The Dreamer (5 page)

“Cultivate those aspects of the …. You speak like you’re from another world,” he answered crossly. “And I wonder why you didn’t
stay
there, as satisfied as you were. A woman does not belong on a ship. Do you believe me now? You are all alone and unprotected.”

I became very still.

Those were the last words spoken for the night. He turned to his side and fell asleep, though I stayed awake and troubled for a long time. On a different scale, I felt much like I did after I had my dream and lost my life’s work. It was torn from me, and I didn’t belong anywhere anymore. I thought … I was so sure that I finally had a place, a purpose. And no reason, no study, nothing seemed to give me the answer now.

*** *** ***

I awoke and carefully stretched, testing the wound at my side. I gingerly touched it with my fingers, though I didn’t look at it. I did not want to know what it looked like, even though it might have been educational.

For the first time in my life, my mind did not demand occupation and exertion. I just wanted to be still. Safe and quiet under my warm blanket, in my warm bed, in my cool, dark room with the door safely closed.

How I longed for home. My small, tidy dorm room, my little desk seemed terribly precious to me then. What a fool I’d been to pursue this work. Headstrong and arrogant and shortsighted. I hated this place. There was nothing for me here.

I turned and found to my surprise the captain still on the floor. I’d assumed he would have already been up and working, an eighteenth century ship a stern task master. But there he was on his side facing me.

His angled, chiseled face was flushed and he trembled through the blanket slightly, and when he moved, he coughed. I rose stiffly, pain stabbing at my side if I wasn’t careful, and I made my way to him. I touched his brow. “You’re on fire!”

He watched me with wide, open eyes, looking oddly like a child, his gaze distant and glazed. He touched the white gown I wore. “Mother?” he whispered.

I stilled, a chill going through me. Not again. “I told you, I’m not your mother,” I said slowly.

He looked past me at something through the window, his face fearful. “He is coming.”

I turned. “But there’s no one there, Captain.”

The door suddenly opened and Finley hurried in carrying a basin of water and a small vial, seeming not at all surprised to find the great Captain in this condition.

I began to go to him, but the captain snatched my arm and pulled me close, and I stumbled onto him. It jarred my wound and I cried out in pain.

“Captain! Let me go.” I tried to pull away, but he held firm.

He leaned forward and whispered, “He’s coming. He is coming. Hide with me.”

“Who? Who is coming?”

“You won’t let him kill you, Mother. Please! Father’s coming.”

I stilled in horror at his words. And I looked at Finley in desperation.

He was busy measuring the liquid into the vial, and then he put it into a small glass and added water. At first I didn’t think he had heard what the captain had said, but when he turned back to me, something in his face told me that he had.

He bent and wordlessly pried the captain’s fingers from my arm, and then half carried, half dragged the large man to the bed. I backed up, bumping into a table behind me, and my wound screamed at me again. I cried out and pressed against my abdomen. I found a chair and collapsed into it. Finley looked up at me and our eyes met.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “If you need to lie down I can find another cabin for you if you’ll just give me a minute.”

“I’m fine where I am. I would prefer not to leave the captain. You … you don’t seem surprised to see him like this.”

“No, miss. He be prone to fevers, unfortunately.”

I looked at the captain, and he was sound asleep again. Whatever Finley administered had quickly taken effect. “He will sleep now,” the first mate said. “But he’ll need to be watched for the next few days. He needs to be cooled and he needs water.”

“I can do that,” I said quickly.

He looked uncertain. “But you’re wounded.”

“It’s really not that serious. I just need to keep quiet. Please let me help you. He’s done so much for me and I’d like to … to help him, too, if I can.”

“Very well. It will help … and call me John, miss,” the old man said. And he did look like an old man, stooped and tired but always with that edge of nervousness. “I can’t stay long. We don’t like the crew to know of his condition. As long as I’m out there, it will appear more normal.”

“Feel free, please. I’ll watch him. Show me the medicine and tell me the dose. I’ll follow your instructions perfectly, I assure you. I’m a quick study.”

So he did just that. I nodded as he spoke, absorbing everything. I would be sure not to make a single mistake.

I fingered the bottle in my hand and said quietly, “Last night the captain thought I was his mother. And then again this morning.”

“I’m not surprised. He often hallucinates with his fevers.” His voice was subdued.

I hesitated. It really was none of my business, but I couldn’t help myself. “John … did you know his mother?”

“Yes. His father, too. He was an excellent man.”

“They’re deceased?”

“Yes. The dream, the memory the captain relives, comes from their deaths.”

“How did they die?”

“Their ship was attacked and taken by pirates.”

“How awful. And they were killed by the pirates?”

Finley hesitated. “Yes.”

“How did the captain survive?” I asked.

“Others arrived in time. He was only a boy then and he saw horrible things.”

The ache at my side made me find a chair to sit. “The psychological ramifications .…” I began, but stopped. The words were correct, but I did not like the sound of them.

Suddenly a shout rang from outside: “Pirates!”

