The Accidental Pope (59 page)

Seedworth flashed his maddeningly owlish look through heavy glasses. “It seems your comments took place just before you were going to meet the pope in Mayo. SD wants to talk to you. They are embarrassed. The British government demands an apology.”

Kirby was stunned but not surprised. Typical of the State Department.

“Shall I get SD on the phone?” Seedworth prompted.

“No, I'll talk to them in a little while,” Kirby replied. He went to his residence, where his phone call couldn't be immediately monitored, and called up Father Aengus, explaining the situation.

“That's a lot of garbage,” the priest shot back. “I'm assuming that the story is referring to the stop we made coming up from visiting the graves in Clonakilty. We stopped in Kerry for no more than thirty minutes, watched the pope on TV. Maybe you called Trevelyan and Cromwell sons of bitches, but that is mild compared to what historians could call them for all they did to Catholics. You did mention Paisley and we also talked about U.S. foreign policy. The newspaper story is nonsense,” Aengus said emphatically.

“You better put it all down in a letter, Aengus, as accurately as possible. Check with the bartender too. He seemed like a pretty nice man. What about the postman who was delivering the mail? We talked to him for about five minutes. As best as I can remember, there were no more than ten people in the entire bar and everyone was looking up at the TV, watching the pope in Belfast,” Ed recalled.

“Is this all your State Department has got to do?” Finucume carped. “No problems to solve? The rest of the world wants to know why the U.S. walked away from the genocide in Africa and your State Department is worrying about what you called Trevelyan? You should have called him much worse. A British official who said that starvation was actually good for Ireland. A man responsible for exporting tons of food out of the country while more than a million people starved to death. What are you supposed to call him? Sir Charles? I can only imagine what John Morrison from the An Gorta Mor committee in Chicago and Dave Burke with the A.O.H. in Lawrence, Massachusetts, would have called Trevelyan.”

An hour or so later, the State Department called back and, before Kirby could say a word, told him how embarrassed the secretary was with his behavior in that bar in Kerry. “The British press is all over the story,” an assistant desk officer recited, “and the U.S. press is picking it up big-time. It has made the talk shows and CNN. State has ordered the inspector general to Ireland to get the details from the people at the bar and then is coming to Rome to interview you. A report will be filed with the secretary of state, and Senator Delms has already asked for a copy. He will probably hold a public hearing on the matter.”

Ten days later, two men and a young woman from the inspector general's office came to Rome from Ireland to interview Kirby. They checked into the Excelsior Hotel for four days and sampled Sabitino's and other luxury restaurants. They concluded that after interviewing several people in the bar in Kerry, including the bartender, postman, a reporter for the local weekly newspaper, and the cook who was preparing the lunch, as well as Father Aengus Finucume, nobody had any idea what the story was all about. The report cleared Kirby, but it wasn't the only inaccurate and made-up negative story that found its way into the press.

40

LOST AT SEA

Shortly after returning from his successful journey to Ireland, Pope Bill was more than ever determined to help the desperate people of east and central Africa. The trip there had had a profound and moving effect on him. Now he was expending considerable time and much of his waning energy on the project. The pope did not underestimate the massive international aid necessary to lift that part of the continent out of its morass of disease and famine. Nevertheless Pope Peter II was determined to somehow arrange for the cultivation of available land for food, provide cleaner water, build schools and hospitals, and establish an international medical research center.

He realized that neither he nor the Church could do it alone. The project needed the active support of the United Nations and other international humanitarian, medical, and business organizations, as well as not-for-profit foundations. What he had going for him was the considerable goodwill of many sincere believers and supporters both within and outside the Church. As pope, he could reach them all. In this context his nuncio to the United Nations was busy scheduling the speech the pope would deliver reporting on his visit to Africa.

Meanwhile, the Kelly children were occupied with unexpected plans for the wedding of their brother Ryan and Paula Novak. It was a stressful time for Colleen and Meghan, who were dedicated to easing their father's self-imposed burden and his obviously failing health.

