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When the sky at Marin’s back had begun to shift from black to blue, and the waters directly below the bow of the ship were once again visible, Marin could feel the winds shifting, coming now from the east and blowing strong against his collar. He heard the distant caws of seagulls off to the west. As the day’s light began to surround him, he heard the watchman call,
“Land Ho.”
The waters were much too rough to approach the shore and so the Commander anchored about a quarter of a mile out. A small boat approached the U.S.S. Fortune and two gentlemen came aboard. Once on deck, Ernst escorted the men to his private quarters for a chat behind closed doors. Afterward, Ernst went to retrieve Marin. Marin requested that Jude be present, but Ernst denied the request.
“Admiral Fairchild’s orders were clear, he requests a private meeting with you, sir.”
“Admiral? Since when is Fairchild an Admiral?”
The Commander chose not to answer as he escorted Marin to the cabin. As they entered, Ernst announced, “Admiral Fairchild, this is Captain Carpenter.”
The Admiral excused his assistant, as well as Commander Ernst, before addressing Marin.
“The Commander has informed me that the fate of your crew is unknown at this time. I want to assure you that the Navy will do will everything in its power to find and rescue them. I would also like to express my sympathies for the loss of your ship, Captain.”
Marin held his silence behind a stern glare into the Admiral’s eyes. As Fairchild stood waiting a reply, he grew more and more uncomfortable. Marin’s anger began to show in the tightening muscles of his jaw. The Admiral forged on.
“It is a most regrettable situation. I will do my best to see that you are at least partially compensated for the loss of your ship, although I must say, the United States Navy cannot be held totally responsible for the actions of a pirate ship. We —”
“THERE WAS NO FUCKING PIRATE SHIP,” Marin screamed while advancing toward Fairchild. The door behind Marin burst open as he was screaming,
“WE BOTH KNOW THERE WAS NO FUCKING PIRATE SHIP.”
Two men grabbed Marin from behind just as he had come within a whiskers length of the Admiral’s face; one of men was Commander Ernst, the other was Jude Prince.
“It’s alright gentlemen,” Fairchild said, stepping back. They each let go of Marin but stayed by his side as a precaution. “Perhaps we should discuss this later,” the Admiral offered.
“C’mon Captain, let’s prepare to go ashore,” Jude urged.
“What’s to prepare?” Marin barked, and turning to Fairchild added, “We have much to discuss, do we not ...Admiral? Then let us discuss it ...NOW.”
The Admiral nodded to Jude and Ernst as if to excuse them.
“I wish Mister Prince to stay,” Marin said.
“Very well,” Fairchild agreed. “Commander Ernst, you are excused.” The look on Ernst’s face revealed that he was uncomfortable with the command.
“Why can’t he stay?” Marin asked. “What is it that he should not hear?”
“Commander,” Fairchild repeated, reinforcing his order and sending Ernst from the room. He sat down at a table in the middle of the room and motioned for Marin and Jude to join him. Jude took a seat across the table, while Marin remained standing, arms crossed as if holding himself back. “I would be more comfortable if you were to be seated, Captain,” Fairchild said, but that only added to the tension.
“If I may speak, sir,” Jude offered.
The Admiral nodded.
“Sir, you yourself let it slip from yer lips that our mission was, I believe the words were, ‘ill advised’. As the Admiral carefully sorted through his inner thesaurus before responding, Jude advanced further, asking “And what did ya mean by that, sir?”
“Simply that. I felt the mission ...injudicious.
“Injudicious?” Marin interjected. “The word is, pernicious, Mister Fairchild.” Marin stepped forward and leaned against the table glaring at the Admiral. “The people responsible for concocting this devious expedition knew exactly what they were doing. It was all a ruse to get Rhode Island on board with their plans to invade Canada. I believe Senator Wallace caught wind of the scheme, and influenced, someone, an Admiral perhaps, to order the Fortune to either guard our safe voyage to Passamaquoddy, or to let go and have us sail south.”
Fairchild let his eyes drop to the table. “It is true, I issued that order,” Fairchild confessed.
“So then, you had to know we held no cargo. Why else would you let us sail south?” Marin charged.
“No. I was not certain of any such thing. I cannot speak for Senator Wallace, except to say we were both concerned for your safety. We received rumor that you were docked at Perth Amboy, and once confirmed, I sent orders to Commander Ernst to shadow you. However, should you continue to the south, he was to return to Staten Island, but I was by no means letting you sail free. There were two frigates out of Philadelphia waiting to intercept you and escort you to Cape May. Perhaps you can tell me why you were in Perth Amboy in the first place?”
“What does it matter? I do not recall being given a deadline as to when I was to arrive in Passamaquoddy Bay. Why were you and Senator Wallace suddenly so concerned about our safety? Come forth, Admiral. I believe you know much more than you are letting on.”
The Admiral sat back in his chair and appeared to retreat deep into his own thoughts.
Marin and Jude traded glances.
The Admiral leaned forward and murmured, “I am not at liberty to discuss Naval—”
“You’re not at liberty?” Marin scolded with as much restraint as he could manage, but his tether would not hold. He charged around the desk, and Fairchild stood to meet his advance. Marin butted himself up against Fairchild and his rage broke loose. “I have lost my ship ...my livelihood ...my crew...” and he grabbed his adversary by the lapels and shouted, “MY BROTHER,” and he slammed the Admiral against the wall.
“GUARD,” yelled Fairchild, as Jude grabbed hold of Marin attempting to pull him away. The door burst open and Commander Ernst and Mister Mason ran to assist Jude in restraining the Captain. “Take him to the brig,” Fairchild ordered.
“Is that necessary, sir?” Jude argued.
“Would you care to join him, Mister Prince?”
“As the Admiral pleases,” Jude tempted him.
