May the Road Rise Up to Meet You: A Novel (6 page)

The sun was almost directly overhead by now, its rays dancin’ off the crests of the waves in brilliant flecks and sparkles. And Ethan took in the sea air with deep breaths, imagining that this must’ve been somethin’ like what Mr. Hanratty described about the glorious spring of ’98, when an Irishman could know what it was like to experience true freedom. Opening his book, he began to read slowly, stoppin’ after every page or so to look up and take it all in again, reverently, thankfully. When five o’clock came, it was back down below and startin’ the count until noon the next day, nineteen hours … eleven hundred forty minutes … sixty-eight thousand four hundred seconds.

BY THE THIRD SUNDAY OF
the voyage, Ethan had a new number to count. Many of the people in the bow of the cargo bay got sick after drinkin’ water from a barrel that’d been used to store salted fish. One seven-year-old girl seemed to take the worst of it, and for four days her fragile body rejected everything she was fed, throwin’ it back up as soon
as it hit her stomach. Then during the fourth night her chest heaved and she made strange noises as her mother woke everybody up with her screams. Before long it was just the sound of the mother’s screams, as the little girl lay still and lifeless across her Mam’s lap.

The next mornin’ the Father said a few words about her before the Mass, but her Mam wouldn’t go above deck for it, sayin’ she didn’t feel
loike a god who’d take anudder choild from me deserves any more o’ me Sunday mahrnin’s
. And all the ladies blessed themselves and took a step away from her when she said it. Ethan spent much of the Father’s sermon thinking of the number one, as in one passenger who’d been tossed into the abyss of the ocean, one person who’d never get to see America
wit’ the gold nuggets in the streets and the stuffin’ yerself ’til ya can’t stand
. One … so far, he thought.

He had
Paradise Lost
with him that Sunday, feelin’ on this somber occasion that he should read something a little more religious in nature than
The Odyssey
. Ethan settled into his usual spot in the stern, but before he read a full page, he was startled by a deep voice comin’ from just behind him.

Enjoy dat reading, young man. You will not have much for two, maybe t’ree days.

Turning quickly around, he saw a large black man standin’ on the other side of the mooring ropes. Ethan’d seen him before, usually at the top of the mainmast, tyin’ off and adjusting the sails while the captain on the bridge shouted orders. The man had very dark skin and powerful arms and stood at least six feet tall, but his smile eased some of Ethan’s fear.

A storm come from de northwest, the man said slowly and clearly. It is a few days before de wedder is good for reading on deck.

A nod was all Ethan could manage for a response.

What book is dat? the man asked.

Ethan closed the book, keepin’ his finger on the page he was reading, and stared down at the faded cover, as if there was anything to read there.

Para
 … he began, then cleared his throat and spoke in a voice just above a whisper … 
Paradise Lost
.

I never hear of dat one. It is Irish?

Ethan shook his head, then murmured … English.

Oh. What is de story of it?

Ethan looked up from the book and at the man’s face. He’d never spoken to or even seen an African before this voyage, and was surprised, seein’ him up close, that there were no strange rings through the man’s nose or ears. He wore regular clothes that covered his whole body. He had shoes on too, and didn’t carry a spear, and Ethan decided that there must be two types of Africans, the ones he saw an illustration of in one of the English histories he and Aislinn used to read, and another group who were normal, just like Irishmen or Englishmen except for their skin and the way they talked. And out of that second group came the likes of Hannibal and Othello and this man who was askin’ him the story of
Paradise Lost
.

It’s about Satan’s fall from Heaven, Ethan answered, his heartbeat beginning to slow from its previously agitated state.

Oh, like in de Bible, the man replied. I have read de Bible sometimes.

Me too.

What is your name, young man? he asked.

Ethan tried to respond in a firm and confident manner, but then, when the man said
E-tan?
in response, it sounded a little like the way his Mam’d drop just enough of the ‘h’ so you’d hardly know it was missing. It was a harsher sound coming from the man, but Ethan didn’t want to correct him.

I am Suah … Soo-ah, the man replied and extended his hand, which Ethan shook, feelin’ his own hand disappear inside it while he did.

Dis is my favorite place on de ship too, next to up dere, Suah added, pointin’ to the small platform atop the mainmast. I let you go back to reading now, dis storm last two, t’ree days at least, so you must make today last.

