Thoreau in Love by John Schuyler Bishop Page B

him in his cabin.
    But where was Ben? Henry hadn’t seen him all day. Cook had served breakfast, which Henry thought strange but didn’t dare ask about.
    As they were sailing down the Thames River, Henry and Susan stood on deck, taking in the sights. The fair winds turned from westerly to blowing mild from the south, and just after Henry commented on that, he and Susan were flying through the fair winds as Dahlia , groaning, screeching, creaking, came to a sudden halt. Banged but not bruised, they collected themselves and got up to see what had happened.
    They’d run aground on a sandbar the captain swore and swore hadn’t been there the week before. Attempts were made to get the ship off the bar, but Dahlia was stuck until the falling tide rose again.

    Being grounded was a lot of work. The sails had to be taken down and the masts supported with extra lines to relieve the stress of gravity. Briefly, Henry saw Ben among the sailors securing the ship, but Ben didn’t give Henry so much as a glance. And then he disappeared. Befuddled at Ben’s behavior, Henry went to his cabin to get his journal, then decided instead to lie down. He climbed to Ben’s bunk and fell fast asleep. He awoke when the cabin shifted to a steep angle and he tumbled against the wooden hull. Thinking he could have been badly hurt if the ship had gone the other way, he carefully climbed up into the hall and then to the deck, where, even though the cargo was secured, he didn’t feel safe. Clinging to whatever he could, he crossed to the bow and inserted himself into his now steeply inclined crook, atop the jumble of lines.
    Dahlia kept shifting and creaking and shuddering. Several sailors ran a taut line from the bow to the poop deck so the crew could get from one end to the other. From aft, Susan called to Henry. He put his journal in his jacket pocket and half rose to go to her.
    “Stay there,” she yelled. “I want to see if I can get to you.” Using the help line, she tried walking the deck, but after a few steps gave up. “Maybe you had better come here.” Following a sailor’s example, Henry grabbed the line and fairly glided across the deck. A steamboat passed by, repeatedly blowing its whistle in mockery, its passengers gathered at the rail to point and laugh. Henry waved back. Even the seagulls seemed to be mocking Dahlia ’s plight.
    As soon as he’d made it aft, Susan glanced furtively around, then leaned in toward Henry, lowering her voice. “Captain Hawke, does he seem strange to you? Clearly he loathes his wife, yet he hangs on every word of his cabin boy. I think he’s a pederast.”
    “A pederast?” Henry flushed. “But he’s married.”
    “I’m telling you, Henry. I’ve seen it before. Yesterday, Mrs. Hawke was passed out on rum by two in the afternoon. The captain called for the boy, and the two of them went into his cabin, which abuts mine. First I heard sounds, as if someone was being beaten, and then, well, other sounds. Private sounds.”
    “Private sounds?” said Henry, his voice cracking.
    “Don’t feign ignorance, Henry. You know what I’m talking about.”
    Henry blushed.
    “If I were you, Henry, I’d be careful of that boy.”
    “Careful of Ben? Why?”
    “I don’t trust him. But don’t you think it’s appalling that this tub, as Mrs. Hawke calls it, was hers, left to her by her father, and just by marrying him it becomes his?”
    “Yes, I do,” said Henry, glad for the change of subject. “Margaret Fuller’s been going on about that for years.”
    “I wish I’d gotten to meet Margaret. She sounds fascinating.”
    “She’s quite a character. Brilliant. And quite impatient with anyone who can’t keep up with her. She can be harsh.”
    “She doesn’t suffer fools.”
    “No she does not.”
    “I applaud that. Would I were more like that.”
    “Now that’s where you need confidence. You’re a lot stronger and more forthright than you give yourself credit for.”
    Susan smiled a