MAES 48: Oh, My Father
AN: I was so happy that Sam was in Wine-Dark Sea! He should have been given more scenes in the series. He’s a reason why I sincerely POB had finished “21”. Sam would certainly have been more than a minor character.
Oh, my Father
The day he heard that the Surprise had come into dock was a good day for Samuel Panda, or so he thought at first. It had abruptly soured when the Surprise’s agent at the dockyard had informed him that Jack was, yet again, not aboard.
He’d not seen his father for a long time now; when he’d last seen the ship, Jack had not been aboard. Sam hoped Captain Pullings had managed to deliver his letter, and that Jack would be happy to see him. Since they had last met, Sam knew a good deal of bad fortune had befallen his father. He had not known about his father’s trial and disgraceful dismissal until long after the fact, when rumors had reached him. Rumor had fallen far short of the truth, as he learned when Tom Pullings, one of Jack’s protégés, had given him a full account. He’d felt far angrier at the news than anything else he could easily recall: it inspired in him the same feelings of white-hot rage that the thought of slavery always engendered.
Still, all had turned out well even before Sam knew the truth of it. That was a great comfort to his heart; that Jack had been reinstated, and would likely be content the next time Sam saw him. Tom’s face had grown dark and gloomy as he had described what Jack had been like after his dismissal, and Sam was grateful to have been spared having to witness that. Though if given the chance, he too would have stood by Jack in his trouble.
It was some small consolation to know that Jack was responsible for destroying the Alastor, that infamous pirate that had been the scourge of Peruvian and Chilean waters for a long time now. Doctor Maturin had assured him that although Jack had been injured, he was expected to recover well, and would come in to port as soon as possible.
It had been a long wait, made busy by the rebellion. Sam was as disheartened as anyone when their plans had fallen through at the last moment. He’d been imagining himself and Doctor Maturin greeting Jack in triumph when he finally arrived. Instead, it would be his task to tell his father that his dearest friend had been forced to flee for his life, because of a disgruntled Frenchman with a grudge against Stephen who had escaped from Jack’s own ship. Sam could well imagine what Jack would feel when he learned this.
Sam waited only until the day after Doctor Maturin’s departure to start making visits to the Surprise. Tom Pullings greeted him cheerfully the first time, but shook his head regretfully. Sam didn’t need to ask: no word from Jack.
It went on like this for several more days: visits morning and evening, only to be told they had received no word. Finally, the day came when things were different. Sam noticed on sight of the ship that everyone was unusually busy. There was a truly vile little vessel - that looked like it had survived a hurricane - tied to the larboard side of the ship, and a good deal of activity, though very little noise - far less noise than was normal.
Tom saw him and waved to him to stay on the dock. Crossing from ship to land as only a sailor could, his bare feet landed on the jetty and he ran to Sam, his face pale under the suntan, eyes wide.
“What news?” Sam asked tersely; surely some word must have come.
“He’s back, resting aboard, but he’s…” Tom couldn’t finish.
“He’s what? Tell me, man! What has happened?”
Tom looked wildly from Sam to the Surprise. He looked like a man who had suffered a severe shock, and who had not yet run out of the sometimes manic energy such shock produces. He couldn’t stay still, his eyes darting back and forth, half-turning then turning back, as though there were a thousand things he should be doing, and he couldn’t decide which was more important. He was babbling a stream of words that probably made sense to him, but told Sam little.
“Thought it was sea lions…didn’t recognize until he cursed at me…never seen him look so bad…others nearly dead…don’t know what happened to them all…asked me about the Doctor - said we must find Dutourd, thought he was with him…don’t know anything about what happened…”
Sam realized it was no good asking Tom for details: the man was in no state to convey what he did know. “Tell me sir: is Captain Aubrey alive and well?” He spoke sternly, trying to imitate Jack’s voice, hoping it would get through to the distressed man.
Tom’s gaze suddenly fixed on him - Sam saw his right hand twitch and rise up a little, as though he were about to salute and make a report. “He is alive yes, but not at all well. I do wish the Doctor were here! He needs him as much as he ever did.”
“I see there is much you must do sir, so I’ll not keep you. Please inform the Captain that I should like to see him at his earliest convenience, in regards to Doctor Maturin’s welfare. I will return this evening.”
“I don’t think he’ll be ready to see you sir,” said Tom hastily. “He’s been sleeping almost since he returned, and I’d not dare disturb him before he wakes himself.”
“Nevertheless, I will return, and I will pray for him in the meantime.”
