“You came all the way to Lunapolis to tell me?”
“I might not be here when next you return; His ways are unfathomable. I wanted you to know.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, overwhelmed.
He shrugged. “And now I can go. These places, He made them, but not for me.”
I blurted, “Father, I’ve foresworn my oath.”
“Oh, Nicholas!” He bowed his head from the pain. “You’re damned.”
“I know.”
We stood in terrible silence. Fleeting memories crowded one another aside: me, still a boy, crying in Captain Forbee’s office on Hope Nation, because my oath wouldn’t allow me to set down the burden of Captaincy. My first subtle misstep, when I perverted Admiral Tremaine’s orders to cane Philip. The awful descent that has destined me irrevocably to Hell.
“Tell me how it came to be.”
And so I told him, haltingly, of Portia’s voyage and of Challenger’s. I made no excuses, but neither did I look for ways to blame myself as Amanda often rightly accused me of doing.
When I finished we stood in grim silence, aware of the enormity of my folly. Then he astonished me.
“Your oath is your compact with Lord God Himself. Once shattered, you cannot repair it. I taught you that.” I nodded. “You are damned irretrievably to Hell everlasting.”
“I knew that when I chose to foreswear my oath, Father.”
“Yes. I taught you well; how could you think otherwise?” He shook his head in sorrow. “I must adjudge you damned, for so we are taught. But it may be, son, that in His infinite wisdom He has greater mercy than ever I can comprehend. Perhaps He has it in Him to forgive you. Truly I hope so.”
He clasped my shoulders in his hands. “Good-bye, Nicholas.” He turned and went.
Overcome, unable to speak, I watched him go. Thus I watched him half a lifetime ago, after we crossed the field to the Academy gates, my duffel heavy on my shoulder, aching for the comfort of his kindness, knowing I was not to receive it. After, he gently pushed me toward the gate, and I entered it, and turned to see him striding away, step firm, never looking back.
“Father!” It need not be so again.
He paused at the hatch. “Yes?”
“Father, do you love me?”
A long silence, while he tasted the word, strange to his palate. He shook his head in wonderment. “Love, Nicholas?” He considered. “Love of your fellow man is transient, surely you know that. Only His love endures. Only His love is worth considering. Were I to say I love you, I would be turning your head with inconsequential fancy. But, though it may have damned you, you’ve done your duty as you understood it. I respect you for that, Nicholas. Know then that you have my respect.” And he turned and was gone.
With a pang of longing I knew that it wasn’t enough. It never would be.
But it was all I would get.
It was more than I’d ever had before.
Epilogue
WE SAILED INTO THE deep night, that great ship full of fallible souls, her anguished Captain at the helm.
The pair of frantic days before our departure was consumed in briefings, introductions, sad reunions. Much of Hibernia’s crew had been reassigned, but Chief McAndrews still manned the engine room with unabated force, Machinist’s Mate Herney still walked belowdecks, and affable Mr. Chantir was now first lieutenant. Enough other old hands remained so that my arrival was preceded by a crackle of excited gossip: “Captain Kid’s back!”
My ghastly appearance discouraged any overt welcome from the crew, though Chief McAndrews seemed at least outwardly unperturbed. I had just time, when I found he would be aboard, to scout Old Lunapolis for one of those strange shops where anything might be procured, and return with a securely wrapped package of his smoking weed. I put it in my cabin safe for days that might come later in the cruise.
I prepared for castoff amid a jumble of new, anxious faces: astoundingly young midshipmen, stiffly formal lieutenants, a green ship’s boy stumbling over himself in eagerness to please.
And the transients. Eddie Boss had elected to remain a crewman. He performed well, a seasoned hand now, though his discipline was marred by a broad smile whenever he saw me. My scowl failed to inhibit it.
We cast off from Lunapolis Station, fired our thrusters for thousands of kilometers to a safe distance, took our bearings, and Fused.
We would be fifteen months en route. Captains have prerogatives even in the cost-conscious Navy, and I’d used mine to have all the furniture in my old cabin replaced, so that nothing I’d shared with Amanda would remain. I couldn’t have borne that.
I settled into the familiar yet unfamiliar cabin, unused at first to the luxury of a fully trained, ample crew. I haunted the bridge until our puter Darla asked why I never seemed to sleep as much as I used to. Then I realized my foolishness, and left the officers to their work.
I sat alone in my cabin, sometimes reading, sometimes communing with Nate and Amanda, who never seemed far away. I opened the present that Admiral Brentley sent before we cast off; inside the finely carved, worn mahogany box were two ancient pistols and a supply of powder and shot. Intrigued despite myself, from time to time I practiced with them, sighting on a cushioned target against a launch berth bulkhead.
I took my meals in the dining hall, sitting with the passengers the purser assigned to my table, making occasional courteous small talk, fleeing afterward to the welcome solitude of my cabin. I watched the training of the midshipmen without interest.
