Voices Beckon, Pt. 1: The Voyage

  “STORM COMING,” David said.

  The Industry struggled as she flew across the ocean in a valiant effort to outrun the white-capped swells battering her on all sides. The crew was lively about the ship, busy preparing for the imminent onslaught, and frigid seawater was flying over the deck in all directions.

  “Ye lured me up here at the crack of dawn with false hopes of catching breakfast,” Liam said, watching the activity with interest.

  “Aye, well, not today, I’m thinking. How’s Sean managing?”

  “Flashed his hash twice already. Had to leave before I did as well.”

  “Ye’ve a stomach like a rock. More than likely ye didna want to help Mr. O clean the lad.”

  “No’ for the third time anyway.”

  The first mate eyed Liam and David.

  “You lads aim to be on deck; I aim to get some use out of you. Mannus!” Richter shouted, calling Alex to his side.

  David and Liam ran to and fro across the deck as Alex assigned them tasks. They hauled the hammocks down to the shelter of the crew’s quarters, then they found him pieces of tarpaulin that he placed up in the weather rigging so that the watch would have some shelter from the wind and driving rain. He took them forward to check that the boats were secure, shouting orders as he showed them how to clear the drain holes and cover them with canvas. David lost hold of a sheet of canvas as the wind whipped it from his hands, sailing it straight into Liam, knocking him down. Alex ran around the boats to retrieve it as Liam struggled to free himself from its bulk.

  “Thanks, Liam,” Alex said, laughing. “Lucky break there, David. Ritcher wouldn’t take lightly to us losing a bit of canvas to the storm.” The ship rolled heavily, and David and Liam both lost their footing and slid toward the rail. Ritcher gave a signal to Alex.

  “You’re gonna need to get below now,” Alex said as they rejoined him. “It’s coming fast.” He ran to check that the lifebuoys were secured to lines, then went aft to fasten the hatch cover.

  The boys started toward the companionway, stopping as they spotted a passenger climbing out.

  “Sean? What’s he doing? Sean!” Liam shouted, the wind drowning out the sound of his voice. “Sean, over here!” Sean set his hands on the rail, peering into the water below. “Ah, hell.” Liam ran to fetch him.

  “Hang tight! All hands, hang tight!” one of the sailors bellowed.

  The ship canted heavily, and David turned, facing the mountain of water that towered over them, dwarfing the ship.

  Holy Christ, they were going down.

  He took ahold of the mast he stood by, bracing his legs, ducking his head and praying. The wave burst across the ship with a roar, covering him, soaking him through, crashing over the deck and sweeping away everything loose in its path. David lost his hold on the mast and was tossed in the grip of the water as it battered him to and fro across the deck. His legs straddled the rail as the ship rolled high and he clung to it as she trembled heavily and settled. Stunned and shivering, he struggled to unwrap himself.

  “On your feet, lads! Ain’t paying ye to take a morning swim,” someone called out, likely Ritcher. The crew had been knocked about as well. David looked for Liam and Sean.

  My God . . . Liam and Sean.

  “Man overboard!” Ritcher shouted as the bell rang. “Heave to!”

  “Let go the lifebuoy!”

  “Man overboard! Heave to!” shouted a sailor from the mizzen rigging.

  Liam was swimming. Swimming. David blinked, struggling to focus. Sean was in the water, not far. A seaman had thrown a lifebuoy out, though Liam hadn’t seen it, focused as he was on reaching the boy. Liam couldn’t swim well; well, neither could he for that matter, and he looked to be tiring. Alex ran up beside him. David stood, pointing toward the boats.

  “Why havena ye launched one?” he shouted.

  Alex shook his head. “They won’t.”

  “What d’ye mean, they won’t? They’ll drown!”

  Alex just looked at him, helpless.

  “Hell. Keep them spotted. Don’t let them out of your sight!” David ran toward a seaman who was barking orders up at the men in the rigging. He grabbed him. “Launch a boat!” he shouted.

  “No,” the sailor said. “Cap’t will crucify the lot of us for risking the boat and the crew. It can’t be launched in this weather. He needs to grab the buoy. We’ll bring him in, he does it quick enough.”

  “He doesn’t see it! Surely ye can see that. There’s no time; he’s foundering now! Someone’s got to help them! He needs it brought to him!” It seemed as if hours had passed, though it had been less than a minute. But even seconds in that roiling black sea . . .

  Someone? He ran toward another buoy, struggling with the ropes, releasing it from the rail.

  “Get below! They be lost; ye’ll only be joining them to their fate.” A sailor had run up behind him and wrapped an arm around his neck.

  He recognized the sailor, a small man, one who used his acid tongue to make up for what he lacked in size. David had always taken pains in the past to avoid the man. Not now. He broke his grip easily and turned, drawing back his fist. He hit him hard, sending him sailing back onto the deck. Two more sailors approached, one to grab his fallen mate before he slid off the deck, the other with his hand up in a conciliatory gesture as he motioned to the buoy.

  “Ease off, lad. The reach of the rope may be long enough. We’ll add to it if we can and tow you back.”

  David grabbed the buoy and ran aft, past where Liam and Sean had drifted. The sailor followed, handling the rope. “Stay afloat, let the lads drift to you. Don’t tire yourself.”

