Chapter Five: The Haunting of Captain Aubrey
"Mr. Calamy....Mr. Calamy—grab hold of the rail!" The youngest lieutenant did so just in time; the swell buried him for a moment. Poor lad had been emptying his stomach overboard for about ten minutes now, mostly salt water anyway.
"Mr. Mowett," Jack continued shouting, "The helm, if you please." Jack approached Calamy, almost slipping twice which caused me to start onto the heaving decks. But his good arm dragged him from rigging to rigging until he reached the boy.
"I'm very sorry, sir. I'm alright now..."
" Peter, you have nothing to apologize for," the captain soothed, placing an arm around his shoulders. "Come now, let's get you below for awhile."
"Sir, I serve until my captain rests." Bless the boy! Here was my chance...
Jack let out a tired laugh. "You've more than done your duty, lad."
"As have you." I finally spoke up and stepped into the downpour. It felt foreign, the two of us regarding each other; forty eight hours of nonstop rain and we had not passed a single word. Something just short of shock crossed Jack's face upon seeing me.
"Stephen, there you are. Take Mr. Calamy below, would you? And make sure he dries off for awhile!" He clapped Peter on the shoulder, managing to raise a smile out of the boy. I let Peter pass me to go below. But this wasn't over.
"Jack, did you hear me?" Captain Aubrey turned from me. No. Eventually you must heed me. I stopped myself from grabbing the shoulder and reached for his forearm instead. He spun quickly.
"What is it, doctor?"
"When was the last time you were out of this rain?" He looked away, rolling his eyes in exasperation. I cocked my head to follow his line of sight, accusingly. You always think you are the only one loosing patience.
"Jack—please, come inside for awhile—"
"Return to you patients, sir!" Another blow. This was quickly becoming the new norm of our correspondence. He had taken to shocking me into obedience with sudden formalities and coldness.
"You are one of my patients. My first patient." The captain turned his back to me, and returned to the helm. I gave up again, for the time being. Let him walk away—underfed, untended to, and thoroughly drenched. My concern was morphing into frustration—frustration with myself, for not being able to determine a cause for Jack's behavior.
Mr. Calamy looked quite revived already when I returned to the berth.
"Is the captain not with you?"
"No, unfortunately. The Captain seems to think he is more immortal than the rest of us, ergo he doesn't need to dry off." Peter's eyes widened.
"Sir, he has not slept since the storm began. I though for sure he'd come down now. Perhaps I could ask the captain to come in...."
"Mr. Calamy, I daresay, yours would be a lost cause. He must come in eventually. And we, I suppose, must wait."
I dosed for some time—the eternal rain washing away my sense of time. The constant darkness hid the differences between dawn and dusk as well. There were voices, faint and dreamlike, outside sick berth. In that dangerous state between awareness and sleep when the mind twirls at will, I listened to Joe Plaice's latest yarn.
"It happens to Captains...when they've been chasin' a phantom. Even after they catch her, she gets inside 'em. She sets 'em ablaze, ya see. They only want another phantom to chase...to capture. That's why he stays out in the rain so long...he's tryin' to put out the fire..."
Ludicrous, my brain declared. Jack is still in the rain because he's crazy. Not because some falsity of a phantom had...had seized him. But, as Jack often reminds me: "Not everything is in your books."
As aloof and out of character as Jack had been, I could tell he wasn't chasing anything through this storm. He was running away. From his memory, from the Acheron...maybe he was just running from me. The notion had crept into my head that the only thing that would stop him would be...no, I couldn't let it get that far. I'd just go out there and—
"Which I would like to speak with you, sir." A shy Killick had entered the berth; his expression worried me.
"Of course, Killick, what is the—"
"Follow me, if you please." The steward mumbled. I snatched my eyeglasses from the table and briskly chased after him. He led me back to Jack's cabin, all the while muttering to me.
"I sees no point in keepin' quiet any longer...the captain's been actin' strange as of late. He 'ardly touches his meals, 'ardly sleeps any. Now he's gone and smacked his head on the helm."
"Is it badly hurt?" I ask, hurriedly.
"Can't tell, sir. He won't even let me take a good look at it...he doesn't know I've come to fetch you. I imagine he won't be overjoyed to see you, which, if you don't mind my sayin' so, is quite out of the ordinary."
"Yes, I've noticed that myself, Killick. I thought he'd have discussed his aversion of me with you." The old steward simply shook his head; whether he did not know or would not divulge that sort of information, I could not be certain. All of that fled my mind however, as I stepped into Jack's familiar cabin. It had been redecorated with every article of clothing Jack had, hanging about to dry.
He did not turn to see who had entered, obviously believing it was just Killick with his tea. Still watching the storm with interest, Jack stood at his window, dropping bloodied handkerchiefs at his feet. The blood was dripping down his temples, into his sopping hair, despite his efforts to stop the flow from his forehead.
"Oh, soul..." It was nearly a whisper. Jack turned 'round so fast in surprise he nearly fell over. I continued my cautious approach. His face had aged into a death-like pallor; his eyes were sinking in bruised circles.
"Stephen...I...wasn't expecting you," Jack managed, shoving a disgusted look at Killick.
"No, I'm quite certain you were not." I did not take my eyes off his face, even as I called to Killick—"Go to Higgins, he'll know what I need." The steward darted off, a happy escapee of the emergent tension. Jack let out a casual snigger.
"Don't trouble yourself, Doctor. The cut is nothing to speak of. I'm sure it will be done bleeding soon enough." His tone was light; his eyes were dangerous.
"Well, Jack, it would be no great event, then, to just let me have a look..." He tried to walk around me but I moved to stand in his path. Jack moved his eyes to mine, staring deeply.
"If you please, doctor..." he said firmly, very controlled. Tried to get around the other way, but there I was again. A minute, matter-of-fact smile came to my lips.
"Not this time, Jack." The captain's expression moved rapidly: shock, anger, confusion. Killick reentered, so both of us were silent as he dropped my supplies and again retreated.
"Jack..." My brow furrowed as I reached one hand up to his head. He thrashed his arm into mine, pushed forwards to get past me, knocked me forcefully to the ground.
Stunned, I remained on my back for what seemed a decade. But Jack was almost at the door. I sprung up in irritation, yelling now, "No—you'll not walk away this time, Jack!"
A/N: Wow, strange ending to a chapter...forgive me? And, I know, I know, Peter died on the Acheron but I love him and I had things for him to say, so I hope no one is really upset about that.
Love to all my reviewers! You guys are so awesome—because of you, I am writing this story faster than I have ever written anything before!