The Midshipman Prince (45 page)

      
Susan and Sidney looked on in horror as Walker disappeared beneath the water. Within a few seconds, nothing remained on the surface to indicate that their friend had ever existed. Not a bubble. Not a ripple. They continued to stare at the spot.

* * *

      
Walker felt himself being pulled downward, ever downward; and he knew he was dead. In a few moments he would have to take a breath, only instead of breathing air, his lungs would fill with seawater. He would, of course, choke, gag, and try to breathe again, but nothing would do any good. Eventually he would black out and the shark would have his meal.

      
He opened his eyes to see nothing but blackness. The sting of the saltwater on his eyes was nothing compared to the burning that was starting to form in his lungs. As he went deeper, the water got noticeably colder and the pressure on his ears and chest was becoming intolerable.

      
At this point, two things happened that he didn’t expect. First, a feeling of enormous peace came over him. He felt as though everything was just as it should be and he was looking forward to—no, he was longing for—the eternal sweet blackness that was coming. The second thing was even more surprising than the first. The shark let go.

      
He didn’t know whether the shark had become distracted by something else, or just chose to go on to something more interesting—but
he let go
! Walker could kick his legs again; and he instinctively fought for the surface. The race was no longer to meet the sweet blackness. It was a race for survival.

      
Walker kicked and swam vigorously, but this was a mixed blessing. Every kick of his legs, every stroke of his arms, consumed oxygen. His muscles were sending demands to his brain for more oxygen to feed his starved cells. His brain then relayed two simultaneous commands to his lungs: “BREATHE!” and “DON’T YOU DARE!”

      
He could feel the water getting warmer and brighter. He looked up and thought he could see the surface high above. The primitive side of his brain was screaming to breathe. The rational side was fiercely fighting for dominance, for enough control to override the demand for air.

      
Just a little longer,
he thought.
Please God, let me hold on just a little longer.
He forced himself to focus with an iron will on the surface above him; he could clearly see it now. Yet, even as he did so, a little voice was echoing through the pain that was radiating out of his chest and into his arms.
Lucas,
it said.
You
can
take a little breath, you know. Just a little one. A little seawater won’t hurt you, not if it’s just a small breath.
You
know
how good that would feel, don’t you?
You
know
how sweet it would be.

* * *

      
Susan was the first to give up. She could no longer watch the empty spot where her friend went down. It was over, and he was dead.

      
For the first time since this whole thing started, she lost her self-control. Turning to Smith, she leaned against him and broke into shattering, soul wrenching, sobs. “It’s so unfair, Sidney. It’s so unfair,” she kept saying over and over.

      
Sidney Smith was in tears himself. He was holding Susan and blankly looking out at the water, not knowing what to say... when Walker broke the surface.
 

* * *

      
To Walker’s surprise, taking that first breath was almost as painful as holding it in. He gasped great lungfuls of air, again and again. The pain in his lungs began to ease, but he was a long way from having his mental faculties back. His brain was still oxygen starved and not thinking clearly. He flopped around in the water as helpless to decide what to do next as a newborn baby. Fortunately, he had no decisions to make.

      
Within seconds, the boat had reached him and he was dimly aware of being pulled aboard. He thought he saw someone who looked strangely like Sidney Smith being jerked out of the way by someone who looked like Susan Whitney.
How extraordinary,
he thought.
What are they doing here?

      
He looked up into the face of Susan who was peering down at him, asking some question or another. He neither knew nor cared what the question was; he was utterly fascinated by Susan’s face. Her hair was a tangle of brown with unruly wiry shoots going off in all directions. Her face was covered with smoke soot except for the tear rivulets running down her cheeks. Her brown eyes looked at him with a mixture of fear, concern, and something else. Was that love he was seeing?

      
Just as he had decided that Susan possessed the most beautiful, most perfect, face ever seen on a human female, it disappeared from view. The next thing he felt was Susan tearing back his pant leg.
Oh, this is even better. Susan is trying to take off my pants,
he thought and he felt a giggle start to form.

      
The giggle stopped abruptly, however, when Susan touched the shark bite. A shaft of pain flashed up his leg. He yelped and sat up on his elbows so he could see. He was sobering quickly.

      
Around his calf were two semi-circles of vicious puncture wounds. The shark had sunk his teeth in, true enough, but for some reason did not take the bite. He looked on as Susan began tearing off parts of her dress to serve as bandages, when he noticed something strange. Something white was sticking out of one of the wounds. He reached down and pulled out a large shark’s tooth—one of hundreds that sharks routinely loose each year.

      
He looked at it. Then he looked at the terrified concern on Sidney Smith’s face. He looked at Susan Whitney furiously tearing strips of cloth, tears still in her eyes. He looked again at the tooth, and he knew.

