| |
On a blustery Friday morning, Marin, Phillipe, Jude Prince, and three parishioners from Maria’s church, carried the casket out the front door and loaded it onto the funeral wagon. A line of six carriages was strung out behind the horse drawn hearse. Opaline sat in the family cab directly behind the wagon. Aunt Belle and Emily sat in the second coach. As Marin and Phillipe climbed into the family carriage on either side of Opaline, Jude Prince rode a horse up beside the carriage, and Second Mate Patrick Ryan and Boatswain Mick Henry followed closely behind. All was silent, as the small procession got underway on the mile-long journey to the cemetery, located on a small ridge overlooking the bay. With the wind atop the ridge blowing bitingly cold against them, and the dark clouds overhead moving rapidly in advance of them, it created the illusion that, while the ground below them may be moving, the carriage was only marking its place, almost as if Maria refused to move any closer to her final place of rest.
At the curve of the ridge, several yards before the gravesite, the horses pulling the funeral wagon stopped, and no amount of urging forward by the driver could persuade them to move a hoof further. Marin, Phillipe and Jude stepped behind the funeral wagon awaiting the arrival of the attending carriages. Marin didn’t recognize most of the people in the procession, but one carriage in particular caught his eye. As he stared, Jude Prince confided in a low voice,
“Mister Stacey Reynolds, from the Department of the Navy.”
“How considerate of them,” Marin quipped.
The casket was carried the forty yards to the gravesite, and people huddled around one another for warmth as they lowered the coffin into the ground. As Marin and Phillipe each filled a shovel with dirt, the Reverend Mister Wright came running up to the side of the grave.
“We must put all grievances aside as we bid our final farewell to our beloved Alyce Maria Lawrence Carpenter,” he said. “May the Lord receive her into his warm embrace, and may we all join her in the great by and by. Amen.”
As Marin and Phillipe emptied their shovels into the dark hole, the sound of the dirt hitting the coffin sounded like a door being pulled shut. Phillipe dropped his shovel to the ground, fell to his knees and wept. Marin stood over him with his hands upon Phillipe’s shoulders while staring at the carriage holding Mister Stacey Reynolds. Opaline and Aunt Belle came to Marin’s side. Emily positioned herself snug behind Marin, as the wind wrapped itself around the five of them. The Reverend slipped away without further word.
As the gathered few began to drift away, Marin bent down and pulled Phillipe to his feet. Opaline and Aunt Belle steadied his grieving brother on either side, guiding him away. Emily wrapped herself around Marin’s arm and nestled close to his side as they walked back to the carriages.
As Marin helped Emily into her carriage, she slipped a piece of paper into his hand. He placed it into his pocket without so much as glance. Jude Prince noticed the hole-in-corner move as he helped Aunt Belle into the carriage from the other side.
“We will be heading back to Providence this afternoon,” Aunt Belle said to Marin, “I doubt there be will time for you to stop by the Inn to see us off.”
“Probably not. But tell me Auntie, when will you be returning to Nova Scotia?” Marin asked, with a quick glance toward Emily.
Aunt Belle took Emily by the hand, and said with a smile, “After the wedding.”
“Ah yes, the wedding,” he said, looking at Emily. “Well I must come visit before then,” he added.
Emily lowered her eyes, and gave an inviting smile dipped between two dimples.
Phillipe came to Marin’s side saying, “Aunt Belle, thank you for coming and offering so much comfort to my brother and I.”
“Of course. Phillipe, may I introduce you to your second cousin Emily, of whom I have mentioned in my correspondence? Emily, say ‘Hello’ to Phillipe.”
“Hello, Phillipe,” Emily said, with a quick glance toward him before returning her eyes to Marin.
“Yes, we met once before, several years ago,” Phillipe said. “Marin and I accompanied MaMa to visit your mother and father. I doubt that you would remember, you could not have been more than two years old,” and with a deliberate turn to Marin, he asked, “Do you remember, Marin?”
Marin felt suddenly jarred. He was thinking about the fact that he would have been in his twenties at the time. After a stiff pause, Marin said, “No. No I don’t.”
“No matter,” Phillipe closed. “Are you coming back to the house?”
“No,” Aunt Belle answered. “We must get back to the Inn and prepare for our journey back to Providence.”
“Are you sure, Aunt Belle,” Emily asked.