“Very well,’ the Admiral stated, straightening his attire. “Lock them both up, Commander.”
***
Inside the brig, Jude offered, “We don’t seem to be getting anywhere with this approach, Captain.”
“And what would you suggest?” Marin snapped.
“Something a little more ...subtle,” Jude suggested.
A long gone smile broke through Marin’s lips. “I’m listening,” he said.
“One of us needs to get out of here. And seein’ as you ain’t goin’ anywhere, anytime soon...” Jude said, dangling his words and twisting a smile.
Marin gave an amused nod, and asked, “And you?”
“I’m aimin’ to apologize.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, but I would, Captain. There are times when a man must tell another man what he wants to hear.”
“I assume I have given you plenty of practice?”
“Not you, sir,” Jude said, with mock sincerity.
***
Before Jude had the opportunity to ply his skills, Admiral Fairchild had second thoughts about incarcerating him and had him released. That afternoon he had Jude accompany him as they took a small boat ashore.
“Your Captain needs to learn some manners, Mister Prince,” the Admiral said.
“I’m hardly the one to scold him, sir.” Jude answered.
“Do you subscribe to his ...I am not sure how to refer to it, except to call it by name - a treasonous accusation?”
“That ...or an accusation of treason ...sir.”
The Admiral let the matter drop.
When the small boat came ashore, Senator Wallace was at the dock to meet them.
“Senator, I regret to inform you that our attempts to guard the Magister Maris have failed. She was attacked and sunk by...” and he paused, leaving the Senator hanging in the cold silence. Fairchild turned to Jude, and then back to the Senator, saying, “Senator, this is the Magister Maris’s First Mate, Mister Jude Prince.”
“Where is your Captain, Mister Prince?” the Senator asked.
“In the brig, sir.”
“I am afraid I do not understand,” the Senator said, addressing the Admiral.
“Sir, Captain Carpenter is in the brig because he attacked me.”
The Senator turned back to Jude, who nodded his head brusquely and dared a smile. The Senator lurched his head forward, raised his brow, and awaited an explanation to arrive from either one of them.
“When a man has lost everything,” Jude tendered, “he finds himself at the mercy of his own despair. Captain Carpenter took it out on the Admiral, but I am quite sure he regrets his actions.”
“I would like to speak to Captain Carpenter, Admiral,” Senator Wallace requested firmly.
“Certainly,” Fairchild said, and he instructed the boatman to take the Senator out to the U.S.S Fortune.
The admiral and Jude watched as the small boat carrying the Senator receded out across the choppy water.
“Even if your Captain’s version of events would happen to be true, Mister Prince,” Fairchild said, “it would be our best hope that the Senator does not believe him.”
Jude departed from the Admiral and went home to clean himself up and change clothes. He thought about going to Marin’s house to inform Phoebe of all that had happened, but thought it best to wait until, if and when, Marin could accompany him. He decided it best to go to the Red Boar Tavern and grab a little food and a lot of rum.
Being New Year’s Eve, the tavern was full of lonely sailors getting an early start on the New Year. Jude joined in the revelry, and when his head was afloat his full belly, he stumbled to Ruthie’s bordello for a cuddle up with whomever. When he arrived, a startled Sophie sprang from her parlor seat and ran to Ruthie’s office. Ruthie soon appeared in the hallway and motioned Jude to come into her office.
“As soon as Aja is available, tell her I wish to see her,” Ruthie instructed Sophie.
“If she’s busy, I’m not particular,” Jude slurred.
“Shut up and come in here,” Ruthie ordered, pulling Jude into her office and closing the door. “This morning a couple of drunken sailors came in here and availed themselves of Aja’s services. While they were busy enjoying themselves, they prattled on as besotted sailors do, and they happened to mention the sinking of the Magister Maris. Aja finished the session and came to me with the news. Before I could have a word with the muzzy sots, they were gone. Perhaps you can enlighten me.”
“Tis true. But how could these sailors have known?” Jude wondered aloud, while trying to rub his face sober. “Were they Navy men or regular sea dogs?” he asked.
“According to Aja, they were Navy.”
Jude leaned back in his chair and tried to unscramble his thoughts.
“Where is Marin?” Ruthie asked.
“In the brig.” Jude uttered.
“The brig? Why is he ...what the hell happened?”
“’Tis a bit of a riddle ...but, right now, I need to find them sailor boys.”
Aja’s voice came through the door, “Miss Ruth, Sophie told me—”
“Come in, Aja,” Ruthie called to her.
Aja eased in through the door and stopped the moment she saw Jude. “Where is Marin?” she asked, her concern escaping before she could grab hold of it. “Tell me he is safe.”
Jude nodded.
Aja took a deep breath and quickly regained her coquette composure.
“Aja,” Ruthie said, “Do you believe you could identify the two Naval gentlemen you entertained this morning?”
“I believe so.”
“Perhaps you should accompany Mister Prince to the Red Boar on the chance they may be soaking up the local spirits. Disguise yourself, perhaps your blonde wig and some false adornments.”
***
“I am Senator Horace Wallace,” he said, as he entered the brig where Captain Carpenter was held. “I believe you have met my daughter, Emily.”
Marin gave a slight nod while eyeing the Senator suspiciously.
“I have just met with Admiral Fairchild and your First Mate. They informed me that you attacked the Admiral.”
Marin stared steel-eyed at the Senator, and said, “And they left it at that, did they?”
“No, your First Mate added that he was quite sure you regret your actions.”
“But I do not,” Marin said, bluntly.
“Captain, I am here to help you. Perhaps if you—”
Marin abruptly cut the Senator off. “Perhaps if you were to tell me why you were so concerned about the Magister Maris in the first place, we could cut through the sewage and—”
“Sir,” the Senator objected, “I was merely acting on your behalf because I felt your journey ill-advised and I became suspicious of a certain party’s motives. I might also add; my daughter was influential in my intervening on your behalf.”
