He forced his eyes open and considered the scene in front of him. The Asp was sinking slowly, its deck splitting along a long fissure that ran parallel to its spine. His men had followed his orders and boarded the Obsidian, armed and ready to conquer the vessel that had nearly blown apart their beloved ship. Following custom, he had remained on deck, ready to sink or survive with his charge. It certainly won't come to that, he chided himself. It was an aberration, this accident, as the Asp wasn't even supposed to be in the line of fire that morning. They had set sail with their 40- ship fleet, but halfway into the morning, given their optimum location, Admiral McGilvary had assigned the Asp back to shore to bring down a single pirate ship spotted off the coast. Frederick had led the charge eagerly, hoping to add another gem to his string of conquests. That the pirate ship would be much larger than his ramshackle sloop was to be expected, but its treasure trove of firepower wasn't. For each of the Asp's guns, the Obsidian had three. As they approached the stationary ship, he spied through his telescope a wisp of smoke rising from the humongous gun staring them in the face. Frederick thanked Providence that the pirates had not fired at them yet. If they had, he would be floating around somewhere in the ocean by now with his men.
The ensuing few minutes had been fiery, splintering chaos. The element of surprise had favored him; they had succeeded in blowing the Obsidian's front apart first by targeting the main gun and its neighboring load of ammunition, but the Asp had also been struck in return. As the pressure wave from the blow to the boat tossed them in the air, he covered his eyes to protect them from the hail of wood shattering all around him. Instead, he felt something rip into his left flank and held back his howl of pain, waiting for the tremors to stop. He tried not to look down at his stomach, and occupied his thoughts with his ship instead. As the godawful tearing of the hull right underneath them reached his ears, Frederick recognized that the damage from a single shot had rendered his crumbling charge useless. It would take minutes before the fire below deck reached them. He had to act now, or they would soon end up dead. Struck by a wave of genius, he hobbled up with effort, took a post near the aft and gestured to his shaken crew as they picked themselves up around him. "Men!", he bellowed, taking in their shocked faces and surveying them for injuries. After satisfying himself that miraculously, there were none beyond some broken fingers and a few flesh wounds, he made his decision. "We've almost drowned the looters. Lieutenant-Commander Griffin will lead the charge. Let's go and earn our prize money." He clamped his right palm on his side, the intensity of the spasm surprising him. "Take every gun, sword and knife you possess and take that monstrosity down." He regarded their anxious faces as they stared at him, realizing what he was truly asking of them. "Sir, you're bleeding.", Griffin said in concern, gawking at his wound. "I will be all-right, Griffin.", he dismissed the man. "I will set off the rescue flares so we get out of here. In the meantime, you will see to it that we conquer that eyesore. I don't want them escaping us; we hardly have a vessel to fight them anymore.", he said, gasping at the smoke-filled air with effort. "Now!", he barked at the man, with more anger than he truly felt. He watched them board the two lifeboats and approach the blackened hull of the enemy boat, prayed to God that they would prevail and released the rescue flares.
The simple task knocked the wind out of him and he slumped back to the deck. In the urgency of ordering his men to disembark and signaling for rescue, he had miscalculated the burning pain in his left flank and merely clamped the wound with his palm. Now, he recognized his folly. As an inexplicable thirst set his throat on fire, he analyzed the pain that started somewhere under his ribs and spread to his leg. I wonder if it is enough to kill me, he thought darkly, and felt the area with the hand not applying pressure to the gaping wound. He detected blood soaking his clothes and grimaced. This will be more difficult than I expected. He looked around himself for something to stem the flow of blood, and having spotted a discarded shirt from one of his men, gratefully crawled to the stern of the sinking Asp. He pulled himself up with effort beside it and stamped on it with his foot, using his unoccupied left hand to tear it in two pieces. He swore loudly at the pain now blazing through his left leg and wound it around his torso tightly, recognizing how much his pulse had slowed down. He finished his knot and rested for a moment, worried at the gnawing in his throat and chest. It is you again, he gasped, fighting his urge to fall asleep on the empty deck now. Her eyes lit up as he grasped her hand and led her to their first dance together. His ears rang with her voice as she hummed his favorite song while ensconced in his arms. The fading memory of her smile when she'd consented to be his wife sent shivers through him yet again.
