Grantville Gazette 36 gg-36

by Paula Goodlett

  "Youth. If only there was a way to steal it from the young," Gerbald said as they watched Pers scamper down the trail. With a tandem sigh they followed, placing one well-worn boot in front of the other.

  Just before sunset they were back on the familiar trails near the beach camp with less than half a mile to go. They paused again at the rise they had observed the ship from that morning to watch the sun go down. The junk now lay at anchor on the high tide, once again resembling a fanciful toy more than a real ship, its bright colors darkened to deeper eldritch hues in the evening glow. Lanterns were lit one by one. Pam thought she could hear the quiet murmur of the men on deck in the evening hush. As twilight surrounded them, Gerbald started walking again and Pam began to follow. After a minute she realized that Pers was still standing on the rise, his head hanging low and his face long in the dim purple light.

  Pam tapped Gerbald on the back, speaking to him in a low whisper. "Hey, something's wrong with the kid. I knew something was bugging him this morning, he put on a brave face all day but now . . . I'm going to stay and talk with him. Do you want to join me?"

  "Hmmm. I know he looks up to me, which is very flattering, but I also know sometimes a young man needs the comfort of a woman instead of a man. Lord knows when last he saw his mother, or if he ever has. Go see what's troubling him, Pam. It would be good for him." He carefully didn't add and for you, but he certainly thought it as he started walking again. The last mile was easy even in the dark, but he would wait in the brush below the rise until they passed, then follow them back, just in case. The bodyguard's job is never done. He smiled with satisfaction despite his earnest wish to be back to camp and put to bed.

  Pam walked back up the rise and over to Pers. He saw her and started to walk again but she motioned for him to stop. He was trying to look cheerful for her, but she could see plainly even in the remaining light that he was troubled. "All right, you can't kid a kidder, pal, so tell me what's wrong." Pam gave him her best sympathetic smile.

  Pers smiled back, but his brow was still downcast. "Well, it's nothing really . . ." Pam waited, continuing to smile encouragingly. Seeing that there was no escape, the young man continued.

  "Well, I shall have to tell you a little about me. My parents were poor farmers on the coast near Norway and, already having several sons, they sent me off to sea when I was but nine."

  "Just nine! Jesus!" Pam was appalled but had heard far worse since her arrival in the 1630s.

  "Please don't think badly of them. They could barely feed us all. Besides, I was glad to go. I wanted to leave that stupid village and see the world! The work turned out to be harder than I thought, but the men usually treated me kindly. It's just that life on a ship, well, the faces change and once you get to know someone they die, like old Fritjof, or move on to another ship . . ." He stalled for a moment but Pam nodded her understanding, signaling for him to go on.

  "My dreams have changed. I've seen a lot of the world. You may be surprised how much. I want a home now, to stop traveling, to get to know a place. And the truth is, even though we got stuck here against our will, this is the first time since I was that boy of nine that I've lived in a home instead of a ship, here on this island with all of you. And now we are all leaving . . ."

  Pers was struggling to keep smiling but Pam could see he was very upset. She took his hand carefully, afraid the simple act might make him lose his composure and start crying, a terrible thing to have happen when you were a proud youth becoming a man.

  "Pers, I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt this way. I want you to know I completely understand. When Grantville came through time I was all alone. Like I told you earlier, I was divorced, so no husband. I still had my son but he doesn't like me much anymore. If I hadn't met Gerbald and Dore, I don't know what would have become of me. Well, I'd probably be living as a shut-in and weigh fifty pounds more than I do! At least until my supply of bonbons ran out. Anyway, everybody needs a home sometimes, and they gave me that."

  She paused, trying to gauge the young man, trying to see if what she wanted to say would be the right thing, the thing Pers needed and wanted. She had all his attention, and knew that he looked up to her far more than she had realized. Well, you have never been Miss Congeniality, that's for sure. She took a deep breath and placed a hand on Pers' wide shoulder.

