Sailing home, p.39
Sailing Home, page 39
“Why can’t he stay?” Marin asked. “What is it that he should not hear?”
“Commander,” Fairchild repeated, reinforcing his order and sending Ernst from the room. He sat down at a table in the middle of the room and motioned for Marin and Jude to join him. Jude took a seat across the table, while Marin remained standing, arms crossed as if holding himself back. “I would be more comfortable if you were to be seated, Captain,” Fairchild said, but that only added to the tension.
“If I may speak, sir,” Jude offered.
The Admiral nodded.
“Sir, you yourself let it slip from yer lips that our mission was, I believe the words were, ‘ill advised’. As the Admiral carefully sorted through his inner thesaurus before responding, Jude advanced further, asking “And what did ya mean by that, sir?”
“Simply that. I felt the mission ...injudicious.
“Injudicious?” Marin interjected. “The word is, pernicious, Mister Fairchild.” Marin stepped forward and leaned against the table glaring at the Admiral. “The people responsible for concocting this devious expedition knew exactly what they were doing. It was all a ruse to get Rhode Island on board with their plans to invade Canada. I believe Senator Wallace caught wind of the scheme, and influenced, someone, an Admiral perhaps, to order the Fortune to either guard our safe voyage to Passamaquoddy, or to let go and have us sail south.”
Fairchild let his eyes drop to the table. “It is true, I issued that order,” Fairchild confessed.
“So then, you had to know we held no cargo. Why else would you let us sail south?” Marin charged.
“No. I was not certain of any such thing. I cannot speak for Senator Wallace, except to say we were both concerned for your safety. We received rumor that you were docked at Perth Amboy, and once confirmed, I sent orders to Commander Ernst to shadow you. However, should you continue to the south, he was to return to Staten Island, but I was by no means letting you sail free. There were two frigates out of Philadelphia waiting to intercept you and escort you to Cape May. Perhaps you can tell me why you were in Perth Amboy in the first place?”
“What does it matter? I do not recall being given a deadline as to when I was to arrive in Passamaquoddy Bay. Why were you and Senator Wallace suddenly so concerned about our safety? Come forth, Admiral. I believe you know much more than you are letting on.”
The Admiral sat back in his chair and appeared to retreat deep into his own thoughts.
Marin and Jude traded glances.
The Admiral leaned forward and murmured, “I am not at liberty to discuss Naval—”
“You’re not at liberty?” Marin scolded with as much restraint as he could manage, but his tether would not hold. He charged around the desk, and Fairchild stood to meet his advance. Marin butted himself up against Fairchild and his rage broke loose. “I have lost my ship ...my livelihood ...my crew...” and he grabbed his adversary by the lapels and shouted, “MY BROTHER,” and he slammed the Admiral against the wall.
“GUARD,” yelled Fairchild, as Jude grabbed hold of Marin attempting to pull him away. The door burst open and Commander Ernst and Mister Mason ran to assist Jude in restraining the Captain. “Take him to the brig,” Fairchild ordered.
“Is that necessary, sir?” Jude argued.
“Would you care to join him, Mister Prince?”
“As the Admiral pleases,” Jude tempted him.
“Very well,’ the Admiral stated, straightening his attire. “Lock them both up, Commander.”
Inside the brig, Jude offered, “We don’t seem to be getting anywhere with this approach, Captain.”
“And what would you suggest?” Marin snapped.
“Something a little more ...subtle,” Jude suggested.
A long gone smile broke through Marin’s lips. “I’m listening,” he said.
“One of us needs to get out of here. And seein’ as you ain’t goin’ anywhere, anytime soon...” Jude said, dangling his words and twisting a smile.
Marin gave an amused nod, and asked, “And you?”
“I’m aimin’ to apologize.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, but I would, Captain. There are times when a man must tell another man what he wants to hear.”
“I assume I have given you plenty of practice?”
“Not you, sir,” Jude said, with mock sincerity.
