by Ron Vitale
Ishmael put down his fork and scratched the back of his head. “I need passage on the Marcella.” He let the words out with quickness, testing the waters.
“Captain Amos’ ship. Curious. I can do that, but as of last week, when we had a drink together, you swore up and down that you would never go on a whaling voyage again.” George glanced my way. “What’s changed?”
“I was wrong.” Ishmael fidgeted in his seat and then leaned in closer to his friend. “I need passage out tonight, and he’ll be willing to take me where I need to go without any questions asked. Let’s just say that I’m entangled in more than I can handle. Some trouble has come my way.”
George glanced back over his shoulder, checking that no one watched them. The old man at the table across the way had fallen asleep, and his pipe had gone out. I could even hear him snoring softly.
“I can send a good word to have Amos get you on and get you out tonight. That’s not a problem. Mary will be upset and miss you, but she’ll come to understand in time.” George thought for a moment and pointed at me. “What about him?”
“I’ll pay for his passage back home, but he’s not coming with me.” Ishmael lowered his voice and leaned in. His strong jaw tight with tension. “He’ll need to leave tonight as well. There might be some uncertain elements after him, and it would be in all of our best interests if he not be found.”
I eyed up the situation. Now was not the time to fight my case. That would come later, when I had more leverage. I needed a way to change Ishmael’s mind so that he would agree for me to come with him. Speaking out against Ishmael now would only hurt my cause. The front door opened and two older men came in and headed to the bar. For a Sunday afternoon, the establishment had a good many customers. And if Mary cooked as well as she baked, I knew why.
George brushed a few crumbs off the table onto the floor and said, “Consider it done. Go to the harbor late this afternoon, and you can get on board the Marcella. Tell Amos that I sent you and all will be well. Like most of the captains out of Bedford, he owes me a favor.”
“Thank you. Let him know that I want no special treatment. I’ll work hard and pull my weight like the rest of the crew.” Ishmael reached into his pocket, put some money on the table, and slid it over to his friend. “Thank you for your help and for not asking detailed questions.”
“I learned many years ago to look the other way with you. It’s kept me honest and your friendship has proven true.” He casually took the money and put it into his pants pocket under his apron. “Morgan, you stay with me. I can put you to work in the kitchen, and then late tonight we’ll get you on your way.”
Ishmael wiped his mouth with a napkin and put it down on the table. Leaning over to me, he took my hand and shook it firmly. His handshake nearly crushed my hand. “Leave word with George on where you’re headed, and when I’m back, you’ll have what you wanted. Trust me.”
“Good luck.” I let go of his hand and watched him get up to leave. Ishmael patted George on the back and headed out the door. I watched him go, and there was no doubt in my mind that he would keep his word. Unless tragedy befell him, Ishmael would come back with my brother no matter the cost. He had that look about him.
Still watching his back as he headed out the front door, I got up to go. George shook his head and leaned in. “Now tell me why you’re masquerading as a boy and what your story is.”
I stammered a bit and then sat back down. “How did you know?”
“Do you think I’m blind?” He picked up my hand. “Look at your fingers. Your hands are too clean, and there are no calluses on them.”
My first instinct was to run, but he had fed us and had a fatherly look about him. He eyed me in his chair and did not block my passage. I could walk at any time. “I need your help.” I chanced to tell him the truth.
“How much does Ishmael know?” George scratched his beard and then leaned on the table, waiting for my response.
There are times when taking a risk is needed, and I had come so far. Without George’s help, I doubted that I could easily get on board the Marcella. “He’s agreed to help me and go find my brother, but he did not want me to go with him. He doesn’t think I can make it on the sea.”
“I doubt he told you that. My friend is many things, but he’s not often so outspoken. He might think that, or not, but he would not so easily speak his mind.” George lowered his voice and leaned in closer to me. “Why do you want to go after your brother so much? What did he get himself into?”
“He left home and my mother wants him back.” I started to say more but remained quiet and tucked a stray hair back under my cap.
