Seaworthy

by Christopher Ivey

Part 1 appears in this issue.

conclusion

“Should I gather Doctor Gowers?” Edwards asked.

One of the most unpleasant memories of my childhood was Stonerow’s apothecary looming over my bed, his thick, unruly eyebrows and unkempt mustache like clumps of weeds between cobblestones. None of the numerous pills, powders, unguents, or syrups he’d prescribed had done much for my pale skin. Nor had they thickened my wispy hair, or prompted a nose to grow proportionate to my broad nostrils. To say nothing of my eyes or ears.

Yet, Gowers had otherwise been competent with more commonplace troubles, as far as I could recall. I had doubts as to whether Miss Somers’s affliction was within his ability, but I could not let that, nor my reluctance to see him, imperil her treatment.

“Yes, please.”

“Very good, my lord. There’s one other matter. As the storm persists, it looks more and more likely that the sea will overtake the embankment.”

I paused buttoning my vest. “Of course. With Miss Somers here, I’d forgotten. While in Stonerow, please instruct a few men to place sandbags.”

I hadn’t so much forgotten as been waylaid by my memories, but Edwards didn’t need to know that. I suspected a bit of reinforcement would be enough to protect against any flooding. The last time the North Sea had invaded Seaworthy’s grounds, my grandfather, the Commodore, had been a fresh-faced lieutenant. Even then, the waters had not reached the house. He’d assisted with the sandbags himself. “Someday, you’ll be the captain of this ship,” he’d said at the end of his tale, waving his arm to indicate the whole property, “and you must defend it from any incursion.”

Edwards returned with Gowers not long after I finished breakfast. The apothecary leaned on a cane and his suit hung loose on his gaunt frame. Only his facial hair measured up to my memory, though it had turned the color of storm clouds.

“Cassius, it has been so long. I take it that means you have been well?”

“Yes, of course. This way, please.” I pointed at the stairs and then followed my own direction.

Miss Somers did not stir as we entered the room. Her breath seemed to imitate the gusts that tore at Seaworthy.

Gowers untied and pulled off the soiled cloth. Yellow discharge with a slight fecal smell seeped from several sores that had eaten right through to her mouth. I took an involuntary step backward and sucked in a breath.

“Could she have been working as a matchstick woman?” Gowers asked.

“Pardon?”

“I believe they also call them dippers. You see, the phosphorus in the factories rots their jawbone.” Gowers took a clean cloth and a small jar out of his bag. “Her case looks quite advanced, unfortunately,” he said as he placed the fresh bandage. “This cream may soothe the ulcers. I’ll leave it with you. And some laudanum for the pain.”

“That’s it, then? Is there no cure?” Perhaps Miss Somers’s illness was beyond him after all.

“Well, a surgeon could remove her jaw, but the infection may have already spread to her brain.”

“She was fairly alert just last night. I should think she’ll come around again.”

“She may yet have some lucid periods. It’s hard to say.” Gowers shook his head. “What a shame. I wouldn’t have recognized her if Mr. Edwards hadn’t said.” Gowers closed his bag with a snap and then lingered.

“Is there more?” I asked.

“Cassius, I want to apologize—”

“There’s no need. You’re doing all you can.” How would one even apply a cream to the holes in Miss Somers’s cheek? I took a step toward the door.

“Not about her,” he said. “You see, your father had hoped I would find an answer for your... particularities. I admit I had some difficulty with that, and some of the treatments I attempted, in hindsight, were a toss of the dice.”

“I’ve come to suspect as much.”

“And you’ve been otherwise healthy, it seems?”

I nodded.

“Indeed. Of course, I had to try even unlikely cures. I couldn’t ignore your father’s requests, could I? You understand.”

I nodded again, unable to manage much else, and returned to the foyer with the doctor in silence.

As we approached, Edwards opened the front door.

Only two men carried sandbags across the lawn, which had become an ankle-deep pond. The little remaining Marlowe land needed far fewer laborers, but we still employed at least triple that. I questioned Edwards about it.

“I’m afraid that’s all I could find, my lord. It seems the others have left for London.”

“What? When?”

“Just this week, I’m told.”

“Without giving word?”

Edwards shook his head, presumably at their lack of consideration.

The North Sea seeped over the bags so far placed like bath water escaping an overfull tub.

“Please inquire at the pub,” I instructed Edwards. “If there are any other able-bodied men left in Stonerow, I’ll pay them to come help. Whatever they ask.” Though I hoped they would not ask too much. In the meantime, I would need to muster the will to assist, as the Commodore once had. I hoped that recent revelations would see me better prepared to face the flood. Nonetheless, my stomach roiled at the thought.