As his world rocked and tilted to its side, he held fast to the rails behind him, gripping them in the crook of his left arm. The flames finally made their way upwards to to the bow, and he huddled closer to the bulwark as they crackled and snapped at the rotting wood. A coin escaped his pocket and steadily rolled out onto the slippery deck before falling into the water with a soft plunk. He looked curiously at the open water, bare meters away from his feet now as his side of the Asp started going down with slow determination. It'd be effortless to break his hold on the railing and slip into it's embrace, he contemplated with a sick smile. What is stopping you, Frederick? he asked of himself. He kicked off his right boot, loosened his elbow from the soot-soaked railing and gripped it in his hand while he tested the water with his foot. That could freeze me to death in minutes. His throat burned with urgency now, and he had to clamber back up to his safe position and rub it, hoping to find some relief. I was only jesting. I'm not that stupid.
The remains of the sloop shook as it collided into something and he heard men shouting, followed by a rush of footfalls. Either this is a rescue or those wimpish pirates have managed to defeat my men, he realized. He felt his lungs cry out with need and the thirst burn his throat again. Oh, I'd give a limb to lay my eyes on you again, he said to himself, the thought making him smile weakly. He tried to stand up, but only succeeded in getting up to his knees and staring at the world sway around him. Her tear-stained face glowered at him helplessly anew. Her hands were on the lapels of his coat again, trying to stop him from leaving her and he remembered how he had shrugged them off and walked away, bitter with anger. No! Go back, you fool! he urged himself. In his fever dream, he turned around and walked back towards her, anxious to get to her. "Anne", he cried, enveloping her in his arms and imprisoning her hands against his chest, trying to calm the sobs that wrecked her. We shall find a way, my love, he told her, pressing his lips to her temple and willing himself to believe the words. There, this is perfection, he thought. If they could stay like this forever, breathing in unison as they did now, her head on his chest, him running his fingers through her hair and whispering sweet nothings in her ear. This is all I'd live for.
Reed caught hold of the man in the nick of time and tried to hold him up, but the Commander held on to him so fiercely that he struggled to move. "McManus, lend me a hand here!", he shouted out to his mate, who hurried down to the edge to help him. Together, they dislodged Commander Wentworth's arms from Reed and carefully carried him to the Isles of Summer, as she swayed gently beside the Asp's broken remains. "Quick, the man's bleeding!", said Reed, now running towards the ship's sickbay. He surveyed the flimsy shirt temporarily chafing the yawning cut in Frederick's flank and shook his head. "He's going to need stitches. And plenty of spirits."
Someone was addressing his wounds with a pungent tincture while muttering darkly under their breath. Frederick tried to sit up but he had greatly overestimated his agility. He peered at the figure through his blurred vision, persevering in the task of seeing clearly. Slowly, as the muscles around his eyes relaxed, he distinguished a doctor's form hovering above him, looking at him with ill-disguised annoyance. "Where", he rasped, "Where am I?". He watched as the man recoiled at his breath and took a step back. "There! Now that you're awake, you might finally lie still!", he exclaimed darkly. "We've had to change your bandages twice a day for the past week. You wouldn't stop tossing and turning, you know." He saw the confusion on Frederick's face and relented. "Commander Wentworth, I'm Dr. Reed. You're alive and well on the Isles of Summer.", he gestured dramatically to their surroundings, his brow knotted in irony. Frederick considered the window at the far end of the cabin, and recognized the faint smell of salt above the numbing scents of medicines around him. He greeted the gentle rocking motion of the sea underneath him, and decided he'd believe the man for now. He tried to sit up, but the man held up his hand to stop him. "Please, do not exert yourself.", he said. "You haven't recovered completely yet. You took a six-inch splinter to your side. When I saw it at first I thought it had likely taken out your liver, but by the grace of God, it missed the organ by an inch. I must say, you're recovering well, considering the amount of blood you lost." he muttered. "My men.", Frederick whispered, recalling with horror that he'd sent them away. "They're all alive, albeit with a few broken ribs and slashed noses here and there." Dr. Reed replied. "They are aboard here; I daresay you will see them soon enough."