0~0
When Sam returned, after the full onset of night, he was helped aboard in the kindest manner. Tom came on deck, looking much less distraught than that morning, and took Sam’s arm.
“He’s doing a little better; he managed to eat and drink, and he’s been cleaned up and bandaged. I still wish the Doctor could tend to him, but Killick and Padeen didn’t do so badly between them. I told him you were come, and he wants to see you. Go on in.” he gestured to the cabin door.
Sam stepped inside, blinking at the adjustment of light. He heard a shifting noise, as of a great weight rising up from a chair, and before his eyes had quite cleared, he felt two hands on his shoulders and heard Jack’s voice.
“Sam, how very glad I am to see you.”
Sam couldn’t help it. Smiling fit to split his face, he stepped forward and embraced his father. “Oh, sir…” he cried, his words trailing off as he realized the body he held felt far smaller than it should. Drawing back, his vision cleared, he saw that Jack’s face was half covered in a bandage, concealing one eye. His face was gaunt and he had clearly not been properly fed in quite some time; his clothes hung loosely on that once-powerful frame, and there was an air of complete exhaustion about him. Sam could actually feel him trembling a little. “But you are wounded - you are ill - let you sit down.”
There was a chair just behind them, and Sam helped Jack into it, Jack actually leaning on him as they walked the few steps, and sighing when his weight settled into the seat. As Jack described what had happened, Sam felt mingled guilt and horror. Guilt because he had been so impatient to see his father, and all the while Jack had been suffering all this. Horror at the facts he was hearing, imagining it all even as Jack spoke, picturing him nearly starving to death on the ocean…
I might have lost him forever. He could have died so easily, and I would never have seen him again. I must come back - as often as I can before he leaves. I must make the most of every moment with him. His calling is so dangerous, and not only because of his enemies.
Sam could not help weeping as he thought all of this. Jack had been staring vaguely at the ceiling as he talked, seeming to see the events all over again. He concluded and rang the bell to order dinner. Only then did he turn to Sam, and upon seeing his tears abruptly changed the subject.
“Have you seen the Doctor? I had hoped he would be aboard, but he has not yet returned.”
As they started in on the food, Jack eating voraciously, though with near-perfect manners, he spoke in between bites and gulps, explaining what he knew of the Doctor’s doings. Sam’s grief quickly dissipated as he saw Jack eating, clearly well on his way to recovery already.
He was quite impressed with what Jack told him, for although it was clear Jack did not understand all of the Doctor’s doings, it was equally clear that Maturin had his support, even though the Doctor must necessarily keep so much quiet. It is a rare friend indeed that will not ask questions, nor demand to know everything before he agrees to help. I see now why the Doctor relies so much on him, and will sail with no other.
As the next course came in, Jack sidetracked onto the Olympic games and sages, and Sam was struck by his utter simplicity of manner. He had not noticed this quality before, since the last time they had dined in company it was with several others, and they had been given little opportunity for private speech. In a tête-à-tête like this, they might have been sitting conversing in a tavern, and when Jack asked, “But surely, Sam, dropping down dead shows a very wrong set of ideas in a sage?” His expression was so bemused that Sam nearly laughed. “Very wrong indeed, sir,” he replied, feeling the utmost affection for the man.
Eventually, Sam explained what he knew about the Doctor’s doings. As he spoke, Jack’s face changed from showing great anxiety, to great relief as he heard that Stephen was well. His eyes closed in utter relaxation when Sam explained that the Doctor intended to be in Valparaiso by the last day of the month, and Sam began stacking up the used dishes, still talking.
“…Then again our confidential friends, men of business, all assert that you should sell your prizes directly, or if the offer do not suit, send them down to Arica or even Coquimbo.” He looked at Jack and saw that he was fast asleep.
“Or even Coquimbo,” Sam repeated softly, wondering how much Jack had been awake to hear after the news of Valparaiso. “But I will tell it you all again, so I will, at half eight tomorrow,” he whispered. “God bless, now.”
Sam wondered if he should try to move Jack onto the stern lockers. He had no doubt he was strong enough to do so, particularly in Jack’s diminished state, but he decided against it. He had no wish to disturb Jack’s rest, which he so clearly needed. He also didn’t want to feel that body, which should be so much stronger and heavier, lying limp in his arms. As it was, Sam expected the memory of their embrace to haunt him for a while. He had come so close to losing Jack, and he’d not known it until he’d seen Jack for himself. Perhaps it was better that Captain Pullings had not been able to give a better explanation of Jack’s state: Sam would never have been able to believe it, without he had seen it with his own eyes.
