He turned away. The damage to the ship was not the only damage he had to account for. Tucked beneath his arm was the official log with an account of the deaths and the injuries incurred during the voyage. He also needed to find a doctor as quickly as possible, for he feared that several of the sick would die if they did not receive medical attention soon.
He was responsible for his ship and its crew and both had suffered grievously. He squared his shoulders and straightened the blue jacket that he had saved these months precisely for going ashore. He had done all that he could do. Five or six ships simply disappeared every year attempting to round Cape Horn. He had brought his ship, its cargo and most of his crew to port. All else were the hazards of the sea. He had done his duty and if he had any doubt of that, this not the time to show it.
Captain Barker's first order of business was to present the official log to the British consul in Pisagua, an elderly gentleman named Morris, who worked behind a large desk in a small but comfortable office near the nitrate docks.
“Sir, Captain Barker from the Lady Rebecca, one hundred and thirty-nine days from Cardiff, with a cargo of coal.”
“Hunh," the consul snorted. "There was talk that you might have been lost. I understand that your agent received several telegraphs from your Mr. Shute when you were overdue, inquiring as to your arrival. Looks like you had a difficult passage, Captain. Any loss of crew?
“Four, sir. All properly logged. We also have injuries. I would like to see to it that those in need of attention are brought to a hospital to be looked after.”
“Four dead. My word. You did have a difficult passage. Well, I shall review the log and take the appropriate action. As to the sick, we do have a hospital of sorts. Not much to speak of, really, but it may serve.”
“Thank you, Consul Morris.”
The old gentleman merely nodded and Captain Barker left to find the ship's agent.
The shipping agent was a florid little man named Johnson who greeted Captain Barker warmly.
“So sorry, sir, to hear of your dreadful voyage but you have arrived and the mines are in desperate need of your coal. I regret to say, however, that several German ships have swept the coast clean of nitrates. I have been telegraphing Mr. Shute in search of alternative cargoes.”
The last statement struck Captain Barker like a hammer blow. For a moment he felt like he could not breathe. They made money transporting the coal but if there was no backhaul cargo, the voyage might still be a loss. As part owner of the ship and cargo, the loss would be his. All his dreams of establishing himself in one voyage vanished in an instant.
Barker did all he could not to show how the news affected him. His ship was damaged and would require repair, and now they had no homeward-bound cargo. He saw his dream of a highly profitable voyage slip further from his grasp.
“I have confidence in Mr. Shute." It seemed all that he could really say. "Do you happen to know when the Susannah arrived in Iquique?" He wanted to get all his bad news at once.
Agent looked dour. "I am afraid, sir, that she is overdue. There have been no reports of her anywhere on the coast.”
Captain Barker felt an instant's elation and then a deep dread. Suddenly, the idea of racing one square-rigger against another seemed a game played by children when compared to the fury of the Southern Ocean. The Susannah overdue? Given how terrible their own voyage indeed was, he would say a prayer for Captain Frederich and his crew.
Will wore what passed for his best uniform, a white shirt and pants, as clean as he could get them. Captain Barker had purchased four boats for the ship and now he and Jack had to row him to shore and back on ship's business.
He was tanned and, at long last, warm. Hot, actually, but that was just fine with him. Unlike the rest of the crew, who were stuck working on the ship, he and Jack had time ashore. They were supposed to wait by the boat but had learned how long the captain took on his rounds so they could wander the streets a bit and still be ready to row the captain back. They were even earning some pocket money smuggling pisco, the local hooch, back to the rest of the crew.
The worst part of the job had been rowing Lindstrom, Hanson and Jerry the Greek ashore to the hospital. Of the three, Jerry looked in the best shape. Shore labor was brought out to unload the cargo, while the rest of the crew were set to work on repairs. Pugsley got the pump cleared and Will enjoyed seeing the old ship floating on her lines again. Slowly her rust-streaked sides were returning to black as his shipmates on bosun's chairs scraped and painted the hull. Once again, Will has happy to be at the oars of the captain's launch.
It had only been five months since he stood on the dock in Cardiff, and yet he felt that he was entirely a different person. His shoulders were broader and waist narrower. He wore his belt was several notches tighter and had no problem hauling the oars to carry the captain across the harbor. He was different physically, but that seemed to be the least of it.
What he had lived through was only beginning to sink in. Only now were the months of storms, danger and death coming into focus. He had been too tired, too frightened and too overwhelmed to think about what he was doing or where he was. Now, in the warmth of the Chilean sun, he could marvel at his own survival and feel proud that he had carried on regardless. He smiled, thinking about the fourteen-year-old boy who had stood on the Cardiff dock five months before. He was only a few months older, but was no longer that same boy. He felt like a different person entirely. He had survived the worst of Cape Horn. No more need be said.
Within a fortnight, a squat German steamer chugged into the harbor. Two days later, all the apprentices turned to to row the captain's family ashore to meet the steamer. Paul Nelson who was still acting Third Mate volunteered to help row as well. Captain Barker, Mary and the children were in one boat, with a second reserved for their luggage. The wind had picked up, raising a short chop in the roadstead. Will and Jack, rowing the captain's boat, took special care to see that his wife and children stayed dry.
At the dock, Mary forced back tears and Amanda and Tommy hugged their father's legs until they were pulled away by their mother. Captain Barker maintained the same stoic demeanor that he wore while pacing the bridge. Will wondered if he could really be so unfeeling.
Mary and the children stepped away and came over to each of the apprentices. She gave Will a hug and little Amanda looked up and said, "And you take care of yourself, Mr. Will.”
“I will be sure to contact your parents, William," said Mary, "and tell them that you are a fine young man who will make a fine ship's officer if that is the course you choose.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Barker. Thank you very much. Have a good voyage home.”
“Thank you, William.”
Mary spoke quietly to each of the apprentices, lined up on the pier, and turned to see James having a few words with the mate from the steamer, who was directing his sailors on the loading of their luggage.
James looked older than she remembered him in Cardiff. He was still a young man but his face was weathered and there was something in his countenance that seemed worn and weary. Nevertheless, at his core, he had the same vigor and determination that he always had. Seeing him now, she was amazed by that determination, the absolute, indomitable strength of will. She wondered whether it was his greatest virtue or his greatest flaw.
They had said their goodbyes in the cabin, so little more need be said. He smiled at her. "I hope the voyage is comfortable, my dear.”