“Quite sure, my dear,” she replied without hesitation.
“Well I wish you a pleasant journey,” Phillipe said.
As their carriage pulled away, Emily’s eyes stayed with Marin.
Marin and Phillipe joined Opaline in the family carriage and Jude Prince rode alongside them, as Mister Stacey Reynolds’s carriage followed at a distance.
When they arrived back at the house, Opaline asked Marin, “Who is the gentleman that has been following us?”
“Probably some bill collector,” Marin said. “I’ll deal with it.”
With a single glance, Opaline let Marin know she was not satisfied with his answer. As she exited the carriage, Marin asked Jude to escort her into the house.
“How may I help you?” Marin asked, as he approached Mister Reynolds.
“Am I addressing a Mister Marin Carpenter, Captain of the Magister Maris?”
“You know full well you are, sir.”
“I am Mister Stacey Reynolds from the —”
“I know who you are, Mister Reynolds. And I know you were sent here to commission the Magister Maris for service to United States Navy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, let’s first get the horses sheltered, and then we can go into the house and discuss this.”
Once inside the house, Marin asked Jude to join them in the library.
“Would you care for some tea, Mister Reynolds? I could put the kettle on.” Marin offered.
“Thank you, no. My business is brief.”
Reaching into his valise he pulled out a single sheet of paper and handed it to Marin. Marin silently read the text.
The Unites States Navy hereby commissions the ship registered as ‘The Magister Maris’, belonging to Captain Marin Carpenter, as of this date, Friday, December 13th, in the year of our Lord, Eighteen Hundred and Eleven. This ship, The Magister Maris, shall be used for the purpose of shipping medical supplies and equipment from Newport, Rhode Island, to the Lubec Naval Station at Passamaquoddy Bay, Maine, at a time and date to be determined by the United States Department of the Navy. All preparations for sailing will be the exclusive responsibility of the United States Department of the Navy. The manifest shall be considered private and confidential property of the United States Government. All loading and unloading of cargo will be performed by United States Navy personnel. Captain Marin Carpenter is responsible for recruiting a crew and providing for their financial compensation. The United States Navy will reimburse Captain Marin Carpenter upon safe delivery of goods to the above-mentioned destination. An extension of this commission is at the sole discretion of the United States Department of the Navy.
Marin laid the document on the table. Jude Prince was quick to pick it up and silently read through it.
“And I am supposed to sign this?” Marin asked.
“Yes sir.” Mister Reynolds stated.
“And if I refuse?”
“The United States Department of the Navy will take immediate possession of the Magister Maris.”
“Ya brutes don’t much give a damn whose ass you bust, do ya?” spouted Jude.
Mister Reynolds pulled the document from Mister Prince’s hands and placed it on the desk before Marin. Marin retrieved a quill, but before signing the paper he asked Mister Reynolds,
“And is the Navy to pay the dry dock fees and repair bills?”
“The Navy will make all necessary preparations for the completion of the mission. All access to the ship in the interim period will be at the discretion of the United States Department of the Navy.”
“I see. And how does the Navy feel about my retrieving a few personal items from my cabin?”
“You are welcome to request permission to board the Magister Maris at any time, Captain. Permission may or may not be granted, depending upon circumstances at the time.”
As Marin dipped the tip of the quill into the well of ink, Jude exploded.
“Yer ta sign the blasted thing?”
“You heard the man. If I don’t, I will forever lose the Magister Maris.”
“Ya see this last line?” Jude asked, and then he read it to Marin. “An extension of this commission is at the sole discretion of the United States Department of the Navy.’ What’s the bloody difference?”
As Marin signed the document, Jude Prince stormed out of the house.
“She’s old and tired, and full of wear, Mister Reynolds,” Marin said, lifting the document from the desk and holding it limp at his side. Reynolds reached out and grabbed the paperwork as Marin added, “Coddle her.”
***
Marin sat with his thoughts at the kitchen table as Phillipe prepared lunch. Phillipe gave him time for his silence before asking,
“Hard to find any comfort in her being taken away, isn’t it?”
Marin gave Phillipe a quick glance, signaling his confusion as to which loss he was referring. Did Phillipe overhear the conversation with Mister Reynolds, or is he referring to MaMa? Without comment, he simply looked away.
