Off the Coast of Alaska
7 June 1889
Benjamin Chambers walked to the bow of the ship and scanned the billowy clouds. Fishermen were scattered around the deck. It was only halfway through fishing season, but they were sick of each other already.
A thin man joined him at the rail, and Ben clapped him firmly on the back. “You sure your family won’t mind a visitor, Levi?”
“Not at all.” Levi plunged his hands in the pockets of his wool pants. “It’ll be fun.”
“Good.” Ben inhaled and folded his arms, his feet planted firmly, keeping his large frame steady on the rocking deck. “Let’s pull up the line.”
The night before, they had laid down forty fathoms of line, with buoys marking the anchors on either end. Now, they gripped the hefty wheel, groaning as they pulled the long line resting on the ocean floor up to the surface, heavy with halibut.
The three tall masts of the ship rose above Ben’s head, the sails whipping in the Alaskan breeze. While his eyes were drawn to the rectangular gray patch in one of the sails, another man pulled Levi aside and whispered something.
Levi glanced up at Ben as he coiled a rope, nodding pleasantly. Ben’s stomach dropped with worry although he was probably being paranoid. Even if the rumors about him had traveled all this way, they’d have already been around the small ship twice. But then again, that man in Oregon had deserved what he’d got, so Ben had few regrets.
He spent most of the year hunting, but every summer for the last three years, he’d joined Levi for halibut fishing. They’d spent many late nights talking and long days working side by side. If he ever did hear the rumors, surely Levi would just confront him rather than take them on blind faith.
Later, as Ben lay in his bunk, Levi turned to face him across their tiny quarters. “Can I ask you something?”
Ben glared at him. “No, I’m sleeping.”
Levi laughed. “Is there anything about you I don’t know? Anything important?”
“I detest olives,” he said warily. “And I especially love the smell of brown Windsor soap. How about you? Any secrets?”
Levi rolled over, pulling his thin blanket up to his chin. “I hate the smell of Windsor soap. I always tell my sister Anna to stop using it. Isn’t that made with olive oil? You’re a walking contradiction, Ben Chambers.”
Ben laughed. “What can I say?”
Relieved that Levi seemed satisfied with his response, or at least he’d decided to drop it, he stretched out on his bunk, his feet dangling off the edge. Levi would give him the benefit of the doubt, he was sure. If he’d heard anything at all.
As he tried to drift to sleep, Ben imagined the clinking of champagne flutes and soft laughter drifting around a ballroom. Although he’d never been seasick a day in his life, his stomach turned at the thought. His mind spinning, he reached inside his bag hanging on the side of the bunk and pulled out a worn letter. The words were so familiar, it was impossible to read them in order—his eyes took in the whole thing as one blow to the chest, with certain phrases jumping from the page.
Dearest Benjamin,
How could you leave…
… … be ashamed of…
… … … come back to me…
… … … … I’m sorry…
… … … … … my love for you…
… … … … … I still think of you…
He folded it gingerly and returned it to the tattered envelope. Although the words stung, the letter brought a familiar comfort. He could hear her voice, imagine her lilac scent.
At the end of the season, their ship would stop in Seattle to let the majority of the crew off, and he planned to disembark there as well. It could be a new start—the ocean nearby, easy access to hunting, and no one expecting anything from him. The territory was still wild, in the best way, and might provide the anonymity he craved, with an ocean voyage escape available at any moment. He was certain that in the frontier town, surrounded by trees and mountains, he could be anyone he wanted to be.