The Deepest Waters, A Novel

by Walsh, Dan

  Please forgive me for any hardship I’ve caused you by withholding this information. Adding to your grief is the last thing I want to do. Laura, you must know this, and cling to this for all the years you remain on this earth . . . my last thoughts will be of you, and only you. I will think of your face, your smile, the love I have cherished in your eyes, our precious conversations.

  If it must be so, that I am to sink into the deepest waters below, you are and will always remain my only love.

  John

  Laura fell to the deck.

  The note fell from her hand.

  40

  Joel couldn’t believe it. He was actually crying.

  The tears just came; it didn’t make sense. He didn’t think of John anymore, hadn’t given him a moment’s energy in two years, until his mother had asked him to check the ship’s schedule two days ago. He must compose himself; the carriage was just one block from the Foster home.

  Perhaps he should have the driver turn left up ahead, not right. Head for the Foster Insurance office downtown. By rights, his father should be told. He should be the one to break the news to his wife. It was his responsibility, not Joel’s.

  The carriage came to the last intersection. Joel let the moment slip away.

  His father would have accepted the task, but all the while he’d have despised Joel for forcing it upon him. He would know Joel had allowed a moment of weakness to overtake him and come running to Daddy. And we couldn’t have that, could we? The Foster family empire had been built on firm resolve and steel will. No place for weakness or sentiment. Such was the sad lot of women and the infirm. And weak men . . . like John.

  Why couldn’t the old man have been the one who died instead of John?

  The carriage stopped. He heard the driver climb down. The carriage door opened. Joel exited, his eyes fixed on the large mahogany door. It opened before he reached the knob.

  He handed Beryl his top hat and coat but couldn’t look him in the eye. A memory flashed into his mind. Beryl with a full head of hair, bouncing John on his knee in the parlor, then both of them being scolded by his father as he left for work. “Not what I pay you for, Beryl,” his father had said.

  Beryl had loved John dearly.

  Allison rushed out from her room upstairs. She looked over the balcony, and her eyes instantly locked onto his.

  Joel shook his head . . . no.

  Allison fell to the floor, sobbing. The tears continued as Joel walked slowly up the stairs. Another image. John and Allison playing hide-and-seek in the backyard garden. Joel, the big brother, sent to put an end to their destruction of the begonia beds. As a child, he had never played with his siblings, with either one of them.

  He turned left at the head of the stairs and bent over her, patting her gently on the back. She didn’t respond. He stood up and looked at the closed door leading to his mother’s room.

  Foster men are strong.

  But he didn’t feel strong. Still, he walked straight to the door and opened it without allowing another memory to ambush him along the way. His mother lay across the bed, fully dressed, her body turned away from the door. He walked around the bed quietly, hoping to find her asleep. But her eyes were open, staring blankly at some fixed spot on the wall.

  He came close and bent down. She didn’t look at him. He touched her shoulder gently, and she looked at his eyes. “I know,” she said. “I know John is gone.”

  “They announced that none of the six men had any family in New York,” he said.

  She sighed deeply. “I’m sorry for sending you. As soon as you left, I knew he couldn’t be among so few in number.”

  John was surprised to find her so calm. “Are you . . . all right, Mother?”

  She sat up. “For the moment. I have no more tears.”

  He looked at the china cup by her night table. “Can I get you some tea?”

  “I suppose,” she said.

  “Something to eat?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  A few quiet moments passed. “I should probably go and tell Father, then Evelyn.”

  “You do that,” she said. “I’ll be here. I have nowhere to go.”

  He stood up. She reached for his hand and squeezed firmly. “Thank you, Joel.”

  He forced a smile, then turned and left quickly. Another moment and he would lose control completely. As he came to the front door, Beryl stood at the ready, as always, coat and hat in hand. “Beryl, be a good man,” he said. “Make sure Mother doesn’t see the newspaper for the next several days.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “And could you have someone get her some tea?”

  41

  John awoke to a warm breeze blowing on his face. He still felt motion beneath him, but it was subtle and stable. He heard voices, in English and some other language. But perhaps the best thing was that he heard footsteps on wood.

  “Wondered if you’d sleep right through lunch.”

  John lifted his head and looked into Robert’s face. Behind him, big, white, beautiful sails flapped in the wind. He saw rigging and men going up and down on the shrouds. He smelled coffee.

  “There’s still some gruel left,” Robert said. “It’s been sitting a few hours, but when I ate it, I could have sworn it rivaled the finest omelet I ever tasted.”

  John smiled. I’m going to see Laura again.

  It was the best possible thought. No other thought even mattered. He sat up. He wanted to shout in the worst way, to properly express his gratitude to God for life itself. He was safe. The sentence of death reprieved.

  “Want me to get you a bowl?”

  “That would be wonderful, Robert. What time is it?”

  “Not sure, but well after eleven o’clock.”

  “Where is the ambassador?”

  “Up by the bow, taking in the view. Be right back with your food. Care for some coffee?”

