Chapter 5

As usual, the first one up in the morning, Martha was in the kitchen preparing breakfast with a a pot of coffee on the go.

"Good morning, Martha," the captain said as he materialised sitting in a chair at the table.

"Morning, Captain," Martha replied, not even blinking at his sudden appearance.

After the initial scare of learning that he was real, rather than the kids' imaginary friend, and thinking that she was going mad, Martha prided herself on the fact that she didn't scream or faint away at the sight of a ghost like Claymore did. "There's coffee in the pot if you want it," she said.

"Thank you," he said and raised his hand. The coffee pot and a cup floated over to him and set themselves down gently onto the table. "I wasn't particularly fond of coffee in my lifetime, but even I have to admit that it seems to have dramatically improved with age," he said. He picked up the pot and poured himself a cup then floated it back to the stove.

"The coffee's not the only thing 'improved with age'," Martha scoffed. "If I get to move things around like that when I'm a hundred and forty, I'd consider myself improved, too."

"Martha, you need no improvement. You are perfection personified exactly as you are," he said, charmingly.

"Oh, get away you old salt," she chuckled. "I bet you said that to every girl in every port from here to Australia."

"Madam, I would never," he explained in mock outrage.

"Oh," Martha waved the rag at him that she'd been using to wipe the counters with and shook her head. "You must've broke some hearts in your day, I'll give you that much," she said.

"They were very well recompensed, I assure you," he grinned and she chuckled again.

Martha returned to her cleaning again and it was a few minutes of companionable silence before he spoke again.

"Martha?" he said.

"Hmmm?"

"I…have a favour to ask," he said, quite hesitantly which was so unlike him that Martha turned to face him.

"A favour," she repeated. "Well, the kids already asked me to make a cake for breakfast and I already said no, so if it's…"

"Quite right, dear lady, a hearty meal is what's needed to start the day, not desert," he said.

"So…what's the favour?"

"Simply this," the captain began. He stood up from the chair and walked over to her. "Do not move an inch," he said.

"Why on earth…"

"Please, trust me," he said, standing before her.

Martha pursed her lip and sighed. "Well, I'll warn you now, I'm far too old for heartbreak and to be quite honest, you're not exactly my type," she mocked.

"Nothing of the sort, I assure you. My intentions are purely honourable."

"Uh-huh. Just make it snappy whatever it is you're doing. I've got far too much to do to just stand around all day," she said.

"I shall do my best," the captain nodded, "And your assistance is greatly appreciated."

He then raised his right hand slowly and brought it up to her eye level. Then without wanting he touched her nose with his index finger and pulled back with a stunned yet smug expression. "There, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" he said.

Martha took a reactionary step back and covered her nose with her own hand.

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, staring at him in shock. "How…how did you…I thought you couldn't…they said…Mrs. Muir and the kids…how did you do that?!"

"So you felt that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I did…I really did!" she nodded.

"Splendid," he said rocking back on his feet. "I admit it is only a small improvement however…"

Martha, only half listening, reached out her hand to tap him on the shoulder but her hand went straight through him. "It requires a great deal of concentration and effort," he finished. "Apologies, Martha…do try again," he said.

"Really?"

"After all, practice makes perfect," the captain nodded.

She nodded as well and reached her hand up again, then she hovered an inch over his shoulder and then poked him with her index finger. "Well, I'll be," she let out a disbelieving scoff. She put her palm on his shoulder next and shook him hard.

"Have a care, madam," he blustered and swatted her hand away with his own.

Martha just laughter and ignored his usual bluster. "You feel as real as anyone," she said, still stunned. "I wouldn't believe it if it hadn't seen it with my own eyes. But I could've sworn that Mrs Muir and the kids told me you can't touch anyone," she said.

"Well, it is a relatively new ability of mine; one that I am trying diligently to improve. As it is, I can maintain it for less than twenty seconds without fully exhausting my powers. However, it was less than five seconds before that, so there is some distinct improvement. It is it not without cost, of course, but few things in life are," he said.

"So you haven't always been able to do that?"

"No. In fact, when I first found myself existing as a spirit, I couldn't touch a thing. Through much trial and error I managed to learn to touch objects and even animals during my hundred year isolation. But as I am discovering, humans are an altogether different task."

"And I'm what? The test human?" she asked.

"If you would be so kind," the captain replied. "I cannot test my abilities if I have no collaborator. I mean it to be a surprise for the others, provided that I can learn to manipulate this ability."

"Collaborators, eh?"

"Indeed."

"Well, I'm sure they'll be thrilled. But err…what if you can't…"

"Then we do not tell them. I see no reason to get their hopes up only to dash them before their eyes. There is little use in them knowing that I can be corporeal for thirty seconds only before I am exhausted."

"True enough," Martha sighed. "Alright, I'm in. I don't really like the thought of hiding things from them but you're right. No point in getting their hopes up unless there's something to hope for," she said. "But no funny business," she joked.

"My word as a gentleman," he bowed.

"So erm…what brought this idea on, hmmm?" she asked after a moment. "Do ghosts just suddenly decide, I want to be able to touch things or people on a whim?"

"It is hardly a whim. Leaning new abilities as a spirit is remarkably difficult even for me so I do not undertake this lightly."

"Does it…have something to do with…Mrs. Muir by any chance?" Martha asked, slyly.

"Mrs. Muir?" he furrowed his brow.

"Oh, give over, I've seen the looks you two give each other," she grinned. "I'm old not dead…well, that is…" she blanched.

"No offence taken, dear Martha," he said and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"What I meant was," Martha began again. "I'm not an idiot. Just because there was two years when I didn't know about you, I saw plenty and I can see plenty more now. Honestly, if I'd had a man look at me the way you look at her," she threw up her hands in exasperation.

"Then the cat is well and truly out of the bag, is it?"

"And out the door and down the street and on its way to the next state, as well," she nodded.

"Oh, blast," he grumbled and she scoffed. "Very well, what will it take to buy your silence?" he said.

"My silence?"

"Yes. I want your solemn oath that you will not reveal this to Mrs. Muir. How does a decanter of Madeira sound?" he ventured. "Bottled in 1846, worth a small fortune and perfectly delicious, far superior to anything you could buy nowadays," he said.

"That sounds agreeable," Martha grinned.

"Then we have an accord," he said and held out his hand for her to shake.

Martha grasped his hand and shook it, still marvelling at the fact that he felt so real. "A bit cold maybe," she remarked, "But if I didn't know any better I'd say you were as alive as I am."

"Thank you…" he said and then hissed. "Blasted this cursed half life," he exclaimed staring at his hand.

"What?" Martha exclaimed.

"I've overtaxed my powers," the captain explained.

Even as a spirit he looked real and solid, but now, he began to flicker in and out of view like a flickering television station.

"Are you alright?" she asked concerned.

"I will be," he assured her. "I need to regain my power and I cannot do so without vanishing completely."

Even as he spoke, his voice was fading to almost a whisper.

"Remember your promise," he said, raising his hand. "Not a word," he said and then vanished completely.

"Oh great," Martha sighed. "If you kill yourself off for good doing this, it won't be much use to them either!"

"What won't be of any use?" Carolyn asked, walking into the kitchen.

"What? Oh the plumbing, it's on the fritz again," Martha lied, quickly.

"Again?!"

"Well, we'll just have to see how it goes," she shrugged.