The Chief waved a hand. “We’re getting off the story, because he didn’t see any of that.”
“No mermaid breasts?” Velvet asked, disappointed.
“No.”
“Any breasts at all?”
“There were no breasts,” the Chief said slowly and with irritation. He looked like he was about to get up and walk away, so they quieted.
“What did he see?” Burl asked politely.
“He saw the end of the world,” the Chief said simply. “Not just the edge of it. The end. Back then, everybody thought that the seas would get rough as you neared the end, and you’d get caught in the current. And once you were caught in it, you’d be pulled over the edge of the world.
“Then why did he go,” Pun’kin asked. “Weren’t he afraid?”
The Chief nodded. “He was. But he knew that all men go that way eventually.”
“What are you saying?” It was Fishy who’d said it. He was frowning.
The Chief spoke gently. “The captain knew that just because something has to happen, doesn’t mean you have to fear it, son.”
Fishy laid back down without responding.
The Chief went on. “But the seas didn’t get rougher. The longer the captain sailed, the calmer the seas became. After seventy-seven days and seventy-six nights, he arrived at the edge.”
The Chief adjusted his seating position unconsciously. His attention was far way. “The water was clear blue as my mother’s eyes on a summer day. The sand was visible under the water, so clear that a hundred fathoms to the bottom looked like a ten feet. It was tan and soft as young love’s skin. But gradually, the bottom began to rise, so he knew he was getting close to land.
“The world didn’t end in a waterfall into oblivion. It ended in a beach, and a forest. Big, tall trees, tall as the sky, coming right down to the sand, and soft leaves under them.”
The Chief looked at each of them in turn. “None of his sailors wanted to step on the beach. They weren’t afraid, they just felt like they weren’t supposed to touch the sand. So he did. When he stepped out of the skiff, he knew for certain that he was the first man to ever set foot at the end of the world. He walked away into the trees. He walked for a day and a night, until he knew he’d reached the center of the forest. He wasn’t hungry or thirsty.”
“How did he know?” Burl asked so quietly that if any of them had been breathing loudly it would have covered him.
The Chief shrugged. “He just knew. There were no birds or bugs in the forest. Nothing at all but the tall trees, and the leaves, like a carpet. It was so quiet, and that was how he found the stream. It ran through the middle of the forest, and the trickling sound it made was the only sound in the forest. It watered a vine. The vine covered acres of the forest, climbing up the old trees and winding through the leaves.
“Now, I don’t know how he knew what would happen, but I swear to you men that this is the truth. The trees were so tall, and the vine was so large because they had all been growing there since the first day of time. Just growing in the quiet, with no man to cut them down, not even a sparrow to sit in the branches and sing.
“The vine and the forest are there right now, growing at the western edge of the world, waiting for the last day. Years will pass without count, and the world will grow old. Even the sun will grow tired and red, and begin to swell. Then the last day will come.
“As the sun sets on this world for the last time, the vine will bloom. It’s a red rose. The most beautiful one that ever was. The blooms will be the prettiest that ever bloomed in this world, and they will be there in the forest, in the quiet, in the light of the last sunset. Then all will go dark, and the world will have ended.”
He held up a hand. “But not quite. As the last few seconds of time lay down, the last bloom will open, deep in the middle of the vine, hidden by all the leaves.
“It’s White,” the Chief said quietly. “But it's White, like the color itself made into a flower.” He groped for words. “It’s so White that clouds and goose feathers look dark beside it. It makes pearls look dull.” He paused for a small breath, then added, “And anybody who touches it will live forever.”
“But you said nobody would be there,” Fishy said.
“One person will.”
“Who?” Burl asked.
“You,” said the Chief, looking at Fishy, then Garret, then Velvet, then Burl, then Pun’kin, then Butterworth. He met each of their eyes, and held them until he seemed satisfied that they had accepted he meant each of them.
“When you love somebody truly,” he said, “it earns you the right to touch the flower, but not for yourself. You get to give it to them.”
“But I didn’t,” Fishy blurted, tears filling his eyes. “I didn’t treat him right. I didn’t love my brother like I should have. And now he’s dead.”
“Son,” the Chief said gently. “You’re dying on the inside. You couldn’t hurt that bad if you didn’t love him from the bottom of your heart.”
“Can… can they give it to someone else?” Garret asked through a dry throat.
“They can.” The Chief nodded with assurance. “And they will. Again and again.”
“Each of you,” the Chief repeated. He looked at each of them intently in turn. “You get to give it to someone, whoever you love. And they will give it to someone else, and someone else, and someone else. The white rose lives forever, and so does the person who touches it.”
Velvet asked the question. Somebody had to. “But… but what if they’re already—”
“They’re not,” the Chief said assuredly. “Time is a trick. That was the most important thing the Captain learned. That’s why it hurts so bad. You can’t see them anymore, and time tricks you into thinking they’re gone forever, but they aren’t.”
The Chief sat for a moment longer, then creaked slowly to his feet. “You men need to get some shut-eye,” he said with a sigh. “This ain’t over yet.”
None of them had heard him use the word “ain’t,” before.
