Creatures of the Sea

By Alone Dreaming

Author's Note: For all musings, notes, disclaimers and other such important things, see chapter one.

Responses to Reviews:

I actually do this when I have chaptered stories. When I write one-shots, I find that it is not a good thing to respond to reviews as such. People don't always read your next fic. Anyway- Here I get my chance.

SilentTrainConductor: Yes, darn Mr. Howard. He doesn't seem to do much good for people, now does he? I have to admit, there are times that I pity him though. He must have nightmares about what he has done. Believe me, my Spanish is suspect at best. I have not taken Spanish for two years and I never use it, so it is more than rusty. When I actually wrote this, I was using my rudimentary knowledge, a friend who just barely passed her high school course, and an online translator. Since something that seemed like Spanish managed to turn up, I slightly sheepish grin most certainly did not question it. I must say I have insulted Stephen (because his other languages were flawless) but I suppose it could be worse. I could have him speaking Italian (the language I've been taking for the past few years) and say it is Spanish. The last Spanish phrase I have in here will probably kill you. It's completely from a translator. I'm very glad you enjoyed the story! :) Keep reading.

TheMusingFit: Thanks so much for reviewing! How is my style unusual? I'd like to know really. I don't read very much Master and Commander fanfiction and my knowledge is completely movie-based (with small snippets of strange book knowledge). I'm glad you like the portrayal of Padeen. I think he (next to Stephen) is my favorite character. I like his gentle personality and how he cares for Stephen. :) Thanks for the luck with school. It's a lot of work but I think I shall survive it.

Arwen Rose: smiles Howard isn't very likable is he? I must admit he rubs me the wrong way especially after I watched the deleted scenes in Master and Commander. I was ready to throttle him. I'm really glad you've enjoyed the story so far. I love Stephen and Padeen. Two of my favorite characters in the entire twenty books (which I haven't read ironically); and I rather like Jack but when I first saw the movie I hated him for being mean to Stephen. I hope you like this chapter just as much! Time for Howard's reaction!

Here's the next chapter folks! Do enjoy it!

xXx

And now, I must go back and view on Mr. Howard's reaction to the situation. Not once did I see him while tending to the child, nor was he one of the men who came in and inquired about her health. He was not among those who went to the village only to discover that she was considered a demon child. He never stopped by as Padeen, Mr. Higgins and I slaved to keep the little girl's breath within her. I did not even manage to get word of him from Jack. Jack stopped by several times and asked me about the child but every time he departed before I could ask about Mr. Howard.

The third night since the child's injury found me standing on the beach, picking up shells. I was commanded by a very irritable voice to search out pretty shells and stones. I had to do it; no one else was allowed to apparently. So, I walked along the beach, pausing now and again to pick up shells that were suitable. It went against my normal instinct to not pick up shells that were interesting in a scientific manner but I found that I could force myself to choose things for color. One by one, the shells were placed into the bag on my side, and I moved farther and farther from camp. The lantern I had brought with me lit the way and soon, I found the bag heavy. Hopefully, these would be enough and would suit the purpose of the person who needed them.

I was about to turn back, feeling I had found plenty of pretty shells for one night when I heard someone, or something moving nearby. It was strange for someone to be out at this time of night, especially since there was no town nearby and camp was a little less than a mile back. Holding up my lantern, I allowed its light to spread some in hopes that I would see what was out roaming the night. I expected an animal, perhaps one I had not seen before.

Well, I had seen this animal, if he is to be lowered to that, though not for the past few days. Mr. Howard was standing still at the top of the beach, staring out over the ocean. He was quite oblivious to my presence and I think I should have counted my blessings for it. Pursing my lips, I started forward, ready to confront him for not at least asking how the little girl was when I made another rather startling discovery.

The man had a gun on him. No, not just on his person but in his hand, ready to be fired. It was not one of his larger hunting rifles which he used to kill animals but a small pistol. This small pistol shone in my lantern light in a scarily beautiful way. This gun was also pressed under his chin as he focused on the barely visible rolling waves of the sea.

I, with all my dislikes of Mr. Howard, could not in my right mind, or my not so very right mind, allow him to kill himself. There were many reasons why ranging from that he needed to at least apologize to Esperanza to that it was a waste of a reasonably good life. Without another thought on the matter, I dropped my lantern and ran towards him. I wasn't exactly sure what I would do to stop him from bringing an end to himself but getting to him seemed to be the first step.

What happened next is slightly blurred in my mind do to the mass confusion of it all. I know that I did reach Mr. Howard before he pulled the trigger because he still dwells with us today, alive and physically well. Though his mental stability is slightly questionable now and again, he has not left us to dwell in heaven or hell. He still mulls over taking his life when left alone for too long, depressed by the things he's done but bit by bit he is reaching a point of healing emotionally.

