of light, someone grabbed me from behind. I fell, landing hard on the whale's tooth. My breath whooshed out of me. Mud squished in my ear as someone fell on top of me.
Abruptly, the laughter stopped.
My lungs screamed, and I couldn't catch my breath. I'm caught! I'm caught! I lay for a while as rain slid round me and seeped into my drawers. Dexter! What about Dexter? Did he get away? I hoped so, because I knew what would be waiting for us back at the Sea Hawk: Captain Thorndike … Punishment …
Four men hauled me to my feet, two on each arm. I couldn't see Dexter anywheres.
“Cuff him.” The constable was breathing hard, his suit plastered against his body, splattered with mud.
Then came a voice from the porch. “Why, Nicholas Robbins, is that you?”
Elizabeth!
She sat on the porch with her mother, surrounded by several women. A table was neatly set with teapots and teacups, plates and frosted cake.
“Aye, Miss Thorndike,” I said, still gasping for breath, happy to see a friendly face, even if she was the captain's daughter.
The constable bowed. “Sorry to disturb you at your social gathering, ladies, but this young fellow has absconded from his ship. I'm taking him into custody until the proper arrangements can be made.”
“Nonsense.” Elizabeth stood and smiled sweetly. “Nicholas belongs aboard the Sea Hawk. Mother and I sent him into town on an errand so we could have a bit of time to visit our friends, isn't that right, Mother?” Elizabeth smiled briefly at her mother. “Release him, Constable. You've already made quite a mess.”
I saw the hesitation on the constable's face. But when Mrs. Thorndike nodded, the constable sighed and said, “Release him, fellows.” He tipped his hat. “Ladies. Enjoy the rest of your evening. Sorry to have bothered you. I'll leave this young man in your capable hands.”
“Thank you, Constable,” said Mrs. Thorndike. “That will be all.”
If I had thought I would be bathed, dressed in clean clothes, given a slice of lemon cake, and asked to tell my life story once the constable left, I was sore mistaken.
Mrs. Thorndike immediately demanded that I account for my actions, and when I stumbled over my words, making no sense, meanwhile turning red as Christmas, she declared that she and her daughter must return to the ship immediately.
Elizabeth protested, finally answering with a sullen “Yes, Mother.”
I stood in the mud, soaked to the bone, as Mrs. Thorndike said her good-byes to her acquaintances and arranged for transport in a carriage. She had the driver tie me to the carriage with a long rope, then told me to walk beside them and not dally. The rain had stopped as suddenly as it had started. Through the parting clouds, the moon shone bright. Elizabeth cast a sympathetic glance at me before she climbed into the carriage and shut the door. With a cry from the driver and a lurch, we were off. I ran alongside, my wrists tied together.
Twice the carriage got stuck in the mud. I pushed it out as the driver whacked the horse with a whip. The second time, Dexter joined me. Grime coated his face and mud caked his hair.
“Dexter! Why did you come back? Leave now while you can!”
“Shh! I'm here to help you, you fool! Besides, I thought taking you with me was the blasted point of it all.”
Even though I wished he hadn't shown up, I was awful glad to see him. After we freed the carriage, he ran next to me, strug-gling with the knots round my wrist. Mud slimed the rope, wet and slick. Dexter cussed under his breath, spouting words that would make any salty sea dog proud.
Hurry! Hurry!
But it was too late. The carriage rolled to a stop. We'd arrived at the shore, where a boat waited to return us to the ship.
Moonlight shone on the water, and dead ahead lay the Sea Hawk.
Mrs. Thorndike and Elizabeth alighted from the carriage. “Please convey my gratefulness to Captain Wilson for the use of his carriage,” Mrs. Thorndike said to the driver. She then ordered the boatman to untie me, at the same time noticing that there were now two of us. She peered at Dexter. “Why, you're one of the young men aboard my husband's ship, aren't you?”
“Aye. My brother and I, we were just out having a bit of fun. We didn't mean no harm.”
She studied us in the moonlight. I'm sure we made some sight, covered with mud and all.
“Mother, please,” Elizabeth pleaded. “You know what Father will do.”
“Sailors who can't abide by the rules must accept the conse-quences, Elizabeth. 'Tis a fact of life, or else we have anarchy.”
“It won't happen again,” I said.
“Of course it won't happen again,” she snapped. “We sail in the morning. What were you planning to do, anyways—leave us shorthanded?”
“Why, no, ma'am, we—” began Dexter.
“It shows an utter disregard for the needs of our ship and the needs of our family. Especially as we head off into the Arctic—”
“Mother, please—”
Mrs. Thorndike turned toward her daughter. “And you, Elizabeth. Telling a falsehood in front of my friends and making the constable look like an old fool. I am so ashamed. What will they think of us? And what business is it of yours anyway, young lady? These men work for your father, and they've signed a con-tract that says so. Now, what kind of captain's wife would I be if I set a bad example by letting them get away with whatever they wanted? And just how did you get to be on a first-name basis with this young man? Oh, never mind! This is all too much. I'm certain your answer would be just another fabrication. Into the boat, all of you, and mind you don't muddy the seats.”
No one spoke over the short distance to the ship.
I chewed my fingernails. My palms were clammy. Beads of perspiration glistened on Dexter's forehead. Elizabeth stared at the ship, her face pale as moonlight, while her hands fiddled with the gloves in her lap.
Voyage of Ice Page 5