Chapter 4: Within

In the space of a few minutes more John had finished his work below, and came out on deck. The gray-bottomed clouds had begun to roll in from the darkening sea, casting swiftly moving shadows across the distant buildings of the town. The fresh breeze blew across the busy deck as all was prepared for sail. John took a cursory look about the ship for the blond sailor that had joined him in his cabin, but could not spot him. He also looked around for his wife, and soon found her, standing near the bow, already violating the restrictions placed on the passenger’s movement. She was in fact speaking with an air of friendly familiarity with the second mate. He watched her. She was about to reach out and touch his bare arm, when she caught herself and drew her hand back.

John felt his teeth grind together. He cast his gaze around, taking in the other sailors, strong, tattooed, mean, unschooled, wondering if it was safe to bring his beautiful wife on this voyage at all. John had led a sheltered life, but one need not be a man of the world to understand why the superstition had arisen that women were bad luck at sea. He reminded himself of his love for her, yes, but also gave quarter to an equal feeling of annoyance at her for taking this risk. He saw in her free gestures toward the burly seaman an intimacy that was missing from his relation to her, which revelation only deepened the hardness arisen in his heart. He had not wished to be placed in a position that demanded him to watch out for her very carefully, perhaps even to the degree of keeping her constantly in sight, and sincerely hoped that he would not be forced to take such action. More to the point, what if he were to become seasick, a possibility that loomed very likely. He imagined himself alternately alone in his cabin as his wife roamed the decks alongside the wild sea men, or at his side, pressing unwelcome remedies upon him with her characteristic brand of ruthless goodwill. At the thought, he was forced to start suddenly, as a sailor on his left carelessly dropped an instrument he had been carrying. He saw the man smile up at the nearby captain, front teeth missing beneath his scraggly mustache and dirty face, and he shuddered as the thought of that hot breath on his new wife’s tender neck.

Iris saw him where he stood, threw her arm up in an enormous grand wave, and broke off her conversation with the seaman to rush toward him. The mate Adam turned to regard him with his heavy eyes, then turned away to continue his work. Around them, the crew busily prepared to cast off, many straining like horses around the circular capstan, raising the anchor from its dirty hold. Their robust voices rose and fell in song timed to the rhythm of their steps in labor. At the wharf’s edge, a group of only ten people from town had come down to wish their sons and husbands off. It was difficult to make out more than rudiments of facial expressions from their distance, but the tense attitudes of their bodies seemed to echo the reservations about the voyage previously voiced in town.