Excerpt
Man overboard!
The pilot spun the wheel. The sail luffed, and the schooner slowed in the ocean trough.
Where? shouted crewmen, loosening the lifeboat.
Off starboard, the pilot craned around to point. The boom knocked over our passenger. See im anywheres?
Hold on there. Whataya doin? a crewman yelled.
A teenager, stripped of shirt and knickers, balanced atop the rail. He dove long to emerge ten yards on a rising swell. Heavy kicks, butterfly strokes, the swimmer disappeared beyond wave crests.
Get that boat off, skipper ordered. Follow the boy, afore I lose both a them.
Crewmen scrambled to smack the lifeboat on the marbled-green surface. Six men pulled oars where the helmsman pointed.
Damn slight chance the fools alive, grumbled a rower. Jest like a landsman ta get drown on his maiden voyage.
The helmsman glimpsed the pair, an ashen face gripped by one mahogany arm, the other stroking toward the boat.
There, pull to port, the helmsman called. Harder, lads. Steady. Now, ship those oars. Henry, grab his jacket, and heave im aboard.
Sailors lifted a young mans limp body over the gunwale and onto the boats floor, face up. His rescuer sprang into the lifeboat and shoved shipmates aside.
Paul fix em.
No use, boy. Hes a goner. They shrugged and slumped back.
The dark youth, robust body glistening with seawater, moved over the drenched passenger. He flipped the body and lifted to squeeze the mans chest with thick arms. Water drained from sodden mouth and nose. Satisfied, he propped the body face up against the boats side and gripped the face.
Hey, whats he doin?
The boy kneeled and covered the mans mouth with full lips. His muscular chest heaved as he blew air down the inert lungs while hands pressed the rhythm of breath. The man sputtered and gagged. The rescuer released him to struggle alone.
Spirit come back. Not need my breathe. Paul cold. Take us to ship.
Never saw nuthin like it, the helmsman grunted. To the oars, men. Quick, quick. Dont want our delicate passenger to catch his death of cold.
Skipper and crew lifted the man, clad in damp suit, aboard the two-masted vessel. His eyes swam loose, and his nose ran phlegm. They stretched him out on the deck.
Best let the heathen see to him, captn. The boys a fish in water, but no Christian ever used such unnatural practices ta bring the dead back to life.
Crew carried the groggy passenger along passageways and flung the body onto the berth. The swarthy youth followed. He unbuttoned the mans trousers, jacket, and shirt, peeling off the soaked clothing, but, when he tried to remove underclothes, the man resisted.
No good, wet. Be dry or be sick, boss.
Pushed away, the boy sat on the edge and looked around the cabin. Blankets lay atop a trunk. Removing one, he discovered a bottle of rum, partly drunk.
* * *
Captain, I must register a complaint. I woke from a nap to find my berth damp, my clothes scattered wet upon the floor. Furthermore, someones pilfered an object from my cabin. You have a thief aboard.
. The schooner rolled and yawed as it ploughed through heavy seas. Chase braced against jolts and shutters, holding to a rail. The captains eyes never left the rigging, but his mouth formed a terse smile.
Have ye no memory of yer misadventure, Mister Chase?
Misadventure?
The pilot believes the boom struck ye and pitched ye ass over tea kettle into the Gulf a Maine. Ships boy saved ye and conjured ye back to life. Do ye recall none a this? The captains head swung around, and his eyes trapped Chase.
God in Christ, man. That accounts for my rasping throat and a taste of salt.
Watch yer language, Mister Chase. I allow no blasphemin aboard this God-fearin ship. To the point, ye owe the lad a debt of gratitude. Ill call im up from the galley. He gestured to a crewman.
In moments Chase saw a large figure bound up the companionway, shoulders touching the narrow passage. Closer, the figure became a man-sized youth with a reddish-brown complexion. Thick hair, straight and black, extended in a braid below the shoulders.
Yes, capn. he said, remaining a respectful distance below the two men.
Paul, Ive called ye ta meet Mister George Chase, the passenger ye saved.
Paul hurt you? Most sorry. Fight tween water and life. Water angry, fight back, but life win. A bright set of teeth grinned at Chase.
Yes, you and water had it out over my rib cage, sore as that is, young man. I suppose I owe you thanks for the heroic effort. My parents would have been distressed at my passing, and my future employer would have wondered at my absence. Paul, is it?
He okay? Paul asked the skipper.
Mister Chase, English aint Pauls first language. Speak directly ta the lad. Yes, Paul, hes okay.
By the way, young man, Chase halted the departing boy. Something disappeared from my cabin. You have it?
Bottle of rum? Paul take and throw into sea. Now boss not fall off ship.
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