“It consumed me at first,” Phillipe continued, “but laying her to rest helped me accept it. She is in God’s hands now, and will be forever watching over us.”
“How comforting,” Marin mumbled.
Sensing a note of sarcasm, Phillipe added, “If only you would believe, Marin.”
Marin chose not to reply.
Changing the subject, Phillipe asked, “Who was that man, and why was he here?”
“He was from the Department of the Navy. He fancies the Magister Maris.” Phillipe placed a sandwich on a plate for Marin and stood frozen in place awaiting explanation. “I’m not hungry,” he said, and getting up from the table he came face to face with Opaline blocking his exit.
“I believe your brother is waiting for you to elaborate,” she said.
Looking into her eyes, his stalled expression could not hold. He grabbed a quick breath and said, “The Almighty, this time in the person of President James Madison, has called her into his service. And yes, brother, it is hard to find any comfort in her being taken away.”
“I do not understand,” Phillipe said.
“Neither do I, Phillipe; but our understanding isn’t required.”
Opaline turned to let Marin pass.
Returning to his father’s study, he was holding the piece of paper Emily had handed him, when a knock on his door was followed by,
“Marin, it is Opaline. May I come in?”
“Of course,” he said, pocketing the note.
She entered the room and sat in a chair across from him. Her hands fidgeted about without a definite destination, until she folded them together in her lap, and said, “I am sorry to hear about your boat.”
“Ship,” Marin corrected her. “The Magister Maris is a ship. A skiff, is a boat.”
“I sit corrected,” she said, with an apologetic smile. “Have you no recourse?” she asked.
“Not that I can see. If I wish to keep her, I must agree to take medical supplies to a naval outpost in Maine.”
“That does not sound to be an unworthy task.”
“It is not the sound of it I object to; it is the being forced, especially at this particular time. The Magister Maris is in desperate need of repairs, and the North Atlantic is particularly savage this time of year, what with fierce storms, unpredictable and shifting winds, and sixty-foot waves that can swallow a ship in single gulp. I would never willingly commit her and my crew to such a hazardous winter voyage. Besides, it would be much safer, more reliable, and equally as fast to deliver the goods by land. You would think the Navy would understand that. Something is amiss.”
“I see. When will you be leaving?”
“I have no say in the matter. I would imagine inside the month.”
Opaline shifted about in an uncomfortable manner, drawing Marin’s full attention. “I realize this is a particularly inopportune time to bring this up,” she said, “but I think we should make preparations for my departure as well. I can give a week’s notice, if you prefer.”
“I would prefer, you stay,” he said, and followed with a barrage of questions verging on the intrusive. “Where will you go? Where did you come from, anyway? How is it that a midwife ends up nursemaid to a dying old woman?”
Opaline’s eyes turned steel blue in response to his tone of voice. “I am from Philadelphia...” she began, but went no further.
“What brought you to Newport?”
Opaline took an impatient breath of mild disgust, and replied, “I fail to see what...” and with a change of mind, but not tone of voice, she said, “I was to be married.”
Marin waited.
“To a doctor,” she offered, as if in passing. As Marin continued to hold his silence, Opaline said, with a certain tinge of defeat in her voice, “His family did not approve.”
Marin’s actions hinted at leaning forward. She reacted by leaning back.
“His name is Jonathan Berry,” she continued. “His family lives here in Newport. You may be surprised to know that his mother came to Maria’s service yesterday.” Marin drew a breath to ask a question, but Opaline continued before he could voice it. “We did not speak. Jonathan and I met in Philadelphia, he was in the last year of finishing his medical degree and we were introduced by a common acquaintance. I was a midwife hoping to further my medical knowledge, and so it was that Jonathan and I became ...involved. We came to Newport to announce our engagement, but when his parents refused to give us their blessing, that was the end of it. He returned to Philadelphia and I saw no purpose in following him. I met your brother a short time later at a service for a woman who had died shortly after I had delivered her baby. I was devastated, and thinking of giving up the profession. Your brother was such a comfort, and he asked me if I would come and watch over Maria while I made up my mind as to what I was to do.”
“And has your mind been settled on the matter?” Marin asked.