Life held no pleasure, nor did I expect any.
One day Eddie Boss asked permission to see me on the bridge, and to my surprise brought Annie with him. I waited for him to speak, but apparently his role was to provide moral support; he pushed Annie forward and gestured toward me. Blushing furiously, she stammered something unintelligible.
“Mr. Boss, what is it you want?” I asked with impatience.
Eddie said carefully, “Annie wants t’ask you somethin’, sir.”
Despite myself I smiled at his conscientious diction. “Ask, then. Why is she mumbling and twisting her skirt?”
Annie stamped her foot in frustration. “Stop talkin’ ’bout me like I ain’ here!” she cried. “I already tolya what I’m askin’!”
“Tell me again,” I said more gently. “I couldn’t understand a word of it.”
“That’s what I been sayin’ ” she said indignantly. “I wanna talk like—like Cap’n make Eddie do!”
“You mean, speech lessons?” I was flabbergasted.
“Not jus’ dat, alla other stuff. Like you showin’ Eddie, walkn’ ri, talk like other people.” She sniffed. “Like dem Uppies.”
“What’s wrong with being who you are?” I asked quietly.
Hey eyes fell to the deck. “Miz Captain, she said I c’n be what I wan’,” she said. “When she showed me doin’ my hair ‘n all.”
I had no answer to that.
I should have refused at once. But I assented, for reasons I did not understand then and have not since.
We met in my cabin regularly each day. With excruciating patience, Amanda’s example before me, I gently corrected Annie’s speech, helped her practice social graces, tried to teach her civilized ways.
The more I saw of her, the more I thought of Amanda. I missed not only her companionship, but her body. Her warmth at night, her tender caress, the delight of our coupling.
As time passed I relaxed somewhat with Annie and spoke of these things to her. She seemed to understand, and became my confidante as no other had been. I found she had in her a strength, a resilience that I came to respect and prize.
Walter Dakko, Hibernia’s master-at-arms, helped teach her as he had Eddie. After two months of nerve-wracking work, I was delighted with Annie’s progress and told her so.
“Thank you, Captain.”
I smiled. A month before, it would have been, “Gras, Cap’n.”
“You’ll be a lady to respect, Annie. Amanda would have been proud of you.
”
Instead of pleasing her, my remark caused her to stamp her foot with petulance. “Amanda, Amanda! Wid you it always be her!”
“With you.”
“Wid, with, who care! I always be hearing about Amanda!”
“I’m sorry,” I said stiffly. “I miss her. I won’t mention her again.”
“I miss her too!” she cried. “She was good lady, yeah! She done my hair, she helpin’—she helped Eddie when no one else would! But what about me? Amanda dead, Captain! Amanda dead, an’ Annie live!” She threw her hands over her face and wept. Astonished, I could not think how to comfort her, until eventually, awkwardly, I drew her head against my shoulder.
For a long time she lay against me, swaying as we stood. “Don’ you need let her go?” she finally asked. “Don’ you have needs? Man needs?”
“Needs?” I said hoarsely, stepping away from her. “Look at me! Do you see my needs?”
Her eyes darted down, then back. A mischievous smile flitted across her features. “I c’n fix dat, Cap’n. Let ol’ Annie be fixin’ yo’ needs.”
“Don’t talk that way!” I cried, unsure as to whether I meant her grammar or her coarseness. “There’s been no one,” I added, embarrassed. “Not since Amanda.”
“Den it be time,” she said simply, and came to me, and wisely said no more.
The days and weeks passed. We sailed on, the darkness Outside banished, lit within by the glow of our bodies, rising and falling as if to the waves, sliding, flowing, grasping at each other, floating together, as the great silent ship sailed ever onward through the void.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1995 by David Feintuch
cover design by Michael Vrana
978-1-4532-9702-5
This edition published in 2012 by Open Road Integrated Media
180 Varick Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
EARLY BIRD BOOKS
FRESH EBOOK DEALS, DELIVERED DAILY
BE THE FIRST TO KNOW ABOUT
FREE AND DISCOUNTED EBOOKS
NEW DEALS HATCH EVERY DAY!
EBOOKS BY DAVID FEINTUCH
FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA
Available wherever ebooks are sold
Open Road Integrated Media is a digital publisher and multimedia content company. Open Road creates connections between authors and their audiences by marketing its ebooks through a new proprietary online platform, which uses premium video content and social media.
Videos, Archival Documents, and New Releases
Sign up for the Open Road Media newsletter and get news delivered straight to your inbox.
Sign up now at
www.openroadmedia.com/newsletters
FIND OUT MORE AT
WWW.OPENROADMEDIA.COM
FOLLOW US:
@openroadmedia and
Facebook.com/OpenRoadMedia
Challenger's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 2) Page 44
