Dead Sea

Her eyes were glazed by time and she had a habit of losing concentration and staring off into space for extended periods of time.

When Elizabeth was off making coffee, Aunt Else said, “Well, I had long suspected that you would return, Captain Dorrigan.” She said this to George. “I can’t say that I’m overwhelmed to see you. Time has not erased your misdeeds. You, sir, are guilty of gross misconduct.”

George waited for the punchline, but none came. “Misconduct?”

“You should consider your position, Captain, and be quite careful of what you say,” Aunt Else warned him. “Your transgressions are unforgivable and I can assure you that my husband will arrange for a Naval board of inquiry to look into your negligence. A man like you has no business piloting a ship.”

George got it now. “Um… I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Nonsense! Don’t try that tact with me, sir. You’ll find me most unforgiving when it comes to subverting the facts. You are guilty of negligence. A negligence that has cost the lives of your crew. Perhaps you and your attorney -” she was looking at Cushing now – “have cooked up some scheme to keep yourselves out of the hands of justice, but you are guilty in the eyes of God.”

“I… ah… I was under the weather that day, Madam.”

“Drunk is more like it.”

Man, this was sweet, George was thinking. The old lady thought he was the captain of her ship and she was holding him personally responsible for whatever the disaster had been.

“I’ll throw myself on the mercy of the court when we get back,” George said.

“And so you should. So you should.”

She lapsed into another one of her silences, humming softly under her breath and George was wondering if she ever really came out of her fugue. If not, it would be tough to deal with something like this on a permanent basis.

“It was a clear day as I recall,” Aunt Else began again. “A very lovely day and Richard… where is Richard? Have you seen him, Captain?”

“I… I think he’s up on deck.”

“Of course he is. As I said, it was a very clear day and the night proceeding it was clear and the sky was filled with stars. You never see that many stars unless you’re out at sea. Just beautiful. Then that fog… it was terrible that fog. We were trapped in it for weeks, long weeks. Hmm. I wonder if it’s cleared yet. Has the fog cleared yet, Captain?”

“Any day now, Ma’am.”

George went over with Cushing to see to Gosling. His eyes were open, but he looked like he was trapped deeper in dreamland than Aunt Else. When he saw George he reached out his hand and clutched George’s own. He blinked a few times, looked like he was trying to hold something down.

“How you feeling?” George asked him.

“Like… shit,” he said.

“Please tell your sailors to refrain from profanity,” Aunt Else said.

Elizabeth came back in with more coffee. Gosling took a little, but he was terribly weak and it was tough seeing him like that. He’d always been so rugged and healthy, so very full of life. Always in charge. Seeing him laid low like that wasn’t an easy thing to take. He would say a few words and drift off, come awake again and shake his head.

“I ain’t long for this world, George,” he said.

“Sure you are. You just need to knit up.”

“Knit up? Shit. I’m done in and I know it.” His eyes flickered closed, then open again. “I just want to sleep now. That’s all I want to do. Don’t… don’t be looking like that, it’s not so bad. That woman… not the crazy old bitch… but that other one, she might know a way out.”

Cushing shook his head. “She says she doesn’t.”

“And you believe that?”

“Well…”

“Well, nothing. She knows more than she’s saying. You keep at her, you keep at her.” He swallowed a few times. “Either of you boys… you make it back. I got… I got a daughter up in Providence. You look her up. You tell her how it was for her old man. You tell her that.”

Gosling lapsed into slumber and did not wake again. He wasn’t dead, but George could tell from the look in Cushing’s eyes that he wasn’t very far from it now.

“I wish there was something I could do for your friend,” Elizabeth said. Cushing offered her a thin smile.

“A spring party is always the best,” Aunt Else was saying. “Particularly on Bermuda. A lovely garden party under the palms. Oh, it’s just wonderful. The sea air and the sunshine. Lots of fruit and cold drinks. A steel drum band…”

“I found your boat,” Elizabeth said.

“My boat? Oh, I had a lovely little skiff when I was a child on Cape Cod,” Aunt Else said. “Do you remember that? It was white with an ocean-blue stripe around the hull. We used to go fishing. I can’t remember what we used to fish for… do you remember?”

Cushing looked surprised. “You went out there?”

“Only to get the boat. It was drifting just off the stern,” Elizabeth explained. “It’s torn up a bit, but it looks to be in good shape. It’s filled with air, isn’t it? I’ve seen other boats like that here. Mostly, there’s no one in them.”

“Boats full of air! Bosh!” Aunt Else said. “Something’s full of air around here, but it’s certainly not boats!”