Opaline began to wilt in her chair. A long stream of tears began to flow, even as her face held a stoic pose. Marin reached out, and with a gentle caress, he wrapped her in his arms. She remained rag doll limp with her arms draped at her side, and with a surrender of breath, she began to weep. Marin pulled her closer to him, and she let go the full release of her sorrow. He pulled her up from the chair and escorted her to her bedroom. Sitting down beside her on the bed, he whispered into her ear,
“I wish for you to remain,” and he kissed her forehead and laid her back upon the bed. He went to the window, pulled shut the shudders, and as he was about to leave, Opaline said,
“Marin...” but added nothing further.
Marin went to the bed, sat by her side, and with the tips of his fingers he brushed free a web of hair caught in her tears. As he continued to stroke her temple, she calmed with each gentle sweep of his hand, and in the calmest moment, she closed her eyes.
***
Marin and Phillipe sat in the study reviewing Maria’s will. It stated that most of her fortune-the house, property and other earthy possessions- were to be given to Phillipe, because, ‘Phillipe knows best, how to serve the Lord through the church’. Marin was to inherit a small monthly stipend, as well as all of his father’s possessions, which, although precious in their own right, didn’t amount to much.
“I don’t think this is fair,” Phillipe said. “MaMa must have written this when was angry with you.”
“When wasn’t she angry with me? Besides, as mother has stated, you have your church to attend to, although I believe they have pilfered enough of the family’s finances. Still...”
Ignoring Marin’s addendum, Phillipe remarked, “And what about the Magister Maris. We could easily pay off whatever debt remains. I think it only fair.”
“The ship is paid in full, dear brother.”
Phillipe laughed. “You’re lying. And it irks me to no end, that even in death, you stand at loggerheads with any generosity bequeathed to you by our dear MaMa.”
“There are no liens against her, Phillipe.”
“How can that be?” he asked. “You have owned her less than ten years. I am not privy to her sale price, but I find it hard to fathom you could have paid off such a ship so quickly without resorting to ...well, let’s just say I hope you haven’t...” and he paused.
“Hope I haven’t what? Out with it, Phillipe. What are your sour imaginings?”
“Temptation weakens us all, dear brother. I was merely hoping aloud.”
Marin smiled a doubter’s smile, and said, “The Magister Maris was twenty years old and all but sailed out when I bought her. She was refitted and is paid in full, Phillipe, and with honest money and bartered service. Would you like to see the receipts?”
Phillipe smiled at the invite, and said, “Yes, I believe I would.”
“Well, they are aboard the Magister, which at the moment I am prevented from boarding.”
Phillipe stared at Marin for a moment, serving doubt, and then said, “In any case, I certainly don’t need all this money. The house is paid for, and I’ve a good job and income from the church.”
Marin winced.
Phillipe raised his voice as if to counter, “...AND...I believe the church knows better than I, how to insure Mama’s money will best serve the Lord. She said as much in her will.”
“It is your money to do with as you please, Phillipe. But please hear this, I believe the church squanders money, and I am certain you are infinitely more qualified to put the money to a more righteous purpose than that group of sanctimonious, self-serving, religious aristocrats.”
“Marin,” Phillipe chided. “Have you lost all hope of piety?”
“Long time gone, brother,” quickened Marin, “but put that aside. Think for a moment ...might there be a better use to which that money might be of service? Young Opaline lay upstairs crying for lack of a future. We, or rather, you, could put her in business running a midwife service out of this house. Think of the number of God’s children that would be brought into this world by her service and your generous hand.”
“I have to admit, that would be a good use of MaMa’s money,” Phillipe conceded, adding, “but I still want to see the receipt for the Magister Maris. It is beyond me how you could have paid her off so quickly.”
Marin placed his arm around Phillipe’s shoulder. “Your brother is as good at his calling as you are at yours, Phillipe.”
“I have never doubted that,” Phillipe said, rising from his chair, and with an odd tone of urgency he announced, “I need to go into town this afternoon, is there anything you need?”
Marin walked to the desk and grabbed a handful of bills and handled them to Phillipe. “Now that you are the head of the household, here is a stack of bills that need your immediate attention.”
Phillipe swept the bills behind his back and gave Marin a nod of, ‘touché’.
Marin returned the nod. “Oh,” Marin remembered, “could you pick up a bottle of Cognac while you are out? I can’t find a drop of it anywhere in this house.”
“I can’t be seen buying the devil’s elixir, brother of mine. Especially, le diable Francais.”
