The Call of the Running Tide - Section I

By Lu

Companion to "The Call of the Running Tide", discusses the ship and defines many terms.

Section I, Next Section

Posted on Saturday, 21-Nov-98

Chapter One

How did I let Charles convince me to do this? Darcy hurried up the midships companionway, his face tinged with green. As he turned to the port rail, he was intercepted by one of the mates, who shoved him roughly to starboard.

"That way, please! No puking to windward!"

He leaned miserably over the rail, watching as the remains of what meager lunch he had managed to choke down disappeared into the Atlantic Ocean. And why did she make me go down to the low side? He wondered. She probably wanted me to fall overboard. Sadistic. Weakly, he made his way back to the quarter-deck, where the motion of the ship was least pronounced. The drawback, he noticed, was that everyone else on deck seemed to have collected there also. Several students were clustered around the helm, discussing their early impressions of the adventure they had embarked upon. They seemed perfectly healthy.

The mate who had virtually tackled him earlier stood on the high side, leaning comfortably against the rail and surveying the students of her watch. He examined her, trying to understand the rather unusual image she presented. Her dark hair was long and shiny, tied back in a practical but unremarkable ponytail. Her eyes were bright and observant as they flickered across the ship. She stood with her knees bent in the slightly bow-legged stance that he had noticed was characteristic of all schoonermen. She wore canvas pants, well splattered with tar, paint and unidentified grime, and the ever-present Helly Hansen jacket over a long sleeved t-shirt. Everything about her appearance spelled sailor. When she noticed his approach, she abandoned her perch and moved in his direction. Bow-legged though she seemed to be, she certainly achieved far more grace than he could manage on the pitching deck of the ship.

"Don't worry, it'll get better," she smiled sympathetically. "Do you want a cocktail?"

"A cocktail?" Here I am seasick and she's offering me a drink? Are they allowed to have alcohol aboard a sailboat full of college kids?

She smiled at his mistake. "An Air Force Cocktail. It's a seasickness remedy." He looked skeptical of her medical expertise. "It really does work. I used to get seasick too," she encouraged.

He assented, reasoning that he couldn't feel much worse than he already did. "They're in the doghouse," she informed him. Noticing his bewildered expression, she explained herself more clearly. "That's what we call the chart room. You know, the place where we navigate. The charts, GPS, radar, loran, and radios are all in there. You will learn all this vocabulary very quickly, I promise." She turned and walked smoothly to the entrance to the "doghouse;" he staggered unsteadily behind.

Once inside, she opened a drawer and selected two drug vials. "OK, now let me explain this to you. I'm going to give you two drugs. One is a "downer;" it will calm your stomach. The other is an "upper;" it will counteract the effect of the downer so you don't get drowsy. You have to let me know how you feel after you take them. Some people react more strongly to one than to the other. If you get drowsy we'll give you less of the downer next time. If you get hyper and jumpy, we'll give you less of the upper." He looked a little alarmed at the complexity of the remedy. She reassured him, "Don't worry. I lived on these things on my student cruise." He accepted the cocktail and she gave him her water bottle to swallow it with. "The other important thing about seasickness," she continued, "is that you keep drinking. If you get dehydrated you will only make yourself sicker. Do you have a water bottle?"

He nodded.

"I suggest you keep it with you, then. Drink as much as you possibly can. We have plenty of water." She added the last humorously, in hopes of lightening his mood, but he did not respond. Taking pity on his nausea, she offered another piece of advice. "When you feel sick, go abovedecks. If you can see the horizon it will make you feel better because you will have a reference point. It should get better in a few days."

He nodded once again, but said nothing. In truth, he was a little overwhelmed by her brash confidence, by the way she assumed command of the ship and of him without a second thought.

She tried one more time. "You know, I was aloft stowing the topsail yesterday when we did introductions. I'm Elizabeth Bennet." She offered him her hand.

"Dr. William Darcy." He took her hand to shake, but dropped it, surprised, after only a brief clasp. Her hands! He thought, revolted. They are like leather. Her entire hand is one big callus!