"How long have I been unconscious?" he asked. "About a week. And what a delight you were!", the doctor smirked. "We had to move you here away from the sickbay to let the other patients get some sleep." Frederick grimaced. I have likely embarrassed myself by screaming nonsense in my sleep. He shuddered at the thought of what he might have admitted, and half-screamed in surprise when the doctor pulled on his bandages to secure them in a knot. He clenched his fists and bit on his lip to avoid crying out. As he tried to collect himself gingerly, a pinch of pain traveled slowly through his abdomen and left side. The doctor nodded at him and handed him a mug sloshing with water. Frederick gulped it down its entirety and coughed, his parched throat protesting. "More", he croaked, tilting his head upwards as far as he could. He gulped gratefully at the mug handed to him, and lay back down, exhausted by the effort. "You should drink some of the broth too, Commander.", he heard the doctor say, but he shook his head in disgust at the thought of food. Out of the corner of his eye, he observed the Dr. Reed pack up his things and prepare to leave. "I will see you every evening, but there will be medics attending to you every three hours. The pain will be unbearable for at least a week, Commander. The food will help, as will water and rest.", he said, stressing the last word. "I'll let the Admiral know that you're ready to talk to him. He's been aboard for the past two days, waiting to see you."
Frederick's eyes snapped open and he craned his neck to look at Reed. "Why does the Admiral want to see me?", he asked, dread filling his chest. This cannot be good. Admiral McGilvary was not known to visit the sick men under his command, considering there were over a hundred in his charge. Then again, the Admiral considered him to be rather a favorite of his. "I'm afraid he didn't share the inner workings of his mind with me, Commander.", the doctor answered. "Until tomorrow, sleep, and do as the medics tell you." Frederick nodded at him as he stepped outside the tent. He swallowed some of the insipid soupy broth placed next to him and heard his stomach growl in satisfaction. As his head hit the pillow, he let her voice lull him to sleep, the ghost of a smile on his face.
The Admiral arrived at 4.00 pm the next day, striding into the cabin and surveying him from head to toe. He frowned at Frederick's unkempt beard and paced around the small room. Frederick had sat up as much as he could, assisted by pillows and a generous dose of brandy to dull the sting in the wound. He had obeyed the doctor's orders and slept for sixteen hours straight. What he couldn't help were the redundant dreams that always included her. In the end, he had willed himself to stay awake and occupy his mind until the Admiral's arrival. He'd met his men and rejoiced in the knowledge that they were recuperating and buoyant. He'd listened to their stories of the skirmish aboard the Obsidian. It didn't disappoint him at all to learn of the prize money they had won together. He'd faithfully drank more of the ghoulish brown broth offered to him in the guise of food, and even tried a bit of porridge this morning. Yet, the impending meeting had worried him. Now, as he sat in attention, he wondered why the man was striding quietly around the confined space with a frown on his face.
Suddenly, the Admiral stopped in his tracks and addressed him, his voice gruff. "You will be happy to learn that the Asp didn't sink, even after that deadly blow and fire. She's going to be taken apart for scrap."
Frederick nodded in satisfaction. "Yes Sir, I heard about it from the men. I must thank you for sending the rescue team so promptly."
"Hmm", the Admiral grunted, resuming his pacing. Frederick stared at him, trying not to blurt out his questions. Before even a word escaped him, though, the man turned to him and asked eagerly, "Tell me, Commander Wentworth, how often do you have suicidal thoughts?" His face was a maze of angry wrinkles.
Frederick started, nonplussed. "I.. I beg your pardon, Sir?" he asked, confused.
"How often do you think of throwing yourself into the sea? Do you have the count for today?" his superior persisted.
Frederick bristled. "I think of no such thing, Sir!"
"Don't you?", the Admiral stepped closer, holding his angry gaze.
He'd had enough. "Admiral, I do not know what gave you this impression, but believe me when I say I am no coward." He struggled to keep his annoyance in check.
"In that case, I think the violence on the Asp has affected your mind. You turned not only into a coward but a liar."