“If you want me to help you, I need more than that. Tell me what you told him. I need to know if it’s worth me sticking my neck out for you.” George said.
The scent of some fresh beef being cooked on a stove in the back kitchen made its way to our table. My stomach growled a bit even though I had eaten a large bowl of chowder. “My brother has the sea sickness.” I used the term that sailors would know best.
“He’s been bitten young and left home, huh?” George looked back over to the bar and snapped his finger, calling over an older man with grizzled white hair.
The man came right over and stood beside George and asked, “What would you like?” He held a dishrag in his hand, drying a mug.
“Just keep an eye and help serve the new customers who come in. I’m interviewing this washer boy for a job and don’t wish to be disturbed.” George patted the man on his arm and smiled.
The old man nodded. “While you’re interviewing the boy, is there anyone I should keep an eye out for?” He turned to both of us and then looked to me.
Again, I needed to trust they could help me if I spoke the truth. “Yes, there’s a man named Clarence, a real dandy with greasy hair, and two big burly guys. I’d rather not meet up with them right now.”
“Got it.” The old man headed back to the bar and put the mug he carried away.
“Jasper’s been with me a long time. He’ll make sure we’re left undisturbed. So go ahead and continue.” George waited for me to continue my story.
“Ishmael has agreed to go search out my brother who’s gone searching for the island of nightmares.” Each time I spoke the sailor’s nickname for the island, I shivered remembering the stories I’d heard about it.
“The island of nightmares.” George said the words with reverence and stretched out his leg. “Till today Ishmael has never spoken a word to me about what he experienced out there on the Pequod. He keeps mostly to himself, and of that journey, he has probably only spoke to God.” He kissed his fingers and then pointed up at the sky.
“It took me weeks to find Ishmael, and I didn’t think he would agree to go, but he did so without much convincing.” The door opened across the room, and a young man and woman walked in. When I saw that it wasn’t Clarence, I turned back to George.
“He probably went to go deal with the curse,” George said. “He doesn’t speak of it, but it affects him still. I can see it in his face when he talks about the sea.”
“You know of the curse?” I asked with my real voice sneaking through.
“Every sailor in New Bedford knows of the curse, but most are superstitious to even talk about it. It’s a sickness that grabs young men like a siren calling them to beneath the waves.” George sighed and shook his head. He folded his large hands together and looked me directly in the eyes. “The curse boils the blood, calls you up, and, heaven be damned, you go to the sea to look for the island and never come back…”
“It called my brother away, and my mother is distraught. She lost my father to the curse, and now she fears that her son has been called too and will never return. He’ll sail across the globe to find out what’s on that island, and I’m afraid he’ll never come back.” I fought the emotion in my voice and tried not to think of Nathan alone on the sea.
“Some say there’s great treasure there, others that it’ll cure one of any disease
, but the devil is behind it all if you ask me. But I suspect Ishmael knows all this but doesn’t talk about it.” George played with a fork on the table and stayed quiet a few moments, and then he said, “You might get pulled down too by the curse if you go. That’s why Ishmael wants you to stay home. He’s only looking out to protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting.” Even to me, my words sounded hollow.
George scrunched his face up at me and laughed heartily. “We all need protecting, from time to time, and the sooner you learn that lesson, the better.” He pushed himself up from the table, having come to a decision. “I’ll give you a job in my kitchens. You go back there, and become my washer boy for the day, and then late in the day, I’ll send you over to the Marcella. You’ll need to use your wits to get on board with her captain, but I suspect you’re good with turning a phrase or two.”
“Thank you.” I stood up and followed George to the kitchen.
He pointed to a large pile of dishes in the sink. “Get working on those. You’ll help me but the hard work will also get those hands of yours looking dirty. Be sure to get the grease under your nails. You were smart to cut them short, but I can see from a mile away that you’re a girl. Ruffle your hair some more and get those hands dirty.”
I stood before the pile of dishes. “I’ll take your advice. Looks like I’m going to need it.”