  "Pers, I'm sorry I didn't see how strongly you felt sooner. I want you to know that you will always have a home with me if you wish it. You have been my very special friend all through this voyage, proving your love and loyalty a hundred times over. I have already come to think of you as another son. I swear to you it's true! When that pirate was beating you, that was what made me mad enough to shoot. He was hurting my boy! In my heart you are my boy, you've earned your place! Whatever you want, I will make it happen for you. If you want to go to school, I will see to it. If you want to work with me, I will have a place for you. If you were to think of me as family, why, it would make me very proud." Now it was Pam who was in danger of tears. The hope dawning on Pers' face, still a boy as much as a man, made her heart beat double time.

  Pers stuttered a bit and then in a small child's voice said, "I'd like that very much, if you will have me. I would very much like to have a mother again."

  "Awww, come here, kid." With that she grabbed Pers, who was a good two feet taller than her, and gave him a bear hug. "Let old Pam be your momma. I'll try my best, but I'll warn you I'm not always too good at it. I'm not sure where all this is going from here but you just stick with me, we'll figure it out together, all right, son?"

  Pam could feel Pers shaking. He was weeping now, but she could tell from the vibration that these were good tears, the tears of relief and discovered joy. She joined right in and they stood there for a while, a mother and son, which to Pam's great pride she knew they had become, not by blood but in all the ways that really mattered. After a time Pam stepped gently back from the embrace to look at the bright, lovely youth who had entered her life. She patted him gently on the cheek.

  "Don't worry, Pers. I won't tell anybody what a sweet kid you are. They already know anyway. Now, let's go home. I'm so hungry I could eat coconut crab curry, heigh-ho!"

  "Yes, ma'am . . . er . . . Mom!" He gave her a snappy salute, his usual grin back in place and grown a size bigger.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Last Day Of Camp

  It was to be their last day at the beach camp. By evening they intended to dine on the ship and spend the night aboard before sailing with the dawn. The bosun, despite an initial raft of complaints about the many oddities of their new vessel, had deemed her seaworthy and ready to go. Toward the end of their discussion around last night's dinner fire he had began to wax so poetic on the junk's capabilities that Pam suspected he was beginning to fall in love with the thing, and thought that might happen between all sailors and their ships eventually.

  After an early breakfast, Pam sat on the porch of her hut, sipping her third cup of coffee. Pers had been drafted by the bosun first thing. She had given him a wave and a wink as he set off for the beach, which made him blush. Looks like I'm a mom again, well good for me. The thought filled her with a deep, comfortable warmth. Pers had come to think of their beach camp as home and she realized so had she. She would miss this funny little bamboo shack and wondered if she would ever come this way again. They had been very lucky to make a safe landing here when the Redbird went down. All in all, they had enjoyed a much higher level of comfort than could be expected, thanks to the island's natural bounty and the many skills of her companions. At times it had felt more like she was on summer holiday than marooned, especially during the heady days that followed her finding of the dodo flock. Those were good times and she wouldn't forget them.

  "Maybe someday we can make this a research station and spend some time here again," she said to herself, a habit that she was careful not to let others overhear. "I would like that. Yes, we shall." The sailors had built to last and she thought the buildings could survive a few seasons wit
hout human care. Finishing her coffee with a gulp, she went inside and put the coconut-shell cup on a shelf, in place for that possible someday. The tiny room was mostly empty. She had already sent her baggage out to the ship and only a few island gewgaws remained; a shell collection along the window sill and some sketches she had hung on the walls that weren't important enough to take with her.

  One piece of art, placed in a prominent place over her cot, was a message to any who might take shelter here in the future, a painting of a dodo with the words "Please do not kill this bird! Bad luck follows those who do!" written in English, German and Swedish. "Can't hurt," she said. Assuming they could read, sailors were by nature superstitious and she had no bones against using a bit of psychological warfare in her cause. In fact, I should probably do that more. She brushed against some of the shell necklaces hanging from a peg beside the window. She and Dore had worn these with their native getup. On a whim she took one and put it on, a bit of beach-camp style to remember the place by. Pam took one last look around, backed out onto the porch, then closed and latched the door shut against the wind. It was time to get going.