Frederick stared at him open-mouthed, incredulous. He longed to snap back at McGilvary, but his memories of the explosion and its aftermath were still muddy. What else happened, in heaven's name? At last, he sputtered, "I'm sure the events were sudden, but they affected me just as much as any other man. Though I had my eyes on the bounty, I had been temporarily compromised by an injury. We were losing precious time, and furthermore we would certainly die if the Obsidian's crew had recovered from the explosion first and shot at us again. Time was of the essence, Sir". The effort of this rapid speech made him pant weakly.
The other man looked at him cynically. "Certainly, you did all the right things, launch a surprise attack, complete the capture before the enemy recovered, set off the rescue flares. It was almost as if you were hoping to get out of there alive.
He sighed in exasperation. "Sir", he said, "You are insistent on continuing this line of questioning. And yet, I have no terrible trauma to share with you." His throat screamed with a dull ache then, and he reached for his glass of water, noticing that the generous gulp didn't quench his thirst one bit.
McGilvary leaned in towards him and spoke in a low, menacing voice that sent a chill through Frederick. "Commander, I observed the rescue action on the Asp from my ship. I saw you dangling at the edge and testing the waters." He leveled his gaze, looking him squarely in the eyes. "I saw you consider sinking to the bottom of the ocean, Wentworth."
Frederick grew very still, recalling now with horror his vivid fever dreams while waiting for the rescue. The memory caused his breath to rise in painful spurts and nearly made him nauseous. He said nothing and waited for the rebuke.
"You are in charge of twenty men's lives, Wentworth. May I remind you, that number includes yours as well?", McGilvary's voice hissed in his ear. "Your first and only instinct should be survival."
He started pacing around the room again, muttering darkly. "I will not have brokenhearted men contemplate life and death in the middle of battle, Wentworth. The navy is not your escape from the disappointments of civil life. Do you understand?"
Frederick stared straight ahead, stung at the accusation and startled at how close it was to the mark. Have I become a romantic fool? Had I cried in front of my rescue team? Had I screamed her name at night when agonized by this wretched injury? He swore under his breath. "Sir", he finally ventured, "I am..", he gulped before continuing, "sincere.. in my duties. I have no wish to lead my crew and charge into dangerous circumstances because I am dying for violent adventure. I do not deny I was disturbed by the explosion and the loss of blood, but pray, place your faith in me. It happened once, and it shall never happen again." He gripped his glass so hard he thought it might shatter in his hand.
When he finally looked up at the Admiral's wind-beaten face, he was relieved to see the anger had reneged somewhat. "Good.", he said, "I expect better of you, Wentworth, but I believe you." He still regarded him sternly and admitted, "We thought we'd almost lost you, but luckily, you roused yourself." Frederick peered cautiously at him from the corners of his eyes. There's more to this embarrassment, then? He waited as McGilvary chuckled in amusement. "You nearly killed Reed with that iron hold of yours. For a moment we thought you meant to strangle the breath out of him." He shook his head and patted Frederick on the shoulder, saying in earnest, "Whatever this.. belief you clutched at, Wentworth; be it God, your family, a lady", his eyes twinkled, "hold fast. Clearly, it makes you sane. A man needs his sanity on these lonely voyages, I daresay." Frederick stared at him, speechless. His throat blazed in agony as he swallowed and looked away, nodding in silence. I know not if it is mine to hold on to any more.
The Admiral stepped away and gave him a moment before exclaiming, "Besides, I wouldn't want you to behave like this on your new command and put your own and others' lives in danger again." He half-smiled as he saw Frederick's surprised face. "Am I getting a new charge, Sir?", he asked, his nerves alive with anticipation. "Yes, you are. You see, in the Royal Navy, we award audacious bravery (and foolery) with a frigate and a Captaincy.", he remarked, shaking his head and smiling. "I wouldn't approve these orders if I didn't believe you, Wentworth.", he said, his face serious again. "Do not disappoint me." Frederick smiled gratefully and nodded to him. "Thank you, Admiral. I promise you I shall take the utmost care of my new command." He looked inquisitively at McGilvary, who handed him his new papers before saying, "So you shall! Your new command is very special to me, Captain. I expect you to treat the Laconia as if she were your own heart."