Just as the man’d said, rain and chilly wind kept nearly everyone but the crew from walking on deck for the next three days, until, on the mornin’ of the fourth day, it passed completely and a warm sun began to emerge from behind them in the east. But the storm had taken its toll on them all. Several people below had the fever, and the worst news of all was that they hadn’t made even a single day’s progress in the last three. When the hour above came that day, Ethan carried
Paradise Lost
with him again, wondering if maybe he’d see the African Suah, who had grown in stature in Ethan’s eyes, the way he’d predicted the storm would linger just as long as it had. He went right to his reading spot, leanin’ against the wet ropes, and letting himself become transported into Milton’s world of the Archangels and the Son of God and battles and eternal damnation.

So … more of Paradise, the familiar voice of Suah bellowed from behind him, just a few minutes after he’d settled into place. How did you like dat storm, Etan?

You were right, Ethan replied with a smile, becomin’ more comfortable with the man’s gentle nature, despite his dark-as-night skin and giant arms.

Yes. I know dis sea, the man said, sitting on a barrel next to Ethan. I first cross it when I was smaller dan you and de Spaniards take me from my home in Africa to Coo-bah. I work in da sugar fields until I am almost a man, and den I run off and hide on anudder ship an’ cross da sea again. Dis is fifteen times for me crossing dis Atlantic. Someday I will go back home.

Just like Odysseus, Ethan said, as if his previous assumptions had been proven correct.

Like
how
? Suah asked.

And Ethan spent the next half hour telling him all about the
who
, not the
how
, which was Odysseus, and the man who’d lived his favorite story ever. Then he learned more about Suah, who seemed happy to have at least one person on the ship to talk to, considering the way most of the passengers and crew steered clear of him, as far as Ethan could tell. Suah told him of how he’d learned to read from a man who used to work on this ship, and he even asked Ethan to see his book, readin’ a few lines aloud as a manner of proof. When he handed it back, Ethan read a little out loud, then passed it back to Suah again to read a few more stanzas, and so on it went for much of what was left of that hour. Suah sometimes needed help with the words, which made Ethan feel good, havin’ the chance to be the teacher rather than the student as he’d always been with Aislinn. And he forgot all about Mrs. Quigley and the supper and the washin’ until the call for them to return belowdecks reminded him how hungry he was. It was as if Suah understood
what Ethan had missed, and reached into the pouch on the side of his shirt and handed Ethan a large chunk of bread.

I am sorry you miss your food, he said, nodding for Ethan to take all of it and not just the small piece he’d torn from it.

Will you be here tomorrow? Ethan asked.

I will. I have de night watch up above for some time, Suah replied.

I’ll bring
The Odyssey
wit’ me. I think you’ll like it better’n
Paradise Lost
.

It is your favorite one you say?

Yes, Ethan said as he chewed.

Den I will like to see it Etan. I will like to read of dis man you say travel de sea for more years dan I have … O-dish-is, he said.

THE FEVER’S SUNK ITS TEETH
into the passenger bay before the fourth Sunday arrives, and Ethan sticks to his countin’ rather than listen to the moaning from the worst ones. It works pretty well until they move all the sick passengers to the stern right next to Ethan and the Quigleys, who get to slide closer to the bow. There’s at least a trickle of light there but still not enough to read by, and Ethan doesn’t much like this word
quarantine
everyone’s talking about, which best as he can tell is a way of marking off the ones gettin’ ready to die from the ones who aren’t.

By the time the thirtieth day of the voyage arrives, his count of people who’ll never make it to America is up to five, and the hour above becomes more of a refuge each day, as much for the chance to read with Suah as to escape the dreariness of the cargo bay. Suah generally brings some salted fish or pieces of bread, which he offers to share with Ethan, but mostly he lets Ethan eat all of it. After the first two days, Ethan feels guilty about the food since the Quigleys don’t get any of it, but Suah tells him they’d want it this way, too.

