Advent Calendar 2014, Day 24-26: "Reindeer" (2/2)
My sincerest apologies for this being delayed. I unexpectedly had no Net access on 24th and 25th, which was utterly frustrating to say the least.
However, Today is the Feast of St. Stephen - or Sant Esteve, as he is named in Catalonia - and I feel it no less appropriate to post this today. A very Merry Christmas, everyone; and I hope you enjoy the conclusion to this tale.
Latin. xx.
-------
Title: "Reindeer" (2/2)
Author: latin_cat
Rating: G
Characters: Jack Aubrey, Stephen Maturin, Tom Pullings and the Surprises.
Summary: A storm in the Pacific brings Jack and Stephen an unexpected guest.
Part 1
Stephen was sat on the Surprise’s poop, settled in his favourite seat by the stern rail. Though in the southern hemisphere, the night was chill and clear, the stars above the water bright as jewels in the vast, inky blackness of the heavens. All was quiet, the weather calm. The only sounds to be heard were the soft sighing of the wind, and the gentle creaks and murmurs of a ship under sail. Away forward the doctor could see Blixem in his makeshift stall of canvas and cordage, munching contentedly on a mouthful of hay.
Earlier that evening the doctor and the captain had been sitting below in the Great Cabin, having just finished a variation on the allegro of Mozart’s sonata in E-flat major. As they had rested, Stephen pouring himself a glass from the decanter, Jack had been gazing thoughtfully out of the open stern windows, seemingly watching the Surprise’s wake leaving its foamy trail in the darkness behind them. Something was clearly troubling him but, confident that he would speak his mind when ready, Stephen had waited. As it turned out he had not needed to wait at long, for barely had the doctor put down his glass and turned to peruse their sheaf of music, pondering on what they might attempt next, then Jack had looked up from his contemplation and said:
“I have been thinking about that reindeer, Stephen.”
“What of it, joy?” the doctor had replied casually. Jack had frowned slightly at that, but persevered nonetheless.
“It is a very curious thing to have a creature of that size and nature come aboard ship without anyone noticing it - even more so, as we are thirty miles from land, and there has been no other ship in sight for nigh on a fortnight. Yet you seem to think it the most natural thing in the world. I mean, it’s not as if the thing has wings!”
“There I’m afraid you do me an injustice,” Stephen had said, setting down the music and turning his full attention to his friend. “I do not think it ‘the most natural thing in the world’, as you so eloquently put it. It is highly un-natural and, by process of elimination, must belong to the realms of the super-natural.”
Yet the captain’s brow had only creased further.
“Dashed if I know what you’re getting at, Stephen!” he remarked. “But you are admitting it is uncanny?”
“Indeed. But canny or not, my dear, I am still convinced it is our duty to care for the creature until it is returned to its owner.”
“You seem very certain that it will be returned.”
“I am.”
“And I don’t suppose you will tell me how you are so certain of that either?”
“I will not.”
Jack had sighed heavily, shaking his head.
“You are a deep old file at times, Stephen! I’ve said it often, and I expect I will find myself saying it again. Oh, I know you have your reasons; but truly, it comes hard to accept so much without explanation!”
“I know it, Jack,” Stephen said apologetically, placing a consoling hand on his friend’s drooping shoulder. “And I am grateful, time and again, that you do trust me in such matters, if not always willingly. Trust me in this matter, and I promise you tomorrow all will be resolved.”
That had been four hours ago. It was now approaching midnight, and the doctor was beginning to regret his promise. The evidence indicated that he was correct; yet the night was nearly over, and doubt had begun to creep its way into Stephen’s mind. If his theory were to be proven true, time was running out for it to be so.
Another five minutes passed; another five and it would be midnight. Out of the corner of his eye Stephen saw the Marine sentry watching the glass, fidgeting in the quite natural anticipation of a man looking forward to going below to his hammock. Similar subtle movements were being made all along the rest of the ship, as the hands began to muster themselves for the changing of the watch. The day was nearly over. Perhaps, after all, there was to be no miracle.
