16

August 16th, 1737

The days passed by, one after another. The only variety was the wind. At times it went with them. Other times it went against them and they lost hard-won miles.

Anna thought her patience might snap if one more person pressed her to ask the ship’s officers “How much longer?” She had yet to ask Bairn that question; she dreaded the answer. Finally, Christian requested that she try to find out their distance to America. They had been relaxed about drinking water, using what they needed when they needed it. During rain squalls, they were able to refill barrels to have fresh water on board, but there had been little rain to collect since the first big storm, three weeks prior, and Christian wondered if they should be more judicious about its use.

Bairn told her that they were not even halfway across the ocean.

When Christian heard that report, he decided to ration the water, which caused ripples of grumbling, mostly by his wife Maria. “We have plenty of fresh water,” Christian reassured everyone. “I just want to make sure we stay that way until we reach Port Philadelphia.”

As irritating as Maria’s petulance could be, Anna understood what drove her complaints. They were all growing weary, tired of salted meat and hardtack, missing home and frightened of what lay ahead. Anna alternated between abhorring this endless sea journey and blaming herself for failing to have the strength to tolerate it. She sorely missed home and its comforts—her grandparents, the farm, sleeping in a soft clean bed, drinking milk, baking bread, eating fresh cheese—and the longer she was gone, the more intense her yearnings became. Those few times when she was above deck after dark to gaze at the night sky, it seemed impossible that her grandparents saw the same stars she did. She felt too far away to share the same heavens.

Felix was catching on to English with remarkable ability, far ahead of Catrina. Today, when she went above deck to ask Bairn how far along they were in the ocean, she overheard Felix speaking to Bairn in a charming mix of German dialect and English, as the carpenter gently corrected him.

As Anna listened, she realized that Felix didn’t translate. He listened, watched, repeated, and put the pieces of the puzzle together. No wonder he was catching on so quickly—language, for Felix, was about communication, not about perfect grammar.

Anna might have perfect grammar, a large vocabulary, and conjugated verb tenses, but she was constantly translating in her mind from one language to another and back again. Actually, three languages—now that Georg Schultz was back. He spoke only German and English, disdaining their dialect as a peasant’s tongue. By the end of each day, her brain hurt.

Georg Schultz pored over the passenger list and still hadn’t found his thief. He was frustrated and convinced the passengers were protecting someone, so tonight he called for a meeting with the men in the middle of the lower deck, right after supper. He stood on top of a trunk to get their attention. “It will do you no good to protect the thief who stole the baron’s gold watch. He must be found out. I will find him. Where is he? Who is the man named Bauer?”

Before Anna finished translating, Christian and Josef exchanged a glance. Christian formed his words carefully. “There is no man named Bauer on this ship.”

Josef stepped forward. “Perhaps the name is in error. Bauer, Byler, Beiler—there are many similar-sounding names among our people.”

Georg frowned. “I’m sure I heard the name Bauer.” He scratched his greasy hair. “He’s here. I know he’s among you.” He stared at each man. “Now who is he?”

No one responded. Even the Mennonites were silent. They stared at Georg Schultz with blank looks on their faces, until he grew so exasperated that he jumped off the trunk and stomped away. “I will find him! Mark my words.”

The story of the stolen watch plagued Anna all night. A memory tickled at the edges of her mind. Right after Johann’s funeral, as they were hurrying to depart for the boat to Rotterdam, Felix had disappeared. When he reappeared, Anna asked where he had gone and he said there was something he had to do for Johann. She assumed he had gone to his gravesite for one more goodbye.

But something occurred to her tonight as she lay on her hammock. His proper birth name, the name stated on his records at Ixheim, was Hans Felix Bauer. As was their custom, he had been named for the brother who had died before him. Not Johann, but Hans, the brother who had gone with Jacob to the New World. She looked below her hammock to the basket. The one who had given her that rose.

It also occurred to her that Captain Stedman only wanted the names of male heads of families on the passenger list. Dorothea and Felix’s names, Anna’s, too, were folded into Christian’s family. There was no Bauer on the passenger list.

The next morning, she asked Felix, point-blank, if he knew anything about the baron’s watch—anything at all. He looked her straight in the eye and said no, but she also knew him to be a skillful liar.

And then Georg Schultz came strutting down the lower deck and the boy vanished, something he seemed to do whenever the Neulander was in proximity. Felix seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once.

August 18th, 1737

The sea was glassy. When wind was scarce, there was more work for the men among the sails than when it was blowing strongly. Sailing through a windless stretch meant trimming sails every few minutes to catch the latest cat’s-paw of wind, each blowing in a different direction from the last.

The men at the sheets came off watch tired and demoralized by the log readings—a mile an hour, even less. Captain Stedman recorded fretfully one evening that they had gone ten miles back again from where they were yesterday.

Bairn ran a discerning eye over the ship, inspecting her three towering masts, her lines, and the rigging and unfurling of the square sails. In his mind, there was only one option to make way when the air was becalmed and none—to water the sails to make the canvas heavy, allowing them to hold more wind. Bairn was on his way to the Great Cabin to speak to the captain about watering the sails, thinking of how to word the suggestion carefully so as to make it seem like the captain thought of it himself, when he stopped abruptly. A foul odor wafted in and over the Charming Nancy.