He paused at the door, feeling something like a premonition chill his blood. He had heard of men who had been starved for a long time who later died after eating too much too soon. Would that happen to Jack? No surely not. He’d seen a watermelon rind and an empty water jug, as well as breadcrumbs on a plate when he’d sat listening to Jack. He must have eaten a little before their dinner, and would do fine.
The sound of Jack’s even breathing was a reassurance to him. It drove the nervous chill away, and reminded him that however much Jack had suffered, he was a very strong man. Sam had often been complimented on his size and strength, and even before he’d known Jack - when Jack Aubrey had been nothing more than a character in one of his mother’s stories - he’d always shaken his head modestly and said “I cannot take credit for having a strong father and a sturdy mother.”
Sam was not proud of his strength, but he was grateful for it. All the more grateful at this moment, to know that it came from his father, for it was that strength which had seen Jack through these physical trials, and would continue to do so. Those long, even breaths were loud and steady, continuing to drive through Jack’s body the strong blood that they shared.
Sam closed the door behind him and ascended to the deck. He took a deep breath of the cool night air, closing his eyes and tilting his face to the stars.
“Shall we pull you ashore now, Father?” Tom’s cheerful voice asked at his elbow.
“I would be much obliged, sir.”
On the pull to the jetty, Tom asked, “He’s doing much better now, isn’t he? When I finally recognized him I was terribly shocked: he could have passed for a man of sixty, all unshaven and filthy, and looking like death itself, very nearly. Only Joe Plaice looked worse, and he is sixty, or thereabouts. He’s recovering though, and so is young Ben. Will you be coming again tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Sam said firmly. “He fell asleep before I could finish explaining, and I would like to see him again, in any case. I expect I shall be a frequent visitor, until you leave for Valparaiso.”
“Are we bound there?”
“Yes: that is where you are to meet the Doctor. Captain Aubrey will doubtless explain it to you all, as soon as he sees fit.”
“Valparaiso, eh? I daresay there was some great amazing bird or other, to lead the Doctor that far afield.”
“I daresay,” Sam agreed neutrally.
0~0
Sam presented himself promptly at half eight the next morning, and was delighted to find Captain Aubrey on deck, seated comfortably under an awning. He still looked a little ill to be up and about, but judging from the smiles, speaking glances and winks that passed between the crew as Jack sat observing them, it was for their sake that he had made an appearance so soon. It clearly did the men a deal of good to see their Captain recovering. As great a shock as it had been to Sam to see Jack yesterday, he thought it must have been worse for the crew, for they had seen him when he’d first arrived.
Jack was not wearing his uniform, which Sam thought all to the good. In his diminished state, it would have made him look worse than he was. Dressed in a pair of nankeen britches and a simple linen shirt, open at the neck with the sleeves rolled up, he lounged comfortably in the shade of the awning, keeping a sharp eye upon the doings on deck.
Jack smiled upon seeing Sam and immediately ordered his steward to bring another chair. Sam seated himself and grinned at his father. “It is happy I am to see you looking so well, sir. I had feared my conversation must have bored you sadly yesterday, for you fell asleep before I told you all.”
Jack glared at him, mock-severe. “Have a little respect for age, you cheeky young pup. We old men are liable to drop off at any moment. Last I heard you were saying something about prizes, as I recall?”
“Yes, sir. I strongly advise you to sell them immediately, for the offers are likely to fall. Civil unrest often has ill effects on the local economy. It might even be advisable to sell at a slight loss, so long as you sell before you leave for Valparaiso.”
“That don’t give us very much time, Sam. We intend to weigh anchor as soon as may be; a week at the most.”
Sam was saddened to hear this, though not surprised. “Is there anything I can do to help, sir? I have a certain standing in the community, and can act as a go-between if necessary.”
“Never trouble yourself, Sam. Our agent is a brisk hand, and we’ve already received several handsome offers for the ships. I shall do my best to close within a day or two, and we shall complete our stores. I should be sorry if this is the last I should see of you before we go, however. Might you do us the honor of dining aboard tonight, and every night until we leave? Consider yourself invited to drop by at any time, Sam. I should be happy to have you.”
Sam smiled, and felt his eyes stinging. “I should be most honored to spend the day aboard, sir. The last few times I have come, I have not seen much of the ship. If you are at leisure, and if it would not tire you greatly, I should appreciate a proper tour. Doctor Maturin has told me this ship is your favorite.”
Jack sprang up immediately, looking energized. “Nothing would please me more. Come, lend a man your arm, and I shall do very well.” Sam offered his arm, and Jack took it, clasping Sam’s hand in his own for added support.
