Jamrach's Menagerie - Carol Birch [84]
“Those were the days,” I said.
“Indeed they were.”
One of me still on the ship last night before I came down from the mast, one of me brooding over the waters. My invisible fellows walked and talked as ever in my brain as if nothing had happened.
“Who’s Crabbe and Bulter?” John Copper asked.
“Used to work with us,” Tim said.
Skip appeared.
“Hey Skip,” I said, “I’ve got your book.”
Dragons, demons, winged eyes, faces in extremity.
“Thanks,” he said.
I gave it to him.
“No pencil though,” he said and smiled.
So on and on floated the day. We built up the sides of the boats, a foot or so, more fore and aft, and loaded them deep as we dared. The hardtack was stowed well aft away from the spray, wrapped in canvas. Water, a couple of barrels for each boat.
Mr. Rainey and Simon put Billy in the shroud. They just did it, a job, Simon holding it open, Rainey putting him in, their faces admitting nothing in or out. Then Mr. Rainey gathered Billy up and brought him into our boat and we rowed out a little way with the captain’s boat following, and came together as the rain faded away and the first hint of sunset appeared.
The captain said:
“We now commit to the deep, oh Lord, the body of your servant, William Stock, our shipmate. Lord, accept him and have mercy on his soul. Our Father, which art in heaven …” and we all joined in mumbling the Lord’s Prayer, and I thought: Goodbye, Billy, and remembered his face as he threw up in a bucket, angry, tear-filled eyes. A small silence, then Mr. Rainey slid him into the sea and the sea swallowed him.
The last of the ship was like the dying of a whale. She bled thick yellow blood from her every seam, from her dead eyes, from her heart. All the oil we’d taken since we left the Greenland Dock. It spread about us on the sea, and she went down slowly into it, shining.
Gone.
That moment, ocean around, sky above. Too big.
The captain consulted the quadrant. Rainey went into his boat and they had a silent powwow. Seemed not to agree, I thought, but at last Mr. Rainey came back with his face hard, sucking his lip. The captain said we’d make southeast a few miles away from this place then hove to for the night and take stock in the morning. At least the rain had stopped.
Fix sails, men.
We were six to a boat. On oars, me and Tim, Dan and Gabriel, Yan and Rainey. On theirs, Skip and Simon and John, Dag and Wilson and the captain. Mr. Rainey was by the steering oar. The captain held his musket tight. Our makeshift masts served. I don’t know how far we sailed. It was a black night and nothing was real. Somewhere we hove to and I fell into a thirsty sleep. We’d had a little water before we turned in, but the captain said we had to be very careful with it, plan for the worst and hope for the best. I felt sick and couldn’t eat the hardtack. We slept hungrily, desperate for oblivion. Long before daylight I came half awake and started going over and over a list in my mind, but I was still exhausted and kept losing track and having to start again, so it went on for ever. Who’s gone? Sam Proffit. Mr. Comeragh. Felix Duggan …
It seemed important to me that I should think of these people one by one, enumerate, as it were, the things I knew about each. Sam Proffit: old black man; watery eyes; small. Mr. Comeragh: has a young son. Felix. Felix Duggan. What do I know about him? Nothing. Round head, pulls faces. Sam, Felix, done them. Mr. Comeragh. Billy: his white eyes. Henry Cash: sleek wet head, shoulders rising out of the water, pushing before him the toolbox. What would we have done without the toolbox? Our saviour. Know nothing about him, never liked him. Thought he was a smug bastard. Sleek, wet head, an otter, going down for more, looking younger than before. Who’s next? Joe. Joe Harper. Last I saw of Joe he was splashing facedown when the barrel knocked him off his feet. He was holding Simon’s fiddle, but it went flying. Where was he? Where was Mr. Comeragh? Where were Abel Roper, Felix Duggan, Martin Hannah? Going over each lost man in my mind, over and over like counting sheep,