Varlick Naim was dead.
Every wound in John’s body flushed with pain. Fatigue coursed through every muscle. Ace dropped into the sand with a gentle ting. His entire body felt triple the weight, and he sank onto his knees. Nearby, seafoam bubbled over the fallen body of the Chronicler.
Kaitlin rushed over to John, skidded to her knees, and threw her arms around her brother. John held her close, both of them panting with exertion. He felt her tears wetting his neck.
“Johnny,” she mumbled over a swollen lip. “We did it.”
John looked over her shoulder toward the Independence. The ship’s longboat was already coming toward them. It was a good thing because John didn’t have an ounce of strength left. He could barely stand, much less row. Yet, in all his life, he had never felt such peace. After five years of struggle, he held his sister Kaitlin, safe and sound. His eyes slipped closed.
“Aye, Rabbit,” he whispered through a mouthful of blood. “We did it.”
Epilogue
Independence
The Mediterranean Sea
Wednesday, September 14th, 1803
Day 5, Near Sunset
All the world slept in peaceful repose. The oars sloshing through the water were a gentle snore. The gulls were wind chimes above a window. The ship’s longboat rocked between the waves as dozens of sailors rowed. Marines sat amidships with muskets shouldered. John and Kaitlin huddled in their midst, wrapped in blankets. They were both bruised, bloody, and exhausted. The crew raised their oars, and the longboat coasted toward the port side of the Independence. Merrick called commands from the spar deck, his voice sounding like a distant echo in John’s numbed state. The nearly-setting sun splashed across the black-lacquered hull of the ship.
There were no cheers or clapping as Kaitlin and John climbed off the ladder and onto the gangway. Sailors and Marines crowded around, respectfully quiet as they parted for the battered brother and sister. The two made their way aft, and the men greeted Kaitlin with gentle words. They held kerchiefs and tarred hats over their hearts.
“Glad you’re safe, little miss.”
“Welcome aboard, lass.”
“You had us worried.”
Kaitlin didn’t reply, taking in their faces with quiet interest. If she felt at all like John, she barely had the strength for a smile. John guided her through the press, and they touched him on the back or the shoulder as he passed. Sailors from all sides offered their congratulations with solemn eyes.
“Well done, lad.” The last voice belonged to Meadows. The old sailor clasped John’s hand. His eyes were deep wells of wisdom. As if he were greeting a son come home from war—a son who would never be the same. “You’re home now, lad. You did us all proud—your old man, most of all.”
At the mention of his da, John had to fight back tears. He didn’t dare reply, lest they break loose, so he nodded. Meadows smiled and stood aside as he and Kaitlin passed. Brother and sister were almost to the steps of the quarterdeck hatch when another familiar voice stopped them.
“Lil Red!”
Kaitlin and John turned in unison. Melisande Dufort, disguised in her sailor’s frock and kerchief, stepped from behind the ship’s wheel like a shy child. It wasn’t like Melisande to be reticent. Her voice was weak, her arm in a sling. John read the tension in her brows.
Melisande ground a piece of oakum under her toe. “I’m glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I would have done if…” After looking at her feet a moment, she added, “I hope you can forgive me.” Melisande turned back toward the stern.
“Wait!” cried Kaitlin.
Melisande turned around. Kaitlin ran the distance between them and landed in Melisande’s arms.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Kaitlin said. “I was so worried.”
Melisande rubbed her hand across her nose to hide a sniffle. “Nah, don’t worry about me, Lil Red. Takes more than a scratch to take down a Dufort. I’m just glad you brought Sully back in one piece.” Her eyes roamed John’s blood-soaked waistcoat, and she added, “Mostly one piece.”
John gave Melisande a wink.
With his sister and Melisande momentarily preoccupied with one another, John ventured a look around the deck. There were dozens of welcoming faces among the Independence crew, all fascinated with him and his sister. But the one face he yearned to see eluded him.