She decided that he was not inclined to be friendly at the moment. "I won't keep you in here any longer. You are starting to look a little green again and you need to keep that cocktail down long enough for it to take effect. Go out on the quarter-deck and try to enjoy our windy afternoon. It's great sailing."

"Thank you for your assistance, Miss Bennet," he replied coldly and turned to leave.

A spark of amusement came into her eyes. "Doctor Darcy," she called after him, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. He turned back to her. "You know, you will not be able to get more than 134 feet away from me for the next month and a half. Most people call me Elizabeth."

He nodded curtly, yet again, and left the doghouse.

Sheesh! Thought Elizabeth, I know that seasick people are not the best company in the world, but that guy is an ice cube! Too bad. He's a devastatingly good looking ice cube. Well, forget your nonexistent love life, girl, you've got students to teach!

Chapter Two

Posted on Tuesday, 24-Nov-98

Darcy sat down wearily on the step that divided the quarter-deck from the main deck. Look at the horizon, he repeated over and over, bemoaning the fact that he was on a ship somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic. He thought of the day that Charles had burst unexpected into his office, face wreathed in smiles, to describe his new job.

"Remember how I did a semester at the Longbourn School of the Ocean when I was an undergrad?" He had asked.

"Yes, I guess so."

"They hired me as one of their chief scientists!"

"Congratulations. What does that mean?"

"What does it sound like? I teach oceanography during the Shore Component, I help plan the cruise track so we can get the data we want, and then I'm in charge of the research on board."

"On board what? What's the Shore Component?"

Charles sighed in exasperation. He explained slowly and clearly, "LSO is an educational association that teaches semester-long programs to undergrads. The students spend six in Woods Hole, Massachusetts taking courses in Oceanography, Nautical Science and Maritime History. That's the Shore Component. Then they spend six weeks on one of their two tall ships learning to sail and doing practical oceanographic research. Each student has to plan a research project on land, write up the proposal, then do the data collection, analysis and write-up on board. As I said, I teach the oceanography, make sure we're going to the right places for the projects and make sure the research all goes according to plan."

"So you're teaching."

"The great thing about LSO is that I have publication rights to all of the data we collect. So I can teach and research all at once."

"And the students collect the data?"

"Of course, that's the point. They're supposed to learn-you know-The Scientific Method."

"Charles, you know the data can't be any good if you have a crowd of undergrads collecting it."

"Don't you have undergrad researchers working in your lab?"

"Yes, but I would never let them collect the data."

"William Darcy! Please do not tell me that you make your researchers wash glassware!"

Darcy did not reply.

"Well, my friend," Charles continued cheerfully, his momentary irritation forgotten, "you now have the opportunity to learn just what your poor students could be doing for you."

"Oh, and how is that?" Darcy's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Well, I'm going on their spring cruise that leaves in May, and they asked me to invite a visiting scientist to accompany the group."

Darcy groaned, knowing what was to come, "Charles-"

"Will, it would be perfect for you! Sailing with LSO was the most amazing experience I have ever had! You will love it. You can do research, teach the kids and learn to sail."

"So you want me to spend six weeks of my sabbatical on a sailboat with...how many college kids? Unlikely, Charles."

"Twenty-five students, plus ten crew members plus you makes thirty-six people. Will, this is my point exactly. Your sabbatical is coming up. You know you have to teach for some of it. Everyone loves your research, but everyone also knows that teaching is your weak point. LSO would be a perfect way to...well...enhance your people skills. And you'll be helping the students do research, which is your strong point anyway, so it shouldn't traumatize you too much. And, you can do your own research while you're at it, with twenty-five people to help you collect data, twenty-four hours a day. And you'll love the sailing, Will, you really will. It is incredible."

Darcy hid a smile, wondering how many more "ands" Charles could possibly string on to his glowing list of benefits. He thought it best to humor his friend and at least consider it. The thing that Darcy loved about his friend was his boundless curiosity and enthusiasm. It was not a characteristic that the two shared, but Darcy valued Charles' attitude nonetheless.

"All right, Charles, how long do I have to decide?"

"Oh, three days or so. Here is an LSO brochure for you to look at, and this is a description of the visiting scientist position."

"Three days? You expect me to decide what I'm going to do with six weeks of my life in three days? That is so typical of you, Charles."

