A Sea Unto Itself Read Free

the seaman comprehended the exact meaning of much of it, but he would get the drift. “Penny,” he said to regain his wife’s attention. He forcefully pulled her arm to turn her away.
    “So she’s your Poll, is she, Jack,” the seaman sputtered, turning on Charles. “You should teach her to shut her gob.”
    This was too much. ‘Poll’ was a term for a common dockside whore, although he doubted his wife would know this. “I will not have my wife addressed in such fashion,” he growled, taking a step toward the man.
    “Go bugger yourself,” the seaman responded. He placed his hands on Charles’ chest and pushed.
    Charles staggered backwards then, despite Penny’s pulling on his coat to restrain him, lunged forward and pushed back. “You will mind your manners when addressing me, cully,” he said menacingly, “or I’ll mind them for you.” He found the man surprisingly difficult to budge. He was about to follow up with the potentially significant revelation that he was a captain in the Royal Navy and that the seaman had better be careful or he would find himself in serious difficulties. He didn’t get beyond the introductory, “Do you know to whom you are speaking?” The seaman's fist pounded into his solar plexus like the kick of a horse. The force of it took his breath away and doubled him over. Before he could react a second fist hammered against the side of his head.
    Charles found himself on the cobblestones gasping for air in a sea of pain. He heard Penny shriek. He saw the seaman’s foot draw back and start forward. Charles rolled sideways as the boot shot past. He sensed more than saw that a general tumult had broken out with an uproar of shouting. Struggling to his elbows and knees, he saw the man step forward, preparing to kick at him again. Inexplicably, the foot jerked upwards, swinging harmlessly above. Charles found this unusual in an academic kind of way. He was additionally puzzled as the other foot that the man had been standing on also rose magically into the air.
    His wife knelt on the pavement beside him, still cradling her package. “Charlie, Charlie,” she said. “Art thou injured? Canst thou rise?”
    With her help he managed to push himself to his knees. His breath came in gasps and the side of his face stung painfully. It took a moment for him to collect his wits before he saw the seaman that had struck him dangling helplessly a full two feet off the ground. Holding him by the collar and the seat of his pants was the very large black man Charles had noticed standing by the anti-slavery speaker. He looked even larger close up.
    “You keep afussin’ like that,” the man said to his flailing burden, “an’ Augustus gonna drop you on your head.” The seaman became still.
    Charles managed to gain his feet. “Art thou damaged?” Penny said, holding onto his arm and helping him rise.
    “I’m all right,” he answered, taking a deep breath. He turned toward the African. “I am in your debt,” he said.
    “What do you want me to do with this one?” He shook the dangling seaman like so much loose clothing.
    “Put him down, but keep hold of his collar.” He turned to face the seaman whose expression was now more one of contrition than hostility. “I’ve half a mind to see you swing for striking a king’s officer,” he began harshly.
    “Oh, no,” Penny interrupted. “Thou canst do no such thing.   Too terrible a punishment for such a petty crime wouldst be against God’s law.”
    Charles looked at his wife in annoyance. “That’s easy for you to say; you weren’t injured.”
    “Whoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn the other also,” Penny said primly. “So sayeth the Bible.   In Matthew, I think. Revenge be sinful, forgiveness devi . . .”
    “Yes, yes,” Charles said impatiently. “I wasn’t going to have him hanged. It was only a manner of speaking. But there must be some consequence if one man strikes another in a public square. What should