That is not the point of this part though. I did stop him but I can't remember how. All I know is that I found myself on the ground, clutching my hand to my chest and Mr. Howard sitting in front of me, looking very startled. Neither of us spoke but we both did quite a bit of glaring at each other. Meanwhile, a curious burning feeling was emanating from my hand and I found that my leg was aching. Whenever I got around this man when he had a gun, I seemed to end up in pain.

"Doctor," he said finally, his voice tense. "I did not expect to see you out here."

I was not quite as cordial. "What in hell were you thinking?" I knew what he was thinking but I needed to hear it from his own lips. I could vaguely see his face from the very tiny amount of light coming from my dropped lantern and the moonlight; his face was very pale.

"I was," he stopped and looked away from me. "I was thinking of the little girl and how she's dying and how I've-"

I spoke again, my voice still harsher than I intended. "Who in hell's blazes told you she was dying?"

He was startled again as I'm sure he was when I first approached him. "N-no one, doctor, but I've heard her cries front the tent and whenever you come out you look so grim; she was just a child and the wound was bad. I simply assumed-"

"Assuming makes an ass out of you and me," I replied sharply. "In other words, you should not have done it! My dear God, is that enough to send you, a man who has killed plenty of people, out here to blow your brains out?"

The gun was sitting in the sand now, still smoking slightly. He was staring down at it, his hand hovering just above it. "I...." He stopped and then turned his gaze to me. "I just couldn't bear to think that I was responsible for killing an innocent life like hers and nearly taking another innocent person's life before that. The more I thought about it, the worse it was in my mind. I felt as though I was one of the worst creatures ever to drag myself across the earth. I thought I didn't deserve to live anymore."

I wanted to interrupt him, to tell him I was sure that there were people out there who had done far worse things than he did. I held myself back though, knowing that he had to let this out.

"I know it sounds absurd and I know that I have been killing people for years now. Who knows how many of them were innocents? That was in battle and it always just seemed so different. Those men would have killed me if I did not kill them. I was simply defending myself, and my country. I never considered they were just defending their own lives and their own country. It never crossed my mind once. In fact, I probably would have never thought of it until I shot an innocent person.

"When," he stopped, and took a deep breath. "When I shot you, I felt this unbelievable guilt. It was almost as though all those deaths I had caused suddenly came down upon me. I realized what a murderer I was. I suddenly discovered how much I liked to kill. How every bullet that I shot at man or beast relieved something within me. When the bullet hit you though, it showed me I was a monster.

"You recovered but something within me started to fester. I covered it up, pretending as though it had gone away but every night it would haunt my dreams or keep me awake. I tried to push it down but every time it seemed to have been defeated it came back twice as strong. I didn't know what to do about it so I kept trying to ignore it or get rid of it. It never would go away though. It always lingered.

"I suppose, the little girl was the last straw. It suddenly overwhelmed me and I found myself here. I didn't think I deserved to be amongst the living anymore. It just didn't seem right."

I listened and understood vaguely, though not completely. "You are suffering from depression. It's not uncommon. The depression driven by self-blame, I think; however, I don't think that gives you a reason for suicide. I-" This would be hard to say. "I don't blame you, Mr. Howard. I never have though I do admit I've been fearful of you. I do not think Esperanza will be upset with you if you come and talk to her."

"She is not on her deathbed?" he asked, fear in his voice.

"No," I replied, a bit of a smile on my face. "Far from it; she's in quite a temper though because she wants to be outside. I won't allow her out because she is still far too weak and a bit feverish from her wound. So, in order to calm her a bit, a few of the crew promised to help her make bracelets out of shells and stones. I was ordered to come collect the shells for her so tomorrow. I must admit I am not used to being ordered around by a child and was in the mind not to listen to her, but she was threatening to sick Padeen on me."

Mr. Howard chuckled, but it was half-hearted and ended quickly. "I cannot face her."

"Of course you can," I said. "She is but a child, Mr. Howard. The young, I find with my very few dealings with them, forgive and forget quite fast and are very eager to love a person rather than hate them. This is what I think you should do.... Tomorrow, bring in some pretty shells and stones and join her in making bracelets. She'll be very pleased, I think, and hopefully not as petulant as she was today."

"It's not that simple," he replied softly, holding his head in his hands. "It's not that simple. You would understand if you had wounded someone like that. Maybe if you shot a child you would know why I cannot simply go up there and apologize. An apology is not enough."

"Feh," was all I could say and I turned my attention to my hand. I would let him be for a moment and then, if I had to, force him back to camp.

As I said before, how I stopped him from shooting himself is very faded in my mind. However, I do know I must have grabbed the barrel of the gun. In the faded light, I could see very little but it felt as though I had burned my hand. Being as careful as I could, I prodded it and found that not only did it hurt quite badly, but there were blisters forming. I hissed softly, and cradled it against me once more.

Mr. Howard, despite the fact that he was very against going anywhere, heard that particular expression of pain. He jerked his head up and stared. "Oh dear God, no..." With a look of pure terror, he began to back away from me. "I shot you, didn't I?"