Then Mr. Quigley doesn’t wake up on their thirty-fifth day at sea. Ethan climbs down from the upper bunk that mornin’ to use the necessary, and there he is, eyes opened and staring at the bunk above him, but not a breath to be heard from him, as Mrs. Quigley sniffles back the water runnin’ down her face from her eyes and nose. He’s been sick but
didn’t want to let on and get moved a few feet over to the quarantine section with the people gettin’ ready to die. And now it’ll be over the side of the boat with him, and a mention in the Father’s sermon on Sunday.

Later that day, when the crewman comes down to tell them their time above has come, Ethan tries to rouse Mrs. Quigley, who’s been lyin’ quiet in her bunk since her husband was tossed into the ocean that mornin’. When he walks around to face her, he sees the same blank stare that’d been on his mother’s face on the docks in Liverpool, and he understands now that it must be the look of a woman who’s seen her whole family disappear before her own eyes. She says nothing to him but touches the back of his hand as it rests on her shoulder, then rolls over to her other side, leavin’ Ethan to walk up to the top deck alone.

One of the crewmen says that they’d spotted a fishing vessel in the mornin’ and that means they can’t be too far from land. It’s enough to cheer Ethan a little despite the death of Mr. Quigley and the fact that Suah’s been shifted to the day watch atop the mainmast again, which means they can’t read together anymore. When it’s time to go below, Ethan hopes that the news might encourage Mrs. Quigley, but as he approaches the top of the stairway, Suah grabs his arm.

I need de boy to help me, he says to the crewman conducting the passengers back belowdecks. He leads Ethan all the way to the bow of the ship and places him into a vacant storage space behind the captain’s quarters.

Stay here Etan, Suah says. It is important dat you do not move until I come back.

Ethan settles in amidst a pile of ropes tied to the rear anchor, afraid for the first time since they boarded the ship, wondering why Suah needs his help, then hopin’ it’ll somehow involve climbing to the top of the mainmast. It’s dark before Suah returns and hands Ethan a piece of salted fish and some soft rice. Ethan swallows it down in less than a minute, licking his palms to get any final morsels, and then Suah quietly leads him across the poorly lit deck to a compartment behind the storage cabin.

You will stay here my friend, he says to Ethan, and opens the wooden flap. Stay here Etan, and do not leave until I come to see you again.

Ethan hesitates, finally asking, What d’ya need me to help you wit’, Suah?

Dis right here. I need you to stay here and not to come out unless I say it is safe.

He pats him on the head and it’s not much reassurance, but Ethan follows his orders, slidin’ himself in between the wooden barrels stored there. He can feel that they’re empty, but the smell makes it clear that they’d held supplies of salted fish. A few minutes later the flap opens again and Suah hands him two empty sacks made of very coarse fibers.

Stay warm wit’ dese Etan, he whispers. I will return tomorrow.

Ethan passes a mostly sleepless night and finally dozes off when daylight comes, and he’s able to read himself to sleep by the sunlight seeping through the cracks. It isn’t until midday, when the passengers from belowdecks are brought up for their hour above, that Suah finally returns. He brings him two more handfuls of food—more than Ethan had on a typical day throughout the trip—and pretends to move the barrels around as Ethan eats it. When he stands up, an excruciating tingle runs down the insides of both of Ethan’s legs, and it takes a few minutes before the feeling begins to return to them. He tells Suah he wants to go below to check on Mrs. Quigley, but Suah only shakes his head.

It is very bad down dere Etan, he tells him. Many people are sick with de fever. Dis is why I keep you here.

But Ethan feels all the more certain that he should go and look after Mrs. Quigley then, and he begins to step out of the storage compartment to do just that. Suah grabs hold of both of Ethan’s shoulders and bends down enough to be just a foot or so from Ethan’s face. There is no familiar smile to ease the sharpness of his jawline or the intimidation of his dark-eyed stare, and Ethan immediately knows that this is not a matter to be negotiated.

You go an’ walk around up here for a little while, Suah says, but do not go down dere again. It is how de woman—Misses …

Quigley, Ethan says.

Yes … it is how she will want it.

So it’s back into the storage compartment, where two more nights pass in the same manner. Aside from the cramped space, Ethan’s life is
actually better here than it’d been below. He has more to eat, what with Suah slippin’ him food twice a day, and he’s able to read for as many hours as the sun is up. But he becomes very lonely by the third day, and when Suah insists he stay there for what should be the final night of the voyage, Ethan begins to expect the worst.