George paused before leaving the kitchen and said, “There is no shame in staying home. You’ve done your part to help get your brother back. If any man can save him, it’s Ishmael.”
I tied an apron on me and replied, “I know, but after my father passed, I can’t lose my brother too.”
“I understand, but to go out into the sea to chase after the werewhale, that is courage that I surely don’t have.” He shook his head and left before I could reply.
His saying the true name of the curse caused me to shiver and a lump to rise in my throat. Hearing the word spoken aloud awoke the old wives’ tale in my memory about a sea beast that was so wicked and foul that not even the devil wanted it in hell, so he exiled it to the depths of the sea where it swam endlessly, looking to call sailors to do its bidding.
I tried to expel the memory from me and headed to the kitchens where I hoped the hard labor would get my mind onto other things—like how I was going to get the captain of the Marcella to take me on his ship…
***
Nathan held onto the sides of his hammock and fought off a wave of motion sickness. The ship swayed violently in the storm. A flash of lightning lit up the room, and a crack of thunder rocked the room. The thunder passed and the boat dropped beneath them and then smashed against a wave. The rain hitting the upper decks pounded down, with the roar of the wind blocking out all else.
Zeke positioned both his feet on the ground and rocked his hammock with the boat. “Listen to me, my friend.” He turned Nathan around to face the same way he did. “Close your eyes and allow your body to move with the boat. It will help.”
“I feel like I’m going to get sick.” Nathan coughed into his hand. His breathing was shallow and rapid.
“Take a deep breath and then exhale slowly.” Zeke reached into his pocket and took out a small container from his pocket. He fiddled with the lid and then handed over a tiny, thin slice of a pinkish herb.
Nathan knocked Zeke’s hand away. “I can’t eat anything now. I can’t.” He coughed again and then took a large deep breath. “Oh God, oh God.”
Several other sailors huddled close together in their hammocks, and all kept quiet in the storm, fighting the rocking of the boat as best they could. Another flash of lightning lit up the room, and the thunder that followed drowned out everything else.
Zeke handed him a piece of the pink herb. “It’ll help with the sick feeling. Put it on your tongue and suck on it.” The boat crashed down hard on the ocean and Zeke positioned his body in the hammock to deal with the change in motion.
Nathan followed Zeke’s example and gasped when the boat dropped suddenly. He reached for what Zeke offered and crammed it into his mouth and then took another deep breath. He scrunched his eyes up from the taste and swallowed. The refreshing flavor coated his throat and belly. “What is it?”
“It’s pickled ginger. Don’t take too much at once, but a little will help settle you.” Zeke rocked along with the boat’s movement and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. He held his breath for a moment and then exhaled. “I remember my first storm on a boat and it was a night not unlike this.”
“Did someone help you get through it?” Nathan asked.
“No, I was a kid and curled up in a corner. I only had a bucket and did my best to nurse myself through the night.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “I swore that I would get off the ship as soon as the storm stopped and never go to sea again.”
Nathan chuckled. “I guess you didn’t keep your promise.” He relaxed a bit and followed Zeke’s example and swayed with the boat.
“No, I didn’t. It’s been more years than I can remember since then, and each time the storm feels the same to me. It has never changed.”
A loud crash outside their room startled them both. Zeke made to get up, but the boat pitched in the opposite direction, and he fell back into his hammock. Josep, who was closest to the door, sprung out of his hammock and opened the door. He took a few steps down in the next area of the ship, disappearing from view. Qayshaun followed quickly after Josep.
The ship tossed starboard and another crash sounded from the hall. Nathan took a deep breath, swallowed a mouthful of ginger-flavored saliva and launched himself out of his hammock. The ship crashed hard back onto the waves, and a rumble of thunder followed. Cold water rushed in from the hallway, and all the sailors jumped from their hammocks and ran into the hall.
