Thomas Macy

When Ann found herself on the deck of the Christopher Mitchell, she was ordered to the fo’cstle. How was she to know that the Mate meant the forecastle…and that the forecastle was under the foredeck of the ship?

Imagine being forcefully directed to a box-like structure (the companionway) covering the entrance to a compartment cloaked in darkness. You peer down into the black space and are just able to see where the bottom of the steep ladder ends on the floor about five feet down. Everything else is covered in a lightless gloom. Tossing in your one bag containing all your worldly possessions, you turn and climb down backwards.

As your head approaches the opening in the deck, the rank fumes of sweat, vomit, and dead fish wends its way up into your nose so that you even taste the foul air. Though you fight to keep your head up and in the fresh air, you are told to move on in. Turning you step into the shadows of a hovel from hell, and your head smashes into an overhead beam. As you walk further in, you hunch over. When your eyes become somewhat adjusted to the darkness, the light from the forecastle companionway reveals the vague outlines of 16 bunks—four upper and four lower along the port and starboard sides. Bags and trunks litter the deck along these bunks. You choose an available berth.

Now that you can see a little better, you look around…no portholes, and no means of ventilation other than the hatch. What will it be like when the companionway is shut, you wonder, and then you add 15 men. It’s steady now in port, but what happens when the ship gyrates up and down, back and forth, over ocean swells? You groan when you realize this is your home for the next three years.

In The Heart of the Sea tells the story of, the Essex, a ship that suffered the same fate as the Moby Dick’s Pequod.  The crew had put out in the whaleboats after whales when, to their chagrin, one large sperm whale turned and rammed the ship, sinking it. The men were left in three whaleboats in the Pacific. In The Heart of the Sea is the account of their struggle to survive as they attempt to reach South America. The story of the Essex was one of two events that led to Herman Melville writing Moby Dick.

In First Fury, Ann overhears the tale of the Essex. For someone like Ann, who had never even seen the sea, such a tale would have caused visions of such beasts waiting under every swell. Even when she is told that this is the only documented case of such a sinking, she continues to worry.

First Fury is available as an eBook at Barnes & Noble, Amazon, And on my web site.

I am now working on the sequel to First Fury—Second Fury—which follows Ann on the next leg of her “journey” and am looking for friends to critique the first three chapters. Let me know if you would be interested in helping with that. For those who give feedback, I will provide a free download of Second Fury in whatever eBook format you wish when it is complete.

In 2002, I took a business trip to Rochester, New York. Sandy went with me; and, after the work was done, we spent some time tracking the path followed by Ann. Since she gave her address as 22 Oak Street in Rochester, we began there. The Erie Canal at that point no longer exists, though one can still see where it once was. From 22 Oak Street, the Kodak Office building is seen in the distance. The street ends at Frontier Stadium. On the First Fury web site “Pictures, Notes, and Docs” link, you can find an 1851 map and more pictures.

According to The Rochester Daily Democrat of August 22, 1849, page 2, column 2, “The Rochester Sailor Girl,” Ann said she was abandoned in Port Jackson but that Port Gibson is what she meant. So we traveled to Port Gibson, east of Rochester. Since 2002, our pictures of Port Gibson have been “misplaced.” We will need another trip to take contemporary pictures of the place where she cut her hair, bound herself, and donned the dress of a man.