Cook came out of his galley, sniffing the air. “Is it a dead whale?”

“Nay. Worse.” Bairn had smelled this particular stench before. A knot of dread formed in his middle.

Soon, a lookout gave the cry, “Sail to windward!”

Sailors climbed onto the rails, pushing for a view.

The captain hurried out of his cabin and up to the fo’c’sle. “Lookout, what’s the status of the ship?”

“Approaching larboard, sir,” came the faint response.

The captain took out his spyglass. “’Tis a slaver,” he said to Mr. Pocock and Bairn as he peered through the spyglass. “Mr. Pocock, furl the sails and slow the ship in the event that the captain of the slaver requires assistance. But if not, I do not desire a speak-to. I’ll be in my cabin.” He handed the spyglass to Bairn and strode back to his cabin.

Mr. Pocock glanced uncomfortably at Bairn. “My gout’s been acting up. If you don’t mind . . .” He handed the speaking trumpet to Bairn and hobbled away to the officers’ quarters. Bairn was left to act on behalf of the officers with the slave ship.

Seamen gathered to the larboard side to watch the approaching ship. Even the most hardened sailors were silent, mouths covered with their kerchiefs. The stench from the slave ship sucked the air from Bairn’s lungs and he wished for a cloth to mask the odor, but dared not. He felt he must look the part of the officer. When the sails were furled and the ship slowed, he steadied the powerful spyglass on the edge of the foretop to take a closer look at the slave ship. He felt a tug at his elbow and turned to see Felix.

“Have I nae told you to ne’er come up on the fo’c’sle deck without permission?”

“I vant to see.”

Bairn’s gaze swept the deck to make sure the captain and first mate were nowhere in sight. “Have you ever seen a slave ship?”

“No.”

Anna appeared at the bottom of the ladder, scrunching her nose. “Felix!”

“He’s here, Anna, looking through the spyglass. Come on up. You can rest assured that the captain won’t be comin’ out of his cabin until we’ve long passed the slave ship.”

“A slave ship?” Tentatively, Anna climbed the ladder and joined them. “Is that what the smell is?”

Bairn nodded. “Aye, and ’tis windward, so we’re gettin’ a full dose with what wind we have.” Though cold, there was a stifling absence of air. “It’s not so unusual to see them in the summer months. They come from the south, from the western coast of Africa.”

Anna stood at the railing. “Where is it going?”

“Possibly t’the Caribbean islands. But this one is west and quite far north, so mayhap ’tis headin’ to the southern colonies.”

“Can I see slaves?” Felix asked.

Anna gave him a sharp look.

Bairn adjusted the spyglass for the boy to peer through. “’Tis not a pleasant sight, laddie. Hell has taken up residence on earth. This one is ridin’ low in the water. My guess is it must have five or six hundred Africans on board.” Then he went silent.

Fascinated, Felix peered through the scope. “Vhat are they throwing in the vater?”

Bairn didn’t bother to look. “Dead Africans,” he said stiffly. “They throw over the day’s dead.”

“But . . . some are still moving.”

Bairn kept his eyes averted. “And those who are near dead.”

The closer the ship got, the stronger the smell, the more horrific the sight. Soon the ship was close enough that they could see the faces of the slaves—gaunt, hopeless. Most were naked. The slaver’s crew poured buckets of salt water over them.

Felix lowered the spyglass and looked at Bairn with troubled eyes. “Vhy do dey not get up?”

“Because they are in chains.”

He caught the pitiful wince in Anna’s eyes as they flickered straight down to the jagged raised scars on his ankles, bared from his boots after climbing the ratlines this morning to fasten a mooring to a spar. He hadn’t thought to put them back on. He knew what was running through that quick mind of hers: Was he once someone’s slave?

“I did not know that human beings could do such a thing to each other,” Anna whispered, tears running down her face. “How do they bear it?”

He lifted his gaze back to her face. “Where is your just and loving God now, Anna?”

She spun on him, eyes flashing sparks at him. “God? You think this is God’s handiwork? You blame God for this tragedy? This is not God’s doing. This is the Devil’s deed!”

The slave ship was approaching, drifting westward. The captain of the slave ship shouted out, “Ahoy! We are low on water. Have you any to spare?”

Bairn sent Johnny Reed to the Great Cabin to ask the captain for permission to release some barrels of casked water to the slaver. Back came a prompt and terse reply: “Nay.”

Bairn’s eyes closed, then he picked up the speaking trumpet. “We have no water to spare.” Silently, he added, May God forgive me. He kept his head down.

Anna stood right next to him. “But what will they do without water?”

“Most likely, they will reduce their cargo.”

“What does that mean?”

“They will start winnowin’ the cargo.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

He turned to face her, angry for what she was making him say. “They will chain a group of Africans together and shove them overboard, one by one.” He pointed to the slave ship. “As they are doin’ now.”

She gripped her elbows, hugging herself as if she felt a sudden chill. “To die.”

