Lightkeeper's Wife (13 page)

“How's she doing?” Tom asked. “I brought some beef from Hallet's. Maybe it'll help her get on her feet.”

“She's had a terrible fever,” Billy said. “She just gets up to tend the lights and doesn't say a word. Like walking in her sleep. She ought to be turning the corner, don't you think?”

Hannah heard them talking in the kitchen now, two grown men, worried and helpless. Her body ached from lying in bed. She had to get up, stretch, move. When she pushed back the covers and sat up, a fog rolled through her head. She stood slowly, her legs wobbly as she made her way out of her familiar, curtained room.

“I'm not dead, you know,” Hannah said, shuffling into the kitchen.

“Well, I came to see for myself,” Tom said. He gave Billy a look meant to drive him away, and Billy removed himself to the barn.

“I know what you're going to say, Tom, so don't even bother.”

“I'm going to bother.”

“Well don't. I went too far, I know that. But it was a young girl. I heard her calling out, and then I finally got down the hatch. She was so close.” Hannah began to cry, but hardened herself. “I don't regret it. I'd do it again.”

“But the girl's drowned. You nearly killed yourself for nothing,” Tom said, angry. “It was a reckless thing to do.”

“If I'd gotten out there faster, I might have saved her.”

“Hannah, you know you should never board a sinking ship. You shouldn't even be out there.”

“I can't talk about it anymore,” she said, and closed her eyes.

Tom leaned forward on his chair and pushed himself up, as if exhausted by trying to talk sense to Hannah. “You know I care for you, Hannah. I should be the one here with you, not this stranger. Let me take care of you. It's what John would want.”

His love was familiar and complete and she wanted to relax into it, but she said, “I can't right now, and it's not fair to bring John into it.”

“You must know I love you. I've loved you since…”

He watched her closely, but she didn't move or give away any feeling. At the door, he turned, as if to say one last thing but thinking better of it, he left her to her silence.

***

After Tom's visit, Billy returned and Hannah read out loud last week's marine list for notice of
Neptune's Daughter
.

MARINE
LIST

Disasters, &c.

Sloop Connecticut, (of New Bedford or vicinity), Gibbs, with rough rice and cotton, fm New River, NC for Charleston, is stated in a slip from the Charleston Courier of 21st inst, to have gone ashore on Pumpkin Island. Breakers night before, about 23 o'clock. Capt and crew remained in the rigging until next morning when they were providentially taken off, saving nothing but what they stood in. About ten minutes after they were taken off, the mast, to the rigging of which they had been clinging, went by the board, carrying with it everything attached, and had not they been rescued then, all must have met with a watery grave, as the vessel was full of water, and a tremendous sea running. Vessel and cargo total loss.

Sch Convert, (of Bath) Austin, fm Wilmington NC for Boston, struck on Cohasset Rocks early this morning, was got off leaking badly, and to prevent her sinking was run on Peddocks Island. She is full of water; cargo of naval stores, and 50 hhds of molasses—latter on deck.

Sch Neptune's Daughter, of and fm Wilmington D with 4800 bu corn, for Boston, even of 25th inst, went aground off Dangerfield: cargo fully insured in Boston. Total wreck. No salvage. All lives lost inc Captain Jones Silva of Delaware, wife Hester, daughter Ella 8 yrs old.

“Here it is,” she said, defeated.

Billy looked up from his drawing. “Did your husband row into the storms?”

“No, he stayed ashore to watch the lights. Sometimes after the storm, he rowed out.”

“You did what your husband wouldn't do. You went aboard that ship.”

“It didn't help.”

“You think you'd be doing any of this if he was here? Any of this lifesaving?”

“Yes, I do.”

Billy took a gulp of water and drank it down like the hair of the dog. “Were you helping him when he was here?”

“No, I wasn't.”

“You were certainly willing and able, more than anyone I suppose.”

Hannah stood from her chair and ran her hands down the front of her trousers as if they were a skirt she was trying to flatten. Why was she letting him upset her? He'd never even met John.

“Go ahead, think on it, Hannah. Look at it close up.” Billy wiped his chin on his sleeve. His eyes were not unkind.