The pope's family was just beginning to realize the extent of the intrusions and lack of privacy that they were in for and to understand why popes, in fact all dedicated priests, took on a vow of celibacy. That was a reason why Ryan and Paula wanted a very brief engagement. The pope's son was fast becoming a tabloid item, with reporters and photographers covering his New Bedford fish marketing after he came in from a week at sea to deliver his catch.

Late one afternoon, Al Cippolini hurried into the pope's small family room at the Vatican and, finding Colleen, told her that she needed to talk to Fall River Bishop Sean Patrick immediately. “He is on the phone right now from Cape Cod,” said the monsignor.

“Yes, Uncle Sean,” she said, picking up the telephone. Listening, she became increasingly distressed. “Oh, my God! Oh, please, God help him! Yes, I understand. How long? Is the Coast Guard involved? Yes, Senator Lane is a family friend.”

She reflected on her statement a moment, thinking of young Lane's annulment problem, soon to come up at the Vatican. “Yes, we know the senator,” she amended. “I understand. I'll be there as soon as possible. Call me with any news. Thank you, Uncle Sean. Yes, I will. Good-bye.”

Colleen turned to Monsignor Cippolini. “This is terrible, Al. Ryan and his crew are missing at sea. I've got to tell Dad right away.” As Colleen briskly walked down the long marble corridor and into her father's office, she heard Monsignor Tim running down the corridor behind her.

“You've heard, Colleen? I just spoke to Senator Lane in Washington. He is on his way to the Cape. He will call you when he gets an assessment of the situation.”

They both hurried into the pope's office. He was on the phone being briefed by the Coast Guard from Cape Cod. “There is no contact at all?” they heard him ask.

The pope concluded his conversation with the Coast Guard commander. Colleen hugged her father, holding back her tears.

“He'll be all right, Colleen. God will protect them, and besides, all of them are good seamen. We must pray now to Our Lady of Fatima for their safety.” The pope smiled mistily at his daughter. “We can all be thankful that you have learned to pray again.” He reached into his pocket, took out the shining rosary beads, and handed them to his daughter. “Keep them with you all the time the search is going on and say a decade now and then. Your prayers will be heard. I know that.”

Solemnly Colleen took them. The group held hands and Tim led them in prayer.

After informing Roger and Meghan, Colleen called Paula at her Loyola hostel. A distraught Paula begged to accompany her back to New England. They made arrangements to take an Alitalia flight that night to Boston and be driven by car to the Cape. They would arrive at the Coast Guard air terminal near Buzzards Bay in the early morning to help join in the search by helicopter. Senator Lane called two hours later and gave the pope an update on what was happening. It was obvious he was using all his power as a U.S. senator to keep the search going.

Upon arriving in Boston early the next morning, Colleen and Paula were met by a young priest and taken immediately by car to Buzzards Bay. Ryan and his crew had sent out a distress signal but had now been missing somewhere on the outer edge of Georges Bank for about thirty-six hours.

After a restless night with no encouraging news, Coast Guard authorities started to question whether continued search could prove fruitful. Colleen pleaded with Senator Lane to keep the effort going. Senator Lane was able to convince the commander to continue searching for the lost fishermen. Colleen asked Lane if she could go on the Coast Guard helicopter search of the lost fishing boat. Bishop McCarrick, who was at the scene the whole time, also wanted to go. Senator Lane obtained grudging permission from the base commander for Sean and Colleen to accompany the Coast Guard pilot and crew on the search out over the ocean. Paula stayed in the communication center.

They remained in the air for several hours, stopping twice to refuel. Colleen held the rosary that her father had given her tightly in her hands as she stared out first through the side windows, then out the front windshield between the two pilots sitting in front of her.

All this time, prayers and novenas were being said for the pope's son and crew in homes and Churches all over the world. Hundreds of fishermen based on the Cape and the islands joined the search.

In the meantime, the pope was conducting an all-day and all-night vigil at the Chapel of Our Lady of Fatima in the Vatican. His devotion and love for her were endless, and at no time was that special relationship ever needed more than now.
She has always been there for me, especially in a time of great crisis,
Bill thought to himself.

