Chapter 11
For the next three days, the atmosphere on board was tense. Patrice and I carried our pistols everywhere we went. Harsh whispers and arguments disrupted the calm I had come to expect on the ship, and a constant knot filled my stomach as contention spread around us.
“Here, take my salted beef,” Mr. Ashby offered to me. He probably noticed my poor mood and wished to improve it.
“No, I am full. You eat it. You’re the one who needs to keep his strength up. You’ve been working alongside the crew more, trying to improve morale.”
Before Mr. Ashby could put the beef back on his plate, Patrice snatched it off his fork. I laughed at her appetite. Mr. Ashby laughed as well, and the sound was refreshing. Patrice grinned. “Shouldnae have offered it to Miss if ye wanted it,” she said with her mouth full.
“I was going to offer it to you next,” Mr. Ashby replied with a smile.
“Sure ye were.” Patrice leaned back in her chair and sighed. “We should go meet with Tallow, Miss.”
We took our dishes to the scullery to clean them off. Patrice had finally stopped acting as my maid and now allowed me to clean my own dishes. It felt as though we were companions. I was grateful for it and found the relationship much more gratifying than before.
We reached Tallow’s cabin and knocked. As he opened the door, a ruckus began behind us; the hatch burst open and men came clamoring onto the deck. I glanced back at Tallow and saw him frown deeply.
He clicked his tongue and pushed past us, approaching the group of men who were shouting to one another. Patrice and I hung back. Jonas was in the center of it all, calling out to Mr. Hull, who stood above them on the forecastle.
“Come down and face us, ye skurvy eel!” Jonas yelled.
Matthew Hull came down the steps slowly and stood firmly, arms folded. “We’ve been through this, Jonas. You don’t wanna pick a fight. It’ll end poorly.”
“Well, me and the men think that turning around will suit us best. We can find better ships in Scotland, and you and the captain can face your fates with the court martial.” Jonas folded his arms to mirror his opponent. The men backing him nodded their agreement.
My arm tightened around Patrice’s. I feared fighting, but I feared turning back more. Couldn’t they see going forward was the best route? We would waste so much time returning to Scotland. We were already over halfway to St. Kitts.
Tallow continued walking toward the men and I took a step to follow, but Patrice pulled me back, hoping to keep me out of it.
He went right up to Jonas and put a hand on his shoulder.
“I’ve been on the seas for longer than you’ve been alive, and I will tell you that this is not the crisis it seems. The captain may have lied to us, but we have enough provisions to make it to Basseterre.
If we turn back, we may run out, and those who need to get there will have wasted precious time.
You’re not thinking for everyone aboard.
There are only four of you.” Tallow’s reasonable voice sounded soothing to me, but apparently not to the men before him.
“Five,” another voice said. Williams came up from the decks below and stood next to Jonas. “I think we should turn back, too.”
Tallow fixed Williams with a paternal gaze. “You don’t know what you’re saying, son. Going back is not the answer.”
“Well, we say it is! Selton will only receive punishment if we return to Scotland and bring him in front of a court martial,” Jonas yelled, raising a fist in the air. The men around him began chanting.
“Turn back! Turn back! Turn back!”
My blood chilled and I shivered, even though the air was temperate. I could not waste another…who knew how many weeks! The longer we took getting to Graham, the less likely it was that I’d ever see him again. Panic rose within me and I threw away Patrice’s arm before running toward the riot.
“No!” I yelled. “We cannot turn back! Please!” I pulled on the nearest man, trying to get his attention. He pushed me and I landed on my backside with a wince.
I felt strong hands around my shoulders as Mr. Ashby pulled me to my feet. “Elsie, get below deck,” he commanded.
But then I witnessed the moment their tempers rose to a boiling point. Their faces contorted in rage, and the first fist landed on Mr. Hull. Chaos ensued. The men who weren’t on deck came up through the hatch and joined the scuffle.
It turned bloody then. The rage I’d seen in the men as they started fighting only became worse, as if they’d never stop until someone died.
A painful cry sounded, and I looked on in horror as Tallow fell to the ground.
The crowd seemed to close in around him and I lost sight of him.
