The Deepest Waters, A Novel

by Walsh, Dan

  “You do,” said John. “How far is the station from here?”

  The man smiled. “Much too far to walk. But I’ll take you there in my carriage.”

  “Thank you. I have to get to New York as soon as possible.”

  “Happy to oblige, young man. But we need to leave now if we’re to make it on time.”

  “Can I say good-bye to a friend?”

  “By all means.”

  John hurried back to the line and found Robert.

  “I heard you,” said Robert. “I guess this is it, then.” Tears welled up in his eyes.

  John held out his hand, and Robert pulled him into an embrace. “I’ll never forget you, John.”

  “Nor I you, Robert. You sure you won’t come with me?”

  “I’m too tired to travel anymore tonight, and I don’t want to feel anything moving beneath me, if only for a while. Here,” he said, handing John a slip of paper, a small advertisement from the hotel. “I borrowed a pen and wrote my address there in the margin. If you and your wife can spare a few days while you’re still on the East Coast, I’d love for you to visit me in Boston, so my wife and children can meet the man who saved my life.”

  “I would love to. I’m sure we could arrange that.” He looked up the line and saw the ambassador just now interacting with the clerk at the front desk. “I wish I had time to tell him good-bye properly,” John said. “Please do it for me.”

  “I will.”

  “If you can get the ambassador’s address, perhaps I could get it from you in Boston and write him.”

  “I know he’d like that.”

  They embraced again, and John hurried to join the man in the derby hat, standing by the door.

  55

  “Let’s get Micah into the carriage,” Joel said, redirecting everyone’s focus to a more pressing matter. “He needs to see a doctor.”

  Two burly policemen had just dragged off Ayden Maul, tied and bound, into a police wagon. First, Joel had given them the details of the attack. Laura had explained who he was and what he had done on the ship. Maul had only partially regained consciousness. Laura was glad. She didn’t want to ever hear his voice again.

  She did her best to keep the cloth pressed to Micah’s wounds until Eli and Joel slid him through the carriage door. Then she hopped in beside him and continued her aid until everyone was in and the carriage pulled away. He seemed much weaker, but his smile never dimmed.

  For a few moments, no one said a word. Allison cried softly into her brother’s shoulder. Laura felt numb inside, almost unable to absorb what just happened.

  Someone had tried to kill her.

  The momentum of the terror continued to pulse through her body. Thoughts and images continued without permission. This day had been filled with more highs and lows than a soul was meant to endure. She wished she could hide in Joel’s other shoulder and release all this tension in a proper flood of tears.

  But Micah needed her to stay in the moment.

  She looked down at his face. His eyes were closed, but he was still breathing. Let him rest, she thought. Every day his life was harder than this day had been for her. She thought a moment about the highs and lows this day held for him.

  She’d ridden a fine carriage away from the ship; he had just walked for miles. She had bathed in a luxurious hotel and bought new clothes; he’d worn the same clothes from when they’d first met. A rich and refined family had invited her to stay in their mansion tonight. Micah had been sent away from that mansion, back to the damp, dark quarters of a musty ship. A ruthless man had just tried to kill her. Micah had stopped that man, with no regard for his own safety.

  But as she gazed at the look on his face, she realized . . . Micah was happy. He would end this night refusing to dwell on his many reasons for sorrow and despair. He would not care that as he strolled these stately streets, he was invisible to the wealthy inhabitants of the city. He cared only that God had allowed one man to notice him. And this one young man’s gaze mattered more to him than if a dozen kings had invited him to a feast.

  Lord, thank you for this kindness to my friend.

  And for the first moment in this most harrowing of days, Laura knew true contentment and peace.

  “It’s just up ahead,” Joel said. A few moments later, the carriage pulled over and stopped. Eli opened the door. Micah opened his eyes. “I’ll take him,” Joel said.

  “Be careful,” said Allison.