Before Jude had the opportunity to ply his skills, Admiral Fairchild had second thoughts about incarcerating him and had him released. That afternoon he had Jude accompany him as they took a small boat ashore.
“Your Captain needs to learn some manners, Mister Prince,” the Admiral said.
“I’m hardly the one to scold him, sir.” Jude answered.
“Do you subscribe to his ...I am not sure how to refer to it, except to call it by name - a treasonous accusation?”
“That ...or an accusation of treason ...sir.”
The Admiral let the matter drop.
When the small boat came ashore, Senator Wallace was at the dock to meet them.
“Senator, I regret to inform you that our attempts to guard the Magister Maris have failed. She was attacked and sunk by...” and he paused, leaving the Senator hanging in the cold silence. Fairchild turned to Jude, and then back to the Senator, saying, “Senator, this is the Magister Maris’s First Mate, Mister Jude Prince.”
“Where is your Captain, Mister Prince?” the Senator asked.
“In the brig, sir.”
“I am afraid I do not understand,” the Senator said, addressing the Admiral.
“Sir, Captain Carpenter is in the brig because he attacked me.”
The Senator turned back to Jude, who nodded his head brusquely and dared a smile. The Senator lurched his head forward, raised his brow, and awaited an explanation to arrive from either one of them.
“When a man has lost everything,” Jude tendered, “he finds himself at the mercy of his own despair. Captain Carpenter took it out on the Admiral, but I am quite sure he regrets his actions.”
“I would like to speak to Captain Carpenter, Admiral,” Senator Wallace requested firmly.
“Certainly,” Fairchild said, and he instructed the boatman to take the Senator out to the U.S.S Fortune.
The admiral and Jude watched as the small boat carrying the Senator receded out across the choppy water.
“Even if your Captain’s version of events would happen to be true, Mister Prince,” Fairchild said, “it would be our best hope that the Senator does not believe him.”
Jude departed from the Admiral and went home to clean himself up and change clothes. He thought about going to Marin’s house to inform Phoebe of all that had happened, but thought it best to wait until, if and when, Marin could accompany him. He decided it best to go to the Red Boar Tavern and grab a little food and a lot of rum.
Being New Year’s Eve, the tavern was full of lonely sailors getting an early start on the New Year. Jude joined in the revelry, and when his head was afloat his full belly, he stumbled to Ruthie’s bordello for a cuddle up with whomever. When he arrived, a startled Sophie sprang from her parlor seat and ran to Ruthie’s office. Ruthie soon appeared in the hallway and motioned Jude to come into her office.
“As soon as Aja is available, tell her I wish to see her,” Ruthie instructed Sophie.
“If she’s busy, I’m not particular,” Jude slurred.
“Shut up and come in here,” Ruthie ordered, pulling Jude into her office and closing the door. “This morning a couple of drunken sailors came in here and availed themselves of Aja’s services. While they were busy enjoying themselves, they prattled on as besotted sailors do, and they happened to mention the sinking of the Magister Maris. Aja finished the session and came to me with the news. Before I could have a word with the muzzy sots, they were gone. Perhaps you can enlighten me.”
“Tis true. But how could these sailors have known?” Jude wondered aloud, while trying to rub his face sober. “Were they Navy men or regular sea dogs?” he asked.
“According to Aja, they were Navy.”
Jude leaned back in his chair and tried to unscramble his thoughts.
“Where is Marin?” Ruthie asked.
“In the brig.” Jude uttered.
“The brig? Why is he ...what the hell happened?”
“’Tis a bit of a riddle ...but, right now, I need to find them sailor boys.”
Aja’s voice came through the door, “Miss Ruth, Sophie told me—”
“Come in, Aja,” Ruthie called to her.
Aja eased in through the door and stopped the moment she saw Jude. “Where is Marin?” she asked, her concern escaping before she could grab hold of it. “Tell me he is safe.”
