Wake of the Perdido Star (6 page)

Read Wake of the Perdido Star Online

Authors: Gene Hackman

BOOK: Wake of the Perdido Star
8.55Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“What is it, Mother?”
“You have in you a strength that is beyond—” Pilar again hesitated. “It is a thing in your blood we Spanish call machismo. Do you know this word, mi hijo?”
“I have seen this word written, but I have not heard it spoken.” Jack didn't understand what she was trying to say.
“It is to say only that your love of your father must not be tempered by his failings. You have too much of a dangerous thing, my love.”
“What is that, Mother?”
“You are far too strong and big as a boy without the knowledge and sense of a man.”
“I don't know what you speak of,” Jack said, suddenly irritated, her words making him uncomfortable.
“As we left the port of Salem and you asked me, ‘Can we speak of this later,' I knew then that you had taken some sort of revenge on the men that cheated your father out of our horses.”
Jack started to speak.
“Momento, por favor. Not only was your blouse soaking wet, but, I could see it in your eyes. They glistened. Your body was swollen in victory. I did not miss the angry crowd of men at the
wharf or the deadly look in their eyes. Whatever you did, I pray it was only just. Remember most men are not as gifted as you, mi hijo.” She kissed his forehead. “Your father is a wonderful man. But I will need your strength—and most of all your intelligence—these next few months. It will be wonderful on the island. You'll see the finca; beautiful with rolling hills, looking out to the ocean. All will be well, I believe, and yet—I feel that things may not be so easy. I'll need your help.”
“I'll be everything you want me to be, mamacita,” Jack said, his anger vanishing. “And if you wish me to tell you of that day's events in Salem, I will.”
“No, please.” She held up her palm. “But tell me why the girl of good direction happened to be at the wharf, dressed as if to go to church?”
Jack smirked. Trying not to disturb Ethan, they laughed and Pilar embraced her son warmly.
The
Star
's rudder began to bind, steadily getting worse over the next two days. The helm took two able-bodied seamen to correct her path; each tack grew more arduous. In the open ocean this may not have been a problem, as a ship could be on one tack for days. But maneuvering in the close proximity of Diamond Shoals off the outer banks of North Carolina was extremely dangerous.
Jack heard from Hansumbob that the captain was going to take the ship into shore to fix the rudder. He stood in his usual place of observation as far forward as he could get, propped between the bowsprit and port handrails. The seas were thrashing, whitecaps casting an unearthly glow on the water. In the distance, Jack spied a long spit of land. The sky—gray lead—was streaked with purple clouds, lit by a red sun. Thin shafts of light spread across the horizon. But behind to the east rolled dark clouds, racing them to the protection of the inlet.
The wind behind the ship drove them quickly toward shore. It seemed there were two bodies of water vying for the same ocean; a different color and temperament sea, equally violent, reared from the opposite direction. The temperature dropped and the wind picked up.
Jack could hear crisp orders to shorten sail. They came from Cheatum, the second mate, a large overbearing sailor with a mole on the port side of his nose. Three sailors bolted past Jack, scampering to a line stretched under the bowsprit. Jack felt an urge to climb the foremast and lend a hand to another group of men trying to gather the flapping sails sixty feet above the swaying deck.
Quince stood by the starboard rail, a large coil of rope in his left hand. With a mighty heave he tossed the weighted line over the rail, letting the rope trail through his hands until it went slack. Bending out over the rail, he shouted, “Starboard side, seven fathoms and deep water!”
From the port side of the ship came a similar call, but only “six fathoms.” The inlet still lay south by several miles.
“We'll head for Drum Inlet, mister.” The captain had come on deck. “Take five points off your starboard helm.”
Jack inched closer so he could hear over the raging wind.
Cheatum diplomatically suggested they steer the ship further north. “The wind is backing around, Captain. We're in the lee off the Hatteras Cape. We may have to settle for Ocracoke, sir.”
Jack strained to hear the exchange. The choices made by the seamen were endlessly exciting to him.
“Have your way, then,” the captain said. “Just don't run us aground till we get into the bay.”
Cheatum seemed to eye the captain with a sense of discomfort. The captain, an unsteady hand on the second mate's shoulder, whispered, “You know the
Star
can't be seen in Portsmouth harbor, don't you?”
“Aye, aye, Capt'n.”
The captain turned, then suddenly whirled back. “I detect a manner of insubordination from you, Mr. Cheatum. You did understand my orders?”
“Aye, aye, Capt'n.”
“Repeat them verbatim.”
“I believe you said that the
Star
could not be seen in Portsmouth harbor, sir.”
“Indeed, and why is that?”
“I have no idea, sir.”
The captain began to pace between the binnacle and the port rail.
“No idea? Not a glimmer of a thought?”
He stopped to look out at the sea. Jack saw him suddenly raise his hand as if to wave at someone in the water, then just as quickly change his mind, making an unsteady departure for his cabin. The few crew members who witnessed the interchange passed knowing looks and continued the ship's work. Jack heard one of them whisper that the captain was off to the comfort of his rum.
Disheartened, Jack pondered the exchange. The captain made the men uneasy; they didn't seem as much afraid as they were wary of him. As if something was wrong.
