Melville’s personal hero, the warrior poet Lord Wavell, once wrote that, “Long funeral pieces . . . become tedious . . . by their length. Heavy mourning, deep black edges, long widowhood, unrestrained grief are out of fashion, as they must be to a generation which has indulged in . . . war.” The key was “economy of words.”
And so Melville chose simply to say this, as his company looked on. Above them countless thousands of monkeys, like a heavenly chorus of fawn-colored, eight-legged angels, also gazed solemnly from the trees.
“Here dead lie we because we did not choose
To live and shame the land from which we sprung.
Life to be sure is nothing much to lose;
But young men think it is, and we were young.”
He turned to Petreckski. “Brother Theo,” he asked, “could you say a few words?” The crew wasn’t a particularly religious bunch. Yet, like the sailors of Old Earth, most of the men who sail in two-space have some spiritual aspect to them They came from many and diverse faiths, but when the mystery of life and death was upon them, the Words of a cleric, even an unordained monk like Petreckski, could be comforting.
Like Melville, Petreckski reached back to the old, strong Words that resonated in the heritage and souls of these lonely men on this distant, alien shore. In his clear, pure tenor voice he began to sing a song that was a particular favorite to sailors, and the company joined in.
“There’s a land that is fairer than day,
And by faith we can see it afar;
For the Father waits over the way
To prepare us a dwelling place there.
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.
In the sweet by and by,
We shall sing on that beautiful shore,
And our spirits shall sorrow no more,
” . . . on that beautiful shore. Amen.”
Then the dead were left to their own affairs, and the living got on with theirs. Or, as Old Hans put it, “Those who git ta live, should.”
Only a few more days passed before their Ship returned, not with joy, but with more sorrow and tribulations. With yet more challenges for young lieutenant Melville.
“Sir! Sir!” called Midshipman Archer. “Kestrel has returned! Lieutenant Fielder has come down!”
Lieutenant Daniel Fielder and two sailors had descended from two-space, and were striding down the hill. The rain had finally stopped but clouds still hung low in the sky. The wounded were laid out to take the air.
Fielder was dark haired, thick set, with a florid face and bushy sideburns. He was junior in rank to Melville, but he’d spent many more years as a midshipman and was the older man. Melville always considered him to be a bit of a bully, and now Fielder tried to assert the authority of his years. “My God, Melville, everything has gone straight to hell, and now you’ve made a hash of it here!” he said, looking at the wounded. “Your company has been torn to hell!”
Perhaps Fielder would have succeeded in turning the men from Melville, but every heart was turned against him the moment this mean-spirited insult left his lips. He severed all chance of winning them over with one further thoughtless comment, as he looked at the little eight-legged monkey peering over Melville’s shoulder with its comical upside-down face. “And what is that clinging to your necks? We’ve been in a running battle, the Ship is shot to hell and here you are playing with the local critters? Have you all gone native?” The monkey and Melville turned their heads to look at each other, and it seemed as though they were sharing the same thoughts as they nodded to each other reflectively.
Lieutenant Fielder continued his rant, “We were attacked without warning by an overwhelming force of Guldur. We gave them the slip, but they will be upon us in a few hours. The Kestrel is dying. Everyone senior to us is dead. A third of the crew is dead or wounded. I’m in charge. We have to abandon ship. We’ll flee down to this world and scuttle the Ship. Then we’ll uproot the Pier. That’s the only way we can be safe. We have to hurry!”
Melville was stunned but he quickly rallied. In the end it was protocol, procedures and principle that empowered him. He replied softly, “Aye, we can evacuate the seriously wounded. But if Captain Crosby and the first officer are dead then I am senior to you, Mr. Fielder, and I will make the decisions here. I will inspect the Ship and the crew while you begin movement of the wounded.”
Fielder screamed, “You’re insane! We can’t fight! I told you, the enemy force is overwhelming, our Ship is dying!”
Melville became even more calm. “I’ll judge that for myself. If we are capable of inflicting damage upon our foe, then we are duty bound to do so.”
“Now I know you’re mad! You’re filled with your poetry and it has twisted your brain!”
Melville took a deep breath and tried to reply calmly. He raised his voice so that he could be heard clearly by the sailors and marines around them, “If anything has influenced me, I hope it’s duty and honor. Aye, as befits a warrior of Westerness. Duty and honor haven’t ‘twisted’ me, they have shaped me so that I cannot and will not turn from a fight while we have the means to hurt our foe. I am the senior man here Mr. Fielder, and you will by God obey my orders!” Then Melville turned his back and walked away. Like all bullies, Fielder backed down when the odds were against him.
“Lady Elphinstone?” Melville asked their surgeon as he walked into the aid station.
“Yes?” she responded, stepping forward.
“Decide who among your charges can be released immediately for light duty, and have them sent up to Kestrel. Then join us on the Kestrel and evacuate anyone who is too injured to assist in battle.” She calmly nodded her assent.
“Mr. Crater?”
“Sir!”
“Work with Sergeant Broadax and the marine detail. You’ll be responsible for the movement of all wounded from the Kestrel. Draft the marines on the Ship if you need assistance. Evacuate only the individuals the surgeon designates.” He looked briefly at Midshipman Crater, but mostly he watched for the marine sergeant to nod her understanding.
“Yes, sir!”
“Mr. Archer?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You work with our sailors to set up the rigging to lower the wounded down onto the Pier. Work with Chief Petty Officer Hans, but release him to me as soon as you’re sure that you can complete the task on your own. I will be inspecting the Ship. Don’t draft any assistance from the Ship for this duty. Complete this duty as quickly as you can and then return all sailors to their sections aboard the Ship.” Again, Melville was addressing and looking at Archer, but he was also watching for Hans’ nod.
“Mr. Aquinar, you stay with me.”
“Aye, sir!”
“Does everyone understand?” There was a chorus of assent. He thought briefly about what to do with Fielder. The man seemed out of his mind with panic and dread. Best to keep him here while Melville assumed command of the Kestrel.
“Lieutenant Fielder?” Melville asked. Fielder had been following Melville around, keeping a slight distance. Now his only response was to glare at Melville. “I’d value your appraisal of our situation here. Please speak with Brother Petreckski and the rangers, they will give you their account of all edible plants and creatures. Their input will be vital as to whether we can stay here indefinitely. I hope to make a fresh assessment of the situation on our Ship, and certainly your outside assessment of the situation here will be of value.”
This indication that Melville was keeping an open mind to the possibility of evacuating to this world seemed to mollify Fielder. “Very well,” he replied, “but you’ll see, the situation on the Ship is hopeless.” Melville looked at the purser and the rangers, and felt confident that they’d keep the lieutenant occupied. He strode up the hill accompanied by Broadax, Hans, and the middies. Elphinstone joined them, having already designated three of her patients for light duty.
They approached the Keel of the old Swish-tail, now standing like a flagpole, or a mast, surrounded by a platform of white Nimbrell timbers. Melville scrambled up the ladder to the top of the platform, dropped to one knee, placed a hand upon the Keel and concentrated.
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