Jude nodded.
Aja took a deep breath and quickly regained her coquette composure.
“Aja,” Ruthie said, “Do you believe you could identify the two Naval gentlemen you entertained this morning?”
“I believe so.”
“Perhaps you should accompany Mister Prince to the Red Boar on the chance they may be soaking up the local spirits. Disguise yourself, perhaps your blonde wig and some false adornments.”
“I am Senator Horace Wallace,” he said, as he entered the brig where Captain Carpenter was held. “I believe you have met my daughter, Emily.”
Marin gave a slight nod while eyeing the Senator suspiciously.
“I have just met with Admiral Fairchild and your First Mate. They informed me that you attacked the Admiral.”
Marin stared steel-eyed at the Senator, and said, “And they left it at that, did they?”
“No, your First Mate added that he was quite sure you regret your actions.”
“But I do not,” Marin said, bluntly.
“Captain, I am here to help you. Perhaps if you—”
Marin abruptly cut the Senator off. “Perhaps if you were to tell me why you were so concerned about the Magister Maris in the first place, we could cut through the sewage and—”
“Sir,” the Senator objected, “I was merely acting on your behalf because I felt your journey ill-advised and I became suspicious of a certain party’s motives. I might also add; my daughter was influential in my intervening on your behalf.”
Marin seemed somewhat calmed by the remark. He motioned for the Senator to sit down, and asked, “And how is Emily?”
“She is quite concerned about her second cousin,” he said, introducing a smile.
“Once removed,” Marin amended.
“And yet, still concerned.” he countered.
Marin almost smiled. “Level with me, Senator. Whose motives is it that you question, and why?”
“There are certain members of Congress that are a little too eager to start another war with England.”
“And what has that to do with me?”
The Senator pressed his lips together, folded his arms, and leaned back in his chair.
“Well?” Marin demanded.
“Perhaps I have said too much already. My main purpose—”
“No sir,” Marin interrupted again, “you have not said enough. I believe the United Stated Navy planned to sink the Magister Maris and blame it on the British in order to get Rhode Island to agree to an invasion of Canada. And I further believe, you believe that as well.”
“Unlike you Captain, I have to be very careful what I believe. But if, in fact, that was the plan by a certain party, I would have been hell-bent on thwarting it.”
“Well you would have failed, sir. My ship lay at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, and I fear for the fate of my crew, which includes my dear brother, Phillipe.”
“I pray for your brother. But what proof have you that it was an American ship that attacked you?”
“The cannon balls that were fired at us were not British.”
“And how would you know that?”
“My boatswain was a former British gunner’s mate.”
The Senator appeared to be drained of a reply.
“Senator,” Marin offered, placing the coup de grace gently before him, “the Magister Maris carried no cargo ...only ballast.”
The Senator bowed his head into the palm of his hand.
“GUARD,” he called out.
Mason bounded through the brig door, saying “Yes sir?”
“Release this man,” he ordered.
Mason stood erect, clearly uncertain as to what to do.
“I will take full responsibility,” the Senator assured him.
“On land perhaps, sir. But aboard this ship, only the Commander has that authority.”
Commander Ernst proved reluctant to release Marin without the Admiral’s approval, so the Senator returned to shore and secured the necessary permission. However, it wasn’t until later that afternoon that Marin was finally released and placed into a small boat with a seaman, who rowed him ashore.
“Here we are,” the sailor said as he rowed the boat up against the pier.
Marin thanked the gentleman and stepped up onto the empty dock, no one being there to greet him. A sharp gust of cold air blew in off the ocean, and as Marin reached to fasten the two top buttons of his musty woolen jacket, he noticed they were missing. He grabbed the two sides of the divide and held them closed against the cold sea breeze as he turned his back to the ocean and walked down the pier to dry land.