They pitched toward land, the ship rising and falling in great surges. Quince, passing by, told Jack they were going into North Carolina, headed for Pamlico Sound. Jack could see the barrier reef and two inlets. The ship was inexorably rushing to the north. The call from the sounding lines warned that they were rapidly approaching shallow water. Cheatum stood calmly next to the helm, issuing orders for small changes in the ship's direction. Jack marveled at his demeanor—to be so calm, when it seemed a mistake of fifty feet in either direction would lead to disaster. With a shout from the port side, Cheatum yelled, “Hard a starboard,” then after a moment, “now, center your helm.”
In the week he had been on board, Jack constantly was amazed at how well the men managed the ship. The crew seemed rough
and surly—and yet they obeyed without question. Easy to see, Jack thought, how any abuse of power would lead to trouble.
Ensconced in his spot, Jack could make out the approaching sand dunes on either side of the passage. The opening was narrow, the dunes coming right down to the water. He could smell the sweet native grasses as they bent in the wind. The ship raced into the sound, speeding between the two bodies of land. The wind continued to drive them forward, but the water became suddenly calm as the dark clouds caught up with them. Jack could see lights from a village tucked behind the south side of an island.
Quince continued taking soundings as they proceeded south. After half an hour, they headed directly for a long, thin island about fifty yards from shore. Dense shrub thickets sat on the dunes and a salt marsh lined the beach. Suddenly the island became nothing more than a black mass as the storm blocked out the sun. The rain started and the crew scurried to batten down.
Cheatum guided the boat straight onto the beach. The direct manner in which the ship was driven ashore fascinated Jack. As a landlubber, he thought they would tear the bottom out of their craft. The second mate shouted at the bosun, Mentor, “Form a shore party! I want lines port and starboard, fore and aft, as far ashore as possible. Look lively now!”
The salt marshes slowed the boat as she cleaved her way onto the sand. A groan, and the one-hundred-ninety-ton ship stopped abruptly. Jack felt his stomach go queasy as the boat stopped pitching beneath his feet. The world seemed to spin as he made his way belowdecks.
“Mi caro,” said his mother as soon as he walked in. “I hear a loud bump.”
“We've purposely run aground on a small islet. We're in a bay off North Carolina and we need to make repairs.” Jack caressed her hands. “You and father should try to come on deck, to get some air.”
His father awakened in obvious discomfort.
“Come, Ethan. Some air, por favor.”
“Please,” Jack implored. “Try to come with us.”
They made their way slowly on deck, Jack leading the way.
The ship was hard aground, almost perfectly level and very stable as she rested on her substantial keel. A working party was formed to repair the rudder. The men lowered the small boats. Lanterns were rigged over the fantail and an eerie light spread over the sound.
Jack stood with his parents by the port rail, breathing in the aroma off the shrub-laden dunes. In the shelter of the sound, the wind had slackened and the rain turned into a mist. The sun was gone but the twilight lit the figures moving about the deck. His mother seemed to revel at the light rain on her face.
“The boat has stopped its infernal movement and I have decided that I may live,” said Ethan as he looked out at the sound.
The three figures stood silent, gazing out at the darkening lagoon.
For the first time in over a week Jack felt at peace in his bunk. His parents were sleeping soundly; they seemed to have regained their strength and hope in the four or five hours since the ship had gone aground. His thoughts drifted lazily over the past weeks' trip from Hamden to Salem; the confrontation in the tavern; the pretty Colleen—he could still recite verbatim her directions to the wharf. Wrapped snugly in his blanket, he felt warm, safe. Long tendrils of a strange sea creature flitted just outside his consciousness and with his hands he moved them aside, to see its red hair drifting silently across a pale face. He gently moved a curl from a cheek, and smiled in his sleep.
At just past four in the morning a thunderous crack rolled across Pamlico Sound. Jack could hear shouts on deck, then the sound of sailors running, their heels clomping the beams above his head. He rolled from his bunk. “A thunderstorm,” he told his parents
reassuringly—driving his feet into his boots and running to the companionway. But looking up, he saw, as he suspected, a clear night sky.
Something was wrong.
Once on deck he saw it. Almost a mile to the north, just inside the protected waters of the sound, were sails reflecting the full moon. A schooner, her sails taut with air, bore down on them at great speed. The vessel's skipper obviously was familiar with these shallows to chance such a maneuver this close to the dunes that separated them from open ocean. She was fast approaching the islet on which the
Star
had come aground. But why under full sail and accompanied by the roar of cannon, Jack couldn't guess.
Suddenly, Jack spotted a series of flashes well behind the schooner, followed by a booming report and a high screaming sound that ripped the night air and passed over the masts of the
Star
. There was another ship behind the schooner that had just fired a volley that came uncomfortably close to the
Star
. Then the schooner was upon them; it passed within a hundred yards, seemingly unaware of their presence. If it was looking for the channel to open sea, the schooner missed it, passing too far south.

Other books

O Jerusalem by Laurie R. King
HardWind by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Heliopause by Heather Christle
Accidents of Marriage by Randy Susan Meyers
A Busted Afternoon by Pepper Espinoza
Without a Trace by Liza Marklund
Address to Die For by Mary Feliz
Phantom by Terry Goodkind