Finley sprang out the door, and I followed after him into the open air. I looked up to see a young sailor in a perch high over our heads. He was waving his arms at the first mate.

Finley quickly pulled a telescope from his belt and looked at a figure in the distance. And then, almost immediately he relaxed and put his telescope away. He gave orders for the men to sail on, and soon the little dot disappeared over the horizon.

“
Was
that a pirate ship?”

His gray eyes didn’t quite meet mine. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Wait a minute.” I pulled on his sleeve and took the telescope from him. I only got a glimpse when he took it back and began to move away. “I thought I saw a black flag ….”

“You hardly had the chance to see anything.”

“Still, I thought I saw ….”

“Forgive me, but you didn’t. Everything looks black from a distance.”

I pulled my arm away from him and stood firm. I regarded him closely. “Mr. Finley, you are lying to me.”

“Why should I lie to you?” he asked with some exasperation.

I stood and watched him, my hands on the wooden rail, the wind tugging at my skirts, my eyes on him as he carefully avoided my gaze. “Mr. Finley?” I asked.

“Yes?” He still did not face me.

“Why is Captain Tucker such a successful mariner?”

He answered immediately. “He is bold. Unafraid. He is known to agree to almost anything, moving whatever cargo through whatever waters, whatever the risk. Commissions no other Captain would dare touch, Captain Tucker makes his specialty. It is said in our circles that the storms steer around him, that he was born of the water and the water takes care of her children.”

“You sound very proud. Almost like a parent.”

He took out a pipe and began to fill it. “I suppose I do view him like a son. No, not a son. I won’t flatter myself. But I have known him these many years, and thank God for it.”

My eyes fell on the cross at Finley’s neck. He was fingering it again, and it angered me unreasonably. It was dark and heavy and reminded me of something before, something not long ago. The day before that heavy cross swung against his chest as he let those awful men pass him by without raising a hand to stop them, knowing they were bent on hurting me.

“Why do you wear that cross?” I had to ask him, my voice sharp.

His hand fell to his side. “It belonged to my father.”

“Are you a religious man, Finley?”

He eyes my warily. “I suppose.”

“Is that why you wear that cross?”

The interrogation was practical, to more fully understand the mindset of a man so close to the captain. And I was comforted by the anticipation of soon going back to the cabin and writing my records again. They had been too long neglected.

Now, however, I simply watched that dark, heavy cross around the first mate’s neck, finding it almost mocking. There was some kind of meaning, twisted and paradoxical, and I had to dissect it.

Finley looked out at the ocean and ran his fingers through his short, cropped hair and then down his face. He finally answered, “I wear it to remind me.”

“Remind you? Of what?”

He struggled with what to say. And then he answered, his words touched with impatience. “Miss Madera, surely you understand religion.”

“Do you wear it to remind you of your sins?” I asked snidely.

“Yes,” he answered. It really cannot be a surprise that my insinuation was lost on him.

“To keep you comfortable and protected and guided and all that? Is that what you believe?”

He paused and then asked, “What do
you
believe in, Miss Madera?”

“Facts,” I answered aggressively. “I believe in logic, reason, the scientific method.” I looked out onto the ocean and continued, “And I believe in the universe. In order. The elements. I believe there is a sort of fate in evolution, I guess.”

There was a pause as he watched me, and then he said, “You make life sound like a mathematical equation. But there be things reason can’t explain. Not human reasoning. The most important things, I believe. And there’s weakness and pain and regret.”

I replied pointedly, “And what do
you
regret, Mr. Finley?”

He looked away and said quietly, “So many things.” He touched his cross again.

Chapter Five

Notes: Satisfied with research despite unpleasant setback. Information abundant and exhilarating. Attempt at communicating an expression of grief for tragic personal loss a success. Captain pleased.

Suspicion that preparatory education was insufficient, confirmed. Vast knowledge still elusive. Much still to learn – even here, where information is considerably limited.

When Captain Tucker opened his eyes days later, I was waiting for him. I had been browsing through his books, but having some difficulty in concentrating on them.

He woke up with a start. “Miss Madera?” he exclaimed sharply.

“Yes, Captain?” I hurried to him. “What is it?”

“You are unharmed?”

“I’m fine. What is the matter?”

“It must have been a dream, I … there was a fight ….”

“Everything is alright. Do you worry for me even in your sleep?”

He put a hand to his head. “You’ve plagued my life out since I fished you from the ocean.”

I grew very solemn as I watched him suffer from his illness– an illness most likely brought on by the necessity of sleeping on the cold floor.

Something must have shown on my face because his brows came down. “What is it?”

Keeping my gaze on him, I tried to scoot forward, but I couldn’t because the chair was attached to the floor. I was heading into unfamiliar territory. “Captain, would I hurt you if ….” He closed his eyes as though I pained him. “Oh, I beg you. Not now,” he pleaded.

I had chosen the wrong course, I could see. Still, my mind could not rest as I watched his face. I cleared my throat and tried again.

“Captain?”

He sighed wearily. “What?”