Garret wiped his eyes, and somebody, Garret was never sure who, whispered, “But if the Captain never told what he saw, then how do you know it’s true?”
“Son,” the chief said quietly. “Sometimes, when something’s true, you just know it. You feel it in your heart. Can you feel it?”
Garret gave a small nod, even though the Chief wasn’t asking him.
“Then nobody can take that away from you,” the Chief said, and he walked away.
Garret did not hear any screams in his dreams that night. He slept soundly.
Chapter 27
At the same time Garret and his friends were drifting off in peace, Captain Shearer was glaring at Captain Maxwell, leaning aggressively across Maxwell’s table.
“You’re asking them to die for nothing,” Shearer growled.
“I’m asking them to die for everything,” Maxwell replied.
“They would not see it that way if they knew,” Shearer responded.
“Which is why they don’t.”
Shearer folded his arms and turned away, glaring out the porthole. A Mediterranean squall had blown up out of nowhere. The muted wash of wind and water against the hull ebbed into the space between them as Kearsarge ploughed ahead.
Shearer faced Maxwell again, arms still crossed. “What are you asking me to do?”
“I’m asking you to take command of the Kearsarge,” Maxwell said.
“I can’t do that.”
“I need you to.”
“I won’t do that. You cannot ask me this!”
“They need you to.” Maxwell gestured around the ship, and the three hundred souls it contained. “We will drop anchor before daybreak. I have to go ashore to see this mission finished.”
“You have to? Wilkes accused you of being blinded by your ego and your grief.”
“He accused me, and then he threw himself from the fire control top,” Maxwell replied. “I wouldn�
��t place much stock in his judgment.”
Shearer pointed a finger in Maxwell’s face. “I learned long ago not to judge the truth of the message by my opinion of the messenger. You are living up to his assessments of you. You have completed the mission. The gold is lost so deep it will never be found. You’ve saved the world. Go home.”
“My wife and daughter are dead, Robert. They were killed, it turns out, by my nephew. What home do you suggest I return to?”
Shearer let his head drop.
Maxwell continued. “Stopping the shipment wasn’t enough. The Black Hand must be—”
“It was enough, David!” Shearer barked. “It was enough and you know it! You are choosing not to see that. Six hundred and ninety-six tons of gold was sufficient capital for them to buy control of the Austro-Hungarian Empire—and arm it like the world has never seen! Without the gold, they are nothing more than a group of anarchists. Rebels. Zealots! Such men are not guided by reason. In time, such groups are always crushed under the weight of their own fanaticism. I once admired you because you showed much wisdom for a man so young. Wisdom is vision, but this is blindness.”
“I will stop when the future of this world is secure,” Maxwell replied.
“That’s exactly the blindness I’m talking about,” Shearer barked. “This world has never been secure and it never will be!”
“You know what I meant, Robert,” Maxwell said in a low voice. “This world—”
“Isn’t yours!” Shearer interrupted. “Your world is destroyed. You said so yourself. You have no offspring for whom to preserve this one.” He spread his hands to the world at large, then settled back onto the table again, leaning on his knuckles. “So I ask you again, for the last time, what are you asking of me?”
“I have never lied to you, Captain Shearer,” Maxwell replied darkly. “Not now, and not even then. You may remember that I refused to talk, no matter what they did.”
Shearer lowered his head again, this time under the weight of Maxwell’s reference.
“That was not my choice.”
“And you saved me from that, after a time. I haven’t forgotten it. That’s why you are here now, because you are right. My child is dead. I have nothing left but the men on this boat. Even if I am what you say, their lives matter.”
Shearer bowed. “I’m sorry, David.”
They stayed that way for a long minute.
At last Maxwell continued. “There is going to be an assassination.”
Shearer looked up.
“We don’t know who,” Maxwell said. “But it hardly matters. The Great Powers in Europe have been rattling sabers and issuing ultimatums for ten years. If anyone of significance dies, it will be the excuse everyone needs.”
He continued. “I cannot hide a battleship anchored a few miles off the coast of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Kearsarge is badly damaged. The engineer estimates thirty percent of Kearsarge’s mechanical systems are inoperable and irreparable, including her forward turret. She cannot engage in battle again. Nor can she stay here. She must run.”
“The North Dakota,” Shearer began.
“Is gone,” Maxwell said. “Our mission was a success. I spoke to her captain last night on the wireless. She is headed home. She will not fire on us, but neither will she protect us. It is the same with the rest of the United States Navy.”
“Disgraceful.” Shearer looked like he wanted to spit on the deck. “That is how the United States Navy treats its heroes? That is how it rewards the obedient?”
“Neither of us are heroes,” Maxwell replied. A hard gleam came into his eye. “And I have never been obedient.”
Shearer frowned. “One wonders how you ever rose to the rank of captain.”
Maxwell did not move, did not blink, and did not answer the implicit question.
“Your XO—” Shearer began again.
“Will be your second in command,” Maxwell said. “The crew will follow him, and he will follow you.”
Maxwell sat forward, and for once, the mask of stony certainty fell from his face. “Robert, you cannot let my crew fall into the hands of France or Germany, and especially not the hands of your nation. Even if they by some miracle they weren’t tried as war criminals, they’ve spilled British blood on my orders. Most of them would never see their families again. Don’t let that happen to them.