Marin seemed somewhat calmed by the remark. He motioned for the Senator to sit down, and asked, “And how is Emily?”
“She is quite concerned about her second cousin,” he said, introducing a smile.
“Once removed,” Marin amended.
“And yet, still concerned.” he countered.
Marin almost smiled. “Level with me, Senator. Whose motives is it that you question, and why?”
“There are certain members of Congress that are a little too eager to start another war with England.”
“And what has that to do with me?”
The Senator pressed his lips together, folded his arms, and leaned back in his chair.
“Well?” Marin demanded.
“Perhaps I have said too much already. My main purpose—”
“No sir,” Marin interrupted again, “you have not said enough. I believe the United Stated Navy planned to sink the Magister Maris and blame it on the British in order to get Rhode Island to agree to an invasion of Canada. And I further believe, you believe that as well.”
“Unlike you Captain, I have to be very careful what I believe. But if, in fact, that was the plan by a certain party, I would have been hell-bent on thwarting it.”
“Well you would have failed, sir. My ship lay at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, and I fear for the fate of my crew, which includes my dear brother, Phillipe.”
“I pray for your brother. But what proof have you that it was an American ship that attacked you?”
“The cannon balls that were fired at us were not British.”
“And how would you know that?”
“My boatswain was a former British gunner’s mate.”
The Senator appeared to be drained of a reply.
“Senator,” Marin offered, placing the coup de grace gently before him, “the Magister Maris carried no cargo ...only ballast.”
The Senator bowed his head into the palm of his hand.
“GUARD,” he called out.
Mason bounded through the brig door, saying “Yes sir?”
“Release this man,” he ordered.
Mason stood erect, clearly uncertain as to what to do.
“I will take full responsibility,” the Senator assured him.
“On land perhaps, sir. But aboard this ship, only the Commander has that authority.”
Commander Ernst proved reluctant to release Marin without the Admiral’s approval, so the Senator returned to shore and secured the necessary permission. However, it wasn’t until later that afternoon that Marin was finally released and placed into a small boat with a seaman, who rowed him ashore.
“Here we are,” the sailor said as he rowed the boat up against the pier.
Marin thanked the gentleman and stepped up onto the empty dock, no one being there to greet him. A sharp gust of cold air blew in off the ocean, and as Marin reached to fasten the two top buttons of his musty woolen jacket, he noticed they were missing. He grabbed the two sides of the divide and held them closed against the cold sea breeze as he turned his back to the ocean and walked down the pier to dry land.
As he was walking back to the house he was overcome with a strong desire to visit his mother’s grave. Traversing the mile-long trek up the ridge, his mind traveled backward through the years in remembrances of Maria. These were not the often-recalled, cold shards of indifference that distanced him from his mother, but rather the submerged and long forgotten moments of a mother’s warm concern that had somehow found their way to the surface. He recalled the soft touch of her open hand on his fevered brow when he was stricken with influenza, the sound of her calm voice reassuring him after his father had been overly harsh in reprimand, the gentle curve of her smile when Marin managed to charm his way through her stoic persona, and the welcome sight of her open arms when he was carried to the house after having been thrown from a horse.
When he arrived at her graveside he sat down on Phillipe’s unturned soil, leaned against his brother’s unfinished tombstone, and silently wept.
***
“Those two,” Aja whispered into Jude’s ear as they entered the tavern.
Jude grasped her arm and whisked her back outside.
“What are you doing?” she said, jerking her arm from his grasp.
“Did they see you?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I thought you wanted them to see me.”
“Not yet,” Jude said, pausing to think. “We need a plan.”
“I thought you had a plan,” she scolded, crossing her arms and turning her head away.
Jude began looking around. “Stay here,” he said, and he walked around to the back of the tavern. When he returned, he said to her, “Here’s the plan.”
***
After Marin’s sorrow had waned, he picked a bouquet of Mountain Laurels and walked over to Maria’s grave. He stood for a moment trying to find the words, and as he laid the flowers by her gravestone, he muttered, “So little, so late”, and began the long walk home.
***
Aja walked into the Red Boar Tavern, and after a few well- placed eye flirts, the two targets of her charms approached her.
The taller man asked, “Haven’t we met?”
“You’ll have to do better than that, sailor,” she replied, and turned her attention to the other man.
“Alright ...how much for the both of us?” the second man asked.
Her eyes darted between them. “What’s a fancy sling worth to a couple of gentlemen?” she asked.
“We’ve only enough to keep us, and perhaps a lady friend, drunk against the evenin’. Would ya care to join us in a doss house?” asked the larger of two.
“I am not a common street trollop, gentlemen,” she scorned, and turned as if to walk away, but then paused and turned back. “I’ll tell you what ...I have this friend; she’s not all that experienced, if you catch the hint, and you both can have the both of us ...half a dollar apiece.”
The shorter and more agreeable one looked up at his friend and smiled, who then gave a hesitant nod.
“Trouble’s out front, let’s slip out the back”, she instructed.
“Trouble? The gent you came in with a moment ago? We don’t want no trouble,” the hesitant one said.
“Do you two salty dogs want to have a brush, or don’t you?”
They followed Aja out the back door and when they were a few steps outside, she turned and hoisted up her skirt as if to adjust one of her stockings. The two sailors stood awe-faced as she kicked one of them squarely between the legs. Jude hit the other one over the head with an empty barrel, pummeling him to the ground. He dragged the both of them to an empty horse barn, tied their hands with cross ties, blindfolded them and stuffed pieces of cloth into their mouths. He went back into the bar and found an old friend who helped him escort the two fellows away.