  They carried Micah outside. Allison opened the iron gate. Laura stepped out and down onto the sidewalk. She noticed at once the beautiful curved stairway just beyond the gate that led to the front door. She looked up at this huge home and could immediately see that, even aided by the lamplight alone, it was far more impressive than the finest homes she’d admired atop Rincon Hill back home.

  This was John’s home.

  Here he grew up as a child. Here he’d become a man. From here he had fled just a few years ago, so that they could meet and fall in love and—

  The front door opened.

  “Beryl, can you get Mother?” Joel was grunting as he and Eli reached the top step.

  “I’m right here,” a woman’s voice said from within.

  John’s mother.

  “Mother, it was so awful,” said Allison on the steps behind the men. “We were attacked in the night. This poor man, he’s Eli’s father. It was like a miracle. They haven’t seen each other in years. He saved Laura’s life, but he was stabbed.”

  “Calm yourself, Allison,” Joel said.

  “Oh my goodness,” their mother said as she backed out of the doorway. “This man was just here, not thirty minutes ago.”

  “I’ll explain everything in a moment, Mother. We need to get him to the sofa.”

  “Beryl, quick,” she said, “go get some linens and put them over the sofa.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “And go get Sally. Ask her to heat some water, then warm some towels.”

  “Right away, madam.”

  Everyone moved from the doorway, through a massive foyer, into the biggest living room Laura had ever seen. She stood behind the group, glad the attention had shifted, if only for a few more moments. As they set Micah down on the sofa, Joel gave his mother a calmer, more lucid rendition of the attack. Micah listened to the entire story, but Laura noticed how distracted he was. She realized how strange this all must be for him. He wasn’t accustomed to ever being the center of attention, let alone by a rich white family in the living room of their mansion.

  Laura looked at Mrs. Foster. She was not how she’d imagined her at all. For some reason she’d pictured her as a short, heavy woman with severe dark eyes and even darker hair. But she was a very attractive woman for her age, slim and refined. An older version of Allison, though her hair was a mix of blonde and gray. Her eyes became more intense with each new aspect of Joel’s tale. At the end of the story, Joel explained how Micah had saved Laura’s life. Mrs. Foster yelled out her name, startling everyone.

  She turned and looked at Laura. “My dear, we’ve forgotten all about you.” Tears instantly filled her eyes and fell down her face. She rushed over and embraced Laura. As Laura returned the hug, they both cried. She heard Mrs. Foster mumble through her tears, “John loved you so much.”

  After a few moments, she pulled back and looked right into Laura’s eyes. “Laura, please accept my apology for not being there to welcome you this morning.” She stopped, shook her head once. “No, more than that. Being proper is all I know how to be, I’m afraid. What I mean is . . . forgive me for being the kind of mother to John that he’d have to wonder in his last moments if I would ever accept you at all.”

  Just the mere mention of his name, spoken aloud, and Laura fell into his mother’s arms, sobbing. She felt his mother holding her tight, patting her back gently. After a few moments, she heard John’s mother say, “Joel. You better send Eli to get Dr. Ames. His father needs more help than we can give him here.”

  “Agreed.”

>   Laura pulled herself together, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped her eyes. She saw Eli standing in the foyer at attention. Joel looked at him, signaling him to get the doctor. Eli nodded. He was just about to leave when Micah yelled out, “Lord have mercy!” startling everyone.

  Everyone looked at him. Had his heart given way?

  Sally had just come in from a side doorway, carrying a stack of white linens. She jumped when Micah yelled. She took one look at him lying on the sofa. The linens fell to the floor. She fell on top of them, fainting right there on the spot.

  “That my Sally?” Micah cried.

  “Told you I had another surprise for you, Daddy,” said Eli from the foyer.

  “Sally,” Allison yelled, and ran to her.

  Laura looked at Micah, who was sitting up now, his eyes wide and bright.

  “Sally’s my sister,” Eli announced to everyone. “She’s Daddy’s girl.”