Hannah spun around and glared into his face. “You think you know what it means to lose your husband? Your longest relationship has been with a bottle. You've never committed yourself to anything.”

He only nodded as if she were right and he understood her anger—and this, his understanding, infuriated her. She closed her eyes and tried to deny the possibility that he was right. She told herself that if John had returned, he would've let her row into the surf. He would see how good she was. But the other, deeper truth continued to rear itself up, like a buoy shoved under the waves that bounces to the surface. John had a need to protect her that would always keep her ashore.

In her confusion she fled the house and Billy's pestering question. Tom would've discouraged her from rowing into the surf, but he wouldn't have tried to stop her. She walked along the edge of the cliff and counted ships along the horizon, a series of light gray wings against the sky.

“Ship ahoy!” The call rang out from aloft. The morning mist had burned off, and only wisps of clouds streaked the azure skies. The first mate rang the bell, and the crew of the
Alice
K
went belowdecks to gather arms. They fell into a loose formation on the leeward rail, waiting for Jack to call orders.

“All hands on deck,” he said, pulling his jacket over his thick torso and taking the steps two at a time up to the deck. His dark eyes were sharp, exhilarated, as he adjusted the pistol in his holster and the cutlass that he wore slung through a sash on his other hip.

Blue, who was always ready, always alert, had to go below for her pistol and machete. She'd been distracted by Mark opening his shirt to her. “Goddamnitalltohell. I never should've let that man—” She cursed her way along the companionway into the fo'c'sle, buckled the heavy leather belt at her waist, and went up to the deck, her machete swinging at her hips. Onboard the
Alice
K
, she didn't hide her identity, but on a raid she wore men's clothing and tied her hair up under her hat. She buttoned her shirt and jacket and covered her head with an indigo scarf. In a fight, her hair eventually came down and the overtaken crew would realize that a woman had beaten them.

Jack was amidships. She joined him to monitor their steady progress toward the merchant runner. Blue fingered her pistol. A feeling like dread washed over her as they neared the ship and Jack started commanding the crew. She waited for the usual rush of excitement to lift her into action, but instead she watched the pirates swearing and posturing, working themselves into a fury.

By the time they sailed alongside their prey and feigned friendship, Blue stood back from the rail and scanned the faces of the crew for Mark. Not finding him, she then shifted her attention toward the ship as they approached and prepared to board. Even as they boarded and Jack issued orders to the overtaken vessel, Blue couldn't rally her rage. She slipped belowdecks to search out the captain's cabin. A sea chest was fastened to the floorboards by the captain's bunk. She used the butt of her pistol to smash the lock. The chest contained the captain's letters, jewelry, a gold watch, and a knife with a scrimshawed handle. Blue tore a blanket from the bunk and folded the valuables into the middle, rolled the blanket into a bundle, and started up for the companionway. A tall sailor with red curly hair stopped her midstep, his right fist clasped around the leather-wrapped handle of a cutlass, his body poised and ready to slice at her.

“Drop it. Now!” he said.

Blue's hand was on her pistol, hidden beneath an armload of booty, and as commanded, she dropped the sack. At the same time she leveled her weapon and fired. The sailor's eyes flew open and his body slammed back against the white-painted paneling and slid down the wall. Blue bent to grab the sack and slung it over one shoulder. She stepped over the sailor's crumpled legs and climbed onto the deck near the stern, where she could cross onto the
Alice
K
without notice. She stowed her loot under the whaleboat.

With the merchant crew defeated, the pirates carried crates, barrels, and boxes of cargo to stash in the hold of the
Alice
K
, and then they went back for more. Briggs oversaw the men as they used a yardarm like a crane to hoist the heavy crates, swinging the spar over the hold and lowering a line on block and tackle to fasten to the crate, then lifting it up and swinging it over the decks until it lined up over the
Alice
K
's hold where it was lowered and settled into position.

Jack stood by the defeated captain, nudging the pistol into his side at regular intervals as a reminder of what would come should the overtaken crew break ranks and revolt. “Not so bad, now, is it, Simpson?” Jack asked. “We get what we want, and you get away with your life. The ship's owner has insurance to cover your loss, mate. It works out for everyone. Don't you agree?” He picked at his teeth with his marlinespike and spat downwind before returning his attention to the steady stream of boxes and crates being hauled aboard the
Alice
K
by his men.