Just after Edwards left with Doctor Gowers, Mrs. Clarke came down the stairs.

“My lord, Miss Somers has awoken and is asking for you.”

I rushed past my housemaid to the guest room. A hint of color showed in my former governess’s face and her eyes shone in the lantern light. It gladdened my spirit to see her more alert, since she had not been roused by Gowers’s examination.

“Gowers was just in to see you, but I think we should wait for the Fobbing doctor before making any decisions. I know you’re keen to return to London, but it shouldn’t be too much longer now. Once you’re on the mend—”

“Cassius, please. Might I speak for a moment while I have the strength?”

“Of course.” I brought the chair close to the bed again and sat. “But, you see, I’ve had a bit of a breakthrough. Thanks to you, I recall now what happened that day on the cutter. It’s clear that must be the source of my difficulties, isn’t it? Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if I can soon weigh anchor with the best of them. Thank you, Miss— thank you, Margaret.”

She smiled briefly. “Yes, well, it’s not just that. Not nearly. But, how to begin...”

I waited while she stared at the ceiling. When she began, she spoke slowly, and often took a few breaths between sentences.

“I was first hired to instruct your sister. As governess, I wasn’t privy to a lot of the staff’s gossip. Still, I came to understand Catherine’s birth had been difficult for Lady Marlowe. There was much speculation as to if and when she would once more be with child. One did not need to overhear the housemaids to know Lord Marlow wanted a son.

“One night during my first summer at Seaworthy, I couldn’t sleep. I thought a short walk across the lawn might tire me. When I neared the embankment, I heard a woman’s voice. Before I could think better of it, I climbed to the top. I won’t say exactly what I saw, but the voice belonged to Lady Marlowe. And with her, well... he was a man, but he wasn’t.

“Sorry, Cassius, can you...?” Miss Somers pointed at the glass of water on the nightstand. She took only a small sip of water and then handed me the glass.

“His skin — smooth, hairless, and light gray — shimmered in the moonlight.

“I hastened away before they spotted me. Time passed, and I began to wonder if it had been a dream. Lady Marlowe started to show. You were born. She survived the birth, but then the fevers started, and, well, I can say only that she did not suffer for long.”

Miss Somers grimaced again and raised a hand but stopped short of touching her jaw. I felt a sharp pain in my chest and realized I had been holding my breath. I handed her the water, and she took another sip.

“You understand, don’t you, Cassius? I don’t think Lord Marlowe—”

“Yes.” To hear it said aloud would be too much.

“Well, over time, Lord Marlowe became more habitual with his drink. And he only grew more insistent that Doctor Gowers ‘fix’ you. This went on for years, Cassius. I don’t know how much of it you remember, but I hated to see it. You were such a melancholy child.

“It came to a point I couldn’t bear it anymore. I insisted that nothing was wrong with you. Lord Marlowe fired me on the spot. And while he did not press charges, he let it be known he suspected me of theft. Well, after that, of course, no one would employ a govern—”

Miss Somers lurched upward and coughed. When she continued to convulse, I rang for Mrs. Clarke, and then waited with the water glass for a break in her spasms.

“I’ll see to her, my lord,” Mrs. Clarke said, and took the glass from my hand. “Edwards is back from town, and he’s sopping wet.”

Could an addled mind invent memories? What other explanation was there for Miss Somers’s claims about my parentage? I thought it preposterous. And yet, as I descended the stairs to the foyer, my legs wobbled, and I had to squeeze the banister to remain upright.

Soaked through, Edwards stood by the window. At any other time, I would have been shocked that he had allowed the carpet to saturate beneath him, but my conversation with Miss Somers had left me too bewildered to react.

“My lord, I barely made it back! In all my years, I’ve never seen a storm so strong.”

I pulled back the curtain beside Edwards. The front lawn was under several feet of water as the sea poured in over the sandbags, with no sign of the men who had placed them. The defenses had failed, and the enemy forces now forged ahead. As the captain of the ship, I had to do something.

I went to the door.

“My Lord! What are you—”

The North Sea rushed into the foyer. A bruise taken to prevent a demise. I waded out onto the lawn, the frigid water up to my waist, as the rain instantly drenched the parts of me not submerged. Water subsumed everything, but I didn’t feel the cold.