As they walked arm in arm about the ship, Jack talking nonstop, Sam could not help but notice the looks the pair of them garnered. Many of these were not the same men Sam had seen upon his first visit, so long ago now, but he detected from them the same air of affectionate loyalty to their Captain that he had sensed before. That Sam was obviously Jack’s offspring, and just as obviously illegitimate, made no odds in their minds as to the quality of their Captain’s character. Would it have made a difference? Sam wondered. If everyone despised him for this, would it have changed Jack’s behavior toward him?
No, Sam thought not.
0~0
The morning they parted was hard for Sam. Jack had told him on their last night together that they intended to weigh anchor in time for the first tide tomorrow, and if Sam could not come, it was best to say his goodbyes now. Sam promised faithfully to be there, and arrived just as the Blue Peter broke out at the masthead.
Sam went over with a boatload of dissolute seamen, fresh - or not so fresh as all that - from a night of revelry. Jack, looking much more like Sam remembered, was back in uniform, giving few orders, and welcomed Sam aboard.
“Well, Sam. I believe this is the last we’ll see of each other for some time,” Jack opined, looking bemusedly at him from his good eye, the other still covered with a fresh bandage.
“I believe it will be, sir. I shall remember you in my prayers, and hope that the next time we meet, I shall find you in better health, and may be granted more time to spend with you.” Sam thought his words sounded overly stiff and formal, and not at all what he wanted to say. He could not very well fall on his father and embrace him tightly, not with so many witnesses. A handshake seemed inappropriate as well.
“Come with me,” Jack said, extending an arm and leading Sam below.
In the cabin Jack crossed to his sea chest and began to dig through it, muttering imprecations against his steward for disorganizing everything so a man could never find what he was looking for. At last, with a triumphant “aha!” Jack drew something forth and offered it to Sam.
Wrapped inside a handkerchief, simply embroidered with Jack’s initials, was the carved whale’s tooth Jack had once given to Sally, and which Sam had returned to him as proof of their relationship.
“I think it best that you keep that, Sam. I’m afraid I’ll lose it, and I’m certain you’ll keep it safe. Besides, I’d like to think you had something to remember me by.”
Sam did indeed want just that. If Jack had died since their last meeting, Sam would have had nothing to serve as a solid remembrance of his father. Now, if Jack died, he would at least have something of his father’s to keep. Jack was right that he would keep it safe, too. The simply carved tooth meant a good deal to Sam before he’d met Jack: it had provided a tangible link between him and his unknown father, to be able to hold something that his father’s hand had once held, and left his mark upon.
Sam felt tears start in his eyes as he folded the tooth back up in Jack’s handkerchief, sliding both into his pocket. He looked up at his father, seeing that Jack’s eyes too, were wet.
In the privacy of the cabin, Sam could do what he most wanted. He could embrace his father tightly, and hold him close for as long as he liked. He could feel Jack’s arms around him, feel the strength that had begun to return to him, feel Jack’s hand rise to gently stroke his hair.
“I’ll miss you terribly, Sam,” Jack murmured, rocking him slightly. “I hope George grows up to be as fine a man as
yourself. I should count myself blessed above all other men, to have two such sons.”
It was the first time Jack had ever acknowledged him with such a word, and Sam felt his heart fill near to bursting with happiness and love for his father. He had once asked Doctor Maturin if he thought Jack would mind if he addressed him as such. Now was the time, if any, to find out.
Sam bent his head so his tears fell onto Jack’s shoulder, with its golden epaulette. “And I count myself blessed indeed, sir, to have such a man as my father. If I had one wish, one prayer that I want answered above all others, it would be that I could have been raised by you, that I could have known you when I was a child. What I must have missed…”
“If it had been possible, I would have had it so, Sam,” Jack said sadly, drawing back to look Sam in the eyes with his one brilliant blue eye, from which saltwater flowed, even as it flowed around the ship. “But know this: it does not mean I love you any less than your half-sisters and brother, nor does it mean I would not have you be my son in all ways that are possible. I look forward to our next meeting, my child.”
Sam heard Tom calling down to Captain Aubrey that the crew was all aboard, and a local fisherman ready to take the Father back to shore. Sam stepped on deck alone, not caring who saw his tears. He bade goodbye to Captain Pullings, wished them well with their voyage home, and stepped down into the fishing boat.
The Surprise set off with the tide, turning toward Valparaiso. Sam watched as Jack Aubrey came back on deck, standing on the quarterdeck and raising his hand to Sam, waving his farewell. Sam waved in return.
