Beneath Red Tail Wings Delirium
Beneath Red Tail Wings
Table of Content
Delirium
by Patricia I. Williams
September 1873 San Francisco, California
Delirium
The festering strips burned, the fever sucked him dry. The voice of his father harangued his ears, accusing.
“Traitorous, wretched boy! No son of mine would do such a thing!”
“How could you do this? Did you think of us, you bastard? Do you know what this means?”
The echo of the door slamming against his battered jaw pounded on his ears until he cried out.
The Captain would hear. He would come and the beatings would begin again.
“Quiet, quiet boy. You want to get caught? You want to the mate to strike with that devilish belayin’ pin? You want to lay in the fo’c’sle waiting to die from another beating? You want to run up and down and up and down for days and nights without sleep or vittles? You want to live boy?”
“No no more, no more. Shut up Papa, shut up. You said follow my conscience. You said be a man and make a stand. I made it Papa. I made it. Ah, don’t hate me Papa. Please listen, please!”
“Get out, get out traitorous, wretched boy! Don’t show your face again. Traitor!”
He wanted to deny forsaking his family. But the truth could not be denied. They were dead. Father and Royal were dead years gone now, hating him, the traitor. He must keep moving or the Captain would find him. Fearing the tarred ropes and belaying pins striking from the dark, he crawled away from the dock. His body was soaking wet, trembling one moment and burning the next. Desperate, Matthew sucked the briny damp from his filthy shirt. He curled into a stack of cargo already strapped down to be loaded onto another hell ship. He could hear the crowd yelling, demanding the Captain’s surrender. He could barely see through his irritated eyes, one swollen shut from a nasty cut and blow to the face he got from a knife or marlinspike. He had never seen it coming.
Charlie had been taken ashore, but the rest of them were not allowed to leave. Lucky Charlie. Say what you want, but he wished he had a friend in this city full of crimps. Benjamin called them that. Crimps. Slave catchers. Need a body? Take it. Matthew was no sailor and tried to explain to the First Mate he was taken under duress. His protest got him a beating. The worst of his life in fact. He had no idea how long he was insensible, but when he was able to stagger from the ragged hammock Harris came and beat him again. Matthew was sure he defended himself the first time, but not this time. There was a belaying pin. He came to, chained to the grates on deck and flogged. It would not be the last time. Mr. Maloney told him to cease resisting and go along so he would stay alive. He was so weak from the beatings and flogging, further protest was impossible anyway.
Months later, Matthew realized it made little difference if he was subservient. He kept his head down and learned to do the work, but feared he would not see land again. Three of the battered crew died. The story was they jumped overboard or fell by accident, but Matthew would always wonder if Harris had outright killed them. Poor John, he was just a boy. Everyone was starving on hardtack and little water. He was shamed he survived because Harris’ ire shifted to someone else and they died.
Matthew didn’t know if Benjamin put him over the side tonight hoping he would drown or make it out. The man’s loyalties shifted each day. There was some talk about a Sailor’s Home for help. Matthew didn’t know this place and thought it was a fool’s errand. Ben said if he stayed he might just die. He was too weak to fight Ben’s insistence. The tide tried to take him away but he grabbed the anchor line and hung on until he got his bearings. The horrific sting of the cold salt water stole his breath. He believed he would drown for sure. How he managed to get onto the pier remained a miracle to him. His nails tore off at the quick from his desperate effort to climb the ladder. The men on the dock were yelling for the Captain’s blood, many drunk and angry waving torches and rope for a hanging.
Matthew had enough sense left to scuttle away through stacks of cargo into the shadows between buildings. Rats squealed and ran about in the darkness. He prayed no other crimps found him. Benjamin said if he got caught he would wind up on another ship even broken as he was. Matthew decided he would kill himself for sure to escape another hellish journey like this. His overtaxed body soon failed him. His last thought was he would die in mud reeking of urine and feces.