Sara Rose

Summer is in full retreat, and signs of fall are evident in the midday air. The passengers have boarded, and the cargo holds restocked with supplies and freight.

The last of the luggage is delivered to the deck of the ship. A scruffy little mouse pokes its nose from a crack in a luggage trunk. Within seconds, the little stowaway scampers from its hiding place, and across the wooden planking, terrifying the female passengers.

The Sara Rose is in the process of leaving the docks of St- Nazaire, France. She has a crew of twenty-two, along with their seasoned Captain, Captain Mcbaine.

The fifty-six-year-old Captain is of Scottish descent. Being of medium build, he supports a full, brisk, greying beard, and his confident eyes are the colour of the sea. He is a handsome, rugged looking man in the uniform that he wears. His cap partially hides his wavy grey hair. The brass buttons that line the front of his uniform and the cuffs of the sleeves, glitter in the day’s sun. The stripes and bars on his jacket, sewn from golden thread, command respect.

Captain Mcbaine stands on the deck of the Sara Rose and salutes the Port Major of St-Nazaire. The Port Major presented Captain Mcbaine with a gift, a bottle of champagne. The Captain and the Port Major have been friends for some twenty plus years. Theirs is a friendship that deepens with every visit to the Port of St-Nazaire.

The large anchor of the ship is pulled aboard, displaying years of rust and coral from the ocean bottoms of its hundreds of homes. The anchor, like the sea, holds the secrets of the Sara Rose.

As night slowly creeps its way onto the deck, the crew works at a fast pace to get the ship on course. The night horn stretches its sounds as darkness comes to the sea, and the night crew begins lighting the lanterns. For the passengers of the Sara Rose, their first night aboard the ship must feel like a haunting, unfolding in a timely manner. The night holds them in their sleep, while the vessel finds her course this night.

As if on cue, the moon guides the ship through the night, and reflects its beauty on the inviting sea. The stars play their part and act as a map to point the way for the Sara Rose.

The constant rocking and the soothing sound of the sea settles the ship’s little stowaway, as the mouse finds sleep on the deck.

Dawn eases its way from the horizon and gently lifts the darkness. The first signs of the new day send the crew extinguishing the lanterns. A weary night crew is anxious for their share of sleep, as the day crew begins their shift on the vessel’s decks. The cooks can be heard calling for more food from the storage holds, which are deep within the ship’s hull. The aroma of the morning’s breakfast cooking on the hot coal stove escapes into the morning air, waking all, even the mouse.

The Captain makes his rounds with his young Lieutenant, Timothy Rodgers. They both examine the ropes and the condition of the sails. Lieutenant Rodgers stops at the entrance to the lower stairwell, checking off the inspected area from his clipboard. He quickly rejoins the Captain who is looking over the prisoners in the lower deck that were brought aboard the ship before the passengers boarded.

“Lieutenant, we have a fine bunch of scallywags with us on this journey as we sail back to England. The French government was kind enough to give England’s scum back to her, so these prisoners can hang in the Crowns gallows. My, my, Lieutenant what a collection of riff-raff we have here.”

“Yes, Captain. I agree with you, a fine bunch.”

The mouse is intrigued, and scurries along the deck, through a hole in the deck floor. It has found the perfect perch in the lower deck while it listens to the Captain speak.

Captain Mcbaine reaches into the right pocket of his jacket and takes out the documentation given to him by the Port Major of St-Nazaire. He shakes his head in disgust as he reads, stepping toward a black man sitting on the wooden floor. The man has his hands and feet shackled together and sits in a very uncomfortable position with his back to the divider in the poorly lit room. Crusty dried blood scabs have formed on the man’s wrists from the constant rubbing of the shackles. The black man’s toes and heels appear to have been chewed by the rats that roam freely in the French jails, and now infection has set in. The stomach-turning smell clings to the helpless stale air. His worn-out, dirty clothes are almost non-existent and blend in with the colour of his skin.

“You, Sir, are accused of high treason against England. This document states that you were a crew member on the ‘Serpent’, which terrorized Her Majesty’s southern seas, looting and killing at will.”