He approached Melisande and cleared his throat of blood. “Is Dom, erm…about?”
Melisande shook her head. “Riley gave her his cabin and took up in one of the officer’s berths. She hasn’t come out since you left.”
“I see.” John’s heart sank. He hoped she might have found a measure of forgiveness by the time he returned. That he might make amends for broken promises. On the boat ride back from Red Mortar Redoubt, he thought of how, should he ever be lucky enough to hold her again, he would never let her go. But it had been a vain hope. He replied to Melisande with a nod.
“Let’s get you below, Midshipman,” said Ethan Auldon as he limped up to John. The young Philadelphia freeman was in a fresh tunic and trousers, clean of blood and dirt. There was warmth in his eyes as he looked at John. “Those cuts require needle and thread.”
It was five years since John lost his elder brother Isaac to the Barbary Pirates. As he looked into Ethan’s eyes, he vowed never to lose another.
“Ethan,” John threw an arm around the acting surgeon. “Good to see you, mate.”
Ethan put an arm around John’s back. “Don’t be too happy. You’ve got a goodly number of stitches coming.”
As John limped toward the hatch with his friend, he said, “Have you got enough thread?”
Ethan cracked a grin. “I’ll unravel a few stockings.”
###
An hour later, John sat under the lamplight of a cramped lieutenant’s berth. He was sitting on a stool watching his sister doze in a hammock. Ethan hadn’t taken long to stitch their wounds. John had the deeper cuts from the kilij, but he insisted the only dose of laudanum go to Kaitlin. The Tunisians hadn’t kept alcohol on board, so John had settled for a few pulls of Buford’s moonshine. He hadn’t meant to stay with his sister long, but he found he couldn’t leave her side.
The canvas door squeaked open, and Ethan poked his head into the cramped compartment. He had his medical bag. “Thought I’d find you here,” he whispered. “Looks like she’s sleeping. That’s good. I’ll check on her again in a couple hours.”
Ethan started to leave, but John’s voice stopped him. “She gets seasick sometimes. She never much liked the sea. I didn’t want her to be alone.”
“She’s been through a lot, but it’s over now. She’ll mend, mate.”
John bit back his emotions. He thought of all his sister had suffered, the horror she faced, the people she lost… John nodded in reply, but he could only hope Ethan was right.
“I’ll come back later,” Ethan said.
“Stay,” said Kaitlin. Both men were surprised to find her awake. She looked intently at Ethan. “Please.”
Ethan paused a moment, then stepped inside. “If you like, I suppose I could stay a spell.” He slipped beside the hammock, across from John.
Kaitlin reached up a hand.
Taken aback, Ethan stared at her a moment, then put his hand in hers. “Er, how are you feeling?”
“Better,” Kaitlin replied. “But my dreams are strange. Frightening.”
“Laudanum will do that.”
Kaitlin turned to her brother. “John, I have something for you.”
“What is it?” John asked.
Kaitlin nodded to her satchel, hanging on a peg. “Look inside.”
John reached into the goatskin pack and felt the cover of a book. He retrieved a green vellum journal.
“Mam’s diary,” Kaitlin said. “Open to the middle.”
John leafed through the pages, and a small envelope slipped into his hand. It was closed with the wax seal of the Silver Hand. He recognized his mother’s elegant handwriting. It re
ad simply, “John.”
“It’s a letter to you. From Mam.”
John’s hands began to tremble. “For me?”
“Written a year ago, the day before she died.”
“Kait, this is…” John could barely find words. “Will you be all right if I go above decks for a bit?”
“I’ll be all right,” Kaitlin said. “Ethan, will you stay?”
The young surgeon’s mate nodded. “Aye, Kait. I can. If you like.”
“Thank you for this, Rabbit.” Remembering his sister was too grown up for childhood nicknames, John quickly righted himself. “I mean Katie. I mean, Kaitlin.”
