Uncharted Waters
Post-Season 6, Possibly some spoilers.
Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is.
I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and aren't making any money off it.
Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.
Foreword (by Louisa Ellingham)
When I was first approached about writing the foreword for this story, I was hesitant. The story covers some serious and not entirely pleasant events in my life and in others' lives. I had enthusiastically helped the author, a good friend of mine, in writing the story. But writing a note to you all, the readers, was difficult, uncomfortable. What would I say?
That all changed today. It's March 5th, St. Piran's Day, the day we in Cornwall enthusiastically commemorate this once obscure patron saint of the Cornish tin miners. Strange inspiration, isn't it?
As I write, partygoers proudly wave St. Piran's flag, white cross on a black field, down on the Platt (our name for the beach-like landing which doubles as a car park at low tide), not far from the stone walls of my own home. For many in Cornwall, St. Piran's Day is just a day of celebration, out-of-tune Celtic music, and parades-or simply an excuse to get sodding drunk. I myself (and my family, if I can rope them into it) may join the festivities shortly, although, as a mother and headmistress of the local school I shall be abstaining from inordinate amounts of alcohol.
But a few Cornish remember the legend behind St. Piran's Day. Piran, the story goes, was an Irish holy man, a pioneer of Christendom at a time when the British Isles were a wild and wooly wilderness under the sway of the mysterious druids and their ilk.
The story goes that the good man fell out with some of the heathen Celts and was tossed off a cliff into the raging sea in the midst of a gale.
Clearly this was a low point for poor old Piran.
Luckily, for him, and for us, the storm miraculously cleared up and Piran floated to the surface-by now having drifted too far from shore to swim back.
What was Piran thinking as he floated and bobbed about endlessly in the Celtic Sea, unsure of where he was headed or what faced him if and when he arrived?
Many of us have had a St. Piran moment, a moment we were headed into uncharted waters, uncertain of what lies ahead.
This story describes just such a pivotal moment in my life and in the lives of those I care about in our tiny, close-knit village of Port Wenn.
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have.
-Louisa Ellingham
Chapter 1: The Spy
United States Disciplinary Barracks, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, United States
Private Michael Pruddy couldn't look the man in front of him in the face.
"Private Pruddy, do you know why I'm here?" The fit, well-built yet gentle young man nodded hesitantly.
" 'Cause I'm in a bit of trouble, Consul."
"Yes. Yes, you are in a bit of trouble. And I'm here to make sure that, despite all this trouble your rights as a British citizen and a member of Her Majesty's Armed Forces are honored and respected."
"Can you get me extradi'ed, sir?"
"Well, we've been working on that. Mr. Thompson, the Permanent Secretary for Defense, has been talking with Defense Secretary Hagel and Attorney General Eric Holder about the possiblity of shipping you over to Colchester. I've also been in Mr. Hague's ear about the possibility of putting some Pressure on the Secretary of State. The word is that Mr. Kerry might be sympathetic to our cause. You should realize that Her Majesty's Security Service and Secret Intelligence Service are also pushing for charges as well."
Mike nodded his head. He really didn't understand all the political ins and outs. He just wanted to go home to Cornwall.
The consul noticed the look. He felt a bit sorry for the young kid in front of him, caught up in a huge mess not entirely of his making.
"Private Pruddy?"
"Yes sir?"
"Have you been told in detail the charges against you?"
"Umm..yes...sir. I don't remember all of them, though, sir. I know they say that I was involved with Private Hanning's...with what he is accused of...the leaks."
"Yes. That's the gist of it. Let's go through them again just to make sure you understand." He took out a slightly crumpled packet of paper out of the folder lying on the table. Mike repressed an urgent desire to reach over and smooth out the wrinkles.
"Mr. Pruddy you are charged with three counts of 'Perpetrating Espionage Against the United States of America..."