The crew looted the carpenter's tool chest, stole as much food and silverware as they could find from the galley. Jack called for Blue and waited for her to appear at his side. “Find those two sailors we rescued, make sure they're earning their keep. If they're not, get rid of 'em.”

“Right.” Blue nodded, although she felt a moment of panic that she quelled by lurching into action. She found Mark and Jeb in the hold, among crates and sacks of grain and flour. They hovered over a small sea chest, the backs of their heads bobbing as they worked at picking the lock with the tip of a cutlass. “What's this?” Blue asked, standing over them with her pistol drawn. “Move aside,” she said, not meeting Mark's eyes. “I said move!” Blue stepped toward them and pulled back the hammer on her pistol. The two sailors covered their ears against the deafening blast. The shot was true. The lock fell into pieces, parts of the wooden chest splintering from the blast. She threw back the lid of the trunk and unfolded a white coverlet carefully spread over the contents. Were the gold pieces real or a figment of her ransacked imagination? The two sailors gasped, awestruck, and stood to watch as Blue filled her pockets with coins, slid them into her boots, her stockings, her undergarments, then removed the handkerchief from her head and filled it with coins, wrapped it up, and tied it inside her jacket. Her hair hung in tangled knots around her shoulders. Turning to leave the hold, she said, “Take some coins for yourselves and say nothing. Then deliver the rest of the gold to Jack as if you found it. It might save your lives.”

Back on deck, she did not mention the chest of gold to Jack. A dead sailor slumped against the cabin, his shirt soaked with blood that had formed a pool around him. Blue signaled one of Jack's crew to help her drag him to the rail. His head flopped from side to side and his limbs hung heavy. They wrestled his weight over the rail. He was somebody's husband or brother or lover. Why had he risked his life over somebody else's property? Didn't these stupid men see that they weren't losing anything themselves? They lived under the thumbs of ship owners who made the big profits and paid the sailors pennies only to work them to the bone so that they could live in their large houses atop hills overlooking the sea that delivered their soft, pampered lifestyle.
Now that is pirating
, Blue thought.

The dead sailor floated for a moment across the waves. Blue watched as his body tilted and sank so that he went from a man below the water's surface to a dark cloud drifting down to nothing at all. She turned from the rail and moved slowly to keep her coins from jangling. What had possessed her to steal the gold coins? She crossed the plank to the
Alice
K
. If Jack found the stolen coins, he would shoot her on the spot or make a spectacle out of killing her before the men. Every pirate signed the ship's bylaws and understood the code. With the rest of the crew, she always accepted her share of the loot without question. Now she felt like a stranger among the crew. The mere fact of her disavowal let her know that she had turned away from the pirates. Just like she'd crossed over a line joining the pirates, she'd now crossed a line in stealing from them, and she could not go back.

She watched the sea chest swing back and forth in small strokes between Mark and Jeb as they carried it onboard the
Alice
K
. They must've shown Jack the gold, as Blue had instructed. So why did Jack look angry, twirling a loose end of rope between his thumb and forefinger?

She waited for him to speak.

“Those two rescued men found a chest with gold pieces in the hold below. The captain never told me about it when I asked him what he had of value onboard. He should have.” Jack's eyebrows flattened to a straight line across his brow.

“What will you do?”

“I've no choice,” Jack said, stepping to the rail to watch the sea chest make its way to the hold of the
Alice
K
.

“I'll take care of it then,” Blue said, and Jack waved her on as he turned and started back to the
Alice
K
. Blue found the stranded captain at the helm where Jack had tied him—hands behind his back and fastened to a spoke in the large wheel. She cut the captain free of the wheel with her cutlass and sheathed it at her waist. “Come with me,” she said, her words sharp and flat as a knife's blade.

“What for?” the captain asked. His skin was tan, but not yet weathered. He couldn't have been more than twenty-three or twenty-four years of age, Blue thought, herding him ahead of her amidships. He wore a navy blue waistcoat with brass buttons that caught the sun and cast a glitter like gold coins.

She backed him up against the mast. “Take off your jacket,” she said.

“Why?”

