THE STRANGER

The next day the five boys signed on with The Great White and moved into the forecastle. Three youths were already there. They introduced themselves as Bill, Guy, and Adam. Noah noticed that they all had the same pale faces and fish-eyes as Captain Jones. The forecastle was clean and newly painted, with a faint hospital smell of carbolic.

An impish red-haired boy of about fifteen brings mugs of tea on a tray. “I’m Jerry, the cabin boy. Anything you want, just let me know. It’s a pleasure to serve you, gentlemen.”

Bill, Guy, and Adam wash down black pellets with the tea.

“What’s that?” Brady asks.

“Oh, just something to keep out the cold.”

The boys are kept busy loading cargo and supplies. Mr. Thomas gives instructions in a quiet voice. He seems easygoing and good-natured. But his eyes make Noah uneasy—they are cold as winter ice.

*   *   *

Pages from Noah Blake’s diary:

Tuesday, Feb. 5, 1702: Today we sailed. Despite Captain Jones’s slighting remarks about freshwater sailing, our experience on the lakes stands us in good stead. I notice that Guy, Bill, and Adam, though they are very thin and pale and sick-looking, are good seamen and seem immune to cold and fatigue.

An hour before sailing, a carriage pulled up at the wharf and two people got out and came on board. I could not see them clearly, for they were wearing furs with hoods, but I could tell that they were young and looked much alike. When the ship was clear of the harbor and on course, the cabin boy brought tea.

“Two passengers on board,” he told us.

“Have you seen them?”

“Aye, I carried their luggage to the cabin.”

“And what are they like?”

“More like leprechauns than humans. Green they are, green as shamrock.”

“Green?”

“Aye, with smooth greenish faces. Twins, one a boy and one a girl. And rich too. You can smell the money off them.…”

Feb. 6, 1702: Neither the two passengers nor the captain has appeared on deck. Bert Hansen and myself have been given turns at the wheel. The food is good and plentiful and I have talked with the cook. His name is Charlie Lee. He is about twenty years old, half-black and half-Chinese. I’m thinking there is something between him and the cabin boy. We will dock in New York tomorrow.

Feb. 7, 1702: Too late to dock. We are riding at anchor. There is naught to be done, and after the evening meal we had a talk with Guy, Adam, and Bill. I have found out what it is that they take with their tea night and morning: opium. They have enough to last them the voyage.

“And should we need more, we have but to ask the Captain,” said Guy.

“Sure and he should be made of the stuff,” Sean Brady put in. “Seeing his name is Opium Jones.”

It seems they have shipped with Captain Jones before. “He pays double because he only wants certain type people on his ship.”

“And what type would that be?”

“Them as do the work, mind their own business, and keep their mouths shut to outsiders.”

Feb. 8, 1702: Today we docked in New York. Captain Jones appeared on deck and guided the ship into the harbor. I will say for him he knows his business when he chooses to mind it. A carriage was waiting at the pier and the two passengers got in and were driven away.

We were kept busy most of the day loading and unloading cargo under the supervision of Mr. Thomas. Captain Jones went ashore on business of some kind. In the late afternoon we were allowed ashore. There is more bustle here than in Boston and more ships, of course. We were immediately set upon by panderers extolling the beauty and sound condition of their whores. When we told them to be off and fuck their wares they showered us with insults from a safe distance.

I have a letter to the Pembertons, the parents of my stepmother, and father impressed on me the importance of paying my respects and instructed me in how to conduct myself. It seems that the Pemberton family is well known here, and I had no trouble finding the house, which is of red brick and very imposing, with four stories.

I rang the bell and a servant came to the door and asked my business in somewhat peremptory tones. I presented him with the letter. He told me to wait and went inside. When he returned a few minutes later, his manner was quite respectful. He told me that Mr. Pemberton would be happy to entertain me for dinner the following night at eight o’clock.

Feb. 9, 1702: This night I had dinner with the Pembertons. Arriving a few minutes early I walked up and down until the chimes sounded eight. My father has admonished me always to be punctual for appointments and never under any circumstances to be early. The servant showed me into an ornately furnished room with portraits and a marble fireplace.

Mr. Pemberton greeted me most politely. He is a trim smallish man with white hair and twinkling blue eyes. He then presented me to his wife, who extended a hand without getting up, smiling as though it hurt her to do so. I took an immediate dislike to her, which I am sure was reciprocated.

