Chapter 2: The Poor Englishman

The pot blackened with heat and the fire licked the round bottom. Gordon stood at the edge of the stove bent over with a poker stirring the burning wood and bearing the tiny sparks that bit into his outstretched arm. The poker scraped the steel door as he pushed it close. He glanced over to Hardin through the dim light of the fire and he said, “So, how’d you end up in the water like that?”

            Hardin sat in the corner behind the veil of darkness and saw the candle lit across the room above the table and said, “There was a ship coming from England to America. It cost me six dollars for the ticket and it was for the lowest quarters. The ship wasn’t the biggest, it probably held four hundred people perhaps but the ship’s alarm went off and people began to panic. No one knew what happened but those of us near the engineering level could hear the men shouting that something had caught fire and made an explosion in the stern port side. Most of us had already escaped to the main deck but we could hear a lot of people still down there screaming for help. After a while though, as it started to go down, it was quiet and some boys of mine knew that a sinking ship will suck you down if you aren’t far enough away. So we jumped overboard and Connor, a navigator, said we were less than fifteen miles from the New Jersey shore, so we started to swim. We swam for days but a few of us drowned and then fins began coming up around us. After that I just kept swimming and didn’t look back anymore.”

            Gordon felt a wave of sorrow wash over him just as he’d felt when he netted fish waist deep along the New Jersey shoreline. The water chilled his chest more with a strong eastern breeze and the waves were warm and cleansing but not to Hardin. To Hardin, a wave was an undertow that would drown him in the darkness and a jetting fin was a monster that would shred the skin from his limbs and drag him beneath the current into the open water. He gripped a dinner chair and scraped it across the floor to the bedside and turned it backwards and leaned his elbows against the back and said, “This is something you’ll find is expected of the sea. Men seek adventure and the ocean will bring them hell for it. Those who have been claimed by the sea don’t regret their voyage and they don’t blame the sea either. She is a terrible woman with no reason and no regrets and she nurtures whom she pleases. She picks her children and you, Mr. Wesley, just happen to be nibbling at the tit right now.”

            Hardin felt the sincerity. He smiled into the darkness and said, “Gordon, I think you’re on to something, but I’m going to have a dark hour or two before I know for sure.”

            Gordon dipped his head into his folded arms and stared at the hardwood floors and said, “Thirty years ago, my father and I built a house here. Though, the stilts were only tall enough to handle the standing water that the marsh brings in but we never accounted for the hurricanes that come through every few years. The first one didn’t take us but the second and the third learned us a lesson. We had to rebuild it on top of ten foot stilts and we both agreed that was more than enough. I’ve done good upkeep and helped the fish market here. My father was never one for ships and that ran off on me. I stick close to the shore and I bring in a lot of rare fish that way. Rich folk like the bitter taste of a rich fish more than the sweet water that you find more common. I can teach you somethin or another but I think once you’re well enough, you’ll find the city life more appealing. New Jersey is a fine city I think.”

Gordon rolled out of his chair holding his belly and poking the fire again and stirring the stew. He grabbed the remains from the rabbits and tossed them over the side rail of the staircase outside. The wind was howling and he said, “Storm’s comin in. Electricity is real sensitive you know, so out here I don’t keep it. I save a lot of money from it and I don’t mind the dark much.”

He ran water over the cutting board and placed it beside the sink. He reached above the table and turned the kerosene lamp brighter and then returned to his chair beside the bed. He glanced out the window at the stagnant marsh and watched the fire flies hover beside the trees. A family of geese passed through the brush of cat tail and waddled toward a pond closer to the cabin. They could hear the possums scurrying beneath the staircase where the rabbit’s remains were. Hardin disturbed the silence, “Do you think anyone knows about the ship sinking yet?”

Gordon sat up and kept his stare through the window and he said, “I’m sure they’ve heard about it. Jonas’ll probably come by and tell us all about it in a few days. Jonas is a good man. I told him to bring his truck by if it started actin’ funny. If you don’t know nothin’ about cars already, I’ll teach you somethin. It’s pretty easy and they say you learn somethin better when you teach it.”

Hardin sat up against the wall and rolled his head across the wooden grooves and said, “I would love to Gordon. I haven’t seen an American car since I was in the navy. From what I understand they say European cars are better.”

Gordon glared with the flame passing his eyes and he said, “Nonsense! When my son wrote me, he mentioned having to teach the brits how to fix their own trucks. He said they couldn’t tell the difference between a spark plug and a wheel bearing.”