***
As Marin first caught sight of his house, his step came to an abrupt halt that he might pause to take in the beauty of Phoebe’s vision come to life. It had a new, soft blue and yellow coat of paint that grabbed and retained the golden light of the sun as it eased over the western horizon. A bittersweet smile came across his face as he noticed the second story porch that had been built on the lower roof in front of Phillipe’s bedroom, now adorned with a huge multi-paned cathedral like window. As he continued on toward the house, the deep front porch with stately pillars curving around the house, and the front steps opening out wide onto a fine graveled drive, beckoned him. When Marin saw a carriage parked in front, he broke toward the house propelled by just one hope...
Marin ran, two steps at a time, up the extended stairs of the new front porch. He stopped for a moment, caught a breath, and ran his fingers through his tangled, unwashed hair. He straightened his jacket, folded down his collar, and opened the front door as nonchalant as if he had only just stepped out for a breath of fresh air.
There, in the foyer, stood Emily.
“Oh my,” she cried, bringing Mrs. Robertson and Aunt Belle from the kitchen. Marin stood with a shattered smile spread across his face as Emily ran to him, pushing her turned head into his chest while wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Oh ...my dear Marin. Thank heaven,” Aunt Belle said.
Marin, draped in Emily, stood mum as he searched the environs for any evidence of Opaline. Phoebe came running out of the parlor with her arms out wide, but she stopped a step shy of Marin, dropping her arms to her side, as if she were somehow trespassing upon the situation. She regained her composure, and said politely, “Welcome home, Captain Carpenter.”
Marin smiled at the sight of Phoebe, and pulling his arms free from Emily’s confines, he twisted awkwardly aside and reached out to hug Phoebe. She wrapped one arm around Marin’s back and the other around Emily. Looking over Phoebe’s head, he spotted Aja peering out from the parlor.
“Keiza...” Marin whisper-spoke.
“I was just leaving,” she said, buttoning her coat.
“No, please, stay.”
She gave a quick, expressionless glance at Emily and Phoebe wrapped around Marin. “I only came to look at Lydia’s ...Phoebe’s clothing designs. I will be sending you an order soon, Phoebe.”
As she made for the door, Jude came from the parlor and graveled, “Aja and I have a surprise for ya, Captain.”
Aja paused, Phoebe let go of Marin, and Emily held tight.
“Emily, let go of Marin,” Aunt Belle ordered.
Emily released him from her possession, but remained snug by his side.
Marin pulled his posture erect, and said, “And so I would imagine Jude has told all of you what has happened ...and joyous as this reunion is, it is weighted down by the absence of my dear brother. If I appear somewhat removed, it is only because the portrait is incomplete.”
A sad gravity held everyone in place, until Jude said, “C’mon folks, hope’s not gone. Gather your strength about ya. Marin, ya need ta see this,” he added, grabbing Marin by the arm. “Aja, come show the Captain what ya done for him.”
Everyone followed Jude and Aja out to the barn. As Jude slid the door open, Phoebe, Aunt Belle and Emily gasped at the sight of the two sailors, tied, bound and gagged, lying in the straw on the barn floor.
Marin looked over at Jude, and simply said, “Explain.”
“These two scallywags were witness to the sinking of our ship, Captain. They admitted as much to Aja. So, we hatched a plan to capture them. What might ya think a that?”
Marin asked Emily, “Where is your father?”
“Probably back at the hotel,” she said
“Come with me,” he said, grabbing her by the arm.
Aja asked, “Can you return me to...” and she paused with a glance toward Emily.
“Come on,” Marin said. “Aunt Belle, may I borrow your carriage?”
“Certainly...” Aunt Belle replied, hoping for an explanation, but Marin offered none as he scurried the two women to Aunt Belle’s carriage, and dashed away.
As they dropped Aja off at Ruthie’s, she said to Marin, “You still owe Keiza a dinner.”
Marin smiled and said, “Remind her that I have not forgotten. Thank you, Aja.”
As they pulled away, Emily asked, “Is that place a...” and paused for a proper term.
“Whorehouse,” Marin said, completing her sentence.
Emily folded her hands close to her throat, and said, “Please tell me that you do not frequent that establishment.”
“Not frequently, no.” Marin said, wearing the Devil’s own grin. Emily leaned away from Marin, and straightened herself by scooting her butt over a polite distance.
Arriving at the Senator’s hotel, Marin extended an invitation for him to come to the house. Emily insisted her father sit up front with Marin and she would sit in the back, giving her occasion to overhear a conversation between the two men ...but not a word was spoken.
Back at the house, Marin asked Jude to join him and the Senator in the library.
“Senator, I will come to the point,” Marin said. “I believe we have the proof we need to expose the public to the fact that it was the United States Navy that attacked the Magister Maris. I am not in the mood, at present, to barter semantics. I want to know what it is you know.”
“I have told you all I know of the matter,” the Senator said.
“I do not believe that, Sir.”
“As it suits you, Captain. I am, none the less, curious as what proof you possess.”
Marin led the Senator and Jude out of the library to the front door. As the three of them exited the house the entire ménage began to follow.
“Please,” Marin said, turning to group, “this is not a carnival sideshow.”
Marin, Jude and the Senator walked around the side of the house toward the barn. When Marin pulled the barn door wide open, the Senator pulled himself up stiff and grabbed a deep breath. With his eyes glued to the hogtied sailors, the Senator demanded to know,
“Are those two men, members of the United States Navy?”
“They are,” Marin crowed.
“Close the door, Captain,” the Senator ordered. As the door slammed shut, the Senator lashed out at Marin. “You have kidnapped and imprisoned two members of the United States Navy. Are you aware of the gravity of your actions and the severity of the punishment that will almost certainly result, should this be reported?”