I made for the cart shed. Any bags that remained should be stored there, but I hadn’t gone far before I collided with a stack of them. The workers must have first brought them all halfway. I couldn’t lift the sodden burlap, so I dragged one off the pile, and tried to pull it through the water. It wasn’t long before my arms felt as if they might sever from my shoulders.

By the time I reached the failed barrier, I was so bent over, I could have stuck out my tongue and tasted the salt water. The cascade tore the bag out of my hands as I backed into it. I landed on my hindquarters, and the sea rushed over my head.

No, I would not drown in three feet of water! I tried to push myself upright but struggled to withstand the strength of the sea as it rushed over the embankment and pummelled my back. With some effort, I managed to stand, twist around and face the North Sea.

A swell advanced on the coast. The stripes of foam in the dark blue wall looked like the marbling in a cut of beef, and I summoned up the courage to face it.

“I am a Marlowe! I am not some mongrel, some... half-breed!”

The rain pelted my face as my words devolved into babble. I forgot the sandbag and raged at the briny expanse, while the rapids continued their assault upon my legs. Before long, my knees buckled, and I sank face first into the flood.

For a moment, I was a child again. I floundered. Which way to the surface? Which way to my father’s cutter? My back throbbed where he had collided with me. I choked on a mouthful of brackish water and inhaled even more. Misery laced my lungs.

And then strong arms enfolded me and lifted me out of the sea. I coughed as someone held me tight. Miss Somers? Only when my convulsions ceased and my sight cleared did I recall the time and place. It couldn’t be my governess that embraced me. Who had saved me?

Hairless arms with thick, gray skin crisscrossed my chest. I broke free of them and spun around.

Two small, widespread black eyes glistened above sizeable nostrils and an elongated, lipless mouth.

I’d gone mad. I must have.

I lost my footing again and fell back into the water.

This time they lifted me up by the shoulders, and as I emerged once more, I knew that, without their support, I would, in fact, drown. But did I want to live? My lifeline also seemed to put proof to Miss Somers’s claims about my parentage.

My saviour did not turn out to be my purported father, however. Breast-like masses protruded from her upper chest, but with thin apertures instead of nipples. And yet, her stature surpassed that of any human female I had seen. She stood at least a head taller than me, and her limbs bulged with muscle.

I met her eyes. In her face, I found the answer to the question posed by mine. The repulsion I’d felt at Miss Somers’s story ebbed away as I stood eye to eye with further evidence, and it left a bead of tranquility in its wake.

I stood a little steadier. She moved one hand to my cheek. Her skin felt as cold as the sea, but with her touch, the droplet of peace within me began to diffuse throughout my body.

* * *

“Miss Somers never made it back to London, I’m afraid. She had a few clear-headed moments after our conversation that night but died a week or so later. I paid for her burial in the same Fobbing cemetery as my mother and Lord Marlow, but a good distance away. It seemed in bad taste to place her near the man who was responsible for her decline. So much of what he touched...

“Anyway, that’s enough about that. We’re not Marlowes after all, are we?”

Cassius brushed his hand across the droplets of water on his daughter’s bald scalp. She pointed one thin, gray arm at Seaworthy and raised her brow.

Cassius nodded. “Yes, I thought for sure by the time I finished that story, we’d see some signs. My legs have about had it. I can’t tread water quite like you can, you know. Oh, wait! Look there. See the crack spreading beneath the dormer? That’s one of my old bedroom’s windows.”

The fracture took a quick, jagged track down through the sandstone on the western facade. As it advanced, the hindmost part widened. The roof split open like a shark’s mouth about to engulf a herring, and part of the manor bowed inward. Shingles and bricks plummeted into the waters around the abandoned home.

“Happening fast now,” Cassius said, “stay back here.”

Seaworthy collapsed with a blast. A wide, yellowish-brown cloud advanced across the surface of the sea.

Cassius pulled his daughter underwater until it passed. He laughed after he emerged.

“And you wanted to go inside!”

Cassius’s daughter shrugged. Her smile showed rows of sharp, conical teeth.

A small chunk of wood bumped into Cassius’s chest, and he picked it up.

“Didn’t quite live up to its name, did it?” He lifted the fragment into the wind. “Here’s to you, Commodore. I’ve come to know the sea in a manner I suspect you never imagined. But I’m afraid the Marlowe legacy ended in scandalous fashion with your son.”

Cassius flung the scrap away. “And I, for one, am glad to be rid of its hooks. Now then, we ought to be getting back. Your mother will be expecting us, Margaret.”