The shackled man keeps his head down, refraining from comment, spitting on the floor, disrespecting the Captain. The Captain turns to his other prisoner, chained in the same manner. He’s dressed in a full-length evening coat and white shirt. The man’s crinkled top hat lies next to him. The prisoner’s boots have retained their partial shine, even with the cladding of the rusty chains around his footwear. The accused man looks up at the Captain with a grin. His piercing eyes burn into whoever stares at him, revealing a dark empty soul. The Devil himself would refrain from eye contact with this man.

“Lieutenant, we may be in the presence of Liverpool’s, River Butcher.”

“Is it possible, Captain? I heard his trail had gone cold. That would explain his capture in France.”

“If I had my way Lieutenant, this man would be walking the plank as we speak,” says the Captain.

A scream from a female comes from the other side of the partition. Her loud searing voice causes the Lieutenant to step back, dropping his clipboard.

“River Butcher. Get that son of the Devil off the ship, Captain. Make him walk the plank, for he will have a knife to my throat and will dissect me like he has done to all the women he fancies.”

Frantically, the mouse backs into the darkness. Its pulse treks to new heights to what it has heard, and now fears it may be a victim of the River Butcher.

“Madam, you’re a common streetwalker. No better than these two accused men I stand before. It says on this document that you are Katie, a streetwalker that prostitutes herself for shillings. It may be a simple crime, except you prefer men with thick wallets, giving them simple satisfaction, then a knife to the belly.”

“A fine bunch, Lieutenant. You best keep an eye on our Katie. She attracts trouble and will have a few of our crew dancing to her tongue. Let’s get back to the top deck; the stench of our prisoners is getting to me.”

Captain Mcbaine gives command of the vessel to Lieutenant Rodgers, and leaves for his breakfast in his cabin. During his morning meal the Captain plots and maps a course for the ship to maintain. He opens the ship’s logbook and begins to write:

‘September 2, Eighteen Hundred and Fifty-Three. The Sara Rose is on route to Brighton, England.’

Lieutenant Rodgers takes command of the Sara Rose for the first time. He now sports a smile that lights up his face, but the proud Lieutenant walks the deck of the ship somewhat unsure of his ability to command. Lieutenant Rodgers is a commissioned officer and carries a sabre at his side at all times. With his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon, he walks among the crew and passengers gaining confidence in his new duties. The Lieutenant begins to walk with a swagger.

All the sails are open, trying to capture a breeze. Even the Union Jack barely displays any motion this day. The sailors claim that a windless day at sea is an omen, and that there will come a time to pay.

The stale breeze has slowed the ship’s pace. Seagulls surround the vessel in search of discarded waste. Some of the passengers have found their sea legs and stroll on the decks before darkness descends once again. Small clouds of cigar smoke join the evening air as passengers gather in the lounge area. A few enjoy a cup of tea, and some prefer stronger spirits. Men participate in a game of chance, while others simply enjoy conversation. The ladies gather in circles, talk of their children and their hopes for the future that the new world may bring. Friendships are made easily aboard a ship, and soon most become close as family. Onboard, the word ‘secret’ does not exist for gossip spreads quickly and is often true.

The lights of the small towns on the French coast are seen in the distance as night descends on the Sara Rose. The passengers shake hands and bid each other a good night.

The moon is quickly shrouded over as clouds rush in, forcing the moon to hold its blush for another time. It seems God himself gathered up the stars this night, leaving the skies in total darkness. The only light to be seen comes from the lanterns on deck. Occasionally the crew wave the lanterns outward to the sea, warning approaching vessels of their presence. The stillness and the eclipse of the night add new fears aboard the ship. The crew members stand their posts calling with voice and the sounding of horns — every creak of the ship echoes along the decks adding a ghostly effect to the still bound vessel. The ripples of the water against the vessel become silenced, and the massive sea calms as if a covering of glass has sealed this body of saltwater in time.

Even the rodent that stowed away prays for daylight to return. The terrified mouse quivers in a dark corner alone with its eyes wide open this long night.