"You'll do just fine, Will. I have faith in you." With a grin, Charles left the office. "I'll call you!" he yelled over his shoulder.

William sighed and put the brochure aside, redirecting his thoughts to the work before him. But his eyes kept straying back to the brochure.

And so, he found himself aboard the Pride of Austen wondering about the soundness of his reasons for accepting this position.

He knew Charles was right. Teaching was his weakness and he would be expected to devote some time to improving it. He was well respected as a researcher, but his student evaluations were less than stellar. He was generally considered to be an aloof and distant professor who, though he had much to give his students, was unwilling to apply himself to teaching them. He knew the reason for this of, course, was that he was not particularly interested in the teaching aspect of his job. His personality had never been suited to engaging a classroom full of kids, and he had never felt the need to improve his skills. Undergrads were simply an indispensable nuisance, characterized by a tendency to skip class, drink too much, and hand in papers late. But the University did not share his opinion and were never pleased by his unpopularity.

So he would have to teach, and Charles was right-LSO would be a good opportunity to do so. He would be forced to "bond" with the students, which would make the University happy. But six weeks on a ship? Was he prepared to put himself through that, he wondered? And when he read the material that Charles had given him, he discovered that he would be expected to stand watches with the rest of the students. He would not only be doing science, but navigating, steering, standing bow watch, handling sail, working in the engine room and even washing dishes. LSO believes that the combined experience of researching, living and working aboard a traditional sailing vessel is as important for you, the visiting scientist, as for the students with whom you will work, the description stated. In truth, this was the aspect of the program that intrigued him most. He had told himself he was being ridiculous, but he couldn't silence the voice inside of him that wondered what it would feel like to be at the wheel of a 134-foot sailing ship. Looking through the list of past visiting scientists, he had to admit that there were some names whose research was quite well respected. They must be getting some good data, anyway, he had rationalized. I could do something with pelagics. Distribution or something. And so he had taken Charles up on the offer.

A decision which he was now regretting.

Darcy sighed, and allowed his gaze to wander across the ship. There were still several students gathered at the helm. Further forward, he could see several students from the lab watch preparing for a sediment grab, or some such operation. They worked under the direction of an easy-tempered, attractive blonde woman. He remembered her as the first assistant scientist, but could not recall her name. Forward still, he saw Elizabeth beginning to teach students the names and functions of all the lines on board.

"Remember," he heard her say, "there are almost no ropes aboard a ship. With very few exceptions, they are referred to as lines. And a line is given another name depending on its function. Who knows what a halyard does?"

One of the students answered, "raises a sail."

"Good, so the line that raises the forestays'l, for example, would be the forestays'l halyard." She grasped the appropriate line.

Darcy eyed the rigging warily, wondering how Elizabeth could possibly imagine that the students could memorize what each vine of this rope jungle served for. I'm not sure if I could remember them all.

He caught Elizabeth's voice once again. "Now, see how the jt is higher than the jib, and the jib is higher than the forestays'l? The lines for the higher sails are always aft of the lines for the lower sails. I have a charming little mnemonic to help you with this one, taught to me by my own dear second mate from my student cruise. Just remember: up your aft." The students snickered. "Yeah, yeah, well you should meet the guy. But that's true of all the lines: halyards, downhauls and sheets. So it should make things easier for you."

Up your aft?? Darcy was disgusted. Charming indeed. I can't believe she just said that. I can't imagine saying something so tasteless to my students.

His thoughts were interrupted by the approach of a rather unhappy looking student, carrying a water bottle in one hand and a stack of saltines in the other. She gave a weak grin at him when their eyes met. "You look something like I feel," she remarked.

Whether it was their shared plight or the friendly sympathy in her eyes, something moved him to try and be amiable. "Then I feel almost as sorry for you as I do for me," he replied dryly.

She sat slowly down beside him and read the expression on his face. "Let me guess. You are wondering what possessed you to step aboard this ship." His somewhat surprised look confirmed her assessment. "That has crossed my mind a few times also. But I'm still hoping that I'll get over this like everyone says I will. This is something of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I think, and I don't want to be miserable for it."

