Dead water - Barbara Hambly [122]
Her voice had been quite close to him. Hands groped for his.
Big hands, not Queen Régine's tiny, childlike fists.
He didn't ask, only felt along the folds of a dress, found where crates and trunks had fallen on her with the boat's first reeling lurch. “Hold still.” He dug in his pocket for matches. In the sudden flare of yellow light he saw, not the bitter little voodooienne he'd expected to find, but the slave-girl Julie. “Hold these. You know how to light a match? Scratch it in the paper, like this. . . . Is there someone else down here? Another woman?”
“No.” Her eyes were huge in the tiny flare of light, following his movements as he hauled and threw the trunks from the top of the pile that pinned her legs. The pain of his rib went through his vitals like a sword. “Thu said I could stay here,” Julie gabbled as if the words themselves fought back panic. “I was gonna swim for the shore when we caught on the bar, but 'Rodus stopped me, came up, and caught my hand. He wasn't chained—you know Thu's part of the Underground Railway? Him and 'Rodus? They're brothers—'Rodus had a key to the chains—they was takin' folks north, disguised as a slave-gang. He said Thu had blankets hid down here, and food, in case somethin' went wrong an' somebody had to hide out. They had poisons here, too—I know they's poisons, 'cause my granny knows about them things . . . oh, God . . .” she gasped as the boat lurched again and water slopped up around January's ankles. “Oh, God, we're gonna drown. . . .”
Moving the crate on top of the trunk that actually pinned her legs was like trying to move a house. January grunted, feeling his muscles crack and strain, panic icy in his heart. “'Rodus brought you down here?”
“No, we had to wait for Thu. And 'Rodus told me, Be quiet or we're all of us dead, and pushed me far back in the gang when Thu came down. Thu had Mr. Weems with him, tellin' him how he'd found somethin' strange hid in the hold. I didn't see much—it was plenty dark—but 'Rodus had a stick of firewood in his hand, big around as your arm. I don't think Mr. Weems ever saw what hit him. Oh!”
The matches had burned down to her fingers; she fumbled with the scratch-paper, and with a hiss everything fell into the water as the boat lurched again. January pulled the last trunk out of the way and felt for Julie's hands in the darkness, wondering in despair how they were ever going to find the open door. The deck was at an angle of over forty-five degrees underfoot and there was a constant slipping and scraping in the darkness as trunks slithered down.
The door at the stern end, thought January. It opened inward, padlocked on the outside—was there enough purchase to kick it open, with the deck tilted, always supposing he could find it in total darkness . . . ?
Light. A rectangle of daylight, above and behind as the stern door opened, and Rose's voice, “Ben! Ben, are you there?”
“Here!” He grabbed Julie's arm, half dragged the limping girl up the slippery slant of boards. Rose, Thu, and 'Rodus reached down, clinging to the slant of the steps; dragged Julie up, then January, as the Silver Moon's boards groaned and snapped with the weight of water in her head. January blinked in the daylight, half-blinded, seeing the water all around the vessel full of spars and planks, doors and shutters, each bit of wood bearing a paddling figure, heading toward the shore. Some, he saw, had already reached safety, and were wading out into the water to haul others in.
“Hannibal . . . ?”
“Is safe, Davis and Jim took him over.” Rose removed her spectacles and tucked them into her skirt pocket. “When the vessel started going down, I realized you couldn't get out of the hold the way you'd gone in. . . .”
The two Fulani brothers had rounded up several doors on the stern promenade. The Silver Moon lurched over sideways, dripping paddle still turning wildly in the air—“Better get out of here before the weight brings her over,” warned