A Simple Deception

XXIV

"To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved."  George MacDonald

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XXIV.

For what felt like hours, Alex stood frozen on the dock staring up at the man who had just introduced himself. The captain had given Alex his name. Alex wondered how many Alexander Whitfields there could be sailing the Caribbean. Could this be a coincidence? Or ...

Or could this man be his father?

His mother had only known his father for a brief time, but Alex had always known that he had been given his father's name.

"What are you waiting for?" the captain, Captain Whitfield, asked, staring back at Alex with a perplexed expression, his blue eyes narrowing. "Do you want to be caught?"

Alex shook away his amazement and pushed it aside, knowing he had much more pressing problems at that moment. They were still standing in full view of other ships, and he and Belle could not risk being discovered, especially once it was discovered that the master, Harold Wilkes, was dead.

Alex led Belle up the ramp as they followed the captain. When they stepped onto the ship deck, Alex saw that it was abandoned, its crew most likely making the most of life at port in the taverns by the pier.

Captain Whitfield made his way to the iron grated hatch that shielded the deck below. With a heave, he lifted it and propped it open, before stopping to look up at Alex and Belle.

As Alex looked on the man once again, he couldn't help but search his face for any similarities. Not only were they alike in stature, their jaws seemed to be quite similar. While Alex's nose was a little wider, he thought that it was about the same length as the captain's and –

"Down you go."

Alex chastised himself for becoming distracted once again. Not when he was facing the prospect of going down into a ship's hold once again. He and Belle had both found themselves to be prisoners in one of those. He wouldn't be again. Regardless of who this man was, Alex had to remember that he was first and foremost a white man, and Alex didn't think he'd ever met a decent one.

He stilled, holding onto Belle's arm tightly. The change in his awareness stopped Belle in her tracks and he could feel her trembling beside him with nerves and apprehension.

"No," said Alex firmly. He eyed the ramp behind him as his pulse began to quicken. "We'll be going now."

"You don't stand a chance out there, boy," said the captain firmly. "No such thing as a free negro ... at least, not here. You won't see the sunrise without someone figuring out who you are and to whom you belong." Captain Whitfield stood calmly by the hatch. "I've been at sea for more than thirty years. I've never carted one black soul, and I've no intension of starting now. So, get down there before someone who doesn't take issue with human cargo hears you."

He spoke with conviction, and Alex wanted to believe him. But at that moment, he didn't trust his own judgement. Did he want to believe this man because he and Belle needed a way off the island, or did he want to believe this man because there was a chance that they were blood?

The facts. He had to focus on the facts. His wrists and feet were unbound. He was not in chains, and neither was Belle. The captain had not yelled for the port authorities and he had not drawn his weapon. The ramp off the ship was right there. If Alex wanted to leave, he could, and the captain wouldn't be able to stop him.

"Tu peux me faire confiance," Captain Whitfield said calmly.

Trust. It felt very alarming to contemplate trusting a white man. Belle, understanding the captain, looked up at Alex expectantly. Alex had to appreciate the facts. They were not in chains.