  She found that Gerbald and the men had already moved the heavy carronade from its log mount and were now loading it onto the pinnace with a complicated affair of poles, ropes, and pulleys. Gerbald seemed to have a knack for that kind of thing, even impressing the sailors who worked with such tools on a daily basis. They had made him the foreman for the task and he was basking in the glory of leadership, one of his few foibles.

  "Show off," she teased as she sauntered by the proceedings. Gerbald just grinned, as pleased with a ribbing as he was with any kind of attention. Pam thanked the Lord she had found such a good-natured friend. She knew that he had become expert in deflecting the worst of her moods and usually allowed him to do so with silent gratitude.

  Pam wandered up to the kitchen to see if she could help Dore with her cooking things. Not too surprisingly, the incredibly efficient woman was already packed up and had drafted Pers and another sailor, dark-haired Lind, into hauling the boxes and bags down to the pinnace. Pam was given a fairly light basket to carry and returned to the beach. The pinnace had already left on its mission to deliver their special gun to the new vessel, so Pam put her basket down on the pile of goods waiting the next trip and decided to take a walk. She didn't want to go by way of the cemetery. Her good-byes had been said and the pain was still too fresh, so she went the opposite direction, ending up on the high cliff lookout she and Gerbald had sighted the junk from just two days ago. It felt like weeks! Pam sat down with her back against a gnarled, wind tortured tree to watch the proceedings. The job of getting the carronade onto the junk and mounted looked like it was going to take a good long while, so she let herself drift off into a nap.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: An Unexpected Promotion

  After an hour of dozing filled with dreams featuring swords and blood and screams of the dying, Pam shook herself awake with a sour taste in her mouth, feeling unrested and anxious. She hurried down to rejoin those at the beach, comforted by their dependable presence.

  The bosun approached her with what was plainly deference. He and two of the sailors, Vilfrid and Lind, awaited her on the shore along with Gerbald and Dore. They would make the trip in the Redbird's pinnace, which the sailors would then haul up onto the junk's wide deck. The modest little craft was quite dear to them, having proven its worth time and again. It took her a while to realize it, but the sailors were again being especially polite to her. Of course, they always had been, but there had been some kind of a change since they had captured the Oriental junk.

  "The big gun has been mounted on the new ship. Are you ready to board?" the bosun asked.

  "Yes, just let me make one last look." Pam scanned their home for these long months, the realization that her stay in this remote place was at an end finally sinking in. A fierce joy filled her. We did it. We are getting out of here. She climbed into the pinnace and was ushered to a seat in the prow. She watched their beach recede until they began to draw in close to the junk. After one last, long, look she turned her back to the shore, ready to begin her journey again.

  Pam looked up to see all the sailors and marines were lined along the gaily painted rails. As the pinnace drew close the men sent up a cheer, whooping and hollering with a gusto rarely seen in the cool-tempered, well-mannered Swedes. Pam saw Gerbald on the bench down from hers waving back at the sailors like some teen-age state fair princess in a parade, full of winning smiles and gracious bows. This made Pam and Dore both burst into laughter. They joined in with the merriment and waved and shouted greetings back to the cheering crew.

  Soon they had clambered aboard with the help of many friendly hands, accompanied by the high, keening tune of the bosun's whistle. Now, for the first time, their entire company stood assembled on the deck of the fanciful junk they had acquired at such bloody cost. The men opened a space around Pam and her staff, all the while clapping and cheering. After a while, the bosun raised his hands and brought the men down to a hush. Pam smiled warmly at all of her Swedish friends, the men who had brought her to the far side of the world, the men who had worked so hard to make her safe and comfortable during their castaway days, the men who had become as brothers to her.

  "Herr Bosun, you fellows shouldn't put up such a fuss!" Pam said, her West Virginia twang creeping into her Swedish. She was beginning to feel shy and a bit overwhelmed as she always did when finding herself in the public eye.