As he was walking back to the house he was overcome with a strong desire to visit his mother’s grave. Traversing the mile-long trek up the ridge, his mind traveled backward through the years in remembrances of Maria. These were not the often-recalled, cold shards of indifference that distanced him from his mother, but rather the submerged and long forgotten moments of a mother’s warm concern that had somehow found their way to the surface. He recalled the soft touch of her open hand on his fevered brow when he was stricken with influenza, the sound of her calm voice reassuring him after his father had been overly harsh in reprimand, the gentle curve of her smile when Marin managed to charm his way through her stoic persona, and the welcome sight of her open arms when he was carried to the house after having been thrown from a horse.
When he arrived at her graveside he sat down on Phillipe’s unturned soil, leaned against his brother’s unfinished tombstone, and silently wept.
“Those two,” Aja whispered into Jude’s ear as they entered the tavern.
Jude grasped her arm and whisked her back outside.
“What are you doing?” she said, jerking her arm from his grasp.
“Did they see you?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I thought you wanted them to see me.”
“Not yet,” Jude said, pausing to think. “We need a plan.”
“I thought you had a plan,” she scolded, crossing her arms and turning her head away.
Jude began looking around. “Stay here,” he said, and he walked around to the back of the tavern. When he returned, he said to her, “Here’s the plan.”
After Marin’s sorrow had waned, he picked a bouquet of Mountain Laurels and walked over to Maria’s grave. He stood for a moment trying to find the words, and as he laid the flowers by her gravestone, he muttered, “So little, so late”, and began the long walk home.
Aja walked into the Red Boar Tavern, and after a few well- placed eye flirts, the two targets of her charms approached her.
The taller man asked, “Haven’t we met?”
“You’ll have to do better than that, sailor,” she replied, and turned her attention to the other man.
“Alright ...how much for the both of us?” the second man asked.
Her eyes darted between them. “What’s a fancy sling worth to a couple of gentlemen?” she asked.
“We’ve only enough to keep us, and perhaps a lady friend, drunk against the evenin’. Would ya care to join us in a doss house?” asked the larger of two.
“I am not a common street trollop, gentlemen,” she scorned, and turned as if to walk away, but then paused and turned back. “I’ll tell you what ...I have this friend; she’s not all that experienced, if you catch the hint, and you both can have the both of us ...half a dollar apiece.”
The shorter and more agreeable one looked up at his friend and smiled, who then gave a hesitant nod.
“Trouble’s out front, let’s slip out the back”, she instructed.
“Trouble? The gent you came in with a moment ago? We don’t want no trouble,” the hesitant one said.
“Do you two salty dogs want to have a brush, or don’t you?”
They followed Aja out the back door and when they were a few steps outside, she turned and hoisted up her skirt as if to adjust one of her stockings. The two sailors stood awe-faced as she kicked one of them squarely between the legs. Jude hit the other one over the head with an empty barrel, pummeling him to the ground. He dragged the both of them to an empty horse barn, tied their hands with cross ties, blindfolded them and stuffed pieces of cloth into their mouths. He went back into the bar and found an old friend who helped him escort the two fellows away.
As Marin first caught sight of his house, his step came to an abrupt halt that he might pause to take in the beauty of Phoebe’s vision come to life. It had a new, soft blue and yellow coat of paint that grabbed and retained the golden light of the sun as it eased over the western horizon. A bittersweet smile came across his face as he noticed the second story porch that had been built on the lower roof in front of Phillipe’s bedroom, now adorned with a huge multi-paned cathedral like window. As he continued on toward the house, the deep front porch with stately pillars curving around the house, and the front steps opening out wide onto a fine graveled drive, beckoned him. When Marin saw a carriage parked in front, he broke toward the house propelled by just one hope...
Marin ran, two steps at a time, up the extended stairs of the new front porch. He stopped for a moment, caught a breath, and ran his fingers through his tangled, unwashed hair. He straightened his jacket, folded down his collar, and opened the front door as nonchalant as if he had only just stepped out for a breath of fresh air.
