Dawn on a Distant Shore
Page 100
"He keeps them below, in the pens." And then seeing the doubtful look on her father's face, she said: "The Hakim said Charlie could go with me."
Nathaniel put a hand on her shoulder. "Make sure you watch yourself. Don't get caught alone beldecks with any of them, you hear me?"
She studied her thumbnail. "Except Hakim Ibrahim," she said. "And Charlie and Mungo."
"Even Charlie and Mungo," said Curiosity. "I ain't sure either of them could stand up to some of the rougher types I seen around here."
Hannah dropped her gaze, and flushed. It was not like her at all, and it made Nathaniel uneasy.
He said, "It's a dangerous game we're playing, and there's too many men on this ship to keep track of."
She raised her face and he saw that Curiosity had been right: she was frightened, and trying to hide it.
"Come up on deck with me," he said.
Hannah did not argue, did not even speak a word until they were at the rail. He waited, because he had no choice. If she was to tell him what was wrong, she would do it in her own way. There were times when he thought he could see some of his own mother in his daughter's face and it was there now: that same reluctance to bend, a holding back that would bring her close to breaking.
She said, "Do you know about hell?"
He hid his surprise as best he could. "I know what the O'seronni believe about that place they call hell. I've heard enough church talk in my time, and so have you."
She hesitated. "Granny Cora believed in the O'seronni hell."
He had imagined all kinds of trouble on the short walk up to the deck--men who put hands on her, or tried to make her ashamed of the color of her skin--and this talk of damnation put him off balance. He said, "Do you think you're headed for hell?"
She let out a great sigh. "Not for me. I am not true O'seronni."
"Is it me you're worried about, going to hell?"
That got a small smile. "Your skin is white, but you are not O'seronni, either. But some say--" She glanced around herself, and then stepped closer to him. "Some say that the babies might ..."
Nathaniel drew in a breath, and waited.
She looked resolutely out over the water. "They might, if they are not baptized. Or if they are baptized papist."
A slow flush began in Nathaniel's belly and worked its way up to his chest. It was hard to draw a normal breath, but he fought to control his voice. He put a hand on her arm and turned her so he could look in her face.
"If there's a Christian hell, then it's for the kind who would fill your head with such lies. Do you hear me?"
Her face crumpled, and she collapsed forward to put her face against his chest. She was mumbling, and Nathaniel had to lean over to catch her meaning.
"... I thought he might try to take them, to save them from hell. But then you came back, and I thought they were safe."
"They are safe. Squirrel, they are safe, and so are you. He will never come near any of you again, I swear it."
She rubbed her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, and he thought his heart would break, with sorrow for her and with a terrible blind fury at the man who had brought her to these tears. She drew in a wavering sigh.
"But she watches."
"Who watches?"
"His wife. Mrs. MacKay. She watches the babies whenever we bring them on deck, and there's something in her eyes, like a cat that's hurt bad and won't come near to have her wounds tended. Maybe she thinks having the babies will fix whatever's wrong inside her. I can almost see her thinking it. I think--I think her husband promised them to her."
"The first mate?" Nathaniel asked, his voice sounding high and far away. "Adam MacKay?"
She nodded. "Mrs. MacKay watches and watches, and I'm worried that he might try to take them to save their souls. And to save her."
Later, when Hannah had gone off to bed, Curiosity said what they had all been thinking.
"Strong willed, but she comes from a line of strong women, and it will serve her well, in the end." She said this with a tired smile, and with a steady gaze in Elizabeth's direction. "There's worse faults for a woman."
"Curiosity," said Nathaniel. "Don't back down now. You were right."
Elizabeth sat up very straight, and put down her book. "Right about what, Nathaniel? Has someone been bothering Hannah?"
He told them, and watched their faces transform from surprise to anger.
"That black-hearted bastard," said Curiosity. "Using God to scare a child. There ain't nothing worse."
Elizabeth was pale. "I should have paid more attention."
Curiosity waved a hand in dismissal. "Never mind about that now. Go on and figure out what needs to get done to put things right."
In the sky above the Isis, the constellations were as clear as Elizabeth had ever seen: Dragon and Plough, and to the east Cygnus, Lyra, and the Scorpion were rising. The very same stars they would sleep under on hot summer nights at Lake in the Clouds. How strange that they could be so far from home and still watch the same stars rise and set, night by night; how little comfort they provided.
Nathaniel put an arm around her. "What're you looking for up there?"
"Some sense of order, I suppose. Something to explain Adam MacKay."