"Let's not risk that, Sir. I will do far better.", Frederick laughed, and wished the Admiral good night as he took his leave. He breathed freely, the sensation surprising him with its novelty. He was a rich man, he realized. He'd always dreamed of what he'd do with his first prize money. As a little boy, he'd thought of buying a house for his mother, but she had died when he was too young. As a new officer, he'd wanted to buy new clothes, a fine horse, maybe even a house he could go to during his leave from duty. He recalled how easily he'd spent his prize money in the year Six and grimaced. I will be more cautious this time. After all, according to the same social standards he despised so much, he was now a suitable match for any woman from a respectable family. He knew he couldn't afford to keep her in luxury, but there would be no want of necessities. He imagined himself coming back to a home to be greeted by a wife, but gasped as the woman in his dream turned around to greet him. It was her as he remembered, her dark eyes brimming with joy as she ran up to him and threw herself in his arms. He closed his eyes and thought of the many times he'd welcomed her by picking her up and twirling her around, placing kisses on her neck and whispering in her ear "How are you today, my love?"
Frederick debated with himself. She might be married by now, most probably to another Baronet or Lord. Maybe a rich land owner who had inherited all his wealth and needed her position to establish himself within the ranks of society? Someone like that pompous sod Walter Elliot. But what if she had married both correctly and for love, and found love returned in even greater measure? What if she was happy, content and fully recovered from the past? The thought disquieted him and he crumpled his sheets in hands impatiently. I must know what her feelings are, or I may never find out. He recalled how he'd kissed her in the rain that blissful evening and how difficult it had been to leave her then. Enough. Either write to her and ask for her hand, or stop punishing yourself. And so he wrote, haltingly at first, his words boastful and angry. He tore up these drafts and threw them away. Finally, on his tenth attempt, he gave up all reasoning.
Anne,
I write to you in the hope that my letter finds you in health. Our last meeting is etched on my mind. I am ashamed to recall my impetuous behavior and hope you will find it in your heart to forgive the angry fool I can be. I have tried in vain since then to forget you, even despise you. I am a broken man with a broken soul, traversing the seven seas trying to escape you, and just realizing what a foolish notion that is! I take you with me wherever I go, love. Relentless memories of you have long infuriated me and riled up black, bottomless anger within me. They refused to leave me and talked back to me when I was being ridiculous. They saved my life when I was being a tragic idiot.
I know not if you have forgotten me yet and placed your faith in another more deserving of your heart. I live and breathe only in the fervent hope that you return my deep, thriving feelings with yours. For me, there is none but you. I desire your kindness, your love, your passion and your beauty to be mine and only mine, until death do us part.
Recent events have awarded me with the rank and success I had set out to achieve, and I assure you that the friends who persuaded you against our union then cannot use the pretext of my place against me any more. If you would have me, again, I am yours, with all my heart and soul and everything to my name.
Yours forever,
Frederick.
Tears stung his eyes as he recalled her words when they'd parted ways. "I will only be an impediment to your dreams, Frederick.", she'd said between sobs. He had taken her protests on his behalf to be a mask for her true reasons; that she was persuaded of herself being wrong. And by none other than the arrogant Lady Russell, who had made her dislike of him evident in every meeting. He did not doubt her love for him, but that her resolve could be weakened so easily revolted him, so much that he'd angrily questioned her powers of reasoning. He faltered, regarded the letter in his hand and saw the ink was still wet. Indeed, Anne, you are the cause of both my happiest and my most miserable moments. I cannot take your refusal again, for a refusal it will be, he lamented and crushed the piece of paper in his hand. You are more than this heart-broken sod, Frederick, he snapped at himself, as he flung the balled up letter at the window. He swore loudly as the violent motion caused his stitches to gnaw at him anew and send a wave of pain through his side. He threw the numerous pillows out of his way and lay back down on his cot. The dull ache in his throat returned, and he welcomed it as he would an old friend. This is the last time you yearn for her, he promised himself. From now on, I do not care for Anne Elliot. She is no-one to me. Enough. Enough now.