Keeper Jack, Buckets O’Neal, and Hook Mallory leaned on their shovels and surveyed the makeshift cemetery behind the lighthouse grounds. So many dead merchant sailors had washed ashore, it was impossible to wait for the ferry to transport them across the sound. Until help could come, the bodies would be buried there. Doc accomplished what identification could be done and kept a record on each man for the authorities whenever they might show up. To date, there seemed little interest on the part of Morehead City to do anything although Chief Glendale continued to call in the daily body count of poor, drowned merchant sailors found on the beach.
Josh, Bosun Phimble, and most of the Maudie Janes including Marvin came walking across the sand hills for the service. Amy Guthrie and the women from the fish market in their leather aprons gathered around. Preacher, in his long black coat, stood clutching his Bible. Dosie and Rex came riding up from the beach, rifles slung on their backs. Queenie O’Neal led a contingent of Whalebone City ladies, all wearing black armbands. Chief Glendale drove the jeep and Doc Folsom and Purdy the pelican rode with him. Overhead, gulls wheeled and banked and called their high-pitched yelps above the everlasting rumble of the Atlantic and the low whistle of the never-ending breeze. The skies were overcast, a watery light drenching the makeshift cemetery.
Atop a sand hill stood Willow and Jezzie. Willow was not looking at the gathering at the graveyard but out to sea. Jezzie stamped at the sand, then quieted.
Preacher was bareheaded, his long brown hair wild in the wind. When the assembly was fully gathered, he asked for a bowing of heads and began speaking in a fierce tone:
“Dear Lord God Almighty, what is there to say except to quote your own good Book, that which you bid to be written down in the Psalms? ‘Those who go down to the sea in ships, who do business on great waters; They see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep. They cry out to the Lord in their trouble, and He brings them out of their distress. He calms the storm so that its waves are still, and so he guides them to their haven.’ ”
Preacher clutched his Bible and shook his head. “But these men you did not guide to a haven. Though they cried out, no storm was calmed, and neither were any waves stilled. The Germans raised hell while You watched and these poor men drowned. What are we to make of this?”
Preacher petulantly kicked at the sand. “I have to hand it to you, Lord. I am lost from your thoughts these days, and your ways. We need help, Lord, and that’s what I’m saying as best I can.”
Amy Guthrie came over and put her hand on Preacher’s arm. Her touch seemed to calm him, although he started to weep. Keeper Jack cleared his throat. “Now, Preacher, those are good words, but might I say a few as well?”
Preacher hung his head and nodded. Tears dripped off his nose. He dropped his Bible. Amy picked it up and then kept patting his arm.
Josh had gone over to stand by Dosie, who remained astride Genie. She reached down and playfully ran her hand through his hair. He held her hand briefly, then let it go. She was smiling, just a little.
Keeper Jack said, “These merchant seamen did not wish to die. But we must remember that to God our bodies are only temporary. It is our souls that are eternal. I’m certain these men had faith in God and they reside with Him now and that’s all we need to know. Preacher here is having a trial of faith, you might say.” Preacher raised his head at that, then lowered it again. “I guess we all might have our own trials of faith before this is over. It’s hard to believe God would let a thing like this happen. But we trust things will work out according to His plan and we’ll just do what we can in the meantime.” The Keeper cast his eyes around the group until they landed on Josh. “Josh, do you have something to say?”
Josh felt the eyes of the assembly move to him. “Up on the Bering Sea,” he said, “one of my men kind of rewrote the Twenty-third Psalm. I always admired it and I think it might be good to say it here and now over these poor men. It went more or less like this: ‘The Lord is my Skipper, I shall not drift. He guides me across the dark waters. He steers me through the channels. He keeps my log. Yea, though I sail amidst the tempests of the sea, I shall keep my wits about me. His strength is my shelter. He prepareth a quiet harbor before me. Surely the sun and the stars shall guide me and I will come to rest in heaven’s port forever.’ ”
Eureka Phimble, his wife, Talkie, on his arm and his little boy, Josiah, holding his hand, said, “One thing you all need to know. The Maudie Jane is out there every day and we’ve been chasing those U-boats as hard as we can. We’re going to get one of them Germans, too, don’t think we won’t.”
“You boys get ’em!” Buckets said fiercely.
Keeper Jack had something else to say. He pointed at the grave of his wife. “Folks, you’ll note there’s a little headstone beside Trudelle’s resting place. It’s for my son Jacob. Just as these men, Jacob met his fate on the waters of our Father who is known as the Atlantic Ocean. We know he is in heaven with his mother, and the stone beside her grave is a mark of that.”
The Keeper looked across the graves at Josh. Dosie, still on Genie, had her hand on Josh’s shoulder. Josh’s face was stricken. “God bless you, Son, for all that you’re doing for us out there against them damn submarines. If all that I’ve said today constitutes a prayer, then I’m going to say amen.”
“Amen,” the assembly said in response.
“Amen,” Josh also said, and just like that, he felt free. His father and Bosun Phimble had been right. Although Jacob wasn’t really there, the headstone by his mother’s grave had been what Josh needed to finally let his brother go.
But then a movement down the beach caught Josh’s eye. Willow had climbed aboard Jezzie and was looking hard in his direction. It shook him a little and he didn’t quite know what to make of it.