“I don't want to get holes in it when I shoot you. Take it off!” The chilly tone of her voice sounded distant and strange. She felt that she was watching from slightly above, as if perched in the rigging close enough to overhear the cruel conversation, but not in any way an actual participant.

“But why? I complied with your captain's orders. I did what he said.”

“You told him nothing about the sea chest in the hold.” She watched her hand reach to unbutton the man's coat, and when he fell to his knees, she watched her own arm jerk him up by twisting his arm behind him so that he yelped with the torque on his shoulder. The man stood on his feet and let her unbutton his jacket and strip it back from his chest and shoulders. Blue felt the heat of his body and his fear as she tore the jacket down so that the sleeves hung from his hands, which were still fastened behind his back with rope that cut bloody wounds into his wrists.

The captain's head hung, and when he looked up, his gray eyes angry and sad, he said, “But I thought—” Blue stood back and considered the unfortunate captain. With her cutlass, she cut the rope at his bloody wrists and told him not to move a muscle as she removed the sleeves of his coat from his forearms. She held the garment up to examine it from all sides before sliding it on over her own sweat-soaked shirt. Blue fastened the shining buttons and tugged the coat down at the waist so that the fine blue fabric lay flat. Then she looked hard into the captain's frightened face.

“What do you think of it?”

The sweat jeweled on his forehead, his head and shoulders hunkered down as if braced for a blow.

She nudged him with the muzzle. “I asked what do you think?” she said.

“Handsome,” he said.

“Lucky for you.” The pirate crew was back on the
Alice
K
. His own crew were wounded or hiding below. “Now listen to me, young captain. Get below, away from your men and any living thing for two nights and two days until we're long past the horizon. I'm warning you. You'll be a dead man if you cross me.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “Yes, yes. I'll do it,” he said, collapsing with relief.

Blue walked him to the hatchway and shoved him down the steps so that he landed in a heap. She ducked below the hatch and pulled him up, then pushed him ahead of her along the companionway. Pistol in hand, she waited for the captain to disappear down the hatch amidships. Then she fired a single shot into the seam between the deck and the hull of the ship. The shot that Jack would hear and think that she'd killed the captain. As she climbed through the hatch into the air, the ship began pitching slightly. She felt tired, more tired than she'd ever been.

The walk to the
Alice
K
felt endless. She passed Johnson sorting through a box of cargo, and Briggs ordering everyone where to stow the foodstuffs, building materials, precious metals, and money. Blue ducked down the companionway and nearly fell into her hammock, into a dreamless sleep that could've lasted minutes or days or years. She fought waking up, but the carousing overhead kept pulling her from oblivion. Still, she dove for that blank slate, that black nothing of sleep until the noise finally won and her mind came alive and she knew where she was.

Blue climbed from her hammock, ducked under the wood beams. She took the narrow steps and stuck her head into the night air, a warm breeze from the southeast. Loneliness swept through her. The baby's final wheeze had left her hollow as a gun barrel. Everything after that had been emptiness.

The sounds of the
Alice
K
rose more distinct to Blue's ears. The wooden seams creaked, and the rigging settled and groaned and snapped against the mast.

Blue walked along the rail, around the cannons bolted into the sides of the ship. She stopped at the whaleboat fastened atop the deck. The white hull glowed under the night sky like the belly of a whale, exposed and dangerous. She peered beneath the overturned boat and scanned the ground for Mark's feet. She didn't know what she wanted with the sailor, even as she ducked under the boat and slid into the protective dark. “It's Blue,” she said.

“I know,” Mark said.

“You're always here.” Blue shuffled her body toward his voice until she was leaning against the hull next to him.

“There's something I have to show you.” He took Blue's hand. “It's not what you think.”

He slid her hand over his breast, and she let her fingers graze his soft skin. She forgot for a moment what she was feeling for, a scar maybe or some other disfigurement, but what she felt was a wide, cloth strap. He guided her hand beneath the strap, then loosened it and slid her hand farther, until she felt a breast pressed flat, but rounder and fuller than her own. Blue yanked her hand back.

“My name is Mary. Mary Burke of South Boston.”

Blue tried to remember the last time she'd had contact with a woman. It had been the midwife who delivered her baby.