The Deepest Waters, A Novel (25 page)

The following morning, Joel sat alone in the family carriage as it rode away from the nice section of Gramercy Park, where he lived, to the extravagant, luxurious section where the Foster mansion stood. The sun shone brightly through the carriage windows, so bright, in fact, Joel had to sit far back in the seat to avoid its glare.

He had barely slept a wink.

Yesterday, from beginning to end, had been the most extraordinary day of his life. And what had happened at the very end fit right in. Joel wasn’t thinking about the violent attack or the circumstances that followed in the living room. But the disturbing situation that had unfolded after that, when his father had finally come home.

Most of the excitement had already died down. Joel knew the moment his father walked in the door that he wasn’t in any mood to deal with an upheaval. His mother had hurried to the foyer, greeted him warmly, then tried to explain the scene. She’d brokered pleasant introductions between he and Laura, and then with Micah—“the very remarkable gentleman,” to use her words.

Joel knew instantly that his father had become stuck on the point that an old black slave was lying on the couch, covered in bloody linens and bandages. He’d extended a polite hand to Laura, followed by a weak smile. He then excused himself, walked toward the library, and asked Joel to join him.

He’d closed the door, asked Joel to take a seat, and explained the cause of his preoccupation. What he conveyed to Joel was shocking. What was even more shocking to Joel was his own reaction to what his father had said.

Apparently, his father had known all about the wonders of this new line of steamships and had invested a significant percentage of the firm’s profits in the venture, without telling Joel. The tragedy caused by the
Vandervere
sinking, he said, was that the amount of losses they’d have to pay out in insurance claims had—in a single day—eaten up the entirety of the company’s profits for the year.

Joel thought but didn’t say,
No, father, the tragedy caused by the
Vandervere
sinking is that your son, my brother John, is dead
. What he had said, and this surprised both him and his father, was this: “It’s only money, Father.” Then he’d walked out and closed the door.

Suddenly, the carriage stopped. The jolt forced Joel’s mind to the present. He looked out the window; they were still a block away.

The little door slid over. “Mr. Foster, I’m sorry, sir,” said Eli. “The boy selling papers over there, do you see the headline?”

Joel looked at the headline and couldn’t believe his eyes.

53 MORE
VANDERVERE
SURVIVORS FOUND

“Shall I buy one?” Eli asked.

“Yes.”

After Eli got down from the carriage, Joel handed him a few coins out the window. He gave Joel the paper, and they continued on. Joel read the story, finishing just as they pulled up to the house. It wasn’t the newspaper delivered to the house each day, the one Joel had asked Beryl to intercept. But he was sure the same story would carry the front page of every New York paper.

The question was . . . should he say anything about it?

It was a fact that fifty-three men had been rescued, and all of them had come ashore last night in Norfolk, Virginia. But it was also a fact that more than four hundred men had not been rescued and were lost at sea.

Did he dare mention it, raising everyone’s hopes, when the chances were eight to one that John was
not
among the survivors?

“Come, Laura. We’re eating on the veranda.”

It was the following morning. Laura followed Allison through the living room, walking quietly past Micah, who was still asleep on the sofa.

“Dr. Ames has already been by to check on him,” said Allison. “Gave him something to ease the pain.”

“What time is it?” Laura asked.

“We let you sleep a bit. Mother thought you might need it. It’s just a little after nine o’clock.”

They walked through a doorway, down a wide hallway with doors on either side. This led through a similar doorway and into a beautiful covered porch, with all manner of potted plants and garden boxes full of flowers and ferns. Out across a finely manicured backyard she saw a greenhouse made mostly of glass.

“Later, I’ll take you out and show you my roses,” John’s mother said. “Come, sit.”

Laura walked toward a white iron table. Beautiful china, white linens, matching teapot. She smiled as she sat down, then noticed John’s mother’s eyes were puffy. She had been crying again this morning. Laura thought her eyes must look much the same. “What a lovely place to eat breakfast,” Laura said. “Sorry for sleeping so late.”

“Nonsense. You needed it. I only rose thirty minutes ago myself.”

Allison joined them.

“Did you sleep well?” John’s mother asked.

“I actually did, the first time since . . . this ordeal began.”

“I hope you didn’t mind being put in John’s old room.”

At first Laura thought she would, terribly. But then, even before she fell asleep, she felt the closest to John she had since the rescue. “No, it was fine. And thank you again for taking me in.”

“Please don’t thank me,” his mother said. “You are welcome to stay for as long as you want.”

Quietly, Laura thanked God for whatever had brought about this change. John would have been so pleased by this, to know the very thing he feared had somehow been dissolved. Allison lifted the lid to a silver serving dish, revealing a delicious blend of scrambled eggs, bacon, and potatoes. Laura smiled, recalling her recent bowls of gruel.

“Micah’s daughter, Sally, made this,” Allison said. “She makes some of the most interesting dishes.”

Laura took a spoonful; she was hungry enough to eat everything on the dish. “Do you mind if I inquire what the doctor said about Micah?”

“Not at all. I wasn’t here, but Joel told me.”

“Eli is taking Joel to Micah’s ship right now,” said Allison.

“Really?”

“Because of what Dr. Ames said.”

John’s mother gave Allison a look that suggested “please let me talk.” “As you know, last night the doctor cleaned and stitched up all his wounds. This morning he said the wounds were closing nicely but felt that Micah cannot be moved, at least for a day or two.”