Rousing himself Stephen left his perch by the stern rail and moved forward, down the companionway, across the quarterdeck, amidships to where Blixem was housed. Cooing quiet nonsense, he ran a hand up the reindeer’s velveteen nose, taking comfort in the warm feel of a living creature beneath his fingers.
“Is it too late, my dear?” Stephen asked in a low whisper, equally to the empty night as to the deer. “Am I wrong to believe what I do?”
Blixem only raised his head to better meet the doctor’s caress, eyes closed in contentment, and farted.
The Marine turned the glass and began to strike the eight bells that signalled the change in the watch. The echoes of the chimes rang out clear across the water, the men moving smoothly between their allotted stations, efficient in the easy familiarity of their routine; but then Stephen noticed that the echoes of the bell did not fade, as expected. The sound reached over the waters and into the sky, calling up to the highest reaches of the heavens, and the stars chimed back in gladness. Stephen stilled his caress, his breath catching, and listened. He felt himself caught in a moment of perfect clarity; part of the ship, the night, the sea and the stars, all brought together in perfect harmony. A hush had descended about him, so that the men’s voices and bare footfalls - even the captain’s snores from the cabin below - came as if from a distance; muffled, like murmurs heard through a wall from a room next door. All was shrouded in an unbreakable feeling of peace and calm.
Yes, Stephen thought. It was right.
“Sorry, I left it a bit late,” said a voice behind him. “You must have thought I wasn’t coming.”
Stephen breathed in sharply, his heart skipping a beat in joy. Blixem had pricked up his ears, giving a happy bray, sniffing eagerly towards whoever stood behind the doctor.
“Indeed, I was beginning to fear the worst,” the doctor said, somehow managing to keep the edge of excitement from his voice. He was careful not to turn to face the unseen speaker, but instead resumed his caress of Blixem’s ears. “But of what value is belief, if there is never any doubt?”
“Well said,” said the speaker. Behind him, Stephen felt him take a step closer - for there was no doubt; it was he. “But believe you did. As such you have taken good care of poor Blixem, and for that I am infinitely grateful. Is there any way I may thank you in return?”
Taking a steadying breath, Stephen willed himself to calm. The possibility of some reward had come to mind, and he had thought long and hard about what he might ask within the bounds of reason.
“Your blessing,” he said firmly. “For John Aubrey, and all those loyal souls that follow him here aboard the Surprise. You have been known to extend your protection to mariners in ages past; you will be hard-pressed to find any more true, or deserving of your grace than those here.”
“Is that all?” The speaker sounded mildly amused. “And do you ask nothing for yourself, Esteban Maturin y Domanova?”
Stephen felt a tightening in his chest, and closed his eyes against the momentary pang of old hurts almost too numerous to call to mind.
“I have lost many that I hold dear,” he whispered. “Some whom I could have protected better, some through no thought of my own; my chiefest joy will be to see those whom I care about live to prosper. If Jack Aubrey’s happiness is secured, then I shall be content. It is enough.”
Then he felt a hand upon his shoulder and, unable to help himself, Stephen glanced down to see suede-gloved fingers tighten in a comforting grip.
“Then I shall keep watch over John Aubrey, and those whom he loves,” said the speaker warmly. “And it shall be enough.”
And Stephen found himself alone on the deck, the final echoes of the Surprise’s bell dying away into the air as the noise and bustle of the changing of the watch came back to him tenfold. Stephen looked about him in wonder; Blixem was gone, as was the unseen visitor who had come to claim him, and once again he was a part of the world, released from the glorious isolation of the stars to move within the world of Men. But for the lingering trace of warmth on his shoulder, where the gloved hand had rested so comfortingly, the whole experience might have been but a dream.
Smiling to himself, Stephen turned and headed aft again, ready at last to go to his cot and wake to a new, brighter Christmas morning. As he walked, there was a lightness to his step which seemed to match the unusual lightness in his heart.
