Chapter 10. Long Day Into Night
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Jim squinted into the sunlight, trying to see where the men on horseback were traveling to. The riders stayed in a tight group, moving quickly between the wagons in the narrow dirt paths. The hounds brayed again and rushed between fields of cane, chasing unseen quarry.
"Jim?" Artie's tired voice whispered behind him, "I think we have a visitor. I hope it's the picnic lunch I ordered. Delivery has been awfully slow today."
Jim turned to look past his friend toward a small man carrying a yoke around his shoulders. On one end was a large woven basket and the other was a stone jug. A length of string dangled from the jug handle tied to a tin cup, swinging, as the old man struggled to walk. He tilted toward the side of the jug indicating it was much heavier than the basket.
"I ordered steak and eggs," Artie continued, "what did you want?"
"A jug of whiskey and a basket of whatever he has," Jim growled. He wiped sweat form his forehead with his tattered shirt. He had pulled it back on over his shoulders to keep the sun from burning his skin even more. Artie moved slowly forward as the other men in their group approached the old man. Jim stole another glance at the horsemen as they circled the fields again and stepped over to join his partner.
"Thank you," Artie said, nodding, as the man handed him a thick slice of heavy bread. "Looks as good as steak for now." The men were all handed a piece of bread and then took turns with the cup, tipping the water jug carefully so they didn't spill a drop.
Jim chewed his lunch, holding the bread in one hand while rubbing the other hand over his stomach. "I think I could use the eggs if they're out of steaks. Tough work on bread and water," he sighed. He paused as he watched Artie tightening a piece of rope around the waist of his pants. He swallowed hard, the bread making a lump in his throat, as he noticed how thin his partner had become. Artie's usual round face had become gaunt and grey, even under his tanned skin. Jim looked down at the bread and shook his head. His stomach growled painfully but he knew had often gone longer without food. "I never could stand dry bread. Here," he said, handing it to Artie without looking at him.
"What?" Artemus said, stepping back. "I'm not eating your food." He glared hard into Jim's worried blue eyes. "I'm fine. Besides," he winked, suddenly grinning again, "I have some extra servings. There was a two for one sale on day old bread." He tapped his shirt where it was tucked into the pants waistband.
Jim stole a glance at the old man as he shuffled away toward the next group. "Anyone for a second helping?" Artie suddenly held out more slices of bread to the other men who all grabbed at it greedily. Saving a few pieces, he handed another one to Jim. "It's not steak and eggs but I thought one piece was a little stingy. I grabbed a few extras when he wasn't looking. He probably wouldn't care anyway even if he did notice me."
"Let's hope they haven't counted them," Jim said, eating again. The pain in his throat had subsided after seeing his friend's slight-of-hand trick. His partner was still thinking on his feet.
The hounds suddenly brayed close by and the workers were yelling and pointing down the path near the wagon they had been filling with cane stalks. Men ran ahead of the hounds as the animals darted around them. The noses of the big dogs glided over the ground and their long ears dragged in the dirt. They seemed to ignore the humans and moved quickly past Jim. He stepped back off the road and watched the dogs dart from man to man, sniffing each leg and foot. "What the hell?"
Blaine came to stand next to Jim, nodding, "getting our scent." He pointed to the dogs, "see that big one there, that's the leader. Watch him hang back and then go in a new direction." The dogs darted past them, "they is getting our scent in case one of us runs, I guess. I saw a chain gang back home once." He paused to stuff bread into his mouth, swallowing, Jim and Artie, and a few others gathered to listen "a man ran from the group. He had smashed the pick ax into the chain and broke it before the guards noticed. He ran but the guards released their dogs and they got him. Chewed him all up but he wasn't dead."
"Back to the chain gang," Artie muttered.
"No,' Blaine said quietly, "They hung him after he ran." The group stood in a quiet circle, eating the stolen second helping, and watched the hounds move away from them. Men followed on horses. One man rode closer, more slowly, and stopped near their group. He wore a wide brimmed hat with it pulled down low, keeping his eyes in shadow. He rode a tall, white horse and carried a long rifle in his right hand. The man's eyes looked at each sailor, doing a quick survey of who was there, then rode off quickly.
"And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him." Artemus turned as the man rode past, and then looked back at his partner with worried eyes. Blaine and Rowdy exchanged a nervous glance and stepped closer to Jim.
"Well I don't know if that man is Death himself but he is definitely looking for someone," he said to the young men near him. "The dogs must be searching for a particular scent, tracking this area. I bet a worker was here and slipped away and now that man is following." He stole a glance back to his partner, "note the gear? Worn saddle, boots," he shook his head "hired tracker. That rifle he is carrying in a Trapdoor Springfield; accurate over a long distance and more reliable in this humid, wet air. The damp wouldn't bother the powder like these muskets. That man could shoot over a long distance. And that long legged horse looks like a Tennessee Walker. It could run you down in a few yards." He turned to grin at his partner, "and you don't need to quote Revelations every damn time we see a guy on a white horse." Artie laughed, turning back to their work.
