Authors’ Note: This chapter contains a bit of West Indian dialect. If you cannot understand it try reading it out loud...it’s a fun little exercise for you.

^o^ Natz

10) The New Arrivals

The water lapped at the edges of the wood. Slapping continuously on the sides of the boat in a constant rhythm. It was that maddening rhythm that symbolized the fact that his goal was getting closer to him. After several days on the vessel he was more than ready to get off and be on his way. He could not stand the infernal noise any longer. It was driving him crazy. He was silently thanking God that in a few moments he would be finally rid of the prison and most of the people who had been tormenting his sanity while he was forced to be there.

As the SS Vera pulled into Ellis Island on the Hudson River, all Charles could do was lean slightly over the railing of the bow to calm his churning stomach. The days of seasickness had been debilitating, sticking him in the tiny bunk bed for most of the Journey. In those days he was forced to lay there as the movement of the ship caused his stomach refuse anything that he tried to put into it. Along with the “polite conversation” of the accompanying passengers who were constantly to be found strolling on the deck in leisure and conversation, drifting into his room, he had been tortured all on his way to his destination.

The boat had finally docked and the assistant passenger director was at the bow of the deck issuing direct instructions on how to disembark the ship, where to go to check your immigration papers and how to catch a ferry to the mainland. Charles, in a beautifully made black suit with gold buttons and a fine embroidered raven silk cape grasped his paper case tightly and strode ahead as the man behind him struggled with the huge trunk that he had brought with him. He nervously ran his fingers through his curly blond hair and then as an afterthought tried to smooth down the rumpled curls as he reached the gangway he looked behind him and let out an agitated groan. “ For goodness sakes Paul, can you please hurry up with that? We have to speed up or we will never get out of this hellhole. We have reservations and a meeting to attend to.” he said, his affected British accent in place.

A tall, well defined young black male stopped short of the gangway, stood up and stretched his muscles, his dark skin in contrast of the pearl white suit which he was wearing. “ Wha… you can hol on a bit longa eh? Dis ting heavy fah trut.”

Charles paused and colored in the cheeks a bit and walked towards the discontented and somewhat larger man. His voice dropped to a low level and reverted to speech more like the one of his companion, “Wha I tell you Paul…Don you remember? When we here you gotta show me respect…do what I say when I say it.”

Paul shook his head and responded just as quietly. “ I know wha you say. But you don know how heavy dis ting is so don’t tell me nuttin bout hurry.”

Charles rolled his eyes in agony, trying to ignore the disapproving stares of the other people as they passed him and his “servant”, their own bag and baggage in tow behind them being carried by their entourages. His accent slipped back into place and he responded a bit louder than before. “Come on my man. Buk it up. We have to be on our way.” With that he turned and left the annoyed Paul to struggle with the baggage.

Paul bent once more, tensed his muscles and returned to struggling with the huge trunk, pulling and tugging it after his “master”.

………

The two traveling companions had made it through customs and immigration and were on the main part of the “island” which was credited as being the most important island in the world. They called it Manhattan. Most referred to it as being, New York City. Neither of the travelers had seen anything like it before. They were in awe of the multi story buildings and large paved streets, which carried multitudes of carriages, horses and people going from one place to another. The sun was rising high in the sky as it neared midday.

Paul’s eyes roved the streets, as he had never seen that many people in the same place all at once before. To him everything was so large and new. The sailing vessel they had journeyed on had captivated him. He had had a lot of spare time during the journey as his “master” had been slightly incapacitated at that time. He had taken advantage of the free time and spent hours roaming the ship, out of the sight of the crew and other “paying passengers”. He had even found places where some other “servants” like himself could sit and talk, chatting about their lives, jobs… and their “masters”. He tried to shy away from the conversations about masters, as he truthfully did not have one. The charade that he and Charles were playing as master and servant was for a purpose that, honestly, he did not think was necessary. But Charles knew what he was doing, or at least claimed that he did.

Charles glanced over to where Paul was sitting in the carriage. He stared at his servant with a slight smile on his face. Though Paul was three years older than himself he had always felt like he and the big black man were equals, as best friends should be. Then he ventured to speak. “See Paul, it’s all working out. We are going to find her. We have made it so far and we just have to keep looking.”

Paul turned his attention towards the young and enthusiastic man and could do nothing else but shake his head in disbelief. “That’s what you think, but she is a lot smarter than you think. And I should know that.” But he knew that he had no choice but to help him. At least it gave him half a chance. And besides, that’s what friends were for.

~~*~~

9 / Bulma’s Hideout / 11