It was enough.
FINIS.
Picture by Kimolos
However, Today is the Feast of St. Stephen - or Sant Esteve, as he is named in Catalonia - and I feel it no less appropriate to post this today. A very Merry Christmas, everyone; and I hope you enjoy the conclusion to this tale.
Latin. xx.
-------
Title: "Reindeer" (2/2)
Author: latin_cat
Rating: G
Characters: Jack Aubrey, Stephen Maturin, Tom Pullings and the Surprises.
Summary: A storm in the Pacific brings Jack and Stephen an unexpected guest.
Part 1
Stephen was sat on the Surprise’s poop, settled in his favourite seat by the stern rail. Though in the southern hemisphere, the night was chill and clear, the stars above the water bright as jewels in the vast, inky blackness of the heavens. All was quiet, the weather calm. The only sounds to be heard were the soft sighing of the wind, and the gentle creaks and murmurs of a ship under sail. Away forward the doctor could see Blixem in his makeshift stall of canvas and cordage, munching contentedly on a mouthful of hay.
Earlier that evening the doctor and the captain had been sitting below in the Great Cabin, having just finished a variation on the allegro of Mozart’s sonata in E-flat major. As they had rested, Stephen pouring himself a glass from the decanter, Jack had been gazing thoughtfully out of the open stern windows, seemingly watching the Surprise’s wake leaving its foamy trail in the darkness behind them. Something was clearly troubling him but, confident that he would speak his mind when ready, Stephen had waited. As it turned out he had not needed to wait at long, for barely had the doctor put down his glass and turned to peruse their sheaf of music, pondering on what they might attempt next, then Jack had looked up from his contemplation and said:
“I have been thinking about that reindeer, Stephen.”
“What of it, joy?” the doctor had replied casually. Jack had frowned slightly at that, but persevered nonetheless.
“It is a very curious thing to have a creature of that size and nature come aboard ship without anyone noticing it - even more so, as we are thirty miles from land, and there has been no other ship in sight for nigh on a fortnight. Yet you seem to think it the most natural thing in the world. I mean, it’s not as if the thing has wings!”
“There I’m afraid you do me an injustice,” Stephen had said, setting down the music and turning his full attention to his friend. “I do not think it ‘the most natural thing in the world’, as you so eloquently put it. It is highly un-natural and, by process of elimination, must belong to the realms of the super-natural.”
Yet the captain’s brow had only creased further.
“Dashed if I know what you’re getting at, Stephen!” he remarked. “But you are admitting it is uncanny?”
“Indeed. But canny or not, my dear, I am still convinced it is our duty to care for the creature until it is returned to its owner.”
“You seem very certain that it will be returned.”
“I am.”
“And I don’t suppose you will tell me how you are so certain of that either?”
“I will not.”
Jack had sighed heavily, shaking his head.
“You are a deep old file at times, Stephen! I’ve said it often, and I expect I will find myself saying it again. Oh, I know you have your reasons; but truly, it comes hard to accept so much without explanation!”
“I know it, Jack,” Stephen said apologetically, placing a consoling hand on his friend’s drooping shoulder. “And I am grateful, time and again, that you do trust me in such matters, if not always willingly. Trust me in this matter, and I promise you tomorrow all will be resolved.”
That had been four hours ago. It was now approaching midnight, and the doctor was beginning to regret his promise. The evidence indicated that he was correct; yet the night was nearly over, and doubt had begun to creep its way into Stephen’s mind. If his theory were to be proven true, time was running out for it to be so.
Another five minutes passed; another five and it would be midnight. Out of the corner of his eye Stephen saw the Marine sentry watching the glass, fidgeting in the quite natural anticipation of a man looking forward to going below to his hammock. Similar subtle movements were being made all along the rest of the ship, as the hands began to muster themselves for the changing of the watch. The day was nearly over. Perhaps, after all, there was to be no miracle.
