“All hands on deck!”
The cry went up as another wave rolled against the ship’s hull, sending it careening and bobbing in the churning sea, lost among turbulent water and spume. A tide of noise, a cacophony of screams, thunder, and the splintery crackle of timber nearly submerged the captain’s call.
“All hands on deck!”
Samuel heard the captain’s call split the air a second time as another wave smashed into the Mayflower’s hull. Captain Christopher Jones stood near the mainmast, commanding the sailors of the ship with vehement gesticulations. They tightened and loosened the rigging beneath sprays of briny water, hoping to control the course of their vessel, but the ship’s sail hung tumid in the air above, pulling them at the wind’s whim.
Another wave smacked the ship, sending Samuel sprawling over the slick deck, hands desperately clinging to the rope he had been tightening. Another sailor grabbed him, hauling him to his feet with a few hard slaps to Samuel’s back.
He was just starting to get his bearings when the ship was jarred again, throwing Samuel back to the deck. This time the ship rattled and shook, the boards creaking. A terrible rending snap jolted through the vessel, making the entire ship quake and tremble beneath the sailors’ bodies.
“By God, what was that?” the captain shouted, hunched near the mast, one arm looped around the stout beam for support.
Samuel could barely hear over the patter of rain and the roar of the sea. When he rose, he saw that the deck of the Mayflower had exploded into a flurry of activity. Men scrambled to snatch ropes that streamed through the air, hoping to steady the raging sails above them, while others simply struggled to stay aboard the boat.
A sudden thunder of footsteps alerted him to the outpour of plainly dressed men arriving from the ship’s lower deck.
“Captain Jones! The beam in the midships! Come quick, it’s failed.” The lead man ushered the captain and a few crewmen, including Samuel, down to the lower deck with frantic haste.
Samuel was startled to find that he and the others had to arrange themselves single file in order to shuffle their way through the squat lower decks of the midships. Pilgrims were gathered elbow to elbow in the crowded aisles of the lower deck. Some huddled together, heads bowed, hands clasped as they prayed; others had risen, and were urging Samuel’s party along fervently, their livid faces stricken with fear.
“Quickly now!” the man at the lead said, stooping into a cabin. Once the party emerged into another dank, crowded aisle, they saw ahead the problem. A stout beam ran parallel to the deck, but under the strain of the storm it had cracked, bowing. It had splintered, and now drooped precariously.
“God help us,” Captain Jones breathed, inspecting the damage cautiously.
“Sir, we must turn back!” one of the Pilgrims urged, turning upon the captain with eyes wild. “This cannot hold, it will not hold! The voyage can wait a month if it must. There be no reason to throw our lives away needlessly.”
Samuel heard stirrings of agreement behind him. More of the pilgrims had joined the throng near the beam, and more than one was nodding his head in agreement.
“No, I say!” Captain Jones said. “The screw, get the screw! Go now!”
A pair of sailors pushed past the pilgrims, disappearing down the stairs that led to the hold below deck. The silence that followed was thick with tension, punctuated by the distant crack of lightning and the pattering of rain.
“Sir, this is madness. We cannot hope to travel the ocean with our ship hampered so.” The Pilgrim who had spoken in protest again voiced his reproof. Others agreed quietly.
“With all do respect, sirs, this vessel is mine and it will remain on course,” Captain Jones shot back.
The Pilgrims were cowed to silence.
Samuel silently thanked God when the two sailors returned, laden with a thick iron screw. They rested it below the beam, and the entire assembly stared at with knotted eyebrows and opened mouths.
“Go on then. Samuel, William, crank her up,” the Captain snapped.
Samuel exchanged glances with the sailor named William, and then knelt beside the screw. He grasped one of the handles, and Will the other. They twisted, and the upper spire of the screw twisted, lengthening until the metal plate surmounting the pole touched the bottom of the creaking beam.
“Easy now,” Jones said, mopping his sweaty brow with a sleeve.
The screw continued to twist, easing the cracked beam upright. The wood groaned after a few more revelations, sending a startled, panicked ripple of prayer through the gathered pilgrims. Some turned away, squeezing their eyes shut, clammy hands balling into fists.
The onlookers watched with growing apprehension as the screw rose, pushing the sundered beam together with only a few more protesting groans from the wood. Samuel and Will collectively sucked in a breath and exhaled, backing away from the screw with hands raised in protection.
“It’s held. By God, it’s held!” one of the pilgrims shouted. He slapped his hands together, shouted again, and darted back through the crowds of people, relaying the news.
Captain Jones clapped Samuel and Will on the back. The sailors had little time to savor their victory, though. As they were just beginning to weave their way back through the crowded midships, another wave smacked the boat. Samuel was thrown into the ship’s side. Jones grasped him by the arm and pushed him onward. “Quick now! And someone make sure that beam stays.”
Up top, things remained in the same state of frantic confusion. Sailors were bustling to repair damage while still keeping the boat under some kind of course, all while the wind and rain pelted them.
“Tighten that line, Samuel. With me, Will.” Captain Jones and Will ran to the steering wheel of the vessel, leaving Sam to bring the portside rigging into some kind of organization. He ran quickly, so the sudden roll of the ship left his feet sliding hopelessly over the slippery planks of the deck. Before Samuel could even raise a cry for help, he had smashed into the gunwale and his body had swung over. Time seemed to slow as he fell, arms windmilling, legs flailing. For a moment, Samuel thought he might simply float away from this cold, wretched day. But then the water greeted him with a frigid reality, consuming him completely in its murky depths. He thrashed and fought, all of his consciousness slamming back into him, but the sea threw wave after wave at him until Samuel was entirely submerged and sinking. His hands clawed through the water, hoping to find some purchase on the side of the ship, but no, he was too far.
Then, by some grace of God, his fingers brushed the tough threads of a stray halyard. Samuel snatched it in the firmest grip he could muster and yanked, praying the rope would attract the attention of the crew. It must have; Samuel felt the slack rope grow taut, and then it began pulling him back to the churning surface of the sea. He wrapped his other hand around the rope and when he opened his eyes, he realized he was dangling against the side of the ship. The crew above were laboring away to draw the sailor back up to the ship’s deck.
When Samuel reached the top of the boat, the crew grabbed him up and hoisted him aboard. He fell to the planks, coughing up water, but very much alive. It’s as if the very hand of God has plucked me from this wretched sea and returned me to safety, he thought as the crew helped him to the shelter of the lower deck.
When Samuel could finally open his eyes against the grit of the seawater, he saw Captain Jones standing over him, smiling amiably. “God favors you, sailor. No, no. Sit. Rest. But not too long. We have a city to found, after all!”