“Oh, my father, Fare Well,” he murmured in Irish.
Oh, my Father
The day he heard that the Surprise had come into dock was a good day for Samuel Panda, or so he thought at first. It had abruptly soured when the Surprise’s agent at the dockyard had informed him that Jack was, yet again, not aboard.
He’d not seen his father for a long time now; when he’d last seen the ship, Jack had not been aboard. Sam hoped Captain Pullings had managed to deliver his letter, and that Jack would be happy to see him. Since they had last met, Sam knew a good deal of bad fortune had befallen his father. He had not known about his father’s trial and disgraceful dismissal until long after the fact, when rumors had reached him. Rumor had fallen far short of the truth, as he learned when Tom Pullings, one of Jack’s protégés, had given him a full account. He’d felt far angrier at the news than anything else he could easily recall: it inspired in him the same feelings of white-hot rage that the thought of slavery always engendered.
Still, all had turned out well even before Sam knew the truth of it. That was a great comfort to his heart; that Jack had been reinstated, and would likely be content the next time Sam saw him. Tom’s face had grown dark and gloomy as he had described what Jack had been like after his dismissal, and Sam was grateful to have been spared having to witness that. Though if given the chance, he too would have stood by Jack in his trouble.
It was some small consolation to know that Jack was responsible for destroying the Alastor, that infamous pirate that had been the scourge of Peruvian and Chilean waters for a long time now. Doctor Maturin had assured him that although Jack had been injured, he was expected to recover well, and would come in to port as soon as possible.
It had been a long wait, made busy by the rebellion. Sam was as disheartened as anyone when their plans had fallen through at the last moment. He’d been imagining himself and Doctor Maturin greeting Jack in triumph when he finally arrived. Instead, it would be his task to tell his father that his dearest friend had been forced to flee for his life, because of a disgruntled Frenchman with a grudge against Stephen who had escaped from Jack’s own ship. Sam could well imagine what Jack would feel when he learned this.
Sam waited only until the day after Doctor Maturin’s departure to start making visits to the Surprise. Tom Pullings greeted him cheerfully the first time, but shook his head regretfully. Sam didn’t need to ask: no word from Jack.
It went on like this for several more days: visits morning and evening, only to be told they had received no word. Finally, the day came when things were different. Sam noticed on sight of the ship that everyone was unusually busy. There was a truly vile little vessel - that looked like it had survived a hurricane - tied to the larboard side of the ship, and a good deal of activity, though very little noise - far less noise than was normal.
Tom saw him and waved to him to stay on the dock. Crossing from ship to land as only a sailor could, his bare feet landed on the jetty and he ran to Sam, his face pale under the suntan, eyes wide.
“What news?” Sam asked tersely; surely some word must have come.
“He’s back, resting aboard, but he’s…” Tom couldn’t finish.
“He’s what? Tell me, man! What has happened?”
Tom looked wildly from Sam to the Surprise. He looked like a man who had suffered a severe shock, and who had not yet run out of the sometimes manic energy such shock produces. He couldn’t stay still, his eyes darting back and forth, half-turning then turning back, as though there were a thousand things he should be doing, and he couldn’t decide which was more important. He was babbling a stream of words that probably made sense to him, but told Sam little.
“Thought it was sea lions…didn’t recognize until he cursed at me…never seen him look so bad…others nearly dead…don’t know what happened to them all…asked me about the Doctor - said we must find Dutourd, thought he was with him…don’t know anything about what happened…”
Sam realized it was no good asking Tom for details: the man was in no state to convey what he did know. “Tell me sir: is Captain Aubrey alive and well?” He spoke sternly, trying to imitate Jack’s voice, hoping it would get through to the distressed man.
Tom’s gaze suddenly fixed on him - Sam saw his right hand twitch and rise up a little, as though he were about to salute and make a report. “He is alive yes, but not at all well. I do wish the Doctor were here! He needs him as much as he ever did.”
“I see there is much you must do sir, so I’ll not keep you. Please inform the Captain that I should like to see him at his earliest convenience, in regards to Doctor Maturin’s welfare. I will return this evening.”
“I don’t think he’ll be ready to see you sir,” said Tom hastily. “He’s been sleeping almost since he returned, and I’d not dare disturb him before he wakes himself.”
“Nevertheless, I will return, and I will pray for him in the meantime.”
0~0
When Sam returned, after the full onset of night, he was helped aboard in the kindest manner. Tom came on deck, looking much less distraught than that morning, and took Sam’s arm.
