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The storm had lost most of its temper by morning, although the sky, heavy with mist, remained overcast, with dark clouds lying low and scattered, as though a great turmoil had broken them apart by.
When Mister Mason summoned Marin and Jude from their sleeping quarters, he found Marin lying glassy-eyed and awake.
“Have you not slept, Captain?” he asked, but Marin did not reply. Jude stirred awake and Mason deferred to him, saying, “Commander Ernst awaits you and the Captain in the mess.”
Jude roused Marin from his trance-like state and they followed Mason to the mess deck, which was full of sailors either chowing down a breakfast upon waking, or a light scratch of a meal before retiring. Commander Ernst was sitting with a group of men who were ready for their four hours of sleep.
“Sit yourselves down,” Ernst said, greeting the two of them while directing the men seated in front of him to make room. “Mister Combs, get our guests a couple of bowls of oatmeal and some coffee.”
“Guests, or prisoners?” Marin contested.
“I beg your pardon,” the Commander objected, raising his brow at Marin and glancing over at Jude. Jude, in turn, glared at Marin. The Commander addressed Marin, asking, “Are you feeling alright, Captain?” When Marin didn’t reply, the Commander continued, “Yes, well gentlemen, we have been tacking a path toward Newport in search of your crew. Nothing to report as yet, but the seas have calmed somewhat and we will do our best to locate them as we make our way back home. You do make your home in Newport, do you not, Captain Carpenter?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Marin mumbled.
“And you, Mister Prince?”
“I’ve a house there, but I’m a sea dweller, sir. Home is a boat afloat.”
“I see. Well, you may consider this your home for the remainder of our journey.”
As Mister Combs placed two bowls of oatmeal and a couple cups of coffee in front of Jude and Marin, Marin pushed his away and addressed the commander in a direct, if not testy tone.
“Why were you following us?”
The commander gave a knowing look to the other men sitting at the table, and they gathered their plates and cups and moved elsewhere. He then leaned in and softened his voice.
“We were anchored off of Staten Island when I received word that the Magister Maris was docked across the channel at Perth Amboy. Our orders were to await your departure. We were told that if you turned south, we were to let go and let you sail. If, on the other hand, you turned north, we were to follow you.”
Jude force swallowed a mouthful of oatmeal, put his spoon into his bowl, and turned to Marin.
“You were to let us sail south?” Marin quizzed.
“Those were ours orders, yes, sir.”
“Did they inform you as to why you were to follow us north?”
“Only that we were to insure your safe passage to Passamaquoddy Bay. I might add, there was scuttlebutt that a Senator Wallace of Rhode Island was involved in the directive, so maybe that our orders came from higher up.”
Jude pushed his oatmeal away and said, “They had to know we held no cargo.” “They had to know a lot more than that,” Marin concluded, looking over at the Commander and waiting for a crack in his silence. None came.
Marin and Jude excused themselves and went topside, positioning themselves on opposite sides of the deck, searching the choppy waters for signs of the two small boats holding their crew. Marin strained to see through the thin fog, and after a while his anguish consumed him. He continually crossed back and forth from port to starboard until Jude finally chastised him.
“Damn it, Captain, don’t ya trust my eyes? I’ve got the starboard watch.”
Marin returned port side and desperately scanned the troubled waters for any sign of his crew. The longer he stared out over the vast maze of unconnected waves, the more his vision blurred and his mind grew heavy with fatigue and despair. His thoughts became as random and disjointed as the whitecaps breaking out over the ocean. Several times, he thought he saw a boat and he would call for Jude, and each time Jude would return to his side and assure him there was nothing there. The sounds of the wind through the sails and the waves lapping against the boat began taking on a distinct vocal quality. Marin’s mind wove them into the sounds of a distant beckoning.
“Phillipe!” Marin began calling out, bringing Jude to his side, yet again. Marin held a fixed gaze on a distant nothing as he continued calling out Phillipe’s name. Jude gently pulled him away from the side of the ship and attempted to calm him.