The local guards approached, yelling at them, pushing men back toward the stalks of sugar cane. Artie whispered to Jim, as their group broke up, "If we could hide in the jungle, wait for another ship, a military ship…" he shook his head in disgust, "If I could just speak their language."
"We'll see tonight," Jim muttered back, making a slow move to hand Artie his machete so they could talk longer. "We need food. After the night's meal, we will see what happens, if we can make a clean break. Just you and me though," he said, nodding toward the younger men. "No need to drag them into it. The ship is a good home for them. We just need to get back to our home."
Artie let out a long sigh, "it would be hard on the crew to lose us. But I do want to get back. Let's see what happens tonight. I know I couldn't run very far now, not on bread and water." He swung the machete, warming up his tired muscles. "Which is why they only feed the workers bread and water, I'm sure." He paused as the hounds started barking loudly. They turned to see all the horsemen, formed in a tight group, galloping toward the jungle in the far distance. "They found the scent now. I wonder who the poor bloke is."
Jim snorted as he faced the corn stalks, "probably Holliday." He sliced the machete through the cane, throwing bits of plant everywhere as the stalks fell. Artie fell into step next to him as they began their afternoon work.
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Later that evening, as the sun was setting….
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The sun was low in the sky when a man rode by ringing a large, brass handbell. The horse's ears flickered at the sharp sound.
Jim stopped his cutting and straightened his back. When his area had fallen into deep shadow, he and Artie had slowed their work. The day had left them drained and exhausted. Jim walked to the dirt road to watch the man ride past, the clanging getting fainter as the bell moved farther away.
"I was done an hour ago," Artie sighed. "I have never been this bushed in my life."
Jim squinted into the jungle and looked back at his partner, knowing his friend was spent. "I don't really feel like running and hiding in the dark tonight either. Maybe after we eat and see what happens." Blaine and Rowdy moved to his side, neither looking too tired. "How are you two doing?"
Blaine shrugged, as if the work was nothing unusual, and grinned, "I won't be complaining next time I cut up an ole, greasy whale. That will seem like easy work compared to this swinging a machete all day."
Jim grinned and smacked his young friend on the shoulder, "I agree. I almost miss the ship."
Other men were being pushed up the road by guards on horseback and on foot. Men didn't need much urging to leave the fields. Machetes were being stacked in the last wagon that was only half full of cane stalks. Jim started to walk along the edge of a large group, with Blaine and Rowdy on his heels. Artie followed close behind, his pace increasing as they approached the village. Smells of meat roasting filled the air and the voices of the working men began to sound more cheerful.
"I smell our dinner," Artie said, "I wonder if we…" His voice choked in his throat as the mass of workers turned a corner in the street, between buildings. To the right, a tall, wooden scaffold was lit with burning torches. "Oh my God…" Artie whispered, as he stepped behind Jim, "Is that?"
"Ya," Jim's deep voice hissed out as his body tensed. He glared angrily into the darkness.
The crowd was halted and pushed forward toward the scaffolding. Voices fell silent but angry grumbles came from various areas of the large mass. More torches were moved to the scaffolding as Zane walked up the steps to the upper deck of the structure. Four men stood, awaiting their fate. A noose hung behind each of their heads while black cloth was tied around their faces to gag and blind them. Zane moved to stand between the two men in the center, his smile huge, as he stood proudly, with his guards crowding around him.
"Good evening!" Zane's clear voice cut though the still air. "You have entertainment tonight. For those of you staying on to work again tomorrow, don't choose what these men chose to do! For those of you leaving, be glad you didn't run!" He laughed at the workers, pointing at the doomed men behind him. "Five ran but we only saved four from the dogs!" He laughed again, yelling out even louder, "There is no escape. My men are too smart for you!"
Zane stepped aside, moving down the ramp. Guards moved forward, pulling the ropes over the heads of the doomed men. The crowd grumbled louder as men began to shove each other. A few braver ones hollered out jeers from the center, fists were raised in anger.
Artie and Jim exchanged a glance. Artie tipped an eyebrow up but Jim shook his head slowly. His face was flushed with anger under his deep tan but he stood rigid and silent. Artie let out a long sigh of frustration as he watched the guards on horseback, holding the more modern and accurate rifles, circling the furious crowd.
Rowdy looked down at his boots, his whole body shaking. Blaine wiped his face and turned sideways to face Jim's shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut.
Zane's voice yelled out, "NOW!" The snap of wood and creaking of rope were heard and then the hollow thuds as the four men dropped. Three appeared to die instantly. One man, his bound feet and body twisting, finally went limp. The crowd went silent as the last of the sun's rays petered out. Darkness fell over the street and homes.