The real purpose of Phillipe’s jaunt into town was to go to the court of records and look up the registry of the Magister Maris. Spending most of the afternoon sifting through dusty files of shipping transactions, he discovered the ship was indeed paid in full and registered to Marin. Digging a little deeper, he looked into the history of the ship: its voyages and cargo, as well as its previous owner. Phillipe was so startled by what he read that he began to wish he had left well enough alone, but there it was, in black and white. He copied the information, word-by-word, and returned home to confront Marin.
When he arrived, he heard Opaline call out to him from the kitchen, but he was much too preoccupied to lend his concern. He heard voices in the library, and found Marin and Jude Prince sitting by the fire.
“Marin. We need to talk,” Phillipe insisted.
“Well by all means, brother, pull up a chair.”
Phillipe stood fast, staring at the papers he held in his hand.
“Well?” Marin asked.
“It is a rather private matter.”
Jude Prince began to rise from his chair, but Marin grabbed hold of his arm. “Concerning?” Marin asked.
“The Magister Maris.”
“I thought as much. In that case, Mister Prince can stay.”
Phillipe crossed the room and handed Marin the papers. Marin sat back in his chair and leafed through them, giving brief attention to each page.
“I see you’ve been busy rummaging through crusty old documents in order gather information I would gladly have given you in the course of a casual conversation,” then pausing for emphasis, he added, “if you had only asked.”
“So, you know about this?” Phillipe scoffed, both hands placed high upon his hips.
“Of course,” Marin replied.
Phillipe turned to Jude Prince and demanded, “Did you know the Magister Maris was a slave ship?”
“The Magister Maris was NEVER a slave ship.” Marin bellowed. “The Ouidah was a slave ship. I stripped her of all remnants of that dastardly duty and refitted her to haul cargo of an entirely different nature.”
“Yes,” barked Phillipe, “Sugar cane from Martinique.”
“Yes,” Marin concurred. “Is there a problem with sugar cane?”
“Indeed, there is, Marin. You hauled sugar cane for Thomas Hamm and Associates.”
“I have no idea who that is,” Marin exclaimed. “I was commissioned by Mister John Oberlin of The East Winds Trading Company. I am still in his commission. What is it you are driving at, brother?”
“Mister Thomas Hamm and his Associates,” Phillipe said as if addressing a jury, “use that sugar cane to make ...rum.”
Marin turned to Mister Prince, and they both shrugged their shoulders and smiled. He happened to notice Opaline standing in the foyer looking in. He gave her a smile.
“Come on in, Opaline,” he said. “You may as well enjoy this.”
Opaline declined the invitation, but held her place.
Phillipe gave a look of exasperation, and asked in an accusatory tone, “Do you know what they do with the rum, Marin?”
Marin only smiled while shaking his head in a mocking manner.
“They ship it to Africa and trade it for slaves,” Phillipe concluded.
Opaline briskly left the scene with an audible whoosh of her gown, as the smile fell from Marin’s face.
“God as my witness, Phillipe, I had no idea,” he said.
“Nor I,” added Jude Prince.
“But that business is done,” Marin added. “I’m in the Asian spice trade now. Or at least I was.”
“The Magister Maris was paid for with money drenched in the blood of human bondage and suffering,” Phillipe cried. “She was born a slave ship, and as far as God is concerned, she remains a slave ship.”
“What would you and God have me do, brother? Burn her in the bay?”
“No good can come of her, Marin Carpenter. She is awash in sufferer’s blood,” Phillipe admonished, standing statue still and spent of emotion.
“Phillipe...” Marin began, but Phillipe lumbered away, taking his ears with him.
“Well this is a fine kettle-a-fish,” Mister Prince pronounced.
“What next? I am glad you are at my side, Jude Prince.”
“And where else would I stand so tall, sir?” Jude replied.
***
The snow started falling shortly before Jude Prince left the house, and it fell in such a flurry that his tracks were covered over within half an hour of his leaving. By nightfall, the bucket sitting at the base of the well pump had disappeared beneath the powdery fluff, and a short while later the moon’s light failed to penetrate the snow-encrusted windows of the house... and then came the winds.