  56

  The following morning, Joel sat alone in the family carriage as it rode away from the nice section of Gramercy Park, where he lived, to the extravagant, luxurious section where the Foster mansion stood. The sun shone brightly through the carriage windows, so bright, in fact, Joel had to sit far back in the seat to avoid its glare.

  He had barely slept a wink.

  Yesterday, from beginning to end, had been the most extraordinary day of his life. And what had happened at the very end fit right in. Joel wasn’t thinking about the violent attack or the circumstances that followed in the living room. But the disturbing situation that had unfolded after that, when his father had finally come home.

  Most of the excitement had already died down. Joel knew the moment his father walked in the door that he wasn’t in any mood to deal with an upheaval. His mother had hurried to the foyer, greeted him warmly, then tried to explain the scene. She’d brokered pleasant introductions between he and Laura, and then with Micah—“the very remarkable gentleman,” to use her words.

  Joel knew instantly that his father had become stuck on the point that an old black slave was lying on the couch, covered in bloody linens and bandages. He’d extended a polite hand to Laura, followed by a weak smile. He then excused himself, walked toward the library, and asked Joel to join him.

  He’d closed the door, asked Joel to take a seat, and explained the cause of his preoccupation. What he conveyed to Joel was shocking. What was even more shocking to Joel was his own reaction to what his father had said.

  Apparently, his father had known all about the wonders of this new line of steamships and had invested a significant percentage of the firm’s profits in the venture, without telling Joel. The tragedy caused by the Vandervere sinking, he said, was that the amount of losses they’d have to pay out in insurance claims had—in a single day—eaten up the entirety of the company’s profits for the year.

  Joel thought but didn’t say, No, father, the tragedy caused by the Vandervere sinking is that your son, my brother John, is dead. What he had said, and this surprised both him and his father, was this: “It’s only money, Father.” Then he’d walked out and closed the door.

  Suddenly, the carriage stopped. The jolt forced Joel’s mind to the present. He looked out the window; they were still a block away.

  The little door slid over. “Mr. Foster, I’m sorry, sir,” said Eli. “The boy selling papers over there, do you see the headline?”

  Joel looked at the headline and couldn’t believe his eyes.

  53 MORE VANDERVERE SURVIVORS FOUND

  “Shall I buy one?” Eli asked.

  “Yes.”

  After Eli got down from the carriage, Joel handed him a few coins out the window. He gave Joel the paper, and they continued on. Joel read the story, finishing just as they pulled up to the house. It wasn’t the newspaper delivered to the house each day, the one Joel had asked Beryl to intercept. But he was sure the same story would carry the front page of every New York paper.

  The question was . . . should he say anything about it?

  It was a fact that fifty-three men had been rescued, and all of them had come ashore last night in Norfolk, Virginia. But it was also a fact that more than four hundred men had not been rescued and were lost at sea.

  Did he dare mention it, raising everyone’s hopes, when the chances were eight to one that John was not among the survivors?

  57

  “Come, Laura. We’re eating on the veranda.”

  It was the following morning. Laura followed Allison through the living room, walking quietly past Micah, who was still asleep on the sofa.

  “Dr. Ames has already been by to check on him,” said Allison. “Gave him something to ease the pain.”

  “What time is it?” Laura asked.

  “We let you sleep a bit. Mother thought you might need it. It’s just a little after nine o’clock.”

  They walked through a doorway, down a wide hallway with doors on either side. This led through a similar doorway and into a beautiful covered porch, with all manner of potted plants and garden boxes full of flowers and ferns. Out across a finely manicured backyard she saw a greenhouse made mostly of glass.

  “Later, I’ll take you out and show you my roses,” John’s mother said. “Come, sit.”