The anger in him hummed; she could feel it in his arm, in his whole body.
"Can you let me take care of it?"
Nathaniel put a hand on her shoulder. "Make sure you watch yourself. Don't get caught alone beldecks with any of them, you hear me?"
She studied her thumbnail. "Except Hakim Ibrahim," she said. "And Charlie and Mungo."
"Even Charlie and Mungo," said Curiosity. "I ain't sure either of them could stand up to some of the rougher types I seen around here."
Hannah dropped her gaze, and flushed. It was not like her at all, and it made Nathaniel uneasy.
He said, "It's a dangerous game we're playing, and there's too many men on this ship to keep track of."
She raised her face and he saw that Curiosity had been right: she was frightened, and trying to hide it.
"Come up on deck with me," he said.
Hannah did not argue, did not even speak a word until they were at the rail. He waited, because he had no choice. If she was to tell him what was wrong, she would do it in her own way. There were times when he thought he could see some of his own mother in his daughter's face and it was there now: that same reluctance to bend, a holding back that would bring her close to breaking.
She said, "Do you know about hell?"
He hid his surprise as best he could. "I know what the O'seronni believe about that place they call hell. I've heard enough church talk in my time, and so have you."
She hesitated. "Granny Cora believed in the O'seronni hell."
He had imagined all kinds of trouble on the short walk up to the deck--men who put hands on her, or tried to make her ashamed of the color of her skin--and this talk of damnation put him off balance. He said, "Do you think you're headed for hell?"
She let out a great sigh. "Not for me. I am not true O'seronni."
"Is it me you're worried about, going to hell?"
That got a small smile. "Your skin is white, but you are not O'seronni, either. But some say--" She glanced around herself, and then stepped closer to him. "Some say that the babies might ..."
Nathaniel drew in a breath, and waited.
She looked resolutely out over the water. "They might, if they are not baptized. Or if they are baptized papist."
A slow flush began in Nathaniel's belly and worked its way up to his chest. It was hard to draw a normal breath, but he fought to control his voice. He put a hand on her arm and turned her so he could look in her face.
"If there's a Christian hell, then it's for the kind who would fill your head with such lies. Do you hear me?"
Her face crumpled, and she collapsed forward to put her face against his chest. She was mumbling, and Nathaniel had to lean over to catch her meaning.
"... I thought he might try to take them, to save them from hell. But then you came back, and I thought they were safe."
"They are safe. Squirrel, they are safe, and so are you. He will never come near any of you again, I swear it."
She rubbed her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, and he thought his heart would break, with sorrow for her and with a terrible blind fury at the man who had brought her to these tears. She drew in a wavering sigh.
"But she watches."
"Who watches?"
"His wife. Mrs. MacKay. She watches the babies whenever we bring them on deck, and there's something in her eyes, like a cat that's hurt bad and won't come near to have her wounds tended. Maybe she thinks having the babies will fix whatever's wrong inside her. I can almost see her thinking it. I think--I think her husband promised them to her."
"The first mate?" Nathaniel asked, his voice sounding high and far away. "Adam MacKay?"
She nodded. "Mrs. MacKay watches and watches, and I'm worried that he might try to take them to save their souls. And to save her."
Later, when Hannah had gone off to bed, Curiosity said what they had all been thinking.
"Strong willed, but she comes from a line of strong women, and it will serve her well, in the end." She said this with a tired smile, and with a steady gaze in Elizabeth's direction. "There's worse faults for a woman."
"Curiosity," said Nathaniel. "Don't back down now. You were right."
Elizabeth sat up very straight, and put down her book. "Right about what, Nathaniel? Has someone been bothering Hannah?"
He told them, and watched their faces transform from surprise to anger.
"That black-hearted bastard," said Curiosity. "Using God to scare a child. There ain't nothing worse."
Elizabeth was pale. "I should have paid more attention."
Curiosity waved a hand in dismissal. "Never mind about that now. Go on and figure out what needs to get done to put things right."
In the sky above the Isis, the constellations were as clear as Elizabeth had ever seen: Dragon and Plough, and to the east Cygnus, Lyra, and the Scorpion were rising. The very same stars they would sleep under on hot summer nights at Lake in the Clouds. How strange that they could be so far from home and still watch the same stars rise and set, night by night; how little comfort they provided.
Nathaniel put an arm around her. "What're you looking for up there?"
"Some sense of order, I suppose. Something to explain Adam MacKay."
The anger in him hummed; she could feel it in his arm, in his whole body.
"Can you let me take care of it?"