“He’s doing a little better; he managed to eat and drink, and he’s been cleaned up and bandaged. I still wish the Doctor could tend to him, but Killick and Padeen didn’t do so badly between them. I told him you were come, and he wants to see you. Go on in.” he gestured to the cabin door.
Sam stepped inside, blinking at the adjustment of light. He heard a shifting noise, as of a great weight rising up from a chair, and before his eyes had quite cleared, he felt two hands on his shoulders and heard Jack’s voice.
“Sam, how very glad I am to see you.”
Sam couldn’t help it. Smiling fit to split his face, he stepped forward and embraced his father. “Oh, sir…” he cried, his words trailing off as he realized the body he held felt far smaller than it should. Drawing back, his vision cleared, he saw that Jack’s face was half covered in a bandage, concealing one eye. His face was gaunt and he had clearly not been properly fed in quite some time; his clothes hung loosely on that once-powerful frame, and there was an air of complete exhaustion about him. Sam could actually feel him trembling a little. “But you are wounded - you are ill - let you sit down.”
There was a chair just behind them, and Sam helped Jack into it, Jack actually leaning on him as they walked the few steps, and sighing when his weight settled into the seat. As Jack described what had happened, Sam felt mingled guilt and horror. Guilt because he had been so impatient to see his father, and all the while Jack had been suffering all this. Horror at the facts he was hearing, imagining it all even as Jack spoke, picturing him nearly starving to death on the ocean…
I might have lost him forever. He could have died so easily, and I would never have seen him again. I must come back - as often as I can before he leaves. I must make the most of every moment with him. His calling is so dangerous, and not only because of his enemies.
Sam could not help weeping as he thought all of this. Jack had been staring vaguely at the ceiling as he talked, seeming to see the events all over again. He concluded and rang the bell to order dinner. Only then did he turn to Sam, and upon seeing his tears abruptly changed the subject.
“Have you seen the Doctor? I had hoped he would be aboard, but he has not yet returned.”
As they started in on the food, Jack eating voraciously, though with near-perfect manners, he spoke in between bites and gulps, explaining what he knew of the Doctor’s doings. Sam’s grief quickly dissipated as he saw Jack eating, clearly well on his way to recovery already.
He was quite impressed with what Jack told him, for although it was clear Jack did not understand all of the Doctor’s doings, it was equally clear that Maturin had his support, even though the Doctor must necessarily keep so much quiet. It is a rare friend indeed that will not ask questions, nor demand to know everything before he agrees to help. I see now why the Doctor relies so much on him, and will sail with no other.
As the next course came in, Jack sidetracked onto the Olympic games and sages, and Sam was struck by his utter simplicity of manner. He had not noticed this quality before, since the last time they had dined in company it was with several others, and they had been given little opportunity for private speech. In a tête-à-tête like this, they might have been sitting conversing in a tavern, and when Jack asked, “But surely, Sam, dropping down dead shows a very wrong set of ideas in a sage?” His expression was so bemused that Sam nearly laughed. “Very wrong indeed, sir,” he replied, feeling the utmost affection for the man.
Eventually, Sam explained what he knew about the Doctor’s doings. As he spoke, Jack’s face changed from showing great anxiety, to great relief as he heard that Stephen was well. His eyes closed in utter relaxation when Sam explained that the Doctor intended to be in Valparaiso by the last day of the month, and Sam began stacking up the used dishes, still talking.
“…Then again our confidential friends, men of business, all assert that you should sell your prizes directly, or if the offer do not suit, send them down to Arica or even Coquimbo.” He looked at Jack and saw that he was fast asleep.
“Or even Coquimbo,” Sam repeated softly, wondering how much Jack had been awake to hear after the news of Valparaiso. “But I will tell it you all again, so I will, at half eight tomorrow,” he whispered. “God bless, now.”
Sam wondered if he should try to move Jack onto the stern lockers. He had no doubt he was strong enough to do so, particularly in Jack’s diminished state, but he decided against it. He had no wish to disturb Jack’s rest, which he so clearly needed. He also didn’t want to feel that body, which should be so much stronger and heavier, lying limp in his arms. As it was, Sam expected the memory of their embrace to haunt him for a while. He had come so close to losing Jack, and he’d not known it until he’d seen Jack for himself. Perhaps it was better that Captain Pullings had not been able to give a better explanation of Jack’s state: Sam would never have been able to believe it, without he had seen it with his own eyes.