  Laura walked toward a white iron table. Beautiful china, white linens, matching teapot. She smiled as she sat down, then noticed John’s mother’s eyes were puffy. She had been crying again this morning. Laura thought her eyes must look much the same. “What a lovely place to eat breakfast,” Laura said. “Sorry for sleeping so late.”

  “Nonsense. You needed it. I only rose thirty minutes ago myself.”

  Allison joined them.

  “Did you sleep well?” John’s mother asked.

  “I actually did, the first time since . . . this ordeal began.”

  “I hope you didn’t mind being put in John’s old room.”

  At first Laura thought she would, terribly. But then, even before she fell asleep, she felt the closest to John she had since the rescue. “No, it was fine. And thank you again for taking me in.”

  “Please don’t thank me,” his mother said. “You are welcome to stay for as long as you want.”

  Quietly, Laura thanked God for whatever had brought about this change. John would have been so pleased by this, to know the very thing he feared had somehow been dissolved. Allison lifted the lid to a silver serving dish, revealing a delicious blend of scrambled eggs, bacon, and potatoes. Laura smiled, recalling her recent bowls of gruel.

  “Micah’s daughter, Sally, made this,” Allison said. “She makes some of the most interesting dishes.”

  Laura took a spoonful; she was hungry enough to eat everything on the dish. “Do you mind if I inquire what the doctor said about Micah?”

  “Not at all. I wasn’t here, but Joel told me.”

  “Eli is taking Joel to Micah’s ship right now,” said Allison.

  “Really?”

  “Because of what Dr. Ames said.”

  John’s mother gave Allison a look that suggested “please let me talk.” “As you know, last night the doctor cleaned and stitched up all his wounds. This morning he said the wounds were closing nicely but felt that Micah cannot be moved, at least for a day or two.”

  “I was afraid of that,” said Laura. “I overhead Captain Meade say he wanted to get underway this afternoon.”

  “Well, he’ll just have to wait, or he’ll have to sail off without Micah.”

  “He won’t do that,” Allison added. “Micah is his slave.”

  The carriage pulled up to the curb, just outside the US Mail Steamship building, as it had several times over the last few days. But what a different scene. There were no crowds, very little noise. Beyond the dock area, Joel saw the masts of the Cutlass. She was still tied up in the same spot.

  Eli opened the carriage door. “I think you can stay right here till I’m through, Eli. I shouldn’t be long.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Joel stepped down. He looked across th
e street and saw a small group of reporters loitering around the front office door. Likely waiting for an official comment on the reports coming out of Norfolk about the fifty-three survivors. Joel had decided not to tell the ladies about this.

  The atmosphere in the house had so vastly improved with the news about Laura, compared to earlier yesterday, when there had been nothing but grief and despair. Even with the chaos after the attack, the most significant thing everyone had dwelt on was how her life had been spared and Micah’s heroic deeds. Joel couldn’t bear to insert this news into such progress, with such a slim chance for hope. He knew the women would latch onto it with a tenacious hold, only to plummet once more into despair when they learned John was not among the survivors.

  He couldn’t let that happen.

  He was just about to walk through the huddle of reporters into the office when he thought better of it. His business was with the captain of the Cutlass, who was most likely aboard the ship. He walked around to the side, and the ship came into full view. Seeing it now without the distractions, he thought it looked so worn and beat up. A number of crewmen were busy onboard, some high in the rigging tending to the sails, some loading boxes and crates.

  He walked to the left side, down a wooden walkway that ran alongside the ship. “Excuse me, my good man,” he called up to one of the men. He didn’t seem to hear or was ignoring him.

  “Excuse me up there, may I have a word?”

  The fellow looked down.

  “May I speak with your captain, Meade, I believe it is.”

  “Captain Meade asked not to be disturbed,” the man said.

  “But I must speak with him—it’s about his slave, Micah.”

  “Micah? You know where he is?”

  “Yes, but I really must speak with your captain.”

  Another man walked up, older. The first man said, “Mr. Maylor, this fellow says he knows where Micah is.”