“Those two sailors witnessed the sinking of the Magister Maris, Senator. I am more than willing to risk imprisonment in order to expose the truth about what happened to me and my crew.”
“Imprisonment? Sir, you are headed to the gallows.”
Marin shot a look to Jude, whose eyes shied astray. “Captain Carpenter, may I have a word?” the Senator asked, walking away. As the Senator paced down through the yard toward the road, Marin hurried to catch up. As he came to the Senator’s side, the Senator said, “Let me gather my thoughts.” Marin lent his silence to the Senator as they walked side by side. When they arrived by the seashore, the Senator began to articulate his concerns.
“We, you and I, and indeed our entire nation, are in a very precarious situation, Captain Carpenter. We are on the threshold of yet another war with Great Britain, and it is my position that we can ill afford such a venture. Whether or not I agree with your assertion, that the sinking of the Magister Maris was an order issued to the United States Navy as a ruse to justify an invasion of Canada, is immaterial. What matters is that if there were such a plan, it has not yet succeeded in riling the nation to war, for no one is claiming the sinking of your ship was at the hands of the British Navy. Quite the contrary, no one is speaking of the matter at all. I can assure you, Captain, that should you be able to prove your accusation, you would do irreparable damage, not only to the reputation of the United Sates Navy, but to the entire War Department, some of whom are working very hard to avoid this conflict. Further, I shudder to think of Great Britain’s reaction to such news. And I will add one final thought; even if you were to succeed in your bringing all this out into the open, you would still be charged, and almost certainly convicted, of kidnapping and imprisoning United States Navy personnel.”
Marin’s eyes had not left the Senator’s, nor had his expression changed, even as he came to realize the wisdom of the Senator’s words.
“What then would you propose I do, Senator?” Marin asked, maintaining a measure of his indignation.
“This is very difficult for me, Marin ...may I call you, Marin?”
Marin gave a single nod.
“Horace,” the Senator said, pointing to himself. “I am told that my name means, ‘minder of the time.’ These are difficult times, Marin, and I am reminded that justice is measured against vengeance by the effect it has on the society as a whole. I want justice for you, but I am mindful of the consequences in these times. Nothing can bring your ship back, but I can see to it that you are compensated for that loss. I will further see to it that Mister Reynolds, and everyone involved in the direct order to commission your ship, be reprimanded, and/or removed, from their present position. I can do little about those higher up, except to speak out against them at every opportunity.”
“And my brother? And my crew?” Marin strained to ask. “What justice do you have to offer them?”
The Senator’s posture lost its stature, and he uttered, “None what so ever ...we can, and will, continue to search for them, and should that prove unsuccessful, we will hold services for them, with full regalia.”
Marin said nothing; he could only turn his head and look out to sea. His eyes met a sail grabbing the last of the day’s sunlight. As the boom turned the broad side of the sail toward shore, Marin could see, imprinted full on the puffed-out sail, a blue mermaid holding a mirror in her left hand, and a bird released from her right.
“As for now,” the Senator said, “we should not waste any time in releasing these sailors.”
“Not until they reveal the name of their ship and its Commander,” Marin insisted, in the calm but firm voice of a captain.
“Yes, I would be interested in that information as well,” agreed the Senator.
***
Back at the house Marin pulled Jude aside and relayed the Senator’s concerns. As he reached the part where the Senator strongly advised releasing them, Jude burst into a loud whisper.
“Ya agreed to release ‘em?”
“What else are we to do, keep them as pets? ...of course we have to release them, but not before they reveal the name of their ship and their Commander. So, we need to find a safe, dark place away from here.”
“There’s a ramshackle old deserted warehouse down by the dock.” Jude said.
As they were making their way back out to the barn, Marin asked, “Wait ...they have already seen you, haven’t they?”
“One of them caught a quick glimpse of me when I first entered the tavern with Aja, but it was at a distance.”
“How did you capture them without their seeing you?”
“First the lady captured their eyes, the downfall was quick to follow. You can understand that, can’t ya Captain?”
The two of them hustled their blindfolded and gagged captives through the twilight, down to the dock and into the old warehouse. After waiting for everyone’s breath to settle, Marin spoke.
“No harm will come to you gentlemen if you follow my instructions. We are going to remove the gag from one of you. It will do you no favor to yell out ...no one will hear you, and it will only anger me further. When your gag is removed, I only want you to utter the name of your ship and your Commander. Is that clear?”
Both men rapidly nodded. Marin quietly directed Jude to remove the gag from the man of his choice. He chose the shorter of the two.
‘My name is Seaman Seabring and—”
Marin cut him off saying, “I don’t care what your name is. I want the name of your ship and your Commander.”
“The U.S.S. Fortune. Commander Ernst.”
The blood drained from the captor’s heads.
“I feel faint, sir,” Jude muttered.
Marin had to push his thoughts through his own panic, but with his suspicion still intact, he asked, “What time did you two gents come ashore?”
“We snuck ashore this morning with one of the supply boats. We’re A.W.O.L., sir ...but we did no one no harm. We just want to get back to our ship before they discover us gone.”
“And who might be the First Mate?” Jude asked, suspiciously.
“Mister Mason, sir.”
“If we let you two seamen go, you will not breathe a word of this, correct?” Marin stated.
“No sir. We’ve nothin’ to gain by admittin’ to goin’ A.W.O.L. The Commander would just throw us in the brig with some crazy bastard.”
Jude tried, but could not constrain his laugh, and Marin reached out into the dark and gave him a gentle shove.
“Alright, I need for the both of you to turn around,” Marin instructed. “We are going to untie your hands, Seabring. You are both to stand at attention facing away from us until you hear the door slam closed behind you. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir,” Seabring said.
