S. Welles - To Ocean's End

I thoroughly enjoyed my retirement party.

Newport more or less came and went. We dropped off the huge shipment with the help of the military, had nothing to pick up and no place to stay, except my half-built house, so we pushed off the same day, chartered for Port Chesapeake. My house-in-progress had gained its familiar box shape, the outlines of windows, and a central flight of stairs and such. It was heartening to see. It left me feeling happy, able to let go of all that’d happened. It was time to move on.

I’d thought of settling there but I knew I couldn’t do it once I saw the place. The sea was my home. Had been ever since I’d left the house. But even with knowing I couldn’t settle there, I felt like my stay on the Pertinacious was steadily reaching its conclusion. Wasn’t sure how to explain it; just knew both house and ship weren’t my retirement homes. Knew it in my gut. As far as what I should do, I wasn’t sure. I’d developed a habit of spending time after dinner staring out over the stern, watching the sea, as if staring long enough would give me my answer.

Once Jessie and Mido finished cleaning up the galley, they headed out on deck for some fresh air and a stroll, since the cabins were full of ears. Sure Rammus or Scully would see them from the wheelhouse, and sometimes Ed and Ted joined their walks for the fun of it. The two were always enjoyable company, but tonight it was just the two of them. Shortly into their first lap, they spotted Dyne staring out over the stern, which he’d been doing a lot as of late. They usually left him be but tonight there was something about the way he braced his hands on the railing that gave Jessie pause. She led Mido over, then let go of his arm and stood beside Dyne, bracing her hands on the railing as well.

He glanced at her and smiled. “Back where we first met, but with our positions a bit reversed. Do you remember that day?”

“Somewhat,” she said. “I still cringe every time I remember oaring poor Scully in the head.”

He smirked. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“So why do you keep coming out here every night all of the sudden?”

“For thinking,” he said. “I’ve spent so many years being so focused on lifting my curse. Now that that’s done… I dunno. I’m so indebted to you. I’m not sure how to put it into words.”

“Then don’t try to. Just be happy.”

He nodded. “I can do that.” He looked back out over the darkened ocean.

“Well, I’ll leave you to just being happy.” Jessie turned to leave but a swish on the surface gave her pause. A stream of water rose up above the stern and spread into the shape of a woman with long, wavy hair. At first Jessie thought it was Amphitrite, but then she recognized who it was.

“Rhode,” Dyne breathed, his mouth ajar.

Rhode stood before them on the water, larger than life and emanating an otherworldly glow. “Sweet Dyne, I’m so pleased to see your curse lifted at last.”

“I never thought I’d get to see you again.”

“I heard your soul calling to the sea, so I answered.” Rhode glanced at Jessie, then spoke to Dyne. “Your soul is weary.” She held out a glowing hand. “Come. It’s time for you to rest a while, ye whose heart has been claimed by the sea.”

Dyne’s face softened into serene happiness. He took a glowing finger and kissed it lovingly, then turned to Jessie. “Thank you. For everything.”

A lump formed in Jessie’s throat and her eyes stung. She held her arms out and he pulled her into a gentle hug.

“Take good care of yourself. And keep up the good work guarding the crew and feeding them.”

“I will,” she said in a tight whisper.

He let go and turned to Mido. They clasped hands and wrapped each other in a one-armed hug. “Take good care of yourself and each other. And thank you for sticking by me all these years.”

“It was a pleasure, Captain—er, Dyne.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He stepped back. “Just keep up the great work. Make me proud.” He put a hand on the railing and watched them expectantly. Rhode stood near the railing, a hand on Dyne’s back. Both of them looked serene, so at peace.

Jessie’s throat tightened further as she realized what they were waiting for. She tried to say “let’s go, Mido” but the words wouldn’t come out. She clasped his hand and led him away, walking slowly and checking over her shoulder once. Dyne and Rhode patiently waited for them to depart.

She made herself go back to looking ahead, filled with a need to run back to Dyne and latch her arms around him. She didn’t want to let happen what she had a feeling was about to take place. It just couldn’t. Not so suddenly. Not to the man who’d given her the best gift in the world.

Once they reached the lockdown container, Jessie felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. She paused, putting a hand on Mido’s chest.

“What is it?”

Jessie whipped around. The stern was empty. Tears blurred her vision as she stared at where Dyne and Rhode had just been. She clung to Mido’s arm as her brain tried to register that Dyne was gone. And once it finally did, her knees gave out and she began crying. Mido sank to the deck with her, holding her tight and crying as well.

Jessie, Mido, and Rammus, who’d watched the whole thing from the wheelhouse, delivered the news of Dyne’s passing to everyone while gathered in the galley. Over the next few days, the entire crew mourned his passing before collecting themselves enough to hold a sailor’s funeral. They thought of holding it off until they returned to Newport or some other meaningful coast, but they all agreed it really didn’t matter where, since all the oceans were connected.

The first day after Dyne’s passing, O’Toole hid in the cargo hold, crying, then one day jumped off the bow. Jacobi dived after him, and the two were soon hoisted back aboard. Sam calmed the Irishman down enough to get him to stop trying to jump back overboard, but not enough to stop crying. Discussion on what to do with O’Toole cropped up, since his role was rather enigmatic. In the end, Sam decided he wanted to keep O’Toole around and continue to take care of him. He was like a son in a way, to him, one that never grew up. Plus it was because of Dyne that O’Toole ever set foot aboard the Pertinacious in the first place.

They had an honorary cheeseburger dinner in his name and swapped some of their favorite stories about him, and even talked about how Dyne had positively impacted each of their lives. The stories lifted everyone’s spirits, even Jessie’s. She was still sore about seeing Dyne and Rhode one minute, and then an empty stern the next. But she understood why he’d wanted to die in private. Souls had a tendency to cross when no one was looking.

Once talk had gone on long enough, they gathered on the starboard side of the stern. Sam handed out the percussion equipment, Jessie stood by the steel chest, sitting open and ready to accept their offerings. O’Toole hovered near her, quiet and subdued. Rammus stood on the other side of the chest, book of poems in hand and open to a choice page. Sam stood at the end of the line of drummers, a pair of bamboo sticks in hand.

Rammus took a deep breath. “This night is dedicated to Alan Lavere, better known as Dyne Lavere, and to all as Captain. Born July twelfth, 2135. Died many a time after. Finally found rest and peace on June sixth, 2413. He will be sorely missed.” The crew beat out a short rhythm and fell silent. Rammus took a carved object out of his jacket, then cleared his throat. The carving looked like a koi fish. “I’d liked to read ‘We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths’ by Phillip James Bailey.”