Darcy studied the girl before him. She certainly did not sound like she fit his image of the irresponsible, drunken undergrad. He wanted to hear more from her, but wondered how to probe for it. "So, uh, how did you end up here?" Great. Real subtle.

"Well, I'm an English Lit major at the College of Charleston. But I wanted to do something different in my junior year. C of C is affiliated with LSO, so I heard a lot about it, and my credits transfer really easily. I guess it's an adventure. A chance to learn something really new. And it's not just like taking a different subject at school. This is really a new life, seasickness and all. Want a saltine?"

"Well, we'll have to see whether my stomach wants one, but yes, thank you." Darcy was rather disarmed, not only by her sophisticated outlook, but by the unqualified camaraderie she offered. In his world of prestige-seekers and academic rivalries, he was rarely offered a saltine. The two sat in queasy silence, and Darcy's gaze drifted forward again, to where Elizabeth was still drilling her watch on the lines. She was the same way this morning, he realized. She wanted to help. I acted as if she was trying to poison me. One student answered something correctly and her face lit in a smile. Eyes flashing, she gave a cheer and held up her hands for a slap. She is beautiful. William! This last thought snapped him out of his reverie, and he scolded himself for thinking that of such a rough-and-tumble, unrefined person.

His companion shifted and addressed him, "I'm going on watch pretty soon, so I'm going to have to brave the belowdecks and get ready. I'm Lisa-Michelle, by the way. It was nice having someone to commiserate with." She extended her hand.

"Doc-" he stopped. "I'm William. Thanks for salvaging me from my foul mood. Good luck below."

He watched her as she headed for the midships companionway.

William Darcy, how did you get so jaded?

Chapter Three

Posted on Tuesday, 01-Dec-98

"Hey Spring!" Jane called, "Lizzy and I are going out on the bowsprit, ok?"

The second mate looked up from where she was teaching her students lines. "Have fun. Let me know when you come in."

The two clipped their harnesses to the safety wire and climbed over the bow of the ship and onto the rope netting stretched below the bowsprit. Elizabeth flopped down on her back and sighed contentedly, her eyes roaming over the well-trimmed sails as they turned golden in the setting sun. Jane lay on her stomach, looking out over the ocean below her.

"So Lizzy, how was your first day watch?"

"Exhausting as always, but worse for the students. I'm just busy--they're bewildered!"

"Yeah I know, but they will learn soon, and you won't be in quite so much demand."

Elizabeth laughed. "As you scientists would say, our workload varies inversely with their learning curve, right? But how about you? How are you getting along with the great Charles Bingley?"

"Great so far. He's so friendly and laid back. I'm really glad he got the chief scientist position."

"Oh, right. Because he's friendly, right? Jane, are you sure you aren't glad because he's in your field?"

Jane grinned. "Hey, you asked how we were getting along."

"Uh huh. He's a hottie. You'd make a great team."

"Lizzy! You are terrible!" She swatted Elizabeth companionably on the shoulder.

"So what can you tell me about the ice man?"

"Ice man?" Jane asked.

"You know, Dr. William Darcy, visiting scientist," Elizabeth said in her most affected voice.

"Oh, he's a friend of Charlie's. He holds the Pemberley Chair for Ornithology at Cornell. Comes from a very wealthy family with a long history of giving to Cornell. People might say that he bought his way to his professorship, if it weren't for the fact that he's absolutely brilliant. Why do you ask--or don't I want to know?"

"No reason really. I gave him a cocktail and he didn't say a word to me that wasn't haughty and cold."

"Lizzy, come on. You were giving him a cocktail!"

"So?"

"So he was seasick!"

"I know, Jane, and I was trying to be nice and helpful and everything. It's just that he's...well...he called me Miss Bennet!"

Jane laughed, "Sounds like a first grade teacher, 'Miss Bennet! Is it almost recess?'"

"Yeah, either that or a debutante," Elizabeth giggled, "Miss Bennet, dah-ling."

When she finished laughing, Jane's face grew serious. "But Lizzy, even if you don't like him, you can't antagonize him. You have to live with each other for six weeks."

"I know, Jane. I promise to be a good girl. He can be as rude as he wants and I will simply keep doing my job. At the very most I will ignore him."