“Come along, Captain ...we’ll assign someone else to the watch.” Jude said.
“Bring her ninety degrees to port and hold her steady,” Marin called out to the helmsman.
“You’re needed below, sir,” Jude intervened, and escorted him below deck and sat him down on a bench while holding onto him to keep him from tipping over.
“I need for you to retrieve Phillipe’s Bible,” Marin ordered.
Jude stared at Marin’s glassy, doll-like eyes, and started to explain that the Bible was not with them, but stopped himself, saying instead, “Yes, Captain,” and he positioned Marin against the wall and left to find a Bible.
When he returned, he witnessed Marin standing stark naked while attempting to put on his still damp Captain’s uniform. Jude stood aside and watched the painful episode as Marin struggled with the moist material. After Marin was at least partially clothed, Jude said,
“Here’s the Bible as requested, sir.”
Marin grabbed the book and quickly began leafing through it. “Here it is,” he declared, “Proverbs Two,” and he began to read in a soft voice to himself. He paused a moment to say to Jude, “You see, Jude? This is what Armstrong was trying to tell me.”
He began reading again as Jude slipped out of the room and went to find the ship’s surgeon.
When he returned with the doctor, Marin was still seated on the bench with the Bible in his hand. He appeared to be addressing a few imaginary people gathered at his feet.
“I have failed you as a son,” he moaned, his head dipped low, eyes raised to his left. His head jerked up and his eyes came straightforward, as he exclaimed “I have failed you as a brother...” He paused as his voice faltered, and after clearing his throat, he looked directly to his right and struggled to say, “And I have failed you as a Captain.” He shook his head, looked directly into the distance and added, “All I have to offer any of you, by way of amends, is comfort.” He bowed his head, closed his eyes and concluded, “I have failed to know my own purpose, and for that, there is no forgiveness.”
The doctor gingerly approached, holding out a cup to Marin. “Will you receive this offering?” he asked.
Marin opened his eyes and gave a startle. He looked around as if he had awoken from a dream. “Who are you?” he asked.
“Marin,” Jude said, approaching swiftly and taking the cup from the doctor’s hand. “I want ya to drink this.”
Without comment, Marin reached out, took the cup, and drank the contents. “Thank you, Jude. How did you know I was thirsty?”
“First mate’s bones, Sir.”
“Your water is a little bitter,” he said to the stranger, “but still appreciated.”
The doctor retrieved the cup, nodded, and walked to the door. Jude came over to thank him.
“The opium should help him sleep,” the doctor said. “Hopefully, his present state is only one of simple exhaustion.
***
Marin awoke shivering, his damp clothes like ice against his clammy skin. Still somewhat disoriented, he looked around the dark interior for a few moments to regain his sense of place.The ship’s bell rang, signaling the end of a watch, and Marin hurried topside. An all but full moon almost cut through the densely packed clouds, providing just enough illumination to aid one’s illusions. The swift movement of the clouds across the sky gave the impression that the ship was moving much faster than it actually was.
Marin made his way to the bow of the U.S.S. Fortune, where he found Jude facing out toward the sea. Without saying a word, Jude looked at Marin and gave an ever so sympathetic shake of his head.
“You get some sleep,” Marin told him, “I’ll watch for Phillipe.” Overcome by his own words, he bowed his head and covered his eyes.
Jude pulled Marin away from the bow, saying, “Come along with me, Captain. There’s nothin’ left to see.”
They went below to the sleeping quarters, and Jude lay down for a well-deserved rest. After Marin had bid Jude good night, he returned to the bow and continued his search.
Commander Ernst came to his side and said, “Well, Captain Carpenter, it is good to see you feeling better.”
Marin said nothing, but gave a nod of acknowledgement.
“We should see land by daybreak,” the commander continued. “I hope that will be a welcome sight for you.”
Again, Marin said nothing, and Ernst felt it best to retire from his side. Marin stayed at the helm, braving the cold winter winds and icy mist rising from the cold waters below. Looking out into the darkness, he understood all too well that even if something were out there, he would not be able to see it.