The Emerald Key - By Christopher Dinsdale Page 0,14
giant rogue wave to the bow. There might be some damage below decks. Keep that door closed! We don’t want any more water inside the hull!”
“Can I help?” asked Jamie.
The officer sized him up then nodded. “All right. We might need your young arms. Close the hatch and follow me, but whatever you do, don’t let go of this rope!”
Jamie nodded, stepped out into the lashing gale, and closed the hatch behind him. The wind tore at them relentlessly, trying to throw the men into the frothing sea. Hanging on to the guide rope for dear life, they finally slipped and crawled their way to the bow and the forward hatch. The officer unlatched it and a gust nearly tore it off its hinges. Jamie quickly shut the hatch behind them and then followed the officer into the descending darkness. The steep stairs took them deep into the hull of the creaking, rolling ship. Baying livestock filled the first deck. Penned cows, goats, and chickens lined either side of the forward hull. Heavy crates of goods were lashed to the floor.
“Are the crates centred for balance?” Jamie asked as they made their way to the next ladder.
“Aye,” agreed the officer, “and it’s a good thing they’re lashed down. If the cargo had shifted when that wave hit, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”
They continued their descent. They arrived at the lowest deck, where the curve of the hull flattened into the bottom of the ship. The sight that greeted Jamie instantly appalled him. Hundreds of people were packed into the immense, dreary chamber. Cries of hunger were punctuated with moans of pain. Jamie noticed the iron rings still hanging from the walls from the ship’s earlier slavery runs to Africa. He wondered if the trip could have been any worse for those slaves than the sorry sight meeting his eyes at this very moment. And if this was good, according to the sailor back in Cork, how much worse could it possibly be on board the Carpathia?
“Fourth class?” asked Jamie.
The officer glanced at the sea of humanity. “Aye, fourth class. Follow me. We need to get to the pumps.”
They waded through the sickness, coughs, and human fluids that filled the belly of the hold until they reached a set of hand-held pump handles. There were two other sailors already working the seesaw-like mechanism. Water could be heard sloshing through the attached pipes. The officer grabbed the opposite handle and nodded at Jamie to take the nearest one.
Together they gripped the handles and grimly worked the pumps. As he worked, Jamie took in the human misery that surrounded him and couldn’t help but think of Ryan, likely suffering in a hold worse than this, injured and alone. It was over an hour of arm-breaking work before the pumps finally gurgled. Air was finally starting to be sucked through the system, and the team finally relaxed to stretch out their weary arms.
“Well done, lads,” said the officer. “Let’s head topside for a spot of tea.”
Officer Keates started to lead the men aft when the ship suddenly lurched hard to the side. Everyone was thrown off their feet. Children screamed as parents reached frantically for flailing arms. A large crack reverberated through the ship. Water began to spray out from a hull plank just above the pumps. As the ship slowly righted itself, the crew looked on in horror.
“My God,” cried one of the sailors, “Officer Keates, if that plank goes, we’re done for!”
“Quick, run to the captain and tell him what’s happening. Get him to send down a repair crew immediately!”
“Aye, sir!” The sailor ran up the stairs.
“It may be too late by the time they make it down,” lamented Officer Keates, as water sprayed through in torrents.
Jamie looked around the hold. He spied a stack of lumber under the stairs.
“Are those planks?” shouted Jamie.
“Aye, for making the fourth-class berths.”
“And did I see an axe in the cargo hold above us?”
He looked to the young man. “Yes, in case of a fire.”
“Go and grab the axe. I have an idea!”
The officer looked at the young man suspiciously, but Jamie Galway had an air of authority about him that seemed beyond his age. Without any other recourse until the repair crew arrived, Officer Keates ran for the stairwell. Ignoring the mounting panic of the passengers surrounding them, Jamie grabbed the last remaining sailor and together they pushed their way through to the stack of timber. He eyed the pile