Rousing himself Stephen left his perch by the stern rail and moved forward, down the companionway, across the quarterdeck, amidships to where Blixem was housed. Cooing quiet nonsense, he ran a hand up the reindeer’s velveteen nose, taking comfort in the warm feel of a living creature beneath his fingers.
“Is it too late, my dear?” Stephen asked in a low whisper, equally to the empty night as to the deer. “Am I wrong to believe what I do?”
Blixem only raised his head to better meet the doctor’s caress, eyes closed in contentment, and farted.
The Marine turned the glass and began to strike the eight bells that signalled the change in the watch. The echoes of the chimes rang out clear across the water, the men moving smoothly between their allotted stations, efficient in the easy familiarity of their routine; but then Stephen noticed that the echoes of the bell did not fade, as expected. The sound reached over the waters and into the sky, calling up to the highest reaches of the heavens, and the stars chimed back in gladness. Stephen stilled his caress, his breath catching, and listened. He felt himself caught in a moment of perfect clarity; part of the ship, the night, the sea and the stars, all brought together in perfect harmony. A hush had descended about him, so that the men’s voices and bare footfalls - even the captain’s snores from the cabin below - came as if from a distance; muffled, like murmurs heard through a wall from a room next door. All was shrouded in an unbreakable feeling of peace and calm.
Yes, Stephen thought. It was right.
“Sorry, I left it a bit late,” said a voice behind him. “You must have thought I wasn’t coming.”
Stephen breathed in sharply, his heart skipping a beat in joy. Blixem had pricked up his ears, giving a happy bray, sniffing eagerly towards whoever stood behind the doctor.
“Indeed, I was beginning to fear the worst,” the doctor said, somehow managing to keep the edge of excitement from his voice. He was careful not to turn to face the unseen speaker, but instead resumed his caress of Blixem’s ears. “But of what value is belief, if there is never any doubt?”
“Well said,” said the speaker. Behind him, Stephen felt him take a step closer - for there was no doubt; it was he. “But believe you did. As such you have taken good care of poor Blixem, and for that I am infinitely grateful. Is there any way I may thank you in return?”
Taking a steadying breath, Stephen willed himself to calm. The possibility of some reward had come to mind, and he had thought long and hard about what he might ask within the bounds of reason.
“Your blessing,” he said firmly. “For John Aubrey, and all those loyal souls that follow him here aboard the Surprise. You have been known to extend your protection to mariners in ages past; you will be hard-pressed to find any more true, or deserving of your grace than those here.”
“Is that all?” The speaker sounded mildly amused. “And do you ask nothing for yourself, Esteban Maturin y Domanova?”
Stephen felt a tightening in his chest, and closed his eyes against the momentary pang of old hurts almost too numerous to call to mind.
“I have lost many that I hold dear,” he whispered. “Some whom I could have protected better, some through no thought of my own; my chiefest joy will be to see those whom I care about live to prosper. If Jack Aubrey’s happiness is secured, then I shall be content. It is enough.”
Then he felt a hand upon his shoulder and, unable to help himself, Stephen glanced down to see suede-gloved fingers tighten in a comforting grip.
“Then I shall keep watch over John Aubrey, and those whom he loves,” said the speaker warmly. “And it shall be enough.”
And Stephen found himself alone on the deck, the final echoes of the Surprise’s bell dying away into the air as the noise and bustle of the changing of the watch came back to him tenfold. Stephen looked about him in wonder; Blixem was gone, as was the unseen visitor who had come to claim him, and once again he was a part of the world, released from the glorious isolation of the stars to move within the world of Men. But for the lingering trace of warmth on his shoulder, where the gloved hand had rested so comfortingly, the whole experience might have been but a dream.
Smiling to himself, Stephen turned and headed aft again, ready at last to go to his cot and wake to a new, brighter Christmas morning. As he walked, there was a lightness to his step which seemed to match the unusual lightness in his heart.
It was enough.
FINIS.
Picture by Kimolos