The other people present, I soon realized, were none other than the passengers on board The Great White: two of the strangest and most beautiful people I have ever seen. They are twins—one a boy, the other a girl—about twenty years old. They have greenish complexions, straight black hair, and jet-black eyes. Both possess such ease and grace of manner that I was quite dazzled. The names I believe are Juan and María Cocuera de Fuentes. When I shook hands with the boy a tremor passed through me and I was glad of the diversion when Mr. Pemberton offered me a glass of sherry. While we were having the sherry, a Mr. Vermer was announced. He is as portly as Mr. Pemberton is trim, and gives a great impression of wealth and power.

Shortly thereafter dinner was served. Mr. Pemberton took the head of the table, with Mr. Vermer on his right and María de Fuentes on his left. I was seated opposite Juan de Fuentes, with Mrs. Pemberton on my right—though I would gladly have been as far away from her as possible. The de Fuentes twins had come from Mexico and were on their way to Vera Cruz. The talk was mostly about business, trade, mining, and the produce of Mexico.

María spoke in her cool clear voice.… “Crops now grown only in the Middle and Far East could be introduced, since the soil and climate is suitable.”

I noted that the Pembertons and Mr. Vermer defer to the twins and listen respectfully to their opinions. Several times Mr. Pemberton addressed a question to me, and I answered briefly and politely, as my father had instructed me. When I told him I planned to be a sea captain he looked a little vague and distracted and said that the sea was a good thing for a young man … to be sure, a master’s certificate would do no harm. However, the opportunities in the family business were not to be overlooked.

Mr. Vermer expressed concern with regard to the political instability of Mexico. María de Fuentes replied that the introduction of suitable crops would undoubtedly produce a tranquilizing and stabilizing effect. She has a way of underscoring certain words with a special import. Mr. Vermer nodded and said, “Ah yes, sound economy brings sound politics.”

I had a feeling that the talk would have been more open if I had not been present. Why then, I asked myself, had I been invited? The words of my father came back to me: “In the course of any meeting, try to discover what it is that is wanted from you.” While I could not decide what it was, I knew that something very definite was wanted and expected from me. I surmised further that Mrs. Pemberton was less convinced of my potential usefulness than her husband, and that she considered my presence at the dinner table a hindrance and a waste of time.

At one point Juan de Fuentes looked straight into my eyes and once again I felt a tremor run through me and for a second had a most curious impression that we were alone at the table.

After dinner, I excused myself to return to the ship since we will be sailing before noon.

Feb. 10, 1702: The twins arrived shortly before sailing. Captain Jones took the wheel on leaving the harbor. We are heading south with a good wind. Weather very damp and cold.

Feb. 11, 1702: This morning I awoke with a sore throat, my head throbbing and feverish, and a congestion in my lungs—feeling barely able to rise from my bunk. Adam smiled and told me that the remedy was to hand. He carefully measured out six drops of opium tincture and I downed it with hot tea. In a few minutes a feeling of warmth and comfort spread from the back of my neck through my body. The soreness in my throat and the aching in my head disappeared as if by magic. I have been able to take my watch without difficulty. When I came in to sleep, the dose was repeated. There is an extraordinary clarity in my thoughts. I am unable to sleep. Writing this by candle.

I am asking myself where I come from, how I got here, and who I am. From earliest memory I have felt myself a stranger in the village of Harbor Point where I was born. Who was I? I remember mourning doves calling from the woods in summer dawn, and the long cold shut-in winters. Who was I? The stranger was footsteps in the snow a long time ago.

And who are the others—Brady, Hansen, Paco, Todd? Strangers like myself. I think that we came from another world and have been stranded here like mariners on some barren and hostile shore. I never felt that what we did together was wrong, but I fully understood the necessity and wisdom of concealing it from the villagers. Now that there is no need for concealment, I feel as if this ship is the home I had left and thought never to find again. But the voyage will end of course, and what then?

I know that my father will shortly be a wealthy man and that I could become, in course of time, wealthy myself. The prospect holds little appeal. Of what use is wealth if I must conform to customs that are as meaningless to me as they are obstructive of my true inclinations and desires? I am minded to seek my fortunes in the Red Sea or in South America. Perhaps I could find employment with the de Fuentes family.

Now the face of Juan drifts before my eyes, and divorced by the effects of opium from the urgings and pricklings of lust I can examine the vision dispassionately. I feel not only attraction but kinship. He too is a stranger, but he moves with ease and confidence among the terrestrials.