“Of course! ’Tis a more merciful death for the cargo than dehydration.” He had heard recently of a slaver that started with six hundred Africans and reached port with only two hundred.

“They’re not cargo.” Anna’s voice trembled as she spoke. “They’re human beings.”

Bairn stiffened. “Slavery ’tis the backbone of the British empire.” And a lucrative trade for the captain and investors. He defended it, but in truth the practice sickened him, especially conditions on a ship like this one.

“If they need water, why can’t you give them water?”

“Because we have a responsibility to our own ship first. The passengers and the crew. That is the captain’s orders and captain’s orders are law.”

She stared at him. “Felix, geh un holl mir Christian. Aa Levi Wenger. Yetz!”

Felix hopped off the fo’c’sle deck, ran along the upper deck, disappeared into the lower deck, and returned in a moment, dragging Christian and the Mennonite minister Levi Wenger along with him. Anna met them at the ladder and spoke rapidly to them. Christian’s face went blank, then he climbed up on the fo’c’sle deck and took the spyglass from Bairn to peer at the slave ship. Slowly, he lowered the spyglass and passed it to Levi Wenger. Then the two men spoke together in quiet voices.

“Geb ihnen unser Wasser,” Christian said.

Bairn looked at Anna, stunned.

“He wants you to give them our water.”

“I cannae do that. The captain wouldn’t allow it.”

“Not the crew’s water. Just the passengers’.”

Bairn shook his head. “You don’t know what yer asking. We’re already running low on water. I cannae allow that.”

Christian and Anna exchanged a look. “Would you ask the captain?” she said.

Curious Germans emerged from the mustiness and the dankness of the lower deck, blinked warily, and looked about for the source of the smell.

Bairn blew a puff of air out of his cheeks. “I will ask the captain. And he will say no.” He crossed the deck to the Great Cabin in three strides, such was his confidence that the captain would dismiss this ridiculous request.

But the captain surprised Bairn. Surprised and disappointed him. As long as the passengers agreed to pay full passage for everyone now, the captain would allow them to share half their water supplies with the slave ship. The crew would be under strict orders not to share water with the passengers. “If that’s how the Peculiars want to use their resources, so be it,” Captain Stedman said to Bairn with a curt dismissal.

Anna explained the condition to Christian and Levi, and both men nodded, then spoke to those who were on the upper deck. Most of the passengers held handkerchiefs over their noses. Some were weeping. Bairn couldn’t hear them from the fo’c’sle deck, but he saw beards and prayer caps nod in agreement.

Why? Why would they do this?

“Anna, the captain said he would put the crew under orders t’not share water. He meant what he said. Not even water for the animals.”

“We won’t ask any seaman for water. I promise.”

He wanted to shake her, to make her see what danger they were putting themselves in. “Dinnae let this happen! Why would you put yer people in that kind of jeopardy? ’Tis tantamount to suicide.”

“We believe that God will supply our needs.”

“Remember that when you lie parched on your hammock, tongue swollen, eyes bulgin’, desperate for a sip of fresh water.”

“If that is what will become of us, then at least we will meet God with a clean conscience. We will have done all we could to help those poor people.”

“Anna, you dinnae ken what yer doin’ to yerselves! Why?”

She lifted her chin. “‘For I was hungry and you gave me no meal, I was thirsty, and you gave me no drink.’”

He felt a jolt run through him, as shocking as if she had struck him. “So that’s it? Yer quotin’ the Good Book to me like a preacher? Words on a page will bring dry comfort in a week’s time if we don’t get any rain.”

She kept her eyes on the slave ship. “You might be surprised by God’s response.”

Something so moving passed over her face, he found himself nearly holding his breath. She truly believed this, that God would answer her request as if He was at her beck and call. “More likely you will all die an agonizing death by thirst.”

“We’re not going to die of thirst,” Anna said. “We’re not.” Though, she sounded less confident.

To that he only grunted. “So you say.” They were oblivious to the dangers around them. He shook his head. Some people were too thick and too stubborn to heed advice.

He took a deep breath to calm himself before he picked up the speaking trumpet and shouted to the slave ship, “Aye. We have water to spare.” He crossed to the center of the fo’c’sle deck to speak to the gathered crowd, gesturing to the companionway. “All passengers below, if you please.”

Felix relinquished the spyglass to Bairn without any argument. He and Anna joined the other passengers at the waist as they drifted silently down the companionway.

Head down, Bairn ignored the stares of his crew as he gave orders to release half the casks of the passengers’ water. They rolled the water over to the longboats while his anger simmered and stewed. After the water had been delivered to the slave ship, he directed the men to drop the sails, drawing the sheets taut so what meager wind there was could be caught in the canvas. The ship’s bell rang, signaling a watch change.

For the rest of the day, the seamen talked softly amongst themselves, not joking for a change, not horsing around, just talking quietly about the slave ship, about the Charming Nancy, and about what lay before them. Bairn climbed the ratlines as high as he could, watching until the topgallant sails of the slave ship disappeared from view, downstream and downwind.

May Anna’s God have mercy on them, he prayed, because the sun and the sea and the wind would not.