  “Can you believe it, Robert? You’re asking if I want coffee?”

  Tears welled up in Robert’s eyes. “I was sure seawater would be my final drink.” He turned and walked away.

  John stood up and headed for the rail. The sky was a royal blue with a few scattered clouds. The sea had a light chop, and the ship moved through it at a solid clip. He turned and surveyed the ship more closely. Thank God, a ship. It had three masts, square-rigged. No damage that he could see. Must have missed the hurricane altogether. He looked to the top of the mainmast, eyed the Dutch flag. That was the foreign language he’d heard.

  Last night the captain had said his name and the ship’s name, but John could remember neither. He looked back toward the wheel, saw a man on the quarterdeck with an air of authority standing beside it. John had seen the captain briefly last night, but it had been so dark. This man looked like him. John wanted to thank him, but Robert was coming back.

  Robert held out a bowl and a tin cup with coffee. “Not a lot of food in there. The captain said he’d feed us better at lunch, and even better at dinner. Something to do with our stomachs having shrunk while we were adrift. I don’t really care. I’m happy just having fresh water to drink. And this coffee.”

  “I can’t believe we are rescued,” John said. “That we’re actually going home.”

  “I know,” said Robert. “I’ll see Mary and the children. I didn’t think—” He choked back tears. “I have you to thank for that, John. I owe you a debt I can never repay.”

  “You don’t owe me, Robert.”

  “I do, you saved my life. Several times. On the Vandervere, out on the raft. Even last night . . . the ambassador told me what you did, diving in after me when the raft overturned.”

  “Did he also tell you I almost drowned?”

  “He did. I don’t know what I would have done if you had survived a shipwreck and all that time on the raft, only to have drowned during our rescue.”

  John smiled. “I’ll be relieved to get off the water. I’m wishing we didn’t have to sail back to San Francisco, after we visit my family, th
at is.” What an odd thing to say, he thought. He’d said it as if nothing in their plans had changed. He took a bite of food and swallowed, then looked down. “Laura must be having a terrible time right now. I can’t believe the mess I’ve put her in.”

  “Because she thinks we didn’t survive?”

  “It’s worse than that.” John explained the situation more fully, the content of his note, the implications. Robert’s changing expressions confirmed that it really was as bad as John feared. “I don’t even know where she is right now,” he said.

  “The Cutlass must have already docked in New York,” Robert said.

  “But no one in my family even knows she’s coming.”

  “She has the gold. She should be all right until you arrive.”

  “I suppose,” said John. But the pain and loneliness she must be feeling right now. He ached to see her, to comfort her. “I wonder where we are now, how far till we reach New York.”

  “The captain gave a little speech, but you slept through it. He said we’re less than a day from Norfolk, so that’s where he’s taking us. He’s just come across the Atlantic and is low on provisions.”

  John was relieved to hear they were so close to land. He sipped his coffee again. It was a wonder in itself.

  “I’m not sure,” said Robert, “how I’ll find my family once we arrive. Mary had planned to meet me in New York. Now she thinks I’m dead. I don’t know if she’s still there or has taken a train back to Boston.”

  John wondered the same. Where was Laura? What was she doing right now? How would they find each other once he came into town?

  “But it will turn out all right,” said Robert. “If God can appoint a bird to hit a sea captain in the head, cause that captain to change course, then steer him right through the middle of our group in the dark of night, then I suppose he can reunite us with our families.”

  “Whatever are you talking about, Robert?” John finished his last spoonful.

  “That’s right. You didn’t hear Captain Houtman’s story. It’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever heard.” Robert pulled up a barrel and sat. “It was a miracle, John, of biblical proportions.”

  42

  Laura sat on a bench against a wall of lapboard siding, just a few yards down from the back door of the steamship office. The reporters still huddled about, but they’d shifted their focus from the steamship management to the passengers.

  The ones who had family waiting.

  They called out as the survivors passed by like shameless carnival hawkers. Some flashed cash, promising more for an exclusive story. A few of the women had been drawn in, but most wanted no part of it.

  Laura just ignored them. She sat alone on the bench, waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure. An idea that might break through the muddle in her mind. Perhaps a single thought that made any sense.

  Twenty minutes ago, when she’d climbed down the gangway, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a few panes of glass. It startled her. She hadn’t bathed in almost a week. Her hair was ragged and matted. She looked like a washerwoman at the end of a long day. It had been easy to lose track of things on a ship filled with women who looked much the same. But seeing all the women in the waiting area, the way they looked at her . . . maybe it was a good thing John’s family wasn’t there to greet her.

  “Laura?”

  She looked up. It was Melissa.

  “Are you waiting for John’s family?”

  How is it that she looked so beautiful? She hadn’t bathed either. Was it the smile, the joy in her eyes? Laura shook her head no. She wasn’t waiting for John’s family.

  “I want you to meet Tom.”

  That’s right, her Tom.

