Rich Man's Coffin (4 page)

         
Arthur felt a twinge of anger, but he remained restrained.
 
He said calmly, "Sah, I can't let go..."

         
The Captain cut him short and screamed, "First Mate, confine this man to his quarters.
 
Have him flogged and then report to me."

         
The Mate jumped in Arthur's face as the Captain wheeled on his heels and departed.
 
The Mate breathed down Arthur's neck as he motioned for a nearby seaman to take the ropes from Arthur.
 
He escorted Arthur to his rack with a firm hand around the back of his neck.

         
Some time later, the First Mate appeared at the Captain's desk.
 
"Sir, I cannot find anyone who will flog the Cabin Boy."

         
The Captain slammed his ruler down and looked up at the First Mate, infuriated.
 
He commanded, "Then do it yourself, or I will."

         
The First Mate squelched a look of distaste, and replied,
 
"Sir, the crew is acting very unsettled.
 
There's much grumbling about mutiny."

         
The Captain exploded. "Mutiny!
 
Mutiny!
 
I'll pull into port right now and have every one of them hung!"
 
His face turned red and his neck veins bulged.
 
He took a breath and sighed loudly. His eyes fluttered with a wild stare. He put his head in his hands.
 
"Oh, God, just forget it.” He groaned in agony. “Dismissed.”

II

Arthur stationed himself in the crow's nest.
 
He liked being the lookout during maneuvering parties.
 
He would be the first to see port and the first to be seen by the Harbor Master.
 
He was a highly visible ambassador, being carried along aloft three-quarters the way up the mainsail mast, standing just forward of the last crossbar.
 
Looking from afar, he provided an ominous vision transfixing even the most experienced horizon watchers. Their view would include volatile precipitation pushing patches of vapor and parts of sail past the spyglass.

         
Arthur relieved the dawn Lookout, after hearing the man cry out
land ho!
The oncoming crew was fresh from a full night of sleep, and they enjoyed the thought of liberty.

         
That is, if the Captain allowed it at all.
 
The likelihood of liberty being cancelled was slim, but given the level of tension onboard, uncertainty hung in the air around the unpredictable skipper.
 

“Despite all of your scurrilous acts at sea, crew, liberty will go down after all,” the Captain finally announced.
 
Besides, I have a pressing matter to attend to on shore myself
, he thought.

         
The Captain gave the order for the Brazilian colors to be flown as a friendly gesture, and partially out of loyalty to his own interests.
 
The Captain had a Brazilian wife, a fact that was common knowledge among most of his longer-standing crewmembers. But no one discussed the matter openly, due to the fact that the Captain also had a Mrs. Stewart in the United Kingdom who would probably not take kindly to the rumors that she was married to a man with many wives.
 
The crew secretly joked about the matter from time to time, but it was widely held that regardless of how saucy the conversation, careless gossip would provide nothing good for the crewmember who boasted his knowledge within earshot of the unpopular Captain, no matter how boisterous the surroundings.
 
Every good sailor knew to hold his tongue and smile while toasting the Captain when he appeared with his dubious bride.
 
Besides, she was prettier than Rio itself.
 
Having inherited all the most attractive traits from the union of an Indian mother and a Moroccan father, she was always a welcome sight among the revelry and drunkenness that seemed to celebrate her coming.

         
Arthur tied the end of his cord to the mast.
 
Then he attached many gaily-colored pennants, as they began flapping in the breeze.
 
The ship was emblazoned with regalia, the image evoking childhood memories of homecomings held for militiamen returning from routing the British.
 
The familiar smells of land – fragrant trees and flowers, cooking food, and farm animals
 
-- arrived in waves and wafted across the deck.
 
The odors recalled all the finer pleasures of life. Each man began to imagine his own private experiences to be had during his brief but intense time on shore.
 
Arthur was overwhelmed by the possibilities that freedom might hold for him in this strange, new land.
 
He did not know where to begin planning his holiday activities.
 
For the time being, he needed to concentrate solely on steering the ship to the pier, he reminded himself.

         
Rio in the morning was breathtaking.
 
As Arthur called out bearings to the Helmsman, he took in the spectacular scenery.
 
He had heard of the conquering Spaniards and their great land to the south.
 
Now, he could see it firsthand and how vastly it differed from the austere New England coastline.
 
Sharp peaks and craggy valleys, all covered in lush emerald and banana canopy, undulated wildly while lording over flat, white, sandy beaches.
 
The water in the bay was the color of turquoise stones that Arthur had seen Indians wear back home.
 
It was certainly prettier than the muddy lakes and ponds that served up those well-suited catfish, he thought.
 

The Spanish architecture was unique, and like the catfish, the buildings suited their surroundings.
 
They were as white as the sand, and their windows were paneless owing to the endless warmth of the westerly winds.
 
From a distance, he could see color everywhere:
 
Bright reds, yellows, greens, blues, and oranges in various hues. They sharply adorned the edges and corners of buildings and streets.

