Mankillers

Until she moved beyond the bow bend of the cabins.

She heard men’s voices. Instinctively she pulled the hood up over her head and was about to retreat the way she’d come, when she realized one of the voices was familiar.

Dr. Thomson.

What was he doing out here this hour of the night? Seeking respite from the confines of his small cabin as well? And who was he talking to?

Cautiously she tiptoed forward. Oh, my God!

The doctor was standing at the rail, his arm around the neck of his friend Asa, who was perched on its other side. Both men were facing the sea, allowing her to slide up along the cabin wall unobserved to a small alcove directly behind them. From this vantage point she was able to hear everything they were saying.

“Lemme be, Buck. I can’t take no more.”

“You don’t want to do this, Asa. I know you’re hurting, but give it time. Things’ll get better. I promise. If you end it now, you’ll rob yourself of the chance to improve. Come on back, Asa. You can get through this.”

“I won’t. I ain’t never go

“Asa, you’re my friend. I can’t let you go. Things’ll get better. Day by day. A little bit today. A little bit more tomorrow and the day after that. It’ll take time, but you have to give it a chance. You’ll be all right, Asa. I promise. Give it some time and everything’ll be fine.”

“It ain’t, Buck. I ain’t never go

Sarah was stu

As she fought the nausea, she realized Asa was struggling against the doctor’s arm lock, bending forward, levering Buck’s feet off the deck. Another concerted heave, and both men would be tumbling into the waters below. By the time she could raise an alarm they’d be lost.

She couldn’t let that happen. She stepped forward and touched the doctor’s arm.

Startled, he jerked his head in her direction, his eyes wide. He was about to say something, but she preempted him by removing her hand and placing it on Asa’s biceps.

Equally shocked, he twisted towards her. His face was wet with tears. In the moonlight, she could see his eyes were bloodshot from long crying. He scrunched them closed in abject humiliation at her being there, seeing him in these circumstances. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a man in such utter pain.

“He’s right,” she told him. “Buck’s right, Asa. You need to give yourself time to heal.”

“You don’t understand,” he argued, then got angry. “It ain’t none of your business. Go away. Leave me alone. Buck, lemme go.”

“I can’t, Asa. You’re my friend. I can’t let you go.”

“It’ll get better,” Sarah assured him. “You have to be patient, learn to accept what happened—”

“How would you know?” he demanded. “You don’t understand. How could you?”

She bit her lip, closed her eyes for a second, then said, “Because I was raped too.”

She felt both men staring at her, too stu

Forcing back her tears, she finally said, “Asa, please come back on board. You’re going to be all right. It does get better. The pain and humiliation you feel now will gradually fade. Not all at once, but every day it’ll be a little bit less. The worst is behind you. Please believe me. It really is.”

Dr. Thomson and his friend stared at each other and slowly Asa rotated around. Clasping the neck of his shirt securely with one hand, the physician used the other to help him negotiate the white iron rail.

“Are you all right, ma’am,” Asa asked when both his feet were firmly on the deck.

“I recommend a good night’s sleep,” she said in reply, doing her best to sound upbeat and positive. “I’ll see y’all at breakfast in the morning.”

#

Buck was cutting into his second rasher of bacon when Asa, sitting across from him, asked, “Do you think they’ve already eaten and we missed them?”

“I don’t think so. We were among the first ones here when they opened the dining room.”

“Maybe they’ve decided not to eat. Maybe they’re seasick.”

Buck had to resist the temptation to smile. Asa was remarkably solicitous this morning. He didn’t want to spoil the mood.

“I bet they’ll be . . .” He saw the three people standing in the doorway. The two women appeared tired while Mr. Greenwald seemed defiant. “There they are now.”

Even before Buck could rise, Asa had pushed back his chair and stood up, all his attention focused on the new arrivals. A waiter ushered them to the table. By then Buck was on his feet as well. The customary greetings were exchanged by everyone except Mr. Greenwald who insisted on remaining mute. When Sarah suggested he take a seat, he ignored her. Mrs. Greenwald then commanded him to sit down. Still he refused to cooperate.

To Buck’s astonishment, Asa circled the table and went up beside the old man.

“Sure would be nice if you’d join us, Mr. Greenwald. Why don’t you come sit by me?”

Everyone was surprised when he did. His wife nodded pleasantly to the young man. “Thank you, Mr. Boone. You have a gift.”

Asa merely bowed his head, clearly unprepared for the compliment.

“I hope you slept well,” Sarah said to him, while the waiter poured steaming coffee into their thick china cups.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We’ll be in Charleston today,” Ruth went on, unperturbed by Asa’s sudden reticence. “I can’t wait to get home myself. It’s been such a long trip, and I miss familiar surroundings. How about you, Mr. Boone?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The waiter took their orders. Buck requested more coffee, Asa another plate of grits and eggs. The meal proceeded between fits and starts of conversation, mostly between Sarah and her mother concerning people Buck knew nothing about.

Finally Asa a

The jocular tone took Buck aback. It had been some time since Asa had displayed any sense of humor. “Should I?”

“I think we’ll both feel better if you do.”

Buck was flabbergasted. Asa’s moods seemed to swing from lighthearted to solicitous to shy and morose in a matter of seconds without apparent reason, yet through it all he gave the impression of being fully aware of what he was doing, the world around him and the impression he was making. Instinct told Buck Asa’s self-awareness was an encouraging sign, though he couldn’t explain why or figure out how to exploit it.

“Ladies,” he said pleasantly as he rose, “if you’ll excuse us, please. I’ll return in a few minutes.” They made their way along the inside passage to their room. “You seem to be feeling much better this morning,” Buck observed.

“Better than what?”

Buck glanced over and was relieved to find Asa smiling.

“Sometimes I feel all right, and . . . sometimes. I hate this, Buck. I hate being who I am, what they done to me.”

“I wish I had words to make it all better, Asa, but I don’t.”

“Just being able to talk to you, knowing you understand, helps. There ain’t nobody else who—” He didn’t finish the sentence because he’d choked up.

“She’s right,” Buck told him. “Sarah is right. Give it time. Be patient. After a while you’ll have more good feelings than bad.”

He had to wonder though if the bad feelings would ever completely go away. Probably not, but if there were enough good times to outweigh them, maybe it wouldn’t make any difference. Didn’t he have things he wanted to forget—like a brother being killed right in front of him?