“It’s all right, big brother. I don’t mind so much.” Kaitlin gave a cheeky grin. “But I get to call you Johnny and embarrass you in front of your mates.”
John laughed. “Done.”
The moment John was out of the officers’ berth, he tore away the envelope and unfolded his mother’s letter. He found a lantern burning above a few barrels of salted mackerel and sat in a pile of nets. His eyes traced over each word with loving care. He read it three times through, his heart racing with emotions. Then he was on his feet again. He climbed the ladder onto the spar deck and burst into a world of golden light.
The sun dusted the sky, the sea, and the sails with a dozen rosy colors. The clouds were bright as fiery coals. The waves flickered like a sea of candles. John felt his mother’s presence as he took in the breathtaking horizon. He walked the deck of Independence, the letter repeating in his mind. Nora spoke to him across the gulf of time.
My dear son John,
With the sunset begins the longest night of my life. I sit in a garden of paradise, on a hidden island, among the orphans of a pirate coast. Flowers of every color, fountains clear as a mountain spring, and the shade of a great tree fill my sight. Here, in this home of thieves, where my daughter has found a new life, I am filled with gratitude. I feel the promise of life’s wonders renewed. Tonight, Kaitlin will undertake a dangerous task on behalf of our family. Her success will mean that I and your father will be free. That we and our daughter may be on a ship tomorrow, bound for America. Bound for our reunion with you, my son. At this moment, no thought brings more joy.
And yet, I have come to this garden with a terrible burden upon my soul. For though I yearn for nothing so much as to see our family whole again, I cannot leave. There is another soul bound up in this world of pirate kings and indentured rogues calling out to me. To hold to this duty, I fear, means to abandon you. And so I write this letter, in hopes you may forgive me.
“Mr. Sullivan,” said Benjamin Merrick. The midshipman stood before the ship’s wheel, hands clasped behind his back. With Ryland resting below and the other officers taking a respite before the night watch, Merrick had command of the deck. “I should think you’d be in bed.”
“Sleep is the last thing on my mind,” said John as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Merrick. Both men squinted dead ahead toward the setting sun. “Might I share the dogwatch with you, Mr. Merrick?”
The midshipman smiled, the gun soot on his face separating along creases. He’d been so jittery not very long ago. So unsure of himself. Now, the young man exuded preternatural calm. “It would be my honor, sir.”
John nodded and resumed his westward gaze.
During my years of captivity, there have been many nights when I wept. Nights when I prayed. Nights when I stood vigil. Having learned of your escape to the new country in America, I wonder what you must think of your mother. How you must blame me for the terror that befell you.
When I was a little girl, I longed for adventures in faraway lands like those in storybooks. I grew up knowing such fantasies were daft, but still I dreamed of the sea. And then one day, I met a handsome young captain who also dared to dream. Together, your father and I wandered every point of the compass and saw beauty I shall never forget.
But nothing in those early travels compared to the miracle of your brother’s birth. Of your sister’s. Of yours. There is no adventure greater than the day you meet your child for the first time. When he became a father, Declan said perhaps we should give up the dangers of the sea. Yet, I wanted your lives to be filled with wonder.
How often I ask, was I selfish?
“The captain bid me tell you,” Merrick began, interrupting John’s thoughts. “We’ll likely stop at the Sicilian shore to take on water. I hear it’s a popular spot for passing merchant ships—ships in need of extra hands. I’m sure they would take on a skilled sailor and his sister.”
John gave a wry smile. “A splendid solution to desertion—to desert again.”
“There’s not a man on this crew that would stop you. None of us wants to see you hang—we owe you and young Kaitlin our freedom. For my part, I could ill bear the thought. If you thought I could help, I’d even go with you…” A measure of Merrick’s awkwardness returned, and he started to stammer. “That is…if erm…you so desired. I would do such for a man I called a friend. I mean, if I were to call you a friend. I mean I do, even though you may not…that is…” He cleared his throat, ending his babble.