Jude undid his handy work, and he and Marin slipped out the door and walked along the dock without saying a word to one another. The evening sun had sunk below the western horizon leaving only a shallow vista of the Atlantic disappearing into the eastern darkness. A plump, but not quite full moon hung in the northern sky, appearing more like a pale, two-dimensional dot than a radiant source of light. The stars were beginning to break through the clear and darkening heavens with a shimmer not seen over Newport for quite some time. As they came to the spot where the Magister Maris had once been moored, they paused to look out at the quick to rage, and slow to calm, sea.
“I sent my own brother to his doom,” Marin said.
Jude gave the comment time to settle before saying, “We can’t be certain of that. Besides, ya did what ya thought best, Captain.”
“Only because I had lost all hope, and possess not a morsel of faith. Perhaps if I had had a little faith, I would not have lost hope.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Jude replied, and he stepped away with Marin in tow that they not dwell long. “I don’t see what it matters. Ya still had your duty as their Captain. What’s a Captain ta do, stand by and hope for the best while his men are dragged to the bottom o’ the drink? Besides all that, maybe faith has nothin’ to do with hope”
“What do you mean?” Marin asked, coming again to a halt.
“I’m not quite sure,” Jude said, as he continued on. And then speaking in a voice not quite his own, he added, “Hope is such a fragile thing. Not so faith. Hope is of this world.”
Marin stepped quickly to catch back up with his First Mate. “Jude? Since when have you—”
“I’m only quotin’ yer brother,” Jude was quick to add.
Marin wondered aloud, “So, one can lose hope, but maintain faith?”
Jude shrugged.
“With all hope gone, faith will pull you through...” “One can hope,” Jude said.
“Or did he mean faith has nothing at all to do with earthly outcomes?”
“I don’t know, Captain ...but it seems to me, Phillipe believed God knows what he’s doin’. Maybe that’s all there is ta faith.”
“And do you believe that, Jude?”
“Never give it much thought. I suppose if there is a God, he knows what he’s doin’; wouldn’t be much of a God if he didn’t. If there ain’t no God ...well it seems to me, God or no God, we have to do the best we can ...and that’s what ya did, Captain.”
Marin put his arm around his old friend’s shoulder, “So now what, Jude?” Marin asked.
Jude let out a single laugh, and said, “Yeah, so now what? I imagine you’ll be waitin’ for Miss Opaline, before you yourself offer an answer to your own question.”
“And what of Phoebe?”
“Looks as if she’s on her way to ladyhood. What’s she gonna want with an ol’ salty dog like me?”
“You could ask her.”
“M-m-m ...or I could drive a nail through me forehead.”
Marin laughed and said, “I think her answer might surprise you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of...” Jude said, staring out to sea.
Marin noticed Mister Walter sitting aboard the docked Merry Maiden, smoking his pipe and drinking from a bottle of rum.
“Ahoy there. Mister Walter,” Marin bellowed out.
“Well what have we here?” the old sailor crowed. “I believe I saw ya launch out ‘bout a week ago, and here ya are back without a ship.”
“Lost her in a storm,” Marin said.
Jude’s slow turn of the head toward Marin was not lost on Mister Walter. The old gentleman took a long pull from his rum bottle before saying, “Lost her in a storm, ya say?”
“There’s more than one version ta any story,” Jude said, winking at Mister Walter.
Marin gave Mister Walter a long and revealing look, as a gambler might when he is sure of the cards in the other man’s hand. “I am quite sure Mister Walter is well versed in the weaving of stories,” he said.
Mister Walter sat upright so that he could cast his eyes down on Marin, and in an instructive voice, he said, “Every story has its purpose, lad,” and he extended his rum bottle out to him. Marin took a long sip, smiled at Mister Walter, and passed the bottle to Jude, who tipped it upright, swallowed hard, and handed it back to Mister Walter.
“So, if I were of a mind to take up fishing,” Marin said, “do you think you could give me some pointers?”
The old man loaned Marin a wistful smile, and said, “Don’t know that I can teach ya how to catch a fish, but I can teach ya how ta think like a fish.” He looked down the harbor at a spot where the Magister Maris had been, and added, “Gonna have ta get yerself a good boat. But I imagine ya already knew that.”
“Yes sir,” Marin said, with a widening grin, “I already knew that. Small boat, large pleasure.”
The elderly gent nodded in the affirmative, and said, “Come see me when yer ready.”
Marin returned the nod.
As they were walking away, Jude asked Marin, “So you’re bound to be a fisherman then?” When Marin didn’t respond, Jude asked, “Are you sure ‘bout that?”
After several steps in the direction of the house, Marin said, “I am no longer sure of anything.”
Arriving back at the house, Marin was greeted by Mrs. Robertson, who asked, “I was wondering if you would mind giving me a ride back home; I have to attend to my brother. He has to have his cock-a-leekie soup, beefsteak pie and rumbledethumps you know, tomorrow being Hogmanay and all.”
Marin’s blank face revealed that he had only understood a certain part of what the lady had said, that being, ‘she needed a ride home’, to which he replied, “Of course.”
She smiled deliberately, and explained, “The eve of the new year. We’re Scottish.”
“Of course,” Marin repeated.
“I can give you a ride, Missus Robertson,” Aunt Belle said. “The Senator, Emily and I, are going back to the hotel.”
Jude wrapped his arm around Phoebe, and said, “I think the little lady and I are goin’ down to the pub. Care to join us Captain?”
Marin took off his coat, and said, “No, I think not. I am in need of a quite evening.”
“I can keep you company,” Emily said, and before Aunt Belle could rejoin her, Marin said,
“That is very kind of you, Emily ...but not this evening.”
Jude threw Marin a dubious look that caught his attention, prompting Marin to say, “I will be fine, Mister Prince. Everyone run along and enjoy the evening. Tonight, I am in need of my own company.” He shook hands with the Senator, and said, “They were from the the U.S.S. Fortune. I am in your debt, sir.”