Back on the Cape, the sun was setting, and just before it turned dark and the mission would have to be discontinued for the day, Colleen spotted a small but remarkable bright orange and blue light about ten miles away. “What's that over there? What is it?” she cried, pointing in the direction of a seemingly pulsating glow in the sky, the silver beads of her rosary shining in her hands.

The pilot turned to the southeast and proceeded toward the gleam. The flickering light blossomed larger as they closed on it. The pilot could not discern what the light in the sky had to do with the missing boat, but he followed Colleen's importunings. As they came closer to the light they could now see that it was some sort of break in the cloud formation through which a golden beam flickered and reflected on the waters below.

Colleen looked down at the ocean and cried out, “Look, look, there is something down there.” She pointed out the side window. “Oh, my God, it looks like a small raft.”

The pilot could not see what it was some two or three thousand feet below him. The mysterious ray of light was fading as the helicopter descended closer to the surface of sea. As the object on which the dimming light was focused became increasingly visible, it was now clear that there was an orange life raft directly below them. They could see that the crew was frantically waving a white sheet back and forth. The pilot radioed his base, giving them the small craft's exact location.

“Coast Guard cutter on the way,” crackled the return message.

The helicopter continued to circle the boat, and the pilot counted the number of crew members. “I make out five men. That's how many I was told were reported to have left the dock. Five put out on Monday, and there are five down there.”

“Thank God,” Colleen and the bishop kept saying.

An air crewman dropped a long rope from which was suspended a first aid survival kit, flares, and a radio signal transmitter. Colleen kept trying to see Ryan, but it was now too dark to recognize anyone's face. The helicopter dropped a flare just as the shimmering light disappeared in the dark sky above them. Colleen imagined she could distinguish Ryan's tall figure.

The helicopter turned back to base and landed just as the fuel tanks were registering empty. But the search had been successful. Continuing it had paid off.

Colleen and Bishop Sean stepped out of the helicopter and walked into the base command office, where Paula and Senator Lane were waiting together. They entered just in time to hear, “We have control of the situation, all accounted for,” crackle over the radio from the Coast Guard cutter.

The next voice said, “Hello, sis. It's me, Ryan. I'm OK, and everyone else is, but we were scared to hell.”

“Ryan, the bishop is with me. Thank God you and everyone are OK.”

“Thank God is right. Hey, I heard you got religion. That's great.”

Colleen smiled and pressed the rosary beads in her hand. “Everyone had been worried sick. Paula wants to talk with you.”

“I love you, Ryan. Are you OK?” Paula called over the radio.

“I'm fine—now. I love you, Paula.”

“Can we call the Vatican from here?” Colleen asked the commandant, who had just entered the base communications center.

“Certainly, I think so. I'll ask the base operator to notify the Vatican.”

A few minutes later, the pope was on the radio.

“Your Holiness, this is Senator Lane. We established contact with Ryan, who had just been picked up with all hands by a Coast Guard cutter. I'll put Colleen on.”

“Oh, Dad,” Colleen cried. “It was amazing how we found the boat. I saw a bright orange and blue light in the sky, and as we headed toward it, just before the sky turned dark, we saw Ryan's lifeboat just below in the light.”

“I know,” was all the pope said.

“It was weird, the beam from the sky and all,” Colleen went on. Then, reflecting a moment on her father's comment, “What did you mean when you said, ‘I know'?”

“Faith, darling.”

*   *   *

Later that night the cutter churned into the base. TV klieg lights were trained on the debarking fishermen as they were greeted by a small crowd of happy and cheering family members. That evening Ryan, Paula, and Colleen were eating sandwiches and vegetable soup sent over to the Kelly home from the town deli.

Colleen asked Ryan, “What do you think Dad meant when I told him about the bright orange and blue light in the sky over the spot in the ocean where we found you? What do you think he meant when he said, ‘I know'?”