Page 57 of In Just a Year
But the man didn’t leave. He cleared his throat. “Baron Stone, may I speak out of turn, please?”
“What is it?”
Shouting came from above deck, and Ben buttoned his coat as panic rose in his throat.
“They’re calling the Jew,” the boatswain said, lowering his voice. “They want the Jew first, they said.”
Ben’s heart dropped. If Nagy found him aboard, he’d confiscate the gems for the Crown Jewels, which wasn’t fair. The trade route was part of his family’s business, and Prinny had agreed to pay for the pieces that the Klonimuses and the Pearlers delivered as part of their commission. If Nagy confiscated the gems, the Klonimuses wouldn’t be reimbursed, nor would they make a profit. In fact, they’d practically be enslaved to work for Prinny for nothing but prestige. And if they stopped, they’d lose the clientele from the Ton. As would the Pearlers. If realized, Nagy’s threat to capture Ben would have profound consequences.
What was worse, he had Izaac Pearler’s sapphires in his pocket. If they were confiscated, the invaluable treasure that belonged to Gustav, Izaac’s son, would go to the crown. Izaac Pearler had hidden these sapphires before Prinny was born. The treasure belonged to the Pearlers, and Ben was privileged to have found a piece. It established him as an equal to the older sons, Gideon, Raphi, and Caleb, but also to Fave and Arnold. He’d just earned his place, but if Nagy found him on the ship now, he’d lose the sapphires and more.
“Where’s the Jew?” a jittery voice called from above. Ben recognized it as Nagy although he’d never heard him scream quite so violently before.
“Mister Klonimus, come with me.” The boatswain grabbed Ben’s arm and led him down the short hall to a small cabin. The makeshift morgue. The smell was unbearable. Four of their men had died when they were just off the coast of Morocco. The rest of the crew had recovered thanks to Vati’s treats.
The stench of death took Ben by surprise, but the respect he held for the crew members they’d lost was indefinitely stronger. He stilled, for he’d never been near a dead body.
“Lie down and stay still,” the boatswain commanded in a manner Ben hadn’t heard from him before.
“The Jew!” More shouts came, this time from the hall outside the little room.
“Quickly!” the boatswain pulled a large cloth off a stretcher and signaled for Ben to lie down.
“I’m not dead” Ben whispered.
“If you don’t pretend to be, you might as well be!”
Just as Ben set his head down and the dusty flax cloth covered his face, the door burst open.
“Where’s the Jew?” Nagy asked.
Footsteps came closer.
Ben remained as still as he could, keeping his breath shallow to avoid any movement.
“Pardon, milord. We lost several members of the crew, and I’m making sure they’re secured for transportation to the burial grounds. Port Authority has been informed.”
“Hmpf! I don’t have any information on my ledgers,” Nagy grunted.
“Well, milord, as you can see and smell, these sailors require my attention and the last respect,” the boatswain said.
After a short moment, the door clicked shut and Nagy was gone.
Ben was afraid to move. The dust from the flax cloth scratched in his nose.
“Ha-choo!” Ben sneezed.
A hand came to his chest. “You can’t be sneezing when he carries you outside, Mister Klonimus,” the Captain said.
“I’m going to strap you tight, so you can stay limp and not fall off the pitcher.” The boatswain tied Ben’s feet and his middle to the hard metal surface.
Ben didn’t like it one bit. He was vulnerable and exposed, yet he understood the gesture. This was the only way to get off this ship and past Nagy.
“A Christian body is set with the arms crossed,” Greg said, who’d evidently joined the Captain and the boatswain. “Like so!” He lifted the cloth and made Ben cross his hands over his chest. “Don’t move, alright?”
It was a terrible thing to lie next to the dead sailors. Not because of the stench and not because of the itchy cloth in his face. But Ben felt completely and utterly as if he were betraying the honor of the men. They’d worked hard, traveled far, and fallen ill. Ben sniffled when a group of men, familiar voices from the crew, picked him up on the pitcher.
He swayed as they moved but he forced himself to remain stiff, despite the reflex to hold on to the pitcher.