It took me an age to calm him down to the point where he could think sanely. By that point, I had stored the gun away so he could not harm himself with it. He was distraught, mentally unwell and in need of help I simply was not able to provide. If I could have sat him down with anyone, I probably would have sat him down with Padeen. Padeen would have been able to set him straight or at least, make him feel a bit better. However, there was the problem of a language barrier there.

I convinced him, after a long time, that I most certainly had not been hit by the gun (though there was a curious pain down in my leg) but I feared I had twisted my ankle when falling and needed help getting back to camp. It was a horrid lie, and every now and again, I feel slightly guilty about it. It did keep him from staying out there and drowning himself though, so I suppose God will forgive me. Hopefully, he will see the lie was a necessity in order to save a man's life.

Between the two of us, we managed to hobble back to camp where I told him to go get his rest. We were not to my tent yet, but I insisted that I was fine and I could make it there myself. He clearly was uncertain but he soon left, his face very troubled. The fact was, I did not want him to see me in the light for I feared there was a cut on my leg. This cut, I knew, was from the bullet and I did not want to have him in an insanity again, especially not this close to camp.

Of course, another lie was spouted when I limped into the tent and was immediately accosted by Jack who had been waiting for me. At first, he fussed at me for being gone so long and worrying him. Then he noticed the blood on my leg and fussed even more. Over all, a great ado was made about my leg and my hand. When I was quite unresponsive about it, for my mind kept drifting back to poor Mr. Howard, Jack began to wonder if I had been attacked and was in shock. I allowed Higgins to try to assure him otherwise, though they both were quite uncertain about it. The two of them, and Padeen, fussed over me and cleaned up both the injuries.

I continued in a semi-dazed state while all of this occurred, my mind puzzling over Mr. Howard's mental situation. I was, and still am, a physician though of the body and not the mind. I did not know quite how to help him and still feared that he very well could run himself on his own bayonet if left for too long. I did not voice this to Jack or anyone in the tent though. I felt almost as though it would be a betrayal of trust. So, I stayed silent on what truly occurred and informed Jack that I had slipped, burnt my hand on my lantern and cut my leg on a shell.

I was forced into bed, even though I did want to check little Esperanza's bandages. The assurances that she would be well cared for in my absence did not calm me much but I did find that I was exceptionally tired all of the sudden. The past few days were finally catching up to me. So, before Jack could confirm for the tenth time that I really had only slipped and not been attacked, I fell into a peaceful sleep.

xXx

"No, no! El azul va allí, señor, no el verde!" a small, agitated voice cried. "Mire lo que hago! Sé que usted no entiende mis palabras, pero usted hace como hago!"

It is very rare that a high pitched voice shrieks in Spanish at someone in my presence. If one was to inquire why, the answer would be easy; first off, very few people have high pitched voices amongst the crew and second off, very few of them speak Spanish fluently. Even if one of the few people on the ship who happened to have a higher voice just happened to speak Spanish, the words themselves did not seem related to nautical comings and goings.

Cracking my eyes slightly, I looked around my tent. I was positioned on a cot that had been dragged in hours before when Esperanza had taken over the other. Several blankets were draped over me, keeping me warm and content. The sun was shining through the tent flap, and I noted that Esperanza's bed was closer to the light today. Focusing on her, I saw that she was propped up, Padeen on her one side and a second person sitting on the other.

She was swinging a cord with several shells on it in the second person's face, ranting at him in a language which he clearly didn't understand. He looked at his own cord which had some shells on it, and then back at her, trying to discern why she was in such a rage. The funny thing is that I have only just noted his expression. I was more entranced by exactly who he was.

Mr. Howard clearly had dealt very rarely with children, for his own necklace was messy, and lacked the pattern Esperanza was searching for. He was quite shocked about the way she was howling at him, and was quite nervous because he didn't know how to make her stop. He kept looking at Padeen for help but Padeen only shrugged in a good natured fashion. He was busy on some other project, and seemed to be enjoying watching Howard struggle.

I, on my own part, could have helped but I ultimately decided there was little I could do. True, I could have pointed out to him that he simply had to change two of the shells and Esperanza would be happy. A slightly sadistic part of me enjoyed watching this; so I viewed it for a few more seconds until Padeen looked over me. I then rolled over and pretended to go back to sleep.

That is all there is to this particular tale. I am writing it because no one else dares to, it seems. It may be logged into the ship's book that there was an accident but it does not go into detail. There is no record of how we nearly lost a member of a crew. There isn't anything written about us finding a home for little Esperanza or how she writes sometimes to us. There is not tale of how Mr. Howard finally found forgiveness.

And for the captains own protection, no one recorded Esperanza's nickname for him either. Apparently 'Jackie' isn't a very manly name.

xXx

The End

xXx

Well, so ends another tale. I hope the spelling, grammar, and Spanish were not awful. See you all next time!