They laughed together and Gordon said, “Smells good in here. Those rabbits were a clean catch. I’ve been meanin to ask you, how’d you convince yourself to come to America?”

“It didn’t take much.” He said as he hissed in pain while readjusting, “I don’t have any family back home. I couldn’t find a reason not to so now I’m here.”

Gordon nodded and rested his chin against the back of the chair and said, “Well, I hope it’s everything they said it’d be.”

Hardin smiled and took a big whiff and said, “Is it boiling?”

            Gordon jumped up and took out the poker and stabbed at the ashes to flare the fire up again. He took a spoon out of the stew and blew on it for a moment before touching it to his lips and letting it run down through his thick beard. “Good, real good.” He said

            He grabbed a few dishrags and wadded them up in his hands and grabbed the handles on the pot. He hung it carefully on the highest hook and found the bowls and spoons and filled them. He dropped the spoon in and carried it to Hardin. “Thank you sir, it smells delicious.”

            He sat down in the chair for a moment before placing his bowl on the floor beside him and saying, “Damnit, I forgot the pepper. You care for some?”

            “Please!”

            It dissolved in the soup and the steam rose to his nostrils with the aroma of chicken broth and ground pepper. After a few minutes of cooling and blowing across the surface, they slurped it down carefully. 

A silence fell through the cabin and they exchanged glances until Gordon grabbed the bowl from his lap and carried it to the sink. He felt the soup warming him and sinking into his eyelids making them heavy. The fire was barely going and soft footsteps danced him to sleep.

            As the days passed, Gordon came and went. Hardin’s pain was minimal only when he walked. He had lost track of just how long he had been there, but he was reminded immediately when a knock came at the door. Gordon had gone to town so he crossed the cabin and pulled the door open slowly. He was hoping it was Jonas but it was not.

            A man with a wide black belt holding a nice pair of black trousers and a short sleeve black button up tucked into them tightly; a gun holstered on the side and a night stick on the other and his badge was polished against his chest. He removed his hat letting his thick curly black hair loose that was shaved on the sides and it ran over his forehead like a pig’s tail. He smiled and said with authority, “Gordon around?”

            “No sir. He went into town a few hours ago. He should be back before nightfall.”

            The moment the words left his lips, the policeman inspected him up and down and he said, “What’s your name young man?”

            He felt his hesitation and he said, “Hardin Wesley, sir.”

            His eyes narrowed and he saw the scars in his lips and his weak stance and the policeman said, “When did you get here?”

            “Only a few days ago, sir, I’ve lost track of exactly how long.”

            The policeman saw his deeply burned face and hands and he said, “You say just a few days? You think a little over a week maybe? I ask, because we just got word of a ship coming from England and it was supposed to dock eight days ago but we can’t seem to find it. This morning though, we got a lot of bodies washin’ up on the shore close by. You know anything about that?”

            Hardin gulped hard and he said, “Yes sir, I do.”

            “You well enough to walk?”

            “I believe so, sir. Where are we going?”

“To the beach, we’re all over there right now. Gordon’s a good friend of mine and he’s a sharp fella. I thought he might have seen somethin.”

            They left the cabin after Hardin was dressed. The policeman helped him tie his boots and put a shirt on. He said, “Don’t You think we should leave a note telling him where I went?”

            “He’ll pass that way before he gets back. He’ll see us down there if we ain’t already back.”

            The morning sun was strong and they passed the bare country road and climbed up the valley’s hillside on a beaten path leading to the strong sea breeze. The salt in the air was poisoned by the bodies that were strewn about the beach. Washed up and half eaten, the men standing over them were holding thick handkerchiefs over their noses and mouths as they talked to one another. They looked out along the coast and saw debris still floating towards the beach. The skin was rotted from the bacteria in the water and oversaturated. When they tried to pick them up, the skin came off like a loose glove. They watched the gulls glaring at the men below them, waiting to feast until after they had gone. More bodies came in throughout the day and policeman with rifles were shooting the birds that were hovering over them further out at sea until the body came in close enough to place in a bag.

            Another car pulled up, a nicer one and a man that was well dressed was quickly identified as the mayor. The chief of police walked alongside him and the officer from earlier grabbed Hardin by the arm and approached them. “This is Hardin Wesley, Mayor. He seems to be the only survivor that we know of right about now.”

            The mayor’s eyes were cold and restless as he scanned across the beach watching the men line up the black bags. The chief spoke up, “How’d it happen? Parker here says you were in the English navy. I’m sure you’re the best witness we’re gonna find anyway.”