"I hope he won't be too-Oh! Lizzy, dolphins!"

Elizabeth squealed in excitement and flipped over, watching the dolphins below her through a gap in the ropes. They pumped their muscular tails and swerved back and forth, riding the ship's bow wake. "That looks like so much fun...I would love to keep them to ourselves, Jane, but the students haven't seen dolphins yet. I think we will have to share this time. Hey guys! Dolphins!" She shouted.

Suddenly a mass of excited faces was pressed together up at the bow, craning to get a better view of the latest new sight. Elizabeth smiled warmly, thinking for the thousandth time that she had the perfect job. We give them what they can never learn in a classroom. Awe.

Chapter Four

Posted on Wednesday, 02-Dec-98

Okay, the important thing to understand here is that Elizabeth is right above William and Charles' heads.

The sun rose the next morning to find the Austen sailing under a cloudless sky and in considerably calmer seas, but equally as much wind, as in the previous afternoon.

Elizabeth came off dawn watch to a warm breakfast and a warm bunk, where she made up for a few hours of the sleep she had lost in rising at 0230 hours. By midmorning, however, she was awake again, determined to put some of her twelve hours off watch to good use. And so she found herself thirty feet above the deck on the course yard, replacing a cracked block. This was a rather good vantage point to observe the ship in that, unlike the seventy foot topsail yard, she could hear everyone as well as she could see them. Her presence, however, went unnoticed by the two figures below her. William Darcy and Charlie Bingley came out of the lab and leaned against the rail.

"You are feeling better already, aren't you, William?"

"Charles, it is not nearly so rough as yesterday afternoon."

"But you are getting accustomed to it. I am sure you are." William only shrugged in acquiescence, and Charlie continued, "And how do you like your shipmates, aren't they a wonderful group of people?"

"I don't believe I should go so far as to call a band of college kids a wonderful group of people, but I have met at least one who seemed civilized."

"Oh Will, you have a stick up your butt. I am awfully glad I don't share your outlook--it must be very lonely." Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud at the normally diplomatic Charlie's blunt evaluation of his friend. She was far too interested in this conversation to betray her presence just yet. Charlie continued, "At any rate, I can see that the students will need some more time to prove themselves to you. So students aside, tell me what you think of the crew. Surely you must have noticed what a wonderful group they are! My first assistant scientist is great--intelligent, dedicated, infinitely patient with the students."

Darcy raised an eyebrow and eyed his friend, "That's the blonde one, isn't it Charles?"

His friend nodded, "Jane Bennet."

"Ah hah. And what field is she in?"

"She did her masters thesis on nutrient limitation in oligotrophic systems."

"Right. Charles, in your list of Jane Bennet's virtues, are you sure you didn't forget "in your field" and "extremely good looking?"

"Well, of course my respect for her is increased by the fact that she had the sense to go into a worthwhile field, as opposed to someone who studies something ridiculous, like, say, birds."

Darcy laughed, "At least I can see birds, my friend. Why anyone would want to study nutrients in the absolute middle of the ocean I will never know."

Apparently their discussion was becoming too confrontational for Charlie, for he dropped his ribbing and picked up a new topic. "But Will, there is someone else on this ship who is a birder." Elizabeth shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation was taking. The fact that she was standing on a piece of rope did nothing to alleviate her desire to squirm, but restricted its execution considerably. Charlie continued, "Jane's sister, Elizabeth. And she is very much as attractive as Jane, although in a different way."

"Elizabeth the mate, you mean?"

"Well how many Elizabeth Bennets do you really suppose there are on this ship?"

"Really, Charles. I suppose she is pretty enough, but she is utterly without tact or manners. She is vulgar, her hands are like sandpaper, and she practically threw me across the ship yesterday." Discomfort forgotten, Elizabeth was again approaching amusement at the arrogance of this man. Glad to know I made as smashing a first impression on him as he did on me!

"Oh she did, did she? And what exactly were you doing?" Charlie demanded.

"Well, I was seasick...you know. I was going to this rail," he gestured to port, where they were standing, "and she tackled me and threw me over there," he waved to starboard.

Charles began to smile. "Will, which tack were we on?"