“You’ve come to know them, a little. Their lives are more important than my national pride or yours. These young men have given the best they have to give, and they’ve changed the world in a way they’ll never understand. So did your men aboard the Lion.” Maxwell took a breath. “So did the men aboard the Audacious, and the men from all the nations in the convoy. They died so we could put Armageddon on the bottom of the ocean. Surely the few who remain alive deserve a chance at a life now.”
Maxwell sat still for a moment, then looked away. “I should be the one to take my crew home. They deserve that from me, at the very least; but I can’t. You can, Robert.”
Shearer was grinding his teeth.
Maxwell continued. “If Kearsarge remains anchored for more than a few hours, word will pass. Considering what we’ve done, the bulk of the British and French fleets are already looking for us. They’ll be coordinating. Frankly, there’s little chance that I could get my men back safely, even if I could take them myself.”
Maxwell leaned forward. “Only a British Captain, the best British captain, will have a chance of outfoxing the British Navy. You know their tactics, you know their methods. You know the captains they’ve sent. You can anticipate the Admiralty’s orders before it issues them. Kearsarge’s crew trusts Andrew, and they’ll follow him. Together, you and he can get these boys home alive.”
Shearer was shaking his head, face flushed. “How dare you put me in this position.”
Maxwell continued chipping away at Shearer. “It’s the only thing the Royal Navy won’t expect. Naturally, they will assume I’m still in command of the Kearsarge, so they will proceed to hunt her according to my command style. But they won’t be hunting me. They’ll be hunting you, and you know them better than they know themselves. It’s the only advantage we have left.”
Maxwell spread his hands. “They’re good men, Robert, like yours. You know they don’t deserve to die for what you and I have done.”
Shearer dropped his head at that, but said, “You’re asking me to break my vows and betray my country. Perhaps I could one day find a way to live with that, but you’re asking me to betray my men. You’re asking me to betray those who fought beside me, those who died following my orders to put you down. I will not disgrace their sacrifice!”
“Those men are dead, Robert,” Maxwell said simply. “You can’t save them. But you can save these, and they are as innocent as yours were.”
Shearer straightened and turned away again, arms crossed. He stared out the porthole. Seconds turned into minutes as Shearer wrestled with himself. Maxwell waited.
With a heavy sigh, Shearer uncrossed his arms, but his back did not bow with defeat, it straightened with resolve. Still looking out the porthole into the storm, he clasped his hands behind his back, and said quietly, “Both our nations will brand us as traitors, David. We’ll be lost to everything we’ve known.”
“No,” Maxwell said, rising and coming to stand beside him. “We’ll always have the sea. She’s our home, Robert. All we’ve ever had to keep.”
Shearer nodded. “If we die, David, we should die here.”
Maxwell smiled wryly. “I’ll miss getting to see you die, Robert.”
“And I you, David,” Shearer replied soberly. “It would, I think, be good to die in your company.”
Maxwell had brought two glasses of whiskey. He handed one to Shearer. “They will judge us among the worst who ever lived,” Maxwell said.
Shearer shook his head. “No, they will not judge us at all. The history books will not mention our names because we would soil the pages. We will be
wiped away as if we never existed.”
Maxwell raised his glass. “To oblivion,” he muttered as they both looked out the porthole across the endless ocean. It tossed and blew, grey and silent.
“To the sea,” Shearer replied quietly, raising his. “The cruelest, most heartless, most beautiful judge of all. May she find us worthy of one last voyage home.
Chapter 28
June 21st, 1914. Six days to Vidovdan
Andrew felt lightheaded. “Skipper,” he protested hoarsely. “I… why…?”
“The crew will only follow Captain Shearer’s orders if someone they trust is doing the same. You are the only person they trust.”
“Captain, I… my place is at your side.”
“Your place is wherever your captain says your place is, Andrew. For the duration of this mission, your place will be here, aboard this ship, to ensure that the crew obeys every order Captain Shearer gives them.”
Andrew’s world was crumbling around him. With it went the newly minted captain’s persona that he was trying so hard to maintain.
“Captain,” he asked hoarsely. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing Andrew. You are an exemplary officer, and you are nearly ready to command your own ship. I wish I could be there to see it.”
Nearly ready to command. Nearly. Andrew dropped his head in shame. He had utterly failed, no matter what Maxwell said to the contrary. Andrew had killed a boy, taken his life in cold blood, and now the Captain whom Andrew revered had decided that a foreigner was more fit to take the Kearsarge home than Andrew was.
“That is enough,” Maxwell snapped gruffly.
Andrew raised his head in surprise.
“No self-pity,” Maxwell said. “It is beneath you, Andrew.”
Maxwell continued, but as if he were barking orders rather than explaining. “I have told you that you are an exemplary officer, and I meant that. I do not hand out compliments lightly.”
That much was true, at least.
Maxwell was still barking in Andrew’s face. “You are one of the best I’ve served with, Commander Sharpe, and if you ever doubt yourself like that again, I will come back from the dead and pound it out of you.
Ironclad Page 53
