Voyage of Ice (8 page)

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.

Our boat scraped the side of the
Sea Hawk.
Whale-oil lanterns burned, casting thin white light on the waters.

I heard Captain Thorndike calmly order the bo'sun's chair lowered for the ladies. As for Dexter and me, we waited and then scrambled up the ship's side and onto the deck.

Captain Thorndike was waiting for us, a bullwhip in his hands, a pistol bulging from a holster round his waist. Cole stood beside him.

My mouth went dry.
Blood and thunder. A flogging?

“Four men from the starboard watch didn't return as ordered,” he said.

Dexter and I glanced at each other.
Four
men?

“Deserting be a crime. Punishable by whatever means I deem necessary—”

Elizabeth ran to her father, placing her hands on his shirt-front. “Father, please don't—”

“Elizabeth!” cried her mother. “Go to the cabin at once. You will stay out of the ship's affairs!”

“Mrs. Thorndike!” barked the captain, his scar turning pur-ple. “Control your daughter!”

“Father, please listen. I—”

Thorndike thrust Elizabeth aside. “Strip them for a flog-ging!” he hollered at Cole.

“Aye, sir!”

“No, Father, please listen to me! I asked them to do an errand—”

While Elizabeth pleaded, Cole grabbed me and stripped off my pea jacket and shirt. My ditty box and whale's tooth fell to the deck with a clatter.

There was a sudden silence.

Captain Thorndike walked over and picked up my ditty box. “Tell me, Elizabeth, what sailor goes on an errand for ye while carrying his ditty box? What was he a-going to do for ye, give ye a shave? Go below this instant. I'll have words with ye later.”

I heard Elizabeth scream, “No! No!” as they strung me by my wrists from the rigging.

The captain swung back and lashed the whip.
No!
Pain seared me, white-hot, burning. Again, again. A strange sound was coming from somewhere, and I realized it came from my own throat.

week after my flogging, as the
Sea Hawk
sliced through the water toward the Arctic, tossing a fine mist over her decks, Duff, the steward, pressed a folded piece of paper into my hand.