“Thank you, Mr. Merrick. I consider you a friend as well.”
Merrick gave a shy smile.
“But I’m done running. If Varlick Naim taught me one thing—it’s that a man can either face his ill choices or be ruined by them in the end. I intend to face my court-martial—and whatever else may come.”
“That’s very noble of you, Mr. Sullivan. But your odds will be long. Are you sure?”
“No,” John admitted with an uneasy sigh. “But sometimes you have to draw for the ace and win with the deuce.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you—how does one win with the deuce?”
“Someday, I’ll tell you—when I figure it out myself.”
The two men shared a chuckle.
After a long silence, John asked, “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Mrs. Aubert above decks?”
“I’m afraid not, sir. She has not emerged from the captain’s cabin since you disembarked. I informed her of your return, but she said…erm…”
“Aye,” said John. Dominique hadn’t forgiven him, and likely never would. That much was plain. “If I may ask your indulgence, Mr. Merrick, might I be alone at the stern for a spell?”
“Of course,” Merrick said. “I’ll go forward and inspect the headsails.”
When it was only the helmsman left at the wheel, John walked farther aft. He reached into his pocket and felt the cool silver of Nora’s watch. He withdrew the timepiece and flipped open the hunter case lid. As he had done every day for five years, he read the inscription—one of her favorite quotes from Shakespeare, engraved by Declan as a gift.
Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well.
The boiling green sea appeared beneath the watch. John was at the taffrail, holding the silver heirloom over the bubbling wake of the ship. He never got to say goodbye. Never got to see her face one last time. And he would never see her again, no matter what her letter promised. His quest to save her had been doomed from the start. A terrible urge came over him—the urge to drop the watch into the sea. The last piece of his mother, buried in the place where her heart would always live.
What will I say to you, dear son, when you ask why I was so foolish? Why I took you children to sea, despite all the dangers? For many years, I thought I would beg your forgiveness. In recent years, I begged God’s.
Tonight, however, I find my answer has changed.
Your father and I could have chosen the shore. We could have spared our family terrible pain. But then I think of my children. Daring Kaitlin who walks unseen. Heroic Isaac who stood for us in our hour of need. Brave John who built a new life in the New World.
A ship can run from the storm, or she can fight to the other side, and learn her strength.
We chose a life of adventure. For no life can be a full one without facing the pain. Without weathering the storm. My wish for you, my son, is this: Do not be filled w
ith hatred, or grief, or revenge. Do not carry in your soul the darkness of those who brought us harm. Do not let regret for what we have lost destroy the promise of what we have won.
I do not know if I shall live to see you again. I do not know what the future holds. But I know I do not regret the voyage. Should the worst come to pass, and these be the last words of mine you ever receive, let not your heart be heavy. Sail into the storm. Find excitement. See wonder. Fall in love.
And know that this is not the end. We shall meet again, you and I, on the waters of the Eternal Sea.
All my love,
Your mother, Nora.
The chain slid through John’s fingers. The watch slipped toward the waves. It would have fallen, had he not heard the clunk of shoes on the deck behind him. He snatched the watch back over the side and turned around. His breath caught in his throat.
Dominique stood a few paces away, her hair blowing in the wind, bright as spun gold in the sunset. Her burgundy dress was rent, blackened with soot, and spotted with blood. She still wore the cuts and bruises from Aubert’s attack. John realized he looked no less a fright. His face was caked with dirt and burnt powder. The gash on his temple and the cut through his right eyebrow were both swollen and throbbing. Crusts of blood gathered at his nostrils. Most of his uniform buttons were missing, and the gold embroidery hung in threads from his collar.
She didn’t say a word—only fixed him with a haunted look. Her brows, her eyes, and her lips all trembled as if with unbearable ache. The torn and muddy ends of her dress dragged across the deck as she closed the distance between them.
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