         
In addition to the sights, Arthur heard a growing, rhythmic sound as the ship drew closer to the pier.
 
It sounded like music, yet it seemed so chaotic and flamboyant compared to the marching music of the militia band back home.
 
It was also a far cry from the orchestral music that was sometimes performed on the verandah of the plantation mansion.
 
The music that Arthur heard now was rousing, and he felt it stirring certain sentiments within him.
 
He liked it.
 
Yet, it was early in the morning, and the procession he saw now had been proceeding for some time.
 
Arthur wondered if it were some dawn ritual, or perhaps some welcoming party for the ship.
 
He could not work out how that could be, unless the city always had a large greeting party ready at a moment's notice.
 
Arthur had never heard such an early ruckus, so he reckoned that Rio was regularly a rather rowdy town.

         
The ship reached the pier and the ropes were run.
 
The boat was secured, along with the maneuvering watch. The Captain called all hands to General Quarters at mid ship.
 
He addressed the crew.

         
"Now gentlemen, I realize that we have had our share of run-ins on this first leg of the journey.
 
I am willing to let water pass under the bridge, and I urge you to do the same.
 
Remember, what happens underway, stays underway."
 
The crew stood at loose attention, maintaining ranks with only the odd snigger and occasional glance ashore.
 
The Captain continued, "Now, we have the business of stores loading and general repairs to attend to; however, I have postponed that until tomorrow morning at oh-eight-hundred hours."
 
Cheers began to break out as the men became visibly excited. The Captain calmly raised a hand to restore order.
 
He carried on.

"Now, we have approximately twenty-four hours liberty here, starting shortly; and I am not requiring midnight muster.
 
So you are free to berth on the ship or sleep in town.
 
Please be on your best behavior, as you are an ambassador of the Queen during your stay, and a guest of the Brazilian government.
 
We do not want to do anything to affect our diplomatic status here, as it would be very difficult for Britain to shoot over the horn without this stop!
 
Do I make myself clear?
 
Good!
 
Muster for all hands tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred hours.
 
First Mate, make sure the ship is squared away, and then call liberty.
 
That is all."
 
The Captain walked away toward his cabin.
 
The men broke ranks with a
hurrah
and scrambled for their bed racks belowdecks.

         
The First Mate inspected every man and every bunk and gave the all clear.
 
He instructed the men to queue at the gangway for their liberty pay.
 
Standing behind the strongbox, he dispensed each man with a sum and a salute, and they were away.
 
Being his first time, Arthur had queued last wanting personal instruction from the First Mate on how to liberty and spend money.
 
When the last man had barreled onshore, Arthur stepped forward and eagerly eyed the First Mate.

         
"Yes?"

         
"I'se like ta get my money, now, Sah."

         
"You what?"

         
"I need ta get my money, so's I can go to liberty."

         
The First Mate began to laugh, and then abruptly forced a stern look onto his face.
 
He said, "Arthur, you'll be lucky to see topside for the next two days.
 
Now go see what the Captain needs.
 
He's preparing to visit his family here."

         
"But Sah..."

         
"But nothing, Arthur.
 
Do your job!
 
Didn't you read your contract?
 
By the way, you are Duty Cook all day as well, so get moving on those midday rations!"

III

Colored paper flowers and confetti streamed past him on a rippling black current highlighted by white rays trailing back to a converging source:
 
The reflection of the lanterns carried by the parade dancing past the pier.
 
The festival had continued all day. As night thickened, all Arthur could do was watch from his post onboard the ship.
 
A dubious honor, the Topside Watch was nothing more than a glorified doorman, some poor soul who had been selected to stay tied to the ship. He was also expected to feign a sense of eager duty to his floating ball and chain as the other prisoners rioted in the street.

         
Arthur watched the carnival from the deserted, dark, deck of the ship, as a child experiencing one of his parents' parties from a distant cracked door down a dim hallway.
 
People whooped, hollered, laughed, gibbered, drank and sang; all to a raunchy, raucous, rhythm that flowed down the street.
 
Arthur enjoyed the unrehearsed production, yet he was unsure if he would have joined the procession even if he were freed to do so.

         
Occasionally members of his crew would stumble out of the crowd, either alone or in noisy gangs, and stomp across the gangway.
 
Depending on their level of drunkenness, the reaction to Arthur's face ranged from sympathy to outright mockery.

         
One sailor said, "It's a good time, Arthur.
 
Don't worry, though, you're not missing much.
 
Just got to get some things from my rack.
 
See you in the morning!
 
Cheers!"

         
The leader of another group of sailors who had stampeded all the way across the clattering gangway before recognizing the Cabin Boy, said, "Arthur!
 
You sorry son-of-a-bitch, you're missing all the fun.
 
By the way, you're unsatisfactory!"
 
The revelers guffawed at the man’s formal term for Arthur’s dress, before setting out again into the throbbing mass.