We, the Drowned - Carsten Jensen [71]
"Who with, if there's no one there?"
"A good question, my boy, more profound than you can imagine. Yes, who with? That question I can answer only with a new one. What's a human being? Yes, what?" He looked directly at me. "Can you tell me that?" Jack Lewis laughed in a way that signaled he was uninterested in my answer and that our conversation was at an end.
TWO DAYS LATER we spotted a seagull: our first in three weeks. But there was no land in sight. I took out my chart and found not a single island mapped in our vicinity.
Jack Lewis sent a man up the rigging. Shortly afterward an affirmative shout came from above—and some hours later a palm-fringed coastline appeared on the horizon.
"Your desert island?" I asked Jack Lewis, who was standing alongside me by the rail.
He nodded but said nothing.
Once we got closer, I could see that there was another ship off its coast. I pointed toward the island.
"Someone seems to have beaten us to it."
"She's a wreck," Lewis said. "She's stuck on the reef. Been there for years. The Morning Star. That's where I got the portraits of the red-nosed lady and her husband."
"And the crew?" I asked.
"The crew was long dead when I found the ship."
"What happened?"
Jack Lewis shrugged. "Only they know. And as they say, dead men don't tell tales."
"Mutiny?"
He turned to give one of the Kanaks an order. I realized that I wouldn't learn more, but I couldn't tell from looking at him whether he was holding something back.
We crossed in front of the reef, looking for a way in. Jack Lewis steered toward the wreck. Just before we reached it, we saw a gap in the thundering surf—which the crew of the Morning Star had clearly been aiming for. They'd paid a high price for their lack of perfect accuracy. The ship sat high on the reef, as if she'd been flung there with great force. And her position explained why she still appeared undamaged, so that at first I'd assumed she was anchored off the lagoon. She barely heeled, and all three of her masts were intact. Her name was still legible on the stern. A weather-beaten figurehead in flowing white robes held out her hands beseechingly toward the shore, the sole, stiff survivor of that wreck.
The next minute we'd negotiated our way safely into the translucent water of the lagoon, where we could see every fish that darted across the seabed. Beyond the reef's white surf the water was a deep blue, as if in shadow, but in here it was emerald, so dazzling you'd think the sand below contained a source of energy as strong as the sun. The beach was white and fringed by lush undergrowth, which melted into jungle. I sensed that this dense vegetation was the wall behind which Jack Lewis kept his secret.
My thoughts must have been drifting because I didn't notice we'd dropped anchor until Jack Lewis suddenly reappeared next to me, clutching a pair of binoculars. He was searching for something on the beach. I saw nothing—but he grunted in contentment.
"Now's the moment."
"What moment?"
"The moment when I prove to you that I'm a man of my word. You didn't believe me when I told you that the men in the hold were free men and not slaves. Now you can judge for yourself."
"You've got a gun in your hands."
"A man needs to take precautions. But I don't plan to use it."
He ordered the Kanaks to remove the hatch from the hold and then make themselves invisible in the fo'c'sle in front of the mast. It was a strange command, but they didn't look ready to question it, so I guessed it wasn't the first time they'd participated in the ritual, or whatever it was I was about to witness.
Jack Lewis signaled to us to hide behind the deckhouse and pressed a finger against his lips. He looked tense, and I noted that his other finger rested on the trigger of the rifle. Soon we heard voices and footsteps on the deck: the "free men" were emerging from the hold. Lewis gestured at me to keep still, and for a while we just stood listening. Then I heard splashing, and his face lit up in a smile, as if everything was going according to plan. He nodded