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Chapter 9~ One Halved Man
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I learned something quite life-changing over the next several days: Privateers are very, very different than pirates. They hold themselves to a higher standard than their crew. They dress nicer. More silver buttons and spotless waistcoats. Less rags and worn-in trouser holes. William Kidd, for all that he was, could never be called careless. He was patient and kind to himself and to me, as any good superior would be. He took great care of himself, always sparing himself the occasional luxury. This philosophy had a too great effect on me. Kidd took away my dirty, unbecoming work clothes and replaced them with something…something more to his tastes. I was given fresh leather trousers, durable boots, and a clean cotton blouse. I was dressed with a long, dark navy coat with silver adornments and buttons. Over my waist scarf rested a suitable leather belt fit to carry an array of guns and swords—weapons I certainly wouldn’t get my hands on for a while. A quick wash and I felt new but somehow tainted. But, I didn’t protest to these changes. To be perfectly candid, I appreciated the feel of clean, undamaged trousers.
During the day, I kept myself busy, monitoring the work aboard and listening to the shanties and grumble amongst the crewmen. And when Kidd needed me, I’d be found in his quarters. But, I hadn’t set foot below deck in days. I hadn’t had the opportunity yet.
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The night had just fallen. The quartermaster had called for the end of the day. Only a few, essential crewman remained, finishing up tasks. I stayed behind, watching the empty, lifeless horizon darkening every second. As soon as everyone’s guard was down, I crept below deck without a sound. It was nearly pitch black with the exception of a small, dwindling candle flame in the back. Many prisoners were just beginning to nod off. The sounds were hushed. The waves continued their whispering music.
I searched the dim faces for a sign of Constantine. Reyes. But, it was far too dark to see.
After a few angry glares and offhand threats, I spotted them in the back, close to the candlelight. They both sat against the wall. Reyes had already fallen off into sleep, laying across Constantine’s lap in utter peace. Constantine, still disguised as a dirty pirate, was nodding off too, a hand still instinctively caressing his hair. She looked exhausted. I began to regret my presence.
“Love,” I whispered in the softest tone. She blinked awake, and I knelt next to her. “You can’t do that.”
“Do what?” she mumbled before glancing down and noticing her affectionate hands. She swiftly pulled them away from him. She continued, “Where’ve you been? And what are you wearing?”
I sat next to her and watched the candle’s light slowly shrink away. “It’s a long story. But, Kidd trusts me now. And I’m helpin’ him get to Madagascar.”
She shifted towards me a bit and pressed, “Madagascar? We’re going to Madagascar? What the hell for?”
“He’s in trouble with some powerful people right now and needs a place to hide. But, I promise, once we’re there, we’re leavin’ this hellhole. We can catch passage to South Africa and go from there. I’m not makin’ you suffer through anythin’ you didn’t plan for.”
She smiled and chuckled a bit to herself. “We didn’t plan for any of this. Not from the start. In fact, it seems nothing we do goes according to plan.”
As the lights died away and the darkness shielded us, she laid a soft, small hand over mine.
“Something big is coming, Edmund. I can feel it in every crack of these walls. And I don’t know if it’s foul or fair but…And I know I might be mad for saying it…I want to be here for it. I want to see it and remember what excitement feels like.”
She looked down at Reyes, sleeping soundly and still.
“I haven’t felt blood in my veins for so, so long.”
“I know,” I said, squeezing her hand. “But if you’re searchin' for excitement, just remember, you could be shot dead at any moment. How’s that?”
She grinned wide. I could see her eyes twinkle even in the night. “Perfect.”
Suddenly, I was reminded of those nights on Tew’s ship—when any moment could be our last. I had to keep myself from checking her body for wounds. I guess both of us had gotten so used to it.
I stayed with her a little while longer, just until her breathing had slowed to a steady pace. And I thought of what she had said. Was I different now? Were we different? Why couldn’t we, for once in our lives, be happy? Didn’t we deserve that much?
Then, I remembered what a bartender in a pub off the coast of Bombay once told me. Constantine and I had just settled into our summer home, and I had decided to get to know the city. It was late and I was getting ready to head back home for the night. And the local pub’s bartender gave me a queer bit of advice as I laid down coin on the counter.
“All men are halved, son. Halved between curiosity, adventure and halved between marriage and love. I’ve never seen a man who was able to combine the two. Remember that.”
And, I thought to myself, Whatever happens to the halved men?
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Days were passing like clouds in an early summer sky. They contained little and faded quicker than you’d expect. And as they appeared, I liked watching them pass and try to conjure up the memory they left just moments before. I took my opportunities as they came. I was able to see Constantine and Reyes nearly every other day. Sometimes, I snuck them extra food and water. Sometimes, I stayed long enough to give them updates on the time that’d passed. But, I began to lose count of the days. Everything started looking the same. Every day was the same. And our arrival to Madagascar still seemed so far out of reach.
I got to know Kidd’s crew quite well over the passing weeks—but not by my own intention. I spoke very little to them, instead preferring to listen in on their conversations while I walked the perimeter. There was a restlessness amongst them. They whispered as I passed and avoided their captain like the plague. They worked with a hidden ferocity in their muscles. No one stopped to breathe in the air or acknowledge the sun’s glare. There was a focus I couldn’t tune into as it slipped by me like sand carried off in the wind. And something in their eyes gave me the sense that history was repeating itself. Though, I couldn’t land on what exactly was expected to come. I only thought back to what happened the first day I met Kidd and those moments below deck with Captain John Wright. What Kidd had said…about the mutiny…
Well, there certainly wasn’t a great adoration for Kidd no matter who you went to. Coward in disguise…I heard them mutter, Tail-tucker…Snake amongst men. But, Kidd didn’t seem any of those things to me. Not in the slightest. He acted so determined, driven to action. But behind the whisperings, even he seemed to sense the unrest growing. It made him agitated to no end. And although he hid it well, I saw it in small bursts…Knocking books and maps off of the desk in anger then immediately laughing it away…Drinking rum for breakfast and luncheon. And whenever he’d ask for location updates nearly every hour. After a while, I began to question whether we were running away from trouble or running to some more.