Guards yelled out, moving the men back toward the road. The mass began to approach the docks and beach again, leaving the buildings behind them. Most walked in silence with heads hung low. A few voices argued as some shouted about fighting but more guards arrived to quell the objectors with clubs and rifle butts.
The men were suddenly split apart into groups as First Mates arrived from various ships. Stone appeared out of the darkness, working with guards to pull his men from the mass of workers. Jim looked up to see men from their ship being gathered in a separate area. He nodded to Artie, "something's up again."
Rowdy tried to speak and had to clear his throat. On the second try he whispered, "It's our shipmates. We seem to be going in a different direction." They moved to join their friends without waiting for guards to shove them. Stone turned to glare at Jim as they crossed behind him. "He seems happy to see us."
"Welcome back," Artie snorted. He watched most of the workers moving to the beach, to where the bon fires burned and meat was cooking. "I have a bad feeling about this." In the dancing firelight, the scantily clad women were moving forward to greet the men.
"I have bad feelings in general now," Jim sighed, "nothing surprises me. And I hate islands."
They and their shipmates were lead off toward the docks, away from the beach. They approached their ship to find stacks of crates. Stone shoved the first men to a stop, pointing at the supplies. "The last of our food is in them crates. Grab one and climb back aboard. And be quick about it. The Captain wants to shove off quickly. And your dinner waits for you in the mess."
The crew slowly formed a line leading to the gangplank up to the ship. On the way past the pile, each man picked up a crate. Some men staggered with the weight, exhausted and lack of food and water finally catching up to them. Jim grabbed a large box off the dock that the other men had obviously been avoiding. He shifted the heavy box onto his shoulder and bent sideways, supporting the weight with his entire body. Artie, behind him, picked up another large box and followed him. As they stepped onto the deck of the ship, Stone gave Jim a hard shove in the shoulder. Jim toppled over, the box crashing to the wooden planks.
"I didn't expect to see you back here, West," Stone snarled down, hands on hips, his usual glare and mocking laughter louder than ever. "I thought you would run for the jungle and hide with the lizards and monkeys."
Jim scrambled to his feet but kept his distance, keeping the crate between him and his adversary. He noticed Artie very quietly moving onto the deck and stopping at the railing, instead of following the line of men heading to the stairway. Artie shifted the box he held to his stomach, either to be used as a shield or a weapon. Jim sighed, knowing he was too exhausted to fight and didn't want his partner involved. "You want me to carry that box of supplies to the galley or not," he snapped, glaring at the First Mate.
Stone stepped back, waving an arm in a wide circle and giving Jim a mocking bow. "Please return to work." He turned and hurried down the deck to harass other men.
Artie stepped to Jim's side as he struggled to pick up the crate. A corner was smashed and sharp pieces of wood dug into his palm. He returned it to his shoulder and caught his friend's eye. "One of these days I won't be weak with hunger and I'll rip his head off." Artie grinned and they followed their shipmates downstairs. At the bottom of the ladder they stacked the crates in the long hallways along the lower decks.
"Artie!" A young voice yelled out from the crowded hallway, crushed with men. "Jim!" A small body darted between the filthy sailors and rushed to them, hugging Jim around the waist. Charlie's eyes, wet with tears, looked up at them. "I didn't think you'd be back. I thought you were gone!" He released Jim to turn and hug Artemus.
"What?" Jim said, kneeling to the boy's side. Charley clung to Artie, his small body shaking. Jim put a reassuring hand on the boy's back. "Why? What happened?"
Artie rubbed his hand over the boy's head, smoothing his hair back from his face. "Did someone tell you we wouldn't be back?" Charlie nodded, burying his face into Artie's stomach.
"Whoever told you that," Jim said softly, "well…you shouldn't have believed them. We're back."
"I think it's a good thing too," Artie sighed. "We're better off here."
"Stone said he had a bet with Zane," Charlie gasped, "he said he bet that you two would run off and the guards would catch you. He said they had big dogs too that would eat men who tried to escape. Zane had men watching you all day and…"
"All right," Artie said, rubbing the boy's back to interrupt the flow of words. Charley stopped speaking as his breath came in gasps. Jim stood up and the agents exchanged a dark look over the boy's bent head, both knowing how close they had come to trying to escape. "Well, Charley," Artie said, breaking the bad mood, "We're back and we're starving. I smell food. What did you cook us?" Charlie stepped back, rubbing his face. Artie spoke out to the men nearby, "who would like some of Charlie's cooking tonight?"
The men all cheered, hollering the boy's name. "Good to be back!" One yelled out. "I would rather eat in my own mess!" another, "and sleep in my own bunk tonight." Is if in celebration and homecoming, the men pushed into the mess hall. Charley zipped between them into the galley. Artie moved to help him as Jim began swapping stories with the other sailors. The old men, left behind on the ship, tottered in to listen of what had happened on the island.
tbc