      
I belong here,
he thought.
I belong here, to this place and to these people.
And he quietly put the tooth in his pocket.
 

* * *

      
“I will exalt you, O Lord, for you lifted me out of the depths and did not let my enemies gloat over me.

      
O Lord my God, I called to you for help and you healed me.

      
O Lord, you brought me up from the grave; you spared me from going down in the pit.”

      
Shivers ran down Walker’s spine as the chaplain intoned the opening words of Psalm 30.

      
Preservation of bodies for later burial on land was simply not practical in the Royal Navy and everyone knew it. The ship was helpless to preserve food let alone bodies. This meant that those bodies not tossed overboard during the heat of battle had to be disposed of as soon as possible, but they needed to be disposed of with respect and dignity. The men would have it no other way.

      
Just after sunrise the next day, the
Formidable
laid her sails aback and came to a complete halt. The topgallant yards were set crooked to signify a death and a burial. The list lines were moved out of trim to signal the physical ship’s grief at losing one or more of her own. The entry port on the starboard gangway was opened.

      
Next to the entry port were two lines of bodies. Each had been sewn up in their own canvas hammock, with two round shot placed at their feet to insure sinking. The last stitch in sewing the bags closed was always made through the person’s nose—just to make sure he was dead.

      
The full ship’s company was called to attention as the captain and chaplain approached. The captain was in his best uniform and the chaplain was in full clerical regalia.

      
“Ship’s company... Off HATS,” the bosun boomed, and, with that, the simple but elegant service began.

      
After reading Psalm 30, the chaplain continued:
“But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep. For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes through a man.”

      
He then walked over to where the bodies were laid out, raised his hand and said:
“We therefore commit these bodies to the deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body when the sea shall give up her dead, and the life of the world to come, through our Lord Jesus Christ; who at his coming shall change our vile body, that it may be like his glorious body, according to the mighty working, whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself.”

      
Each body had two men assigned to it, both messmates of the fallen man. One by one, each body was put on a mess table placed by the open entry port, and the body was covered with the British flag. After a moment of silence, the messmates tipped up the table, retaining the flag, and sending their shipmate into the water.

      
After all the men had been consigned to the deep, the chaplain looked out over the sea, raised his hands, and said.

      
“In the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our shipmates as we commit their bodies to the depths.
 

      
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless them and keep them. The Lord make his face to shine upon them and be gracious unto them. The Lord lift up his countenance upon them, and give them peace. Amen.”

      
Walker was standing next to Susan with the medical division. They looked at each other and, briefly, he held her hand.
 

      
“Lord, have mercy upon us. Christ, have mercy upon us. Lord, have mercy upon us.

      
The chaplain turned away from the entry port and stood once again in front of the men.

      
“Almighty God, with whom do live the spirits of them that depart hence in the Lord, and with whom the souls of the faithful, after they are delivered from the burden of the flesh, are in joy and felicity. We give thee hearty thanks, for that it hath pleased thee to deliver these our brothers out of the miseries of this sinful world; beseeching thee, that it may please thee, of thy gracious goodness, shortly to accomplish the number of thine elect, and to hasten thy kingdom; that we, with all those that are departed in the true faith of thy holy Name, may have our perfect consummation and bliss, both in body and soul, in thy eternal and everlasting glory; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”

      
Walker looked over at Smith standing with the officers and Bill Hanover standing with the midshipmen, and briefly caught their eyes. Nothing needed to be said.

      
“Merciful God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is the resurrection and the life; in whom whosoever believeth shall live, though he die; and whosoever liveth, and believeth in him, shall not die eternally; who also hath taught us, by his holy Apostle Saint Paul, not to be sorry, as men without hope, for them that sleep in him: We meekly beseech thee, O Father, to raise us from the death of sin unto the life of righteousness; that, when we shall depart this life, we may rest in him, as our hope is this our brother doth; and that, at the general Resurrection in the last day, we may be found acceptable in thy sight; and receive that blessing, which thy well-beloved Son shall then pronounce to all that love and fear thee, saying, Come, ye blessed children of my Father, receive the kingdom prepared for you from the beginning of the world: Grant this, we beseech thee, O merciful Father, through Jesus Christ, our Mediator and Redeemer. Amen.”

      
For the final time, the chaplain raised his hands and, facing the men, said:
“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost, be with us all evermore. Amen.”

      
With these closing words, the captain and the chaplain made their way aft and the bosun stepped forward.

      
“Ships company! Dismissed. HATS!”

      
The men quietly slipped away, some to continue their watch duties, some to make repairs on the ship, some just to think about their good fortune at still being alive.