Rough Passage to London(56)

The English actor raised his eyebrows and stroked his chin, nodding with approval.

“I am indeed surprised, Captain. What have you heard?”

“Someone once told me it was a blood boat, but they never explained what they meant. Tell me, what does the name signify?”

“Why, Captain,” declared Mr. Ward, still slightly puzzled by the captain’s sudden interest. “Actually, Charon is the name of the boatman who carries the newly dead across the River Styx. Isn’t that right, Lord Nanvers?”

“Indeed so,” replied the English lord, who was now leaning in closer to hear the conversation. “All those who cross the River Styx with Charon never return.”

“All except Heracles,” added Mr. Ward quickly. “Remember, he was the one who slew the Hydra, the nine-headed serpent, and he tricked Charon more than once, I believe.”

A violent shaking of the ship rescued the captain that evening. The plum pudding was just being served. Rough weather had struck, as it often did during a meal. Every time someone reached for a dish on the table, the ship lurched sideways and the contents spilled. Plates now slid across the table, glasses tumbled over, and the creamy pudding toppled onto Mrs. Bullfinch’s lap, causing the woman to scream at Lowery that her velvet gown was ruined. Morgan heard the mate calling out to the men to get a pull on the weather braces. He heard the men singing out, and he used that moment when the sailors were hauling in the weather main braces to leave the table, just as the topic had switched to a debate about which was best, a monarchy or a republic. He could hear the last strands of the argument as Mr. Bullfinch proudly stated that as an Englishman he was quite pleased with his representation in Parliament.

“Is that so?” came a distinctly American voice. “I have heard that in England only one man in five has a vote. Do you call that a fair system of representation, Mr. Bullfinch?”

The weather was so bad by late that night that the ship could only stand double-reefed topsails and the outer jib. The packet would ride up the high mountain swells, ease off slightly at the crest, then plunge downward into the troughs, only to rise upward again. They were some 90 miles to the south of Cape Clear on a safe course to the Scilly Islands, or so he thought. Over the past week he had taken periodic midday readings with the sextant. He was confident with his arithmetic, and he thought himself to be a competent navigator, but this was the first trip he’d made where the navigation was solely his responsibility. At first he dismissed Icelander’s concerns. The big sailor, who was then on night watch and was doing a turn at the helm, was worried about their position.

“Better to head further south, Captain. These winds have pushed us far to the north. Earlier today I saw far too many land birds. I think we might be closer to Ireland than we realize.”

If these cautionary words had come from another sailor, he would have ignored them. He might have even rebuked the sailor, but over many years Morgan had learned to trust Rasmussen’s instincts. To play it safe, he reluctantly gave the order to change course. Hours later with the sun breaking over the horizon, they were surprised to see the clifftops of the Irish coast just to the north off their port side. If they had not changed to a more southeasterly course when they did, they might have run ashore.

Morgan couldn’t figure out what had happened. The past two days had been overcast, and as a result he’d been unable to take the noon sightings. But he was skilled at dead reckoning. How had he made this mistake? He thought of Hiram at that moment and his disdain for packet ship captains who spent too much time below with their passengers. It was true. He had spent too much time tending to the demanding cabin passengers. He hadn’t noticed how much the strong southerly winds had pushed them to the north. That was his error, not paying attention.

As it turned out, that wasn’t his only mistake. He hadn’t checked his watch with the ship’s chronometer. His longitude calculations had been off as well. What would Hiram have said? He was becoming a lady captain, he thought to himself, more nurse than sailor.

It was an important lesson for Morgan. He looked out at the sea and the cresting waves. He had found his calling on the ocean and it had made him what he was. It had given him work, and pride in his profession, a sense of his own strength and a belief in his abilities. And now because of his own hubris and carelessness, he had almost let it destroy him, his ship, and his passengers.

He went to his cabin to write into his log.

Passed through a blue devil night with stormy winds. Saw several land birds. Altered course which saved us from shipwreck and a watery grave off the coast of Ireland. Wet, foggy, but a stiff breeze this morning. Ship going about ten knots. Coming on deck in the morning saw two or three ships through the fog. Scilly Islands out of sight to the southeast.