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“Afternoon, Kidd,” I remarked as I let myself into his shrouded-away quarters. I could tell this was not a good time. A puddle of amber-tinted liquid had formed by a small pile of broken glass by his desk. His maps and guns were knocked to the ground and a painting of a hillside that usually hung by the window now laid smashed on the floor. He’d even knocked away the small, navy blue box that remained locked on his desk at all times. There was Kidd by the smashed bottle, holding out a bleeding palm and looking at it in confusion. I was even a bit confused myself—surprised, really. I hadn’t been sure he could really bleed.
“What happened?” I said with a cautious step towards the unstable man.
“Ah, just a wee accident,” he slurred, “Nothing to get your knickers twisted. Got sick of looking at the godawful picture by the window. What’s the beauty in hills and valleys when you’ve got the whole fucking sea at your fingertips!” He threw his head back in laughter, spilling a small handful of blood onto his boots.
“Here. Sit over there a minute.”
He fell into his desk chair and inspected his wound closer as if he might find treasure down in there. I searched around till I could find some sort of cloth to bind the wound. I took the ends and dipped them in the puddle of amber alcohol and began rubbing the liquid over my hands and over his wound.
“What the hell are you doing?” he exclaimed, “You’re wasting good rum.”
“I’m sure it’s already wasted. Besides, it’s an old trick my father taught me. He spilled some rum over his tools one time. And the patient didn’t die durin’ surgery—pretty rough one, too. He figured it boosted the healin’ process. Didn’t fail since.”
I began picking up the small shards of glass tucked away under the skin with the edge of a dagger then bound his hand. All the while, I knew he was watching me.
“Jesus, you look like you know what you’re doing.”
I stood and began cleaning up the glass on the floor. “That’s because I do. I’m a physician—well, I’m workin’ to become one. Just like my father. And once I am, I’m goin’ back to Weymouth and reclaimin’ the house—my father’s house.”
“You’ve had training?”
“Yes—well, not exactly. My father taught me all he knew when I was young. And a few years back, I treated a patient with all kinds of ailments, cuts and wounds, broken ribs, and a temporary foot surgery.”
“Goddamn, I knew you looked smart, but I must’ve underestimated you some, lad.”
I decided to shrug off the odd feeling of pride swelling up in my chest and focus back on the mess of glass. Kidd fiddled with a small brass key that usually laid dormant on the corner of his desk. I’d seen it a few times but had never thought a thing of it. Though, he now peered at it like it held a mystery yet to be discovered. He could not yet understand.
“I know how your father died, you know. Such a shame. When my old man went, he had a bottle of gin in one hand and a pair of dice in the other, laid across a bar table with a bullet in his chest. And I always thought, hell, that’s the way to go!”
“Wait,” I replied, getting up from the floor, “How’d you know my father?”
“Well, now, I didn’t know him. Just your sister. And, of course, she told me the story.”
I scoffed to myself, “That’s impossible. My sister ran away from home long before my father was killed.” Kidd sighed and dropped the key back onto the desk.
“You know all the answers, don’t you, Edmund? You’re much like her. Gretchen. Why, you could tell her tar is black and she’ll tell you it’s white.”
God, nothing in the world was infuriating me more than the sheer fact that William Kidd knew my sister—and knew her well. I considered for just a second how sharp those larger shards of glass might be. Kidd propped up his feet and tossed his hat into a nearby empty chest.
“Your sister is alive, Edmund.”
“Really?” It was impulse.
“Yes, quite alive. It isn’t time you knew everything just yet. But, I bet I could give you some peace of mind. See, I knew your sister from long ago when she was still young. Just a lass. Of course, I still lived in New York in America and was just aspiring of sea-life. She came to me on the streets, begging for help. And I gave her stay at an inn I was living at near my employer. How she got all the way from England to America must’ve been no easy feat. Perhaps caught passage on a slave ship. Hell, I don’t know.”
It didn’t make sense. My sister—Gretchen—had never been a particularly audacious girl. She kept to herself most of the time, interacting with me only on necessary occasions. She never raised her voice, never toed the line, never even showed frustration or anger to anyone other than her diary. But, up out of nowhere, she was gone without a trace of her escape. It was unexplainable, and my family was never perceived the same to the rest of the town ever again. Suddenly, my father was “unfit to support and control his own family” and my mother was “the driving force of it all”. In fact, the neighbors had better explanations than even we could muster.
‘She always seemed a bit on the loose side, that one.’
‘No one could’ve ever guessed, but her parents surely caused it all!’
‘That’s what comes from young, penniless fools and a head in the clouds.’
To think it even possible that my sister could uproot herself, her entire life, without a soul knowing…The blame was passed around time and time again until no one could even determine truth from fantasy. It became something latched onto each of us, like some sort of inherited doom that none of us could ever forget or explain. And my parents lived with that till the day they died. And up until a month ago, I expected to as well.
“Where is she?” I pressed, unable to wait any longer.
“That is not for you to fucking know. Not yet,” he snapped, then gentler, “Your sister is safe…I think…Ah, safe enough. I do believe if you knew her now, you’d be quite a proud brother, Edmund.”
“And why’s that?”
“Edmund,” he slurred, speaking now to his bandaged hand, “Your sister was part of this very crew.” And with that, he tipped over his chair and down to the hard, wooden floor in painful laughter. I watched as he slowly slipped into a stiffened, rum-induced sleep.
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