  "It is from our hearts that we do. We have been delivered from our sojourn on that wretched shore and are in possession of a fine craft. All of this is because of the great courage and many skills you, Herr Gerbald, and Frau Dore have lent to us. We never would have been able to live as well as we have while lost, or to have captured this prize without your help, and especially your leadership, Pam."

  The men broke out into a cheer again, clapping their hands for Pam, who felt as if she wanted to dissolve into the deck.

  The bosun nodded and fixed a toothy grin on her. Before she could make a break for it, he said, "In the tradition of the sea, a captured vessel becomes the property of the victors, in particular the leader of the victors, their captain. Pam, you made the plan which ensured our success. You led the attack like some warrior queen from out of the old tales!" He paused to dramatically sweep his arm across the decks in a gesture that included all the grinning men standing at attention. "This is your ship, we are your crew and you are our captain. We await your orders, Captain Pam!" He gave her a long salute, his eyes meeting hers with what Pam thought could only be admiration. Ending the salute, he gave her a polite bow and took a step back to join his men silently at attention.

  Somewhere a seagull cried and the sound of gentle waves lapping became intensely loud in the silence. Pam's eyes were as wide as porcelain plates, their steely gray having attained a glazed cast. After a while Gerbald reached out and poked her in the arm, a deep chuckle coming from beneath the shade of his ridiculous mustard hat's floppy brim. Pam looked back at the men, her men, and managed a kind of stunned half-smile. She nodded slowly a few times, taking it all in. Somewhere inside the turmoil of emotions whirling through her brain she heard a calm, clear voice, the one that always came when she really needed it: You have earned this honor, Pamela Grace Miller. Now acknowledge their faith in you. It is yours by right! Suddenly her eyes came into focus, she drew back her shoulders and in an unexpectedly loud and commanding voice bawled, "Make ready to sail!" The men jumped at her order, spreading out through the ship, led by Pers who was the fastest. With the exception perhaps of Pers, these men were eager to be back to their profession. They had tired of life on the shore and bent to their tasks with relish. The bosun stepped forward to pump Pam's hand in the American-style Gerbald had showed him.

  "Was that the right thing to say?" she asked, relieved that the show was over and reeling from the ramifications.

  "Absolutely! Well done, Captain Pam. I knew you had it in you!" The bosun beame
d at her.

  "Look, I'm not so sure about this captain thing, Herr Bosun. Isn't it a job that's better suited for you? The extent of my maritime experience is rowing a boat around a lake as a kid. I have only a vague idea how to sail a ship, much less captain one."

  "No, ma'am, I wouldn't have it. This ship is squarely yours and you command her. There's a lot more to it than the sailing, you can leave that to us! In a situation like this, far from home and moving into danger, we need a leader we can get behind and that's you. Besides, we already chose you for our captain in all but name months ago back on the island. We liked the way you ran things there and will follow you wherever you go next. We don't fear danger."

  Pam's eyes were moist, she was supremely touched by the confidence these brave men had shown in her. The bosun saw that she needed time to let it all sink in and motioned toward the aft cabins.

  "If I may be so bold, Captain, might I suggest you and Frau Dore have a look around the ship?" He started to go but then stopped, with a bemused expression on his face. "Perhaps I have grown a bit rusty. You ordered us to make sail but what is our destination?"

  Pam looked out at the sparkling azure sea to think for a moment. "Well, the plan was to anchor here tonight. We know its a safe harbor. Why don't you just take us for a spin up and down the beach, just give me a little demonstration of what we feel like under way. Then let's anchor back here and give everyone a rest. I think the men need one before we go off chasing French warships and the like."

  The bosun beamed. "Very wise, Captain, very wise. Now, leave it all to me and make yourselves at home. What I believe serves as the captain's cabin is just up those stairs, and meaning no offense, ma'am, but you might find more comfortable clothing there, although it will likely be of a heathen cut."

  Pam looked down at what was left of the clothes they had landed in, barely rags and held together with grass stitching in places.