They had no care for the frail man as the fighting continued.
“No!” I yelled as I lunged toward where he fell. I was pulled back again, this time by Patrice. She had me in her arms and held me too firmly for me to break free. “Tallow!”
Mr. Ashby then joined the fray. I watched him take a few punches and then throw a few on his way to Tallow; I caught a glimpse of the old man lying unconscious on the deck. Through the fighting, I could see traces of blood on his face.
“Stop!” I called out, trying to get their attention so that Mr. Ashby could reach Tallow. I had half a mind to take out my pistol, but it might have made the situation worse—more deadly. We were lucky that none of the crew had drawn a gun already.
It was several moments before I saw Mr. Ashby dragging Tallow out. He set the old man down and then turned to glare at the fight behind him.
Without another second of thought, he went back to the fight. I wanted to shout for him to stop, but my focus was on Tallow. Patrice finally released me, then we raced to Tallow together.
His breathing was unsteady, and I let out a cry as I took his hand. He looked as if he’d been trampled by a mob, though it may as well have been a herd of cattle. “Tallow?” I said urgently. “Are you with us? Please, say something.”
His eyelids fluttered momentarily and then opened in slits. “Elsie. Don’t…worry. Everything will…be….” He breathed out and his hand went slack.
I shook him. “No. Tallow.” I shook him again. “Please, can you hear me?” I looked at Patrice, wide-eyed, and my chin quivered. “What do we do?”
But she didn’t have an answer. Her eyes filled with tears as she took his other hand. She checked his breathing. Her head shook when she looked at me again.
No! How could this happen? I took the elderly, frail man into my arms and cried into his hair. I heard the ongoing fight behind us, then I heard Patrice’s voice.
“Stop, ye eejits!! Ye’ve killed a man!”
My sobs echoed then as the sounds of fighting ceased. Had the world gone completely still? All I could hear was my own grief. “No, Tallow. Come back to us.”
I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see the ship’s surgeon, Mr. Ewis. He was a big, brawny Welshman who did not often speak. When he did, his voice rumbled the space around him. “Let me tend to him, Miss,” he said.
I reluctantly released Tallow and scooted back to lean against the bulkhead, quietly sobbing as I watched him.
He felt Tallow’s heartbeat at his neck, checked his breathing, and opened each eye with a thumb before letting them fall closed again.
He sighed deeply and bowed his head before slowly placing Tallow flat on the deck.
He stood, his imposing form towering over everyone there. “He’s gone.”
I bit my lip to keep from letting out a heart-wrenching sob. Patrice came to sit beside me. She was crying, too.
“Someone prepare a wrap for him and write his name down in the books. We’ll have a ceremony for him in the morning. You should all go back into your cabins and think about what you’ve done.” Mr. Ewis looked at them with a disgusted expression.
When most of the crew had dispersed, I looked up to see Mr. Ashby watching me with more than shock. It was agony. It was regret. It was heartbreak. He fell to his knees before Tallow and me. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. I knew he meant to say it to Tallow, but I felt it directed toward me as well.
“It’s not your fault,” I whispered shakily.
“I should have stopped them sooner.”
“You got him out of there when no one else even noticed him.” I didn’t know if I was comforting him, but I said these things half to myself to make sure I knew how it had all happened.
To review what went wrong. “It happened too quickly. He was right there when the fight started and he got in the middle… Why did it become violent all of a sudden? They were just speaking…and then…” I looked into Mr. Ashby’s eyes in order to communicate my confusion.
He shook his head slightly. “It happens sometimes, when men are overwhelmed. We’ve been at sea for over a month. They’re exhausted…they didn’t think their points were getting across.”
“They should be punished,” I said, wiping at my cheeks as anger surfaced.
“They will be. I saw the captain go down there with Hull. This isn’t over.”
Someone came, then, with a shroud for Tallow.
They rolled it out, put Tallow inside, and then secured it with rope.
I watched in utter despair. The man I’d come to regard as a grandfather had just perished and was now wrapped in nothing but canvas and rope.
He was to have no grave but the sea. My heart broke and I didn’t know what to do with myself.
I just sat there, clasping my hands together on my lap. What did we do now?