Sacred Hunger - Barry Unsworth [204]
‘Indeed?’ Erasmus had stiffened involuntarily at this reference to his father. But the captain’s blue eyes under their thick, fair brows wore a frank and friendly expression.
‘Aye, sir, and I knew Captain Thurso. On rather closer terms – too close for comfort. I sailed under Thurso once, before I got my own ship. Once was enough – more than enough.’
‘Sir, excuse me, my time is short this morning. May I ask where this is leading?’
‘The Liverpool Merchant, that was her name, his last ship. There was a deal of talk at the time. There is always talk about a ship that goes down. And this was a new-built ship. I remembered it, being your father’s ship and skippered by Thurso.’
‘Well, you are right enough, that was her name.’
‘She had a figurehead on her of a big-breasted woman with flowing hair. That is right, is it not, just to be sure?’
‘Why, yes.’ Into his mind there came the memory of that distant afternoon in Oates’s workshop by the Mersey, the staring figures, the smells of pitch and varnish, the irascible carver limping among his creations, his father’s enthusiasm for the huge, garish duchess looming above them with her yellow hair and blue dress, her look of a captive giant. He had shared that day, in that sorcerer’s den, something of the feeling for the ship that had possessed his father. He had his love for Sarah then, to open his heart to wonder … ‘What do you mean,’ he said on a note of anger, ‘to come here and talk to me of a ship that was lost twelve years ago with all aboard her?’
‘She was not lost.’
Erasmus raised a hand quickly to his temple, a habit since childhood when he was distracted or confused. ‘Not lost?’ It came to him now that his visitor might be dangerous. There was a heavy glass paperweight on the desk before him, the only thing that could serve as a weapon in this room. He moved his right arm a little nearer to it.
But there was nothing of madness in the tanned, bluff-featured face of the man opposite him. If the captain had noticed the movement he gave no sign of it. ‘I saw her less than six months since,’ he said. ‘What is left of her. I am here fitting out a ship and took occasion to find you out and tell you of it. She is beached up on the south-east coast of Florida.’
Erasmus stared at him. ‘Beached? You mean wrecked on the shore?’
‘No, I mean hauled up deliberate. She was a good way from the shore.’ Some of the diffidence or uncertainty had returned to the captain’s voice: it was as if he too had been visited by disbelief. ‘Further than a man would ever expect to see a ship,’ he said, in a lower tone.
‘Florida?’ Erasmus raised a hand to his face again. ‘What should the ship be doing there, so far to westward? She never reached Jamaica. What rigmarole is this?’
‘I am speaking of what I have seen with these eyes.’ There was an angry brusqueness in the captain’s voice now. ‘I thought it my duty to come,’ he said. ‘I will not take any more of your time, sir.’
‘No, no.’ Erasmus raised his hand. ‘Pardon me,’ he said. ‘I intended no offence. I must hear the rest of what you have to say. Your words came as a shock to me … My father died in that same year the ship failed to return, and the circumstances of my life were altogether changed.’
‘I know it.’ Philips was gruff still, but mollified. ‘I was sorry to hear of it.’
Erasmus smiled at him. ‘Will you not sit?’ he said. ‘I have some good Madeira here in my cabinet. Or if that is not to your taste, my man can fetch you something else.’
‘What you keep close at hand is good enough for me,’ the captain said, returning the smile.
Pouring out the wine, Erasmus found his hands slightly unsteady. ‘Now, sir,’ he said. ‘You have my full attention.’
Thus encouraged, and more at ease now, coat unbuttoned and glass in hand, the captain began his story. He had been in the Africa trade, it seemed, but not for slaves, except incidentally. His main trade now was in timber and hides between the North American colonists and the Spanish islands of the Caribbean. He had been following his usual route northward through the Florida Straits,