            Hardin’s eyes were deep and full of sorrow as he nodded and said, “Well, about nine days ago the ship was fine. On a ship, the engineering level is the lowest and just above that was my berthing along with a few of my boys.”

            “Berthing? You mean your room?” said the mayor

“Yes, sir. The night before the ship sank; we all shared stories of what we had heard about America.  Some seemed truer than others, but we were anxious to find out regardless. When we were fifteen miles out from the shoreline, there was a loud boom and most of us in the bar near the front of the ship jumped out of our seats. My boys and I left and hammered down every door getting people out and telling them how to get to the main deck. We tried to go down to the engineering level, but someone had already dogged the door down and with the pressure from the water on the other side, we couldn’t open it.”

            His eyes welled up in tears and he continued, “We could hear people beating on it for help and we tried and tried to turn the handle. We could hear the ship moaning as it sank until the beating was just a desperate knock. And the knocking turned into a light tapping and after that there was…nothing. We left the door in the dark and ran our hands along the wall until we came up to the main deck when Jimmy told us were close enough to shore to swim there. We told everyone to jump off with us, but they didn’t want to. The people in the life rafts were tossed out by the waves and they swam alongside us as we called to them. Women in elegant dresses were the first to drown because the waves wouldn’t let them take them off. Then the children, and at last it was just a handful who had lasted through the night. Jimmy couldn’t swim anymore and an undertow caught him and he didn’t have the energy to get out. The sharks loomed behind us and the handful that was still alive just kept swimming. The sharks came in close and grabbed two more of my friends. Blood in the water is a bad thing because it drives sharks mad.”

            He slowed his speech and wiped his tears into his hands and he continued, “So I left my two friends and just kept swimming. I heard them scream for a second before they were pulled under but I didn’t look back.”

            Another deep, raspy breath and he said, “There was no rain for the third day and no clouds in the sky. I knew that if sharks didn’t get me, the sun would. My fingernails came off and so did my toenails. I fell asleep watching the gulls hover over me until Gordon found me. He shot at them and brought me to the cabin and he’s been taking care of me ever since.”

            By this time, everyone had stopped what they were doing and they listened with wide eyes and their hearts racing. They saw the tears streaming down his face and their mouths were drawn down as the agony left his lips. The Mayor spoke up, “Well, Mr.Wesley, I…”

He glanced at the policeman who had brought him and said, “Parker, you can go ahead and take him back to Gordon. We’ll do this another time.”

            Officer Parker said, “Come on Mr. Wesley, let’s get you back home.”

            Hardin held his face in his hands as he walked with him over the seawall to the valley and then the dirt road running through the marshes. The cabin was lonely and quiet as they walked up the steps together when Parker said, “I…I’m really sorry about what happened Mr. Wesley. I’ll come back in another week, will that be alright?”

            He nodded and passed through the open front door and cleaned his face off and said, “That will be fine Parker. Thank you for helping me get back.”

            Parker smiled and said, “My pleasure Mr. Wesley. I look forward to seeing you next week. I’ll let Gordon know I’m comin.”

            “Afternoon Parker.”

            He tipped his hat and walked down the steps and passed the marshes until he reached the mailbox and the dirt road. He followed it until he went over the hilltop and disappeared.

            When his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep and dreamt of being the man beating on the door. He screamed for hours but no one came and he drowned in his own tears.

            Gordon was standing over him when he woke up and he said, “Sounds like a bad dream.”

            Hardin sat up and rubbed his eyes and said, “I was drowning like the people on the ship. No one would help me.”

            He looked at him as he tossed a match into the stove and said, “I heard you spoke to the mayor. He seemed kinda shook up. What’d you tell em?”

            “Only what happened. Did they find anyone else alive?”

            “Don’t think so. If they do, I’m sure Parker will let you know when he comes by next week.”

He lied back down and said, “I’m not as sore as I was. My skin still throbs but it’s nothing I can’t get through. Did you go by the beach?”

            “Sure did. People are still bustling around waitin for bodies to come in. They say they can’t just pick em up because the skin comes off too easy. They got plenty of police out there to keep the gulls clear. Gonna heat up this stew from yesterday, you alright to eat?”

            He smiled and said, “I’m starving.”

Reviews

[Adora.xo]

Okay wow... If you publish this, I will buy it. And I would like to start off by saying that this has some real literary merit in it! The characters are brilliant, and the descriptions even more so! When Weasly was describing what had happened I saw it! You're words are descriptive but your sentices aren't too wordy! It's perfect!