  Stepping out from behind Melissa, Laura looked up into the face of a tall, well-dressed young man with bright blue eyes. He removed his hat, revealing a full head of dark hair. He reached out his hand. “How do you do?”

  She shook it gently. But she felt so embarrassed at her appearance. “Melissa has told me so much about you,” she said politely.

  “Then you must know what a coward I was to have ever let her go.” He looked down at Melissa with adoring eyes and reached for her hand. “But that won’t ever happen again.”

  How nice.

  Stop it, she scolded herself. It was nice, for them. But she just wanted to be left alone. How could she get that message across?

  Melissa sat beside her. “I don’t understand. If you aren’t waiting for John’s family, then . . .”

  “They aren’t coming,” Laura said, “because they don’t know I exist.”

  “What?”

  “They don’t . . . they don’t know—” Laura couldn’t go on. She buried her face in her hands and cried.

  “You poor dear,” Melissa said, rubbing her back. “I’m so sorry.”

  After a few minutes, Laura regained her composure and told them about John’s note.

  “But surely they will want to meet you,” Tom said. “Once they know.”

  “I’m not sure of that at all. John wasn’t sure. That’s why he hid this from me.”

  “But that was before he—” Tom stopped.

  “Before he died.” Laura finished his thought. “But it doesn’t change anything. He wrote the note thinking he might. And still, he wondered if they’d reject me once we met. I’ve been piecing together other things he said. I think his family is very wealthy, in a much higher social class than me. If I met them now, and it doesn’t go well . . . I can’t bear any more pain. I just can’t.” She began to cry again.

  “It’s all right, Laura,” said Melissa.

  “I know of the Fosters,” said Tom. “A little. And they are very wealthy, several rungs up the ladder from my family in Philadelphia. But I don’t believe they’d turn you away. Especially now.”

  Laura looked up. “I can’t do it.”

  “Here, I’m sorry,” he said kindly, handing her his handkerchief. “I’m not trying to pressure you, really I’m not. But people like the Fosters, of all things, they care about perceptions. Some of their parties have even appeared in our society pages. Even if they didn’t want to, they would still treat you well.”

  Melissa shot him a look that said: I can’t believe you said that.

  Tom’s return look showed he had no idea what her look meant.

  Laura said, “Thank you both for trying to help me. Honestly, I am grateful. But I think I’m just going to sit here awhile longer. I don’t have the strength to face them. I don’t want to bother John’s family or make their lives difficult. I’m so tired. I just want to sit here awhile.”

  For a few moments, no one said a thing.

  Melissa finally said, “Laura, I don’t feel right just leaving you here. Tom’s been staying in a fine hotel just down the street. We’re going there now, then we’ll head home in the morning.”

  “I’ve rented a carriage,” Tom said. “We’d be happy to drive you.”

  “You could take a bath,” Melissa said. “A hot one. Sleep in a nice bed.”

  Laura couldn’t help it. A bath. It made her smile.

  Melissa stood up. “Come, Laura. Let us take you there.”

  “It’s the least we could do,” Tom said.

  Laura stood up. “It does sound nice. I think I’d like that.”

  “Get him out of there,” said Captain Meade.

  Ayden Maul decided not to resist as two crewmen dragged him from his bunk. What was the point? But every twist and turn stung like bee stings, every time his shirt made contact with the wounds from the lash. He squinted as they dragged him out to the main deck. He hadn’t seen the sun in two days.

  “Take him to the gangway,” the captain said.

  “Would you please untie me?” Maul said.

  The captain stood less than a foot from his face. The two crewmen were on either side, holding his arms. “I have half a mind to deliver you over to the police. But with all these reporters hanging around, I don’t want to take a chance they’ll make you a part
of their story and badger these poor women further. Untie him.”

  The crewmen obeyed.

  “I want you off my ship and off this dock. Don’t even think about trying to get a job sailing out of here. I plan to spread the word throughout the harbor. No one will hire a thief.”

  The crewmen walked him to the edge of the gangway and gave him a shove.

  Maul hurried down and didn’t look back. He was ready to be free of this ship and its worthless crew. He looked up ahead toward the steamship office building.

  He couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Walking away just now was that Foster woman, the lady who kept putting her nose in his business. She was the one got him caught, ruined all his plans. Stood up for that old slave rather than a member of her own race. Weren’t for her, he’d be moseying off the ship with the rest of the crew when the captain gave liberty. With enough gold in his bag to set him up for life.

  Now he had nothing. She had to pay.

  He waited until she walked a little farther then crept up behind her, keeping his distance. He followed as she turned a corner around the office building, then hurried before he lost her in the street crowd. He stood just behind the corner and watched as a young couple escorted her to a carriage. He had to act fast, or he’d lose her for good.

  On his left, three horses were tied up by the curb. He looked around for any sign of the owners, anyone looking his direction. He glanced back at the carriage; it started to pull away. He quickly tied his bag to the saddle and hopped on the middle horse.