“Nonsense. I am at your service, Captain.”
Marin turned to receive a hug from Aunt Belle, and the moment he was free, Emily grabbed him and placed a long kiss, half onto his cheek, and half a lover’s distance onto his lips.
“Come along, daughter,” the Senator said, pulling one of her arms away from Marin’s neck and shoulder.
Marin diverted his attention to Mrs. Robertson and thanked her for minding the house while he was gone. “I will send you a handsome recompense for your time and labor,” he said.
“It was a pleasure, Mister Carpenter, and you needn’t bother paying me. Phoebe and I have made a little money with her designs and my needle work.” She turned to Phoebe and took her by the hands. “I believe we are about to be joined together in a promising business venture.”
“Well then, perhaps I could be of some financial assistance to you and Phoebe.”
“A partnership?” Mrs. Robertson suggested.
“...Perhaps,” Marin said, wishing he had thought of it. He escorted the Senator, Aunt Belle, Emily and Mrs. Robertson to the door, and asked the Senator, “When will you be returning to Providence?”
“Probably tomorrow; we will stop by before we leave.”
“Are you sure you will be alright?” Emily asked. “I can stop by later this evening if you—”
“You will do nothing of the sort,” Aunt Belle intervened, giving a little shake of her head at Marin. “We will see you tomorrow, Marin,” she said. They paused at the door to bid farewell to Jude and Phoebe, and were on their way.
“Put on your coat, dearie,” Jude said to Phoebe as he buttoned up his own.
Marin grabbed her coat and held it open to assist her. She beamed at the novel gesture, and dipped an awkward curtsy of thanks.
“Jude,” Marin said, tucking Phoebe’s coat securely over her shoulders, “I think we could make a go it as fishermen.”
“Yes, I imagine we could ...were I a fisherman,” and he opened the door and motioned for Phoebe to come along. “We’ll be at The Red Boar should you take a fancy to join us, Captain,” and he whisked Phoebe, with her head turned back toward Marin, out the door.
Alone. Marin stood alone and orphaned, in a house that had never felt like home.
***
Opaline had not stayed long in Philadelphia. Emma was buried the day after she died, and Opaline spent that afternoon with her father.
“Father, have you given thought as to your plans going forward?” she asked.
“Yes. These last few months I have had plenty of time to think about things. Emma has always wanted me to write a book about my newspaper days, and I have been gathering my thoughts on the matter. Doctor Graham has asked me to assist him in the writing of his memoirs as well. He is closing his practice and moving to Cambridge to teach at Harvard and he has suggested that I accompany him. How would you feel if I were to sell the house and leave Philadelphia?”
Opaline was slow to respond and Evin knew better than to prod her, but he kept an eye on her expression as she thought about what he had said. Gradually her face reflected the beginnings of a smile, and she said,
“Do you think perhaps you might consider moving to Newport? It is really quite beautiful there.”
“I had the impression you did not much care for Newport,” Evin said, with a telling smile.
She smiled in kind, and replied, “So many things determine how one feels about any one place, at any particular time.”
Evin looked around the small homey confines of the front room. “So many fond memories ...still, there is nothing here to hold me, and one cannot survive for long on a steady diet of memories. Should I go to Cambridge, I will be much closer to you, but not so close as to be a bother.”
“Whatever strain, real or imagined, that may have occurred in the past, it has long ago mended. You will not be a bother.”
“I imagine you will be leaving for Newport soon.”
“Yes. Perhaps as soon as tomorrow. I would like to be back by the first of January. I have so much to do. Do you need my help with things before I go?”
“No. You should get back and prepare for Captain Carpenter’s return.”
“I am so fearful,” Opaline said, and she wrapped her arms around her father. Evin pulled his daughter in close to him, holding her in an embrace that finally closed any distance that might have remained between the two of them. In that moment, Evin wanted to hold her forever.
“Your captain will not fail you,” he whispered into her ear.
As evening approached, she dined with her father and told him she would be leaving in the morning. She went to her room and gathered a few things she wished to keep. When she came across the small collection of poetry, titled, Anonymous (‘The Amorous Lady’), and the thin gold necklace with the engraved golden pendant, she tucked the book inside her carrying bag and slipped the gold chain and pendant into her wrist bag. She donned her nightgown and sat down at the vanity and began brushing her long red hair. Midway through a stroke, she stopped, giving notice to a single gray hair glaring back at her in the mirror. She located it with her thumb and fore-finger and separated it from the abundant bounty of long cardinal tresses. She held it out and gazed into the mirror until a smile graced her face. She gently lay the single strand back into place, and continued brushing the long day passed from her locks. As she tucked herself into her childhood bed for the last time, she caught scent of Marin on her pillow. She squeezed it close to her ...and drifted off to sleep.
***
Marin stood in the foyer of the vacant house as the light from the library fireplace spilled out onto the four walls around him. The golden glow flickered in a restless dance, dashing in and out of the adjacent rooms, as if it were searching for something to illuminate. He found himself listening intently to the quiet all around him ...perhaps the past might be making a sound that one can only hear when the present has no sound of its own. He found himself overcome with a desire to go exploring ...but for what?
He had felt this very feeling before, back when he was a child looking out at to sea from his bedroom window. He would stare, trance-like at the amber light from the setting sun as it danced off of the waves, calling him, luring him, imploring him to go exploring ...but for what?
And now, the waves of light from the fireplace danced all around him and reached out into the darkness, dimming into the thick distance of other rooms, creating a horizon that Marin could not help but surrender to. He lit a lantern and went first to the back room that held the remnants of Maria’s life.
The light from the lantern scattered around the furniture laden room, first lighting this, then that, giving a hint of something else before casting a long stretched out shadow on something-or-other; much like the memory brings back images of things in starts and stops.
