Throat Seizing

Lucky’s hands froze. Layered like a crude lattice pattern across Daniel’s back were a collection of angry red welts. Under these were older scars, white snaking lines, raised like cords of rope. Lucky’d seen men get lashed before. But never anything like this.

Daniel lurched forward, yanking the fabric out of Lucky’s hands. Then he stood very still, head down and breathing heavily.

“Who did this?’ Lucky asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Jessup,” Daniel said. He reached behind him and pulled the fabric of the dress together.

“For what?”

“One thing or another,” Daniel snapped. “Didn’t always say.”

Lucky lowered his hands and took a deep breath. He forced his fingers back into motion, as if by lacing the stays on Daniel’s gown he could somehow loosen the knot which had tightened around his gut. His hands trembled as he completed the task. Lucky struggled to find the right words to say, but none would come. All he could think of were the floggings he’d seen at sea: hardened sailors reduced to tears by a few bites of the lash. All thoughts of Fortuna, Lowell, and the mill faded. Lucky closed his eyes, but the image of the whipping scars lingered, a terrible map of what the future might hold.

As the uncomfortable silence stretched on, small black lengths of fabric fluttered down into the landing like a flock of ravens. One landed on Lucky. He glanced down and shuddered at the sight of thin black fingers on his shoulder, as though poised to grab hold.

“Gloves!” Daniel cried, a smile warming his face.

Lucky relaxed a bit, but the knot in his belly failed to ease. He followed Daniel’s lead and put the gloves on. Now, at least, their hands wouldn’t give them away.

When Daniel was finished dressing, he put his hands on his hips. Lucky stared at him in disbelief. “You make a real sissy-looking girl,” he said.

Daniel gave him a half smile. “You sure are an ugly old lady.”

“I expect you’ll both do,” Mrs. Cabral said, huffing a bit as she descended the staircase.

A shutter banged against the house and Lucky bit his lip. The afternoon would soon turn to evening. “Come on,” he told Daniel. “We need to get moving.”

“Where to?”

But Lucky was still working on a plan. He shrugged. Best he not say too much in front of Mrs. Cabral, anyway. That way she wouldn’t have to lie if Fortuna showed up.

On his way out the door, she handed Daniel a black silk parasol.

“Mrs. Cabral…,” Lucky started, but his throat threatened to close over his voice.

She hugged him to her, and he took a deep breath that smelled of earth and soap. “You can thank me by making good use of your talents. Don’t waste what you’ve learned.” She opened the door a crack, checked the street, and motioned to them.

Lucky held onto the banister as he made his way down the stairs, careful not to trip over the hem of the gown. He worked Mrs. Cabral’s words like a rigger worked a tough knot. What could she have meant? He glanced back, hoping to get a clue from her expression. But the door was already shut.

The sidewalks were unusually crowded for this time of day. But the wind was full of sand, which churned through the air, causing folks to squint and cover their eyes. No one seemed to pay much attention to a pair of ladies making their way down South Water Street.

A gull cried. Lucky pushed the shawl higher and looked up to see Delph circling overhead.

“Wish I could figure that bird out,” he said to Daniel. “Knows us even dressed like this.”

The corners of Daniel’s mouth turned up but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Tension showed in the little line that formed between his brows. “That’s one for the Hereafter,” he said absently as he scanned the pressing crowds and opened the parasol.

“We’re better off like this, packed like fish in a barrel,” Lucky said. “Fortuna’s less likely to spot us.”

“Mayhap,” Daniel whispered in too-high a voice. Was he trying to sound like a girl? Lucky peered at him, but the black silk obscured his face.

A large crowd gathered to the east, at the corner of Walnut and Front Streets. Lucky turned that way but Daniel resisted, pulling him north instead.

“Someone over there can tell us what’s going on.”

“All right,” Daniel relented, “but pull your shawl down and bend your back. You’re walking more like a sailor than a decrepit old woman.”

His friend’s nerves were pulled tight as a triple-loop knot. If Daniel couldn’t relax, he might do something that would give them away. Lucky had an idea. “Guess I’m not good at playing the part. You seem suited to it, though. You’ve a spring in your step sure to charm any half-sober sailor.”

Daniel scowled.

“I’d keep a keen lookout, were I you.”

“For what?” Daniel checked behind them as he spoke.

“Lads with number 8 on their minds.”

“What’s number 8?” he asked.

“Whaleman’s commandment #8: ‘love as many women as you can catch.’ One of those boys might mistake you for a fancy catch.”

Daniel stopped and stared at Lucky in disgust.

Now that was the Daniel he knew. “Someone’s making a speech.” Lucky pointed toward the waterfront.

A group gathered at the entrance to one of the wharves, where a man stood on a large barrel and addressed the crowd. He held his hat to his head to keep it from blowing away.

“Within the hour,” they heard the man say.

“Where?” someone in the crowd shouted.

“We know not, my good man. There are boats keeping watch in the harbor even now.”

“What can we do?” a woman called.

“You’d best keep a vigilant eye, madam. It’s possible they’re already here, walking among us.”

Lucky tapped the shoulder of a boy standing in front of them. He pulled the shawl close so the boy couldn’t see his face. “What’s all the ruckus?” he asked in his best imitation of a squeaky old crone.

“Kidnappers! Come to capture fugitive slaves and take ’em back south,” the boy said excitedly.

Daniel’s arm supporting Lucky shook slightly.

The boy leaned close.

“Show some respect,” Lucky squeaked.

The youth shifted on his feet. “No disrespect intended, ma’am, but you and your daughter might want to stay indoors. On account of your being colored, I mean. There’s to be bad men about, and you ladies don’t want to get mixed up in it.”

“That’s mighty good advice,” Lucky squealed. “I’ve always told my Frances to stay well away from the docks, haven’t I, Frances?” When Daniel said nothing, Lucky continued, “Men there have no good on their minds and little money besides.” He knew they should be moving on, but being a part of the crowd made Lucky feel safer.

Daniel pinched his arm.

“D’you hear the boy, Frances? We should get well away.”

“Yes, Mother,” Daniel mumbled as Lucky led him east along the waterfront. “Where are we going?” he whispered.

“We have to blend in with the crowd and get over to Raab’s wharf.”

“Two ladies all dressed in black on an abandoned wharf? Don’t you think that will make folks a mite suspicious?”

Lucky thought for a moment. “You’re right. When we get near, you should hide behind one of the pilings. Arouse less notice that way.”

Daniel shook his head but allowed Lucky to lead him across the waterfront. The wind was so strong now that the skirts of their gowns billowed like sails.

“Wait here,” Lucky pointed to a stout piling at the outer edge of the wharf. He moved as quickly as Beulah’s skirt would allow, toward the wall of Raab’s shack.