Marin closed off all the rooms and stoked the fires in the library and kitchen. Wishing to close off the upstairs of the house, he gathered the covers from his bed and called for Opaline and Phillipe to come downstairs and bring their bed covers with them. Opaline obliged him by arriving in the library wrapped in a thick colorful quilt. She laid her pillow on the floor and curled up in front of the fireplace. Marin brought in a pot of tea and some biscuits and called out to Phillipe once more, to no avail. He poured Opaline a mug of tea and sat down in a chair before the fire, watching the flames lick the cold air, warm.
“She’s a good ship,” he said at last. “She’s but wood and iron, rope and linen, made strong against the sea. She befriends no man, nor bears favor to any task. Her only master is the wind.”
As if by command, the wind reached down the chimney and pushed down on the tips of the warming flames. Opaline drew quickly back as a scattering of hot coals flew toward her from the hearth, only to be caught by the thin mesh of the fireplace screen. She smiled a shy grin as if embarrassed by her reaction, and said, “Marin?”
Marin answered her with a look.
“I wonder if, at times, we are not somehow protected,” she said.
Marin, sensing a spiritual quality to her curious speculation, waxed philosophical. “From what ...and by whom? And if so, what purpose does a free will serve, without consequences?”
“Oh, very well ...you and your, ‘free will’. Perhaps we are merely guided then. You will recall, I told you I was to marry a Mister Jonathan Berry?”
“Yes,” he replied with a rise in his voice.
“Well ...his father, the one who judged me unworthy of his son’s affection, is Mister Ovid Berry, Chief Legal Counsel to Mister Thomas Hamm and Associates. And it is only tonight I learn, I would have been married into the slave trade.”
“Hmmm,” Marin replied, with a hint of skepticism. “And who, or what, do you suppose was your guide?”
“How is one to know?” she was quick to reply. “But I suddenly feel as if I were directed here.”
Marin gave her comment a moment of polite regard, before asking, “Not to detract from your revelation, but how does this relate to my situation? What do you imagine this mysterious guiding force might have in mind for me?”
“It is not for me to say,” she snapped. “But it was just last night you were asking me about guiding forces, so you need not be so haughty.”
“Am I being haughty?” Marin asked, obviously amused by her choice of words.
“Yes,” she said with a smile, “you are being haughty, and perhaps the force has something to do with this mission you have been called upon to carry out.”
“Perhaps. Still, the question remains, by what force?”
Opaline lay down in front of the fire and secured the quilt up around her shoulders. Marin put another log on the fire and called again for Phillipe.
“Are we all to sleep here together, by the fire?” Opaline asked.
“With respect to distance, yes,” Marin replied.
Phillipe’s voice rang out from the top of the stairs, “What is it you want, Marin?”
“Bring your covers and pillow downstairs. I want to close off the upstairs and keep as much heat as we can in the library and kitchen.”
“Who is to sleep where?” Phillipe called down.
“We’ll sort it out,” Marin shot back. Phillipe did not answer. Marin took his covers and lay on the floor behind Opaline.
She spoke to him while watching the flames. “I think it best if Phillipe were to sleep between us.”
“Do you not trust me?” Marin whispered into her hair.
“Resist temptation does not mean, ‘Put yourself in temptation’s way and resist it.’ It means, we are to keep ourselves out of temptation’s way.”
Marin raised himself up onto one elbow, and whispered into her ear, “Am I temptation, then?”
She turned onto her back and found herself face to face with Marin, poised within kissing distance. Whatever her proper response may have been, it vanished, leaving her lips empty and wanting.
Marin’s eyes drifted to her slightly parted lips, and he whispered, “Do you wish for me to—”
“Am I to sleep in the kitchen, then?” Phillipe intruded, not yet one step into the room.
Opaline slid aside from under Marin’s gaze and turned to Phillipe. “No, you are to sleep here beside me.”
Marin stood up and moved back to the chair. Opaline lay down so that her feet were to the fire. Phillipe was slow to enter as he glanced back and forth between Marin and Opaline.
“I feel as if I have interrupted something,” he said.
“You have,” Opaline replied. “Now come lie by the fire that we may get some sleep.”
Marin sat in the chair watching the fire as Opaline and Phillipe fell under the spell of its soporific warmth. He reflected on how, in the course of the last few days, the current had shifted. It was but a gathering of a few hours ago that he was out of sight of land, held between wind and wave, one eye on his bearing, the other on the horizon. But now...
As the fire died down to embers, he found himself teetering between getting up to place another log on the fire, and dreaming he had already done so.