Almost all of the European furniture in the back room: cabinets, dressers, desks, chest of drawers, tables, chairs and curios, had originally come from Maria’s parent’s home in the Borough of Bristol. She had always kept the furniture in the back room, out of harm’s way from the children, and probably Erik as well. None of it was ever used as the household furniture, it was Maria’s owndom, and she kept it dusted, polished, and perfectly useless.
And then, there were the dolls.
Marin weaved his way through the room for a closer look at Maria’s precious dolls. He counted thirty-four of them, and except for one of them, they were all immaculately cared for – more coddled than cuddled.
The lone standout was a rag doll slumped over at the end of the row, and separated by about the width of woman’s hips from the other dolls. It had been squeezed, call it hugged, around the middle for so long that the stuffing of its midriff had migrated above and below, such that the poor thing could no longer support itself in an upright manner. Lifting the upper part of the doll into the sitting position, Marin realized that it was a male doll, and probably homemade. His attempt to prop it up proved unsuccessful, and it fell over onto its side, lying open-eyed and still, in a manner that gave Marin pause, and so, he left it as he found it.
Marin could not help but feel that Maria was of two homes – the back room of her past, and the front rooms of her domicile. Glancing at the numerous paintings of unfamiliar po-faced ladies and gentlemen looking down upon him from the walls, Marin began to feel that same sense of other-worldly unwelcome the room had first instilled in him many years ago.
“These trappings have to go,” he muttered to himself as he left the room, securing the door shut behind him.
He came back up the hall to Maria’s old bedroom and was surprised at his own feelings of ambivalence when the lantern failed to reveal a single trace of his mother having once occupied the room. The room was now transfigured from a sanctuary-cum-infirmary where an old woman prepared to leave this world, into a safe harbor where a young woman could bring new life into it. Marin scanned all the equipment and felt that it represented a certain confirmation that Opaline would be coming back ...and soon.
Stepping into the parlor, he was suddenly startled by the appearance of a woman standing in the corner across the room. Even after realizing it was a mannequin, it took him awhile to recover his normal breath and heart’s pace. Scanning the interior of what use to be a sitting room, Marin saw two large drafting tables covered with clothing designs, two large layout tables with material cut into various shapes. And back where the mannequin stood were two square tables with spools of thread mounted on dow rods and a scattering of pin cushions, each full of various needles. A couple of all but finished dresses lie spread out on the parlor sofa waiting for the final touches of the seamstress’ hand.
Marin backed out of the room, carrying his lantern to the more familiar environs of the library. He had always liked this room, its dark wood walls and inset shelves containing many well-loved, and often read, books. The atmosphere lent itself to the quieter moments, and Marin and Phillipe had spent many hours of the day here, coming of age while caught up in a brown study, or reading and sometimes creating games, or playing Robison Caruso and Friday. Phillipe had told him, ‘I shall write a book one day, and you will be the hero.’ Marin had asked him, ‘And what will you be?’ to which Phillipe had answered, ‘Why, I will be the narrator, of course.’
Marin left the library and made his way up the stairs to his brother’s room. Phillipe had always forbidden anyone entrance into his room; it was his sanctum. With a mixture of reverence and disquiet, Marin eased the door open and introduced the lantern’s light into the darkness. Not wanting to disturb anything, he carefully looked about the room and noticed a diary sitting on a table beside the bed; it was labeled, 1811. On a lower shelf stood several other volumes, arranged chronologically like the inner rings of a tree, holding valuable information about the past.
He picked up the diary marked, ‘1811’, and stared at the cover for a few moments, knowing full well that Phillipe would not want anyone, especially not Marin, to go leafing through his private memoirs. Herein lie his brother, the brother he had been estranged from for so long, the brother whom now may be lost to him forever ...his dear brother, Phillipe, revealed in his own words on the page. Marin’s hand began to tremble, and he was slow in opening the cover, as if he could, at any moment, change his mind and close it. On the very first right-hand page Phillipe had written the following:
HALT! There is no property so private, so personal, so individually sacred, as our unvoiced innermost thoughts. Please respect mine. –Phillipe Carpenter
Marin closed the book and placed it back on the table. On a lower shelf, below the diaries, was a thick stack of paper wrapped in twine, as if it were a manuscript to be sent off to a publisher. The top page read:An Offering of Meditations By Phillipe Lawrence Carpenter
Marin pulled open the drawer of the bedside table and found several unsent letters addressed to: Marin Carpenter Somewhere In The World
Again, the temptation to read his brother’s words welled-up inside of him, made even stronger because these letters were addressed to him. Sorting through them he noticed that only the one on top was left unsealed, as if he had not quite finished it. He placed the others back into the drawer and leaned back against the plush pillows at the head of Phillippe’s bed, pulled the letter from the envelope, unfolded the lavender note, and read:
Marin -Mama is dying. Right after you left in July, she began to falter. Her breathing became heavy and she began to have trouble maintaining her balance, by August she was bed ridden with a fever, and late September found her somewhat delirious. It is now October, and she has been calling out for you as if you were in the next room. She asks me where you are on a daily basis and, of course, my answer is always the same, “I do not know his whereabouts, Mama.” We never know where you are, Marin. We are never sure you are coming back. The lantern we once placed in the window for Erik, now glows for you. I miss you, my brother. I have always missed you. But now I miss you as I have never missed you... Mama is dying, and I am to be left alone and forlorn. Oh, how I wish I had your courage, for then I too would sail away. Perhaps you can take me sailing one day. Perhaps, one day, we can become brothers again; what a comfort that would be. But of course, you will likely never read this, for I have no way of reaching out to you...what a lonely thought that is...
Marin held the letter to his breast, closed his eyes, and wept.