  He stood at the rail, buoy in hand, frozen in place as huge swells of inky black water rolled up to meet him, the frigid spray soaking him through afresh. A minute now; they had been in a minute and counting.

  He couldn’t go in there; he just couldn’t. The man’s right, they’re lost in that. There’s no point in his going in. None at all. He swallowed hard and looked toward Alex, to see if he had them in sight. If he didn’t . . . nay, he was pointing.

  White-livered, yellow-bellied eijit, jump in there, now, damn it. Already wasted a minute just making a damn decision should have been second nature, didn’t need deciding in the first place. He wrapped the buoy’s rope around his wrist and vaulted over the rail, jumping as far from the ship’s side as he could manage.

  Good God Almighty Holy Mother of God. Water—hurt. He gasped frantically for air. Nothing but water—and it hurt. Hurt. Thousands of tiny knives piercing his skin. He couldn’t see, the towering wall of water in front of him dwarfed him. Tremendous waves swelled around him, caging him. Caging him. He couldn’t breathe—the knives—suicide’s a sin. What in God’s name had he just done?

  The only thing.

  Liam and Sean, is it even possible they’re still conscious? He looked back at the ship as a swell carried him high. Aye, Alex was still there, pointing. They were still above water. He forced himself to kick, trying to maintain his position like the man said. His teeth chattered convulsively, the pain shooting about his head. Seconds passed and the sea tossed him back, plunging him once again into a deep abyss.

  Don’t panic. Kick again, don’t panic. Same waves be tossing Liam and Sean this direction as well. Stay put, conserve energy. He rose to the top again. There, Liam had Sean in one arm and was using the other to pull himself forward. Sean didn’t look—nay, don’t think. They’re above water, not far, not far, not far at all.

  He didn’t dare call out. He would only end up with a mouth full of water and couldn’t be heard over the wind anyway. He waved his free arm high above his head, holding tight to the buoy.

  Liam had seen him! He held the buoy in front and began to kick with every ounce of strength he had left. Closer, closer . . . A tug pulled him back and he panicked, suddenly recalling the shark he’d seen trailing the ship the day before. Would he even feel the teeth of the beast, atop the knives? He circled to the front of the buoy and looked b
ehind. The rope was stretched tight all the way to the ship. No shark.

  “Eijit,” he spat out through his chattering teeth. He looked back to Liam. Still too far. Why hadn’t they added to the line? Because this was pointless; they were right—why waste the rope?

  Maybe, maybe not. He reached for his knife and began sawing at the rope. Don’t drop the knife, don’t drop the knife, don’t drop the knife.

  Suddenly it was no longer taut. Had they just cut him loose, save him the trouble? He followed the line of it to the ship. No, one of the sailors was motioning him forward. Thanks be, they added another length after all.

  Putting his knife away, he began moving again, kicking until he reached them. He grabbed Sean under his armpit, pulling half his weight up onto the buoy. The lad was unconscious, and Liam refused to surrender his hold.

  “Let go, Liam, I’ve got him,” he tried to shout. “Hang tight to the buoy. It will hold us all. We’ve got to get back to the ship. Liam! Pay heed man, I have got hold of Sean. Just grab his free hand if ye will. We have to hurry.” His voice was hoarse from the salt water he had taken in. Liam wasn’t listening.

  “Liam.” He reached out, touched his face, and turned it toward him.

  Recognition dawned slowly in Liam’s eyes. The lad barely had the strength to keep himself above water. He nodded slowly, placing a hand on the buoy. David signaled, and the crew began towing them in.

  Cold . . . ache . . . sleep now. There’d be no shame in it, not now, none.

  Liam’s holding on. Liam’d been in the water twice as long. Liam could hang on, well then, so could he.

  How much longer, though?

  Ma, her pain when his little sister died of the fever, think what the loss of another child would do to her. His brothers, why, they’d not be allowed out of the house forever. They’d never forgive him. America, what of the plans he’d made, all for naught if he slept.

  Sleep, no shame in it now . . .

  The rope, had it weakened at all when he’d tried to cut it? Might still end for the lot of them in a watery grave, a new beginning indeed. Mayhap Elisabeth could look for their souls to return with the next new moon.

  Was she right? Would they return with the next new moon? He could find out if he surrendered.

  No. How it had felt to hold her. There. Aye, that was sweet. Why hadn’t he kissed her when he’d had the chance? That was surely one of the more stupid decisions he’d made.

  The ship. Good God, we made it.

  Two sailors had climbed down the ropes and were waiting for them. They reached for Sean first, and Liam helped David push him up and over to the men. One of them slipped a harness over his chest and under his arms and gave a signal to haul him up. David looked at Liam in relief as they pulled Sean over the rail, then watched in slow horror as Liam’s eyes lost focus, and he let go of the buoy, slipping underwater.

  “Nay!”

  Adrenalin raced through him, and he dove without thought, thrashing his arms about to feel for him. He grabbed Liam’s hair and reached for his collar. Which way now—up was which way? He couldn’t remember; both ways were dark. Forcing the terror down, he chose a direction and kicked toward it, gulping greedily at the air as soon as he broke the surface. He didn’t see the wave coming, wasn’t hanging tight to the buoy. It picked him up high, slammed him full force against the side of the ship. He dimly realized he’d lost his grip on Liam.

  Raining now. Sea is warmer, warmer than the rain. Can sleep now.

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