With next to no light, the darkness of night blanketed the ship’s interior. Nathan heard Josep calling them on, and he ran ahead. The flash of lightning through the port holes lit up the area for a moment, and Nathan could see the crack in the side of the boat. Water seeped in when the waves crashed against it.
Josep called out again, but a round of lightning drowned out his words. The ship rocked to the port side, and Nathan fell hard into that side of the ship. Zeke came behind him to steady him, and other sailors rushed to help Josep shore up the crack in the beam. He had stuffed in his shirt to try to stop the water from pouring in. From his vantage point, the damage was above the waterline and did not pose an immediate threat to their safety, but if not addressed, the cold seawater would cause warping and seep down into the lower levels where their food and drink were stored.
“I’m headed down below.” Josep ran off before anyone could help him.
Qayshaun threw his large shoulders up against the cracked beam. “Help me hold this up!” he shouted above the crack of thunder and pushed up with all his strength against the weakened beam.
Zeke raised himself to his full height and pushed up against the beam, aiding Qayshaun. He grunted with the effort and faced Nathan. “Go below and help Josep get a beam for support. Take Pahukumaa with you.”
Nathan nodded and rushed toward Pahukumaa. His motion sickness had subsided with the rush of adrenaline that coursed through him. “Come on, let’s go help Josep below. He’ll need help.”
Steadier on his feet than Nathan, Pahukumaa ran ahead and climbed down the ladder to the level below. Nathan followed and held on tight to the rung of the ladder to brace himself for the impact of a wave that crested over the ship and knocked it about like a toy. The rain and wind, along with a resounding peal of thunder, deafened him, and he reached the bottom to see Pahukumaa running ahead. He took a moment to balance himself and then pushed off against the side of the ship, using the momentum to fight against the pitching deck.
In the dark, he could not see much. He wished for a lantern but knew that any chance of fire could endanger all lives on board. Pahukumaa rushed over to a locked-down pile of tools and other equipment, feeling his way for the release to loose
n a beam from the ground. “I need your help. I can’t release it.”
“Where’s Josep?” Nathan reached Pahukumaa, bent down, and pulled against the wooden beam with all his strength, but it did not budge. “Slide it toward me. We’ll get it out that way.”
“Maybe he went to go get something else? I don’t see him anywhere.” Pahukumaa knelt and leaned all his weight onto the beam. From behind him, an inhuman moan erupted, and he slipped forward and spun around searching in the dark. “Josep, was that you?”
Nathan flinched and drew back in fear. The air around them turned cold, and in the darkness, Nathan could see a pale shape emerge from the blackness. At first, he thought it worm-like, but it had a bulbous head and long sleek body, resembling more that of a porpoise or a beluga whale.
Pahukumaa pulled back from the beams and tripped, falling face-first toward the beast. A loud crack of thunder rumbled outside, and amid the storm, the boat pitched forward, and Nathan fell into the wooden beams. Stunned for a moment from his fall, Pahukumaa pushed himself up and stared at the pale creature. A flash of light streamed in from the portholes, and for a moment, he caught a glimpse of the creature. Instead of flippers, it had humanoid arms that reached out toward Pahukumaa. He scrambled back from the creature, and it propelled itself forward with its arms, opening its grotesque mouth, and it moaned again. Pahukumaa slid back farther against the wall, and the beast shot forward and snapped at the air, missing Pahukumaa’s leg by mere inches.
Nathan reached in the dark, and his hand came across a loose chain. He pulled it from beneath the beam and lunged forward, swinging the makeshift weapon at the creature. He missed and the creature pulled back. With the lightning gone, the darkness returned, and he heard the creature’s husky breathing. The sound of its wet belly, dragging across the deck, announced that it moved, but with the rain and wind, Nathan’s hearing was impaired.
Another flash of lightning lit up the room, and Pahukumaa pulled away as the creature had come dangerously close to him. From its mouth, thick saliva dripped. Using its hands to push itself up off the floor, the creature reared itself up and then sprung forward. With the light gone, Pahukumaa’s screams filled the room.