He paused at the door, feeling something like a premonition chill his blood. He had heard of men who had been starved for a long time who later died after eating too much too soon. Would that happen to Jack? No surely not. He’d seen a watermelon rind and an empty water jug, as well as breadcrumbs on a plate when he’d sat listening to Jack. He must have eaten a little before their dinner, and would do fine.
The sound of Jack’s even breathing was a reassurance to him. It drove the nervous chill away, and reminded him that however much Jack had suffered, he was a very strong man. Sam had often been complimented on his size and strength, and even before he’d known Jack - when Jack Aubrey had been nothing more than a character in one of his mother’s stories - he’d always shaken his head modestly and said “I cannot take credit for having a strong father and a sturdy mother.”
Sam was not proud of his strength, but he was grateful for it. All the more grateful at this moment, to know that it came from his father, for it was that strength which had seen Jack through these physical trials, and would continue to do so. Those long, even breaths were loud and steady, continuing to drive through Jack’s body the strong blood that they shared.
Sam closed the door behind him and ascended to the deck. He took a deep breath of the cool night air, closing his eyes and tilting his face to the stars.
“Shall we pull you ashore now, Father?” Tom’s cheerful voice asked at his elbow.
“I would be much obliged, sir.”
On the pull to the jetty, Tom asked, “He’s doing much better now, isn’t he? When I finally recognized him I was terribly shocked: he could have passed for a man of sixty, all unshaven and filthy, and looking like death itself, very nearly. Only Joe Plaice looked worse, and he is sixty, or thereabouts. He’s recovering though, and so is young Ben. Will you be coming again tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Sam said firmly. “He fell asleep before I could finish explaining, and I would like to see him again, in any case. I expect I shall be a frequent visitor, until you leave for Valparaiso.”
“Are we bound there?”
“Yes: that is where you are to meet the Doctor. Captain Aubrey will doubtless explain it to you all, as soon as he sees fit.”
“Valparaiso, eh? I daresay there was some great amazing bird or other, to lead the Doctor that far afield.”
“I daresay,” Sam agreed neutrally.
0~0
Sam presented himself promptly at half eight the next morning, and was delighted to find Captain Aubrey on deck, seated comfortably under an awning. He still looked a little ill to be up and about, but judging from the smiles, speaking glances and winks that passed between the crew as Jack sat observing them, it was for their sake that he had made an appearance so soon. It clearly did the men a deal of good to see their Captain recovering. As great a shock as it had been to Sam to see Jack yesterday, he thought it must have been worse for the crew, for they had seen him when he’d first arrived.
Jack was not wearing his uniform, which Sam thought all to the good. In his diminished state, it would have made him look worse than he was. Dressed in a pair of nankeen britches and a simple linen shirt, open at the neck with the sleeves rolled up, he lounged comfortably in the shade of the awning, keeping a sharp eye upon the doings on deck.
Jack smiled upon seeing Sam and immediately ordered his steward to bring another chair. Sam seated himself and grinned at his father. “It is happy I am to see you looking so well, sir. I had feared my conversation must have bored you sadly yesterday, for you fell asleep before I told you all.”
Jack glared at him, mock-severe. “Have a little respect for age, you cheeky young pup. We old men are liable to drop off at any moment. Last I heard you were saying something about prizes, as I recall?”
“Yes, sir. I strongly advise you to sell them immediately, for the offers are likely to fall. Civil unrest often has ill effects on the local economy. It might even be advisable to sell at a slight loss, so long as you sell before you leave for Valparaiso.”
“That don’t give us very much time, Sam. We intend to weigh anchor as soon as may be; a week at the most.”
Sam was saddened to hear this, though not surprised. “Is there anything I can do to help, sir? I have a certain standing in the community, and can act as a go-between if necessary.”
“Never trouble yourself, Sam. Our agent is a brisk hand, and we’ve already received several handsome offers for the ships. I shall do my best to close within a day or two, and we shall complete our stores. I should be sorry if this is the last I should see of you before we go, however. Might you do us the honor of dining aboard tonight, and every night until we leave? Consider yourself invited to drop by at any time, Sam. I should be happy to have you.”
Sam smiled, and felt his eyes stinging. “I should be most honored to spend the day aboard, sir. The last few times I have come, I have not seen much of the ship. If you are at leisure, and if it would not tire you greatly, I should appreciate a proper tour. Doctor Maturin has told me this ship is your favorite.”
Jack sprang up immediately, looking energized. “Nothing would please me more. Come, lend a man your arm, and I shall do very well.” Sam offered his arm, and Jack took it, clasping Sam’s hand in his own for added support.
