Free The Survivor by Paul Almond

it. And then, of course, there’s the sails which I seldom touched, tarpaulins and such like. I’d watch the sail-makers work on them; I guess I never knew when it might come in handy.”
    Hall turned to the lad who was solemnly taking it all in. “You’re larning from a master, Ben.”
    “Indeed I am, sir.” From the way Ben looked at James, he almost worshipped this ex-seaman rapidly becoming Hall’s Number Two.
    “I enjoy teaching him, sir,” said James, finding it helpful to divert his mind from those blue eyes that followed him through the days. On the practical side, he doubted lovely Sorrel with her tiny frame and hunched shoulders could ever take the arduous winters in a desolate and isolated cabin, much as she had also impressed him. No, it was Catherine he wanted, nay, longed for.
    “Them Garretts is a fine family.” Mr. Hall seemingly had read the thoughts behind his foreman’s distant eyes. “Byes, that old Will sure has the pair of prettiest daughters in New Carlisle.”
    James looked up sharply. Well, he’d grown to like Hall, so why not confide to him some of his buried feelings? “Yes sir, I’ve been far and wide on His Majesty’s ships, but never have I seen anyone to compare with the young Catherine.” He dropped his eyes as he took the next piece of belt and prepared it for stitching. “I’ve never met Billy Brotherton, but I presume he must be of a calibre equal to or even greater than she, for William Garrett to have granted this match.”
    James glanced up to see a curious look come onto the older man’s face. But without pursuing the matter, he continued stitching in silence, thrusting the needle even more angrily than needed.
    After a time, Mr. Hall spoke. “Them Brothertons, I had a bit of problem with them, so you can’t count on me for any true appraisal of Billy.” James looked up. “But the one thing all of us know, that Billy is one spoiled brat. Always was. My son went to school with him. Nobody liked him. ’Cept for a bunch of fools followed him as leader. Terble good athlete. That kinda made up for things, I guess.”
    “Get the glue ready, Ben,” was all James said in reply.
    “I reckon she’d be better off with the likes of a man like you,” Hall averred, “a man who’s served his good King for years in the Navy, and who’s not afraid of hard work. But that’s just my opinion.”
    “I only wish to God it were hers too, sir,” mumbled James as reached for the glue pot. But later that night as he lay on his straw mattress, James tossed and turned in agony. Come on, he scolded, forget Catherine. Work with them all here at the mill, and teach young Ben. There’ll be lots of young girls come along, once you’ve got your house built.
    But he knew that wasn’t true; he knew he was just lying to himself. After much anguish, his worn-out body drove him to sleep.
    ***
    A month later, the squeal of the saw could not drown out the agonized cry as a stream of red liquid spun into the air, covering James as he stood in the millwright’s position. He threw the saw out of gear, and grabbed up Ben where he had fallen.
    These sounds and spray of blood were to be replayed in his mind for many months to come. But now, he hurried out holding the lad, his brain reeling as he cried for help.
    ’Ti-Pete came running, calling to his mate, Serge, out on the floating logs, who in spite of his girth came leaping across like a squirrel.
    James kneeled, placed Ben on the earth, tore off his shirt and tied one sleeve around the arm as a tourniquet. Lifting his shirt, he wiped his own eyes clear of the blood. “Get Mr. Hall!”
    “Gone upriver,” ’Ti-Pete replied.
    James looked down at the boy, his eyes clouding over, stricken with shock. Dazed and clearly in another world, Ben’s face bore only a questioning expression: how had this happened?
    During the four or five weeks since they had repaired the main belt, James had found himself increasingly in the position of Number