past fortnight.” Setting his elbows on the table, he steepled his hands, as if praying. “There is nothing in here to suggest we ever picked up two castaways from Ducie Island.”
I could all but hear the creak of strain as he winched his mouth up at the ends into the straight line of a satisfied smile. “Until I have recorded that fact, you are legally missing, presumed dead.” He crumpled the sheet on which, I guess, his record of our rescue lay scrawled, looked at me with the triumph of a man dismissing inconvenient tedium. Then he threw the only evidence of our existence out of the stern windows, where it bobbed for a while like a duckling in our wake, before sinking.
“If I never record it, there is no legal proof that you were ever here. This frees me of the necessity to bring you back to England for trial. For your guilt, I have the evidence of my own eyes.” Over my shoulder he exchanged a glance with the sergeant of marines. “There can be only one appropriate punishment. You will be hanged from the yard arm until you are dead, and your bodies disposed of in the sea.”
“Now, sir?” the sergeant asked, with what seemed to me excessive eagerness.
Edwards patted his forehead again with that limp handkerchief. His mouth reassumed its habitual downward tug. “Nonsense. You may manacle them both and secure them to the deck. We punish on a Saturday in this ship, gentlemen, come hell or high water. There is no reason to disturb the ship’s routine for something as sordid and unimportant as this.”
The night I spent shackled to the deck—the width of the ship between myself and Garnet— was, I think, the most formative night of my life. A Thursday night. I had two full days and nights to live. I was in the situation of which I had been afraid all my adult life, and every sailor gave me a kick or a curse as he passed. Yet, as the hours wore on, a sense of peace stole over me. I felt my heart beat in my chest and the blood course through my limbs. The stars still shone above me, and the black and silver sea bore me up as it always had. The sails creaked. The ship grumbled on to herself as though nothing had changed.
I had thought I would be crushed, did anyone ever find out about me. I thought the world itself would condemn and swallow me up. Instead, there was the moon gleaming like a sickle above. As its light hit the water, there came a great heave of silver, and a whirr, like wings, as a school of flying fish leapt out of their element and flitted beside us as though God were skipping stones.
Fear lifted off my chest like a boulder. I watched the sunrise with the eyes of one newly born. The worst had happened, and look, it was not so bad.
As soon as there was light to see, I caught Garnet’s eye and smiled. Had we been closer, I would have thanked him for persuading me out of my solitude and into this more fundamental freedom. I had been a coward for a very long time, and he in his absurd way had shown me how to be a man. His smile in return was dimpled with delight. I don’t believe he ever was afraid of anything.
They did not trouble to feed us. But, about midday, when both the captain and Lieutenant Hallett had gone below, Ned Compton gingerly brought us a dipperful of water each. As he leaned down to let me take the thing in my manacled hands, he made as though to scratch his nose, concealing his mouth beneath his hand. “You knows how to navigate, don’t you, sir?”
My peace stirred into a kind of puzzlement, threaded through with hope. “I do.”
“Your boy too?”
“My b—Mr Littleton, you mean?” My boy? As though we were spoken of together. As though the world knew us for a couple. It perhaps should not have done, but it filled me with insufferable pride. “Yes, he’s a very capable navigator.”
“Suppose you was plotting a long journey. What d’you need?”
I kept the dipper of water before my mouth as I answered, wondering if this was mutiny. Something about these seas appeared to
I could all but hear the creak of strain as he winched his mouth up at the ends into the straight line of a satisfied smile. “Until I have recorded that fact, you are legally missing, presumed dead.” He crumpled the sheet on which, I guess, his record of our rescue lay scrawled, looked at me with the triumph of a man dismissing inconvenient tedium. Then he threw the only evidence of our existence out of the stern windows, where it bobbed for a while like a duckling in our wake, before sinking.
“If I never record it, there is no legal proof that you were ever here. This frees me of the necessity to bring you back to England for trial. For your guilt, I have the evidence of my own eyes.” Over my shoulder he exchanged a glance with the sergeant of marines. “There can be only one appropriate punishment. You will be hanged from the yard arm until you are dead, and your bodies disposed of in the sea.”
“Now, sir?” the sergeant asked, with what seemed to me excessive eagerness.
Edwards patted his forehead again with that limp handkerchief. His mouth reassumed its habitual downward tug. “Nonsense. You may manacle them both and secure them to the deck. We punish on a Saturday in this ship, gentlemen, come hell or high water. There is no reason to disturb the ship’s routine for something as sordid and unimportant as this.”
The night I spent shackled to the deck—the width of the ship between myself and Garnet— was, I think, the most formative night of my life. A Thursday night. I had two full days and nights to live. I was in the situation of which I had been afraid all my adult life, and every sailor gave me a kick or a curse as he passed. Yet, as the hours wore on, a sense of peace stole over me. I felt my heart beat in my chest and the blood course through my limbs. The stars still shone above me, and the black and silver sea bore me up as it always had. The sails creaked. The ship grumbled on to herself as though nothing had changed.
I had thought I would be crushed, did anyone ever find out about me. I thought the world itself would condemn and swallow me up. Instead, there was the moon gleaming like a sickle above. As its light hit the water, there came a great heave of silver, and a whirr, like wings, as a school of flying fish leapt out of their element and flitted beside us as though God were skipping stones.
Fear lifted off my chest like a boulder. I watched the sunrise with the eyes of one newly born. The worst had happened, and look, it was not so bad.
As soon as there was light to see, I caught Garnet’s eye and smiled. Had we been closer, I would have thanked him for persuading me out of my solitude and into this more fundamental freedom. I had been a coward for a very long time, and he in his absurd way had shown me how to be a man. His smile in return was dimpled with delight. I don’t believe he ever was afraid of anything.
They did not trouble to feed us. But, about midday, when both the captain and Lieutenant Hallett had gone below, Ned Compton gingerly brought us a dipperful of water each. As he leaned down to let me take the thing in my manacled hands, he made as though to scratch his nose, concealing his mouth beneath his hand. “You knows how to navigate, don’t you, sir?”
My peace stirred into a kind of puzzlement, threaded through with hope. “I do.”
“Your boy too?”
“My b—Mr Littleton, you mean?” My boy? As though we were spoken of together. As though the world knew us for a couple. It perhaps should not have done, but it filled me with insufferable pride. “Yes, he’s a very capable navigator.”
“Suppose you was plotting a long journey. What d’you need?”
I kept the dipper of water before my mouth as I answered, wondering if this was mutiny. Something about these seas appeared to
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