“I was afraid of that,” said Laura. “I overhead Captain Meade say he wanted to get underway this afternoon.”

“Well, he’ll just have to wait, or he’ll have to sail off without Micah.”

“He won’t do that,” Allison added. “Micah is his slave.”

The carriage pulled up to the curb, just outside the US Mail Steamship building, as it had several times over the last few days. But what a different scene. There were no crowds, very little noise. Beyond the dock area, Joel saw the masts of the
Cutlass
. She was still tied up in the same spot.

Eli opened the carriage door. “I think you can stay right here till I’m through, Eli. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Yes, sir.”

Joel stepped down. He looked across the street and saw a small group of reporters loitering around the front office door. Likely waiting for an official comment on the reports coming out of Norfolk about the fifty-three survivors. Joel had decided not to tell the ladies about this.

The atmosphere in the house had so vastly improved with the news about Laura, compared to earlier yesterday, when there had been nothing but grief and despair. Even with the chaos after the attack, the most significant thing everyone had dwelt on was how her life had been spared and Micah’s heroic deeds. Joel couldn’t bear to insert this news into such progress, with such a slim chance for hope. He knew the women would latch onto it with a tenacious hold, only to plummet once more into despair when they learned John was not among the survivors.

He couldn’t let that happen.

He was just about to walk through the huddle of reporters into the office when he thought better of it. His business was with the captain of the
Cutlass
, who was most likely aboard the ship. He walked around to the side, and the ship came into full view. Seeing it now without the distractions, he thought it looked so worn and beat up. A number of crewmen were busy onboard, some high in the rigging tending to the sails, some loading boxes and crates.

He walked to the left side, down a wooden walkway that ran alongside the ship. “Excuse me, my good man,” he called up to one of the men. He didn’t seem to hear or was ignoring him.

“Excuse me up there, may I have a word?”

The fellow looked down.

“May I speak with your captain, Meade, I believe it is.”

“Captain Meade asked not to be disturbed,” the man said.

“But I must speak with him—it’s about his slave, Micah.”

“Micah? You know where he is?”

“Yes, but I really must speak with your captain.”

Another man walked up, older. The first man said, “Mr. Maylor, this fellow says he knows where Micah is.”

“Well, he ain’t really missing, now, is he?” Maylor said. “Cap’n gave him till we’re ready to shove off.” Maylor turned toward Joel. “Anything you can tell me, sir? I’m first mate.”

“I really need to speak with the captain. Micah has been hurt, pretty badly.” The look on both men’s faces registered instant concern.

“He gonna be all right?” the younger one asked.

“Can I please come aboard?”

“Suppose so,” said Maylor.

Joel walked up the gangway and was led across the deck through a darkened doorway. He ducked his head and stepped inside. A knock on the door.

“It’s me, Captain,” Maylor said through the door.

“Mr. Maylor, I told you I want to be left alone. I’ve got to sort all this out.”

“Sorry, sir. There’s a man out here, a proper gentleman. Says he’s got word about Micah. Got hurt bad somehow.”

Silence for a few moments, then footsteps. The door opened, and a large man stood in the doorway. “Want to talk in here or on deck?”

“Wherever you prefer, Captain. I won’t take but a minute of your time.”

“On deck then. Too hot in here, no breeze today.”

The three men walked outside. “Let’s talk up here,” the captain said. “You come too,” he said to Maylor.

They stood near the bow. “You said Micah got hurt?”

“Pretty badly, in fact.”

“What happened?”

Joel began to tell them about Maul’s attack. The more he spoke, the greater their rage. Halfway through, he had to stop and reassure them how the story ended. Both men were ready to leave that moment and go after Maul.

“So where’s Micah now?” Captain Meade asked.

“In my parents’ home. But the thing is, the doctor said he can’t be moved, his wounds are too severe.”

“Where’s he hurt?”

“Right here.” Joel drew a line across his shoulder. “The doctor stitched him up last night and said he will eventually heal. But I’m told you’re planning to leave this afternoon.”

“Can’t now,” Meade said. “I need to leave as soon as we can, but . . .” He looked toward the steamship office building. “Those men in there. God’ll judge them, I know that much.”

Joel didn’t know what he meant.

“After all I’ve done to rescue these women and children, bring them all the way up here.”

“Are you saying they won’t reimburse you?” asked Joel. It seemed hard to fathom, but he knew a bit about corporate greed.

“Paid me for the supplies but nothing for all my lost days and nothing to repair my ship. Look at it.”

Joel followed his eyes but knew nothing about sailing ships.

“They said they’re not responsible for all this damage, the storm is. What kind of attitude is that, after all we did for them?”

Joel thought he understood the steamship company’s point of view. The storm damage wasn’t their responsibility. They could have taken the high road and offered to help the poor man, but they had just lost a major ship. Not to mention a hull full of gold. Then there certainly would be an investigation, claims to be paid out to the officers’ families, and—stop it! What was he thinking? He sounded just like his father.

“Gonna cost me at least a thousand dollars,” the captain said, “get her seaworthy again.”

“When do you think you’ll be ready to leave?” Joel asked.

“Probably take me a day or two to drum up enough business to fill my hold, pay all these expenses. Wanted just to get the money, fix ’er up, and shove off, get down South where we belong.”

“Hopefully, Micah will be healed sufficiently to leave then.”

“No hope involved, sir. Fact is, I need Micah. I’ll give him time off his chores to heal up, but he’ll be healing up on this ship. When we’re ready to leave, Micah’s coming with us.”