As they walked arm in arm about the ship, Jack talking nonstop, Sam could not help but notice the looks the pair of them garnered. Many of these were not the same men Sam had seen upon his first visit, so long ago now, but he detected from them the same air of affectionate loyalty to their Captain that he had sensed before. That Sam was obviously Jack’s offspring, and just as obviously illegitimate, made no odds in their minds as to the quality of their Captain’s character. Would it have made a difference? Sam wondered. If everyone despised him for this, would it have changed Jack’s behavior toward him?
No, Sam thought not.
0~0
The morning they parted was hard for Sam. Jack had told him on their last night together that they intended to weigh anchor in time for the first tide tomorrow, and if Sam could not come, it was best to say his goodbyes now. Sam promised faithfully to be there, and arrived just as the Blue Peter broke out at the masthead.
Sam went over with a boatload of dissolute seamen, fresh - or not so fresh as all that - from a night of revelry. Jack, looking much more like Sam remembered, was back in uniform, giving few orders, and welcomed Sam aboard.
“Well, Sam. I believe this is the last we’ll see of each other for some time,” Jack opined, looking bemusedly at him from his good eye, the other still covered with a fresh bandage.
“I believe it will be, sir. I shall remember you in my prayers, and hope that the next time we meet, I shall find you in better health, and may be granted more time to spend with you.” Sam thought his words sounded overly stiff and formal, and not at all what he wanted to say. He could not very well fall on his father and embrace him tightly, not with so many witnesses. A handshake seemed inappropriate as well.
“Come with me,” Jack said, extending an arm and leading Sam below.
In the cabin Jack crossed to his sea chest and began to dig through it, muttering imprecations against his steward for disorganizing everything so a man could never find what he was looking for. At last, with a triumphant “aha!” Jack drew something forth and offered it to Sam.
Wrapped inside a handkerchief, simply embroidered with Jack’s initials, was the carved whale’s tooth Jack had once given to Sally, and which Sam had returned to him as proof of their relationship.
“I think it best that you keep that, Sam. I’m afraid I’ll lose it, and I’m certain you’ll keep it safe. Besides, I’d like to think you had something to remember me by.”
Sam did indeed want just that. If Jack had died since their last meeting, Sam would have had nothing to serve as a solid remembrance of his father. Now, if Jack died, he would at least have something of his father’s to keep. Jack was right that he would keep it safe, too. The simply carved tooth meant a good deal to Sam before he’d met Jack: it had provided a tangible link between him and his unknown father, to be able to hold something that his father’s hand had once held, and left his mark upon.
Sam felt tears start in his eyes as he folded the tooth back up in Jack’s handkerchief, sliding both into his pocket. He looked up at his father, seeing that Jack’s eyes too, were wet.
In the privacy of the cabin, Sam could do what he most wanted. He could embrace his father tightly, and hold him close for as long as he liked. He could feel Jack’s arms around him, feel the strength that had begun to return to him, feel Jack’s hand rise to gently stroke his hair.
“I’ll miss you terribly, Sam,” Jack murmured, rocking him slightly. “I hope George grows up to be as fine a man as
yourself. I should count myself blessed above all other men, to have two such sons.”
It was the first time Jack had ever acknowledged him with such a word, and Sam felt his heart fill near to bursting with happiness and love for his father. He had once asked Doctor Maturin if he thought Jack would mind if he addressed him as such. Now was the time, if any, to find out.
Sam bent his head so his tears fell onto Jack’s shoulder, with its golden epaulette. “And I count myself blessed indeed, sir, to have such a man as my father. If I had one wish, one prayer that I want answered above all others, it would be that I could have been raised by you, that I could have known you when I was a child. What I must have missed…”
“If it had been possible, I would have had it so, Sam,” Jack said sadly, drawing back to look Sam in the eyes with his one brilliant blue eye, from which saltwater flowed, even as it flowed around the ship. “But know this: it does not mean I love you any less than your half-sisters and brother, nor does it mean I would not have you be my son in all ways that are possible. I look forward to our next meeting, my child.”
Sam heard Tom calling down to Captain Aubrey that the crew was all aboard, and a local fisherman ready to take the Father back to shore. Sam stepped on deck alone, not caring who saw his tears. He bade goodbye to Captain Pullings, wished them well with their voyage home, and stepped down into the fishing boat.
The Surprise set off with the tide, turning toward Valparaiso. Sam watched as Jack Aubrey came back on deck, standing on the quarterdeck and raising his hand to Sam, waving his farewell. Sam waved in return.
“Oh, my father, Fare Well,” he murmured in Irish.