"Huh?"

"Which way was the boat heeling-you know, tilting?"

"Oh, this was the high side, so it was "heeling" that way," he gestured again to starboard.

"Uh huh. So. Same as right now. Will, do me a favor?"

"Sure, what?" Darcy sounded mystified.

Charlie turned his friend to face out over the rail. "Spit," he commanded. Elizabeth gripped the yard, holding back her laughter at what was to come.

"Spit? Why on earth...?"

"Just do it Will."

Darcy obeyed. As he watched, his spit ball flew from his mouth, came to a complete stop in the face of the oncoming wind, reversed direction and landed on his cheek, not two inches from its launch point.

"You see, Will," Charles pontificated, "a rule aboard these ships is never to be sick to windward--the side the wind is blowing over. If you spit--or anything else--to leeward, it will be blown away from you. If Elizabeth had not intercepted you, however, you might have had a rather unpleasant surprise yesterday. So in that respect you are somewhat indebted to her. As far as her hands go, you may find, when your own are raw and blistered, that your opinion of calluses changes somewhat. And I must admit to you that I have never known her to be vulgar, though I haven't spent a whole lot of time with her. But the point is, she is wonderful with students, loves her job more than almost anyone I have ever met, and, frankly, probably knows more about pelagic birds than you do."

"Charles, do not be ridiculous. How could she possibly help me in my research? She is a sailor. Does that not say enough?" Elizabeth's mouth dropped open, utterly amazed at the extent of his conceit and rudeness. She was also somewhat surprised a the steely tones with which Charlie replied.

"Will, if you believe for one moment that it does not take a considerable amount of intelligence to sail this ship, you are in for a surprise. I would also suggest that you begin to treat your shipmates with a little more respect than you are currently displaying. You need every one of them, particularly the deck crew, to get through the next six weeks happily and, I might add, safely."

Darcy was obviously annoyed at the lecture he had provoked from his friend. He turned to Charlie and said coldly, "You are welcome to fawn over your friend the assistant scientist if you wish, but do not expect me to do the same over her sister." With that, he turned stiffly and stalked away. Charlie shook his head as he watched his friend's irritable retreat, then shrugged and returned to the lab.

Elizabeth was long since finished with her work aloft, and quickly climbed down after Charlie had left. She was still shaking with silent laughter and desperately wished to share it with someone. She rejected Jane as her preliminary confidant, since she had not yet determined the import of Charlie's words regarding her sister. Deciding on the one person on board whose whereabouts could almost always be pinpointed, she turned and headed for the galley.

Chapter Five

Posted on Wednesday, 09-Dec-98

The galley, as usual, was blazing hot. The diesel stove had been turned on at 0430h, and by now had reached cruising temperature-about 500 degrees. The steward was making potato-leek soup for lunch, and the assistant steward for the day was preparing morning snack.

Elizabeth stepped in slowly, almost delicately. "Hi Charlotte," she offered as her tentative greeting. No matter how close their friendship was, Elizabeth had enough experience to know that one must always approach a busy steward with care. The galley is the steward's domain and the steward's only. If well run, it is meticulously organized and ruled with military strictness. And no one, even the Captain, is above being thrown out at the first sign of hindering efficiency.

Charlotte ran a paragon of galleys. Normally it was certainly not a place to gather for gossip, but Elizabeth could often bend the rules. She and Charlotte had been watchmates on their student cruise, and close friends ever since. They had worked together as deckhands accumulating sea time until Charlotte decided not to take the test for a mate's license and began taking jobs as a steward. Elizabeth had never understood this decision and was always a little irked at her friend, because she knew that Charlotte had been happier working on deck than she was in the galley. However, she had for the most part given up the argument.

Charlotte looked up from her stewpot and smiled "Hey Lizzy B!"

"Lizzy B?"

"Yes, if you've noticed, there is one too many "Elizabeths" on board. I've decided to add initials. Or, I could just refer to you as Jack Tar and Liz M as Grease Monkey. So what brings you here, First Officer Bennet?" Charlotte noticed her friend shift a little when she changed the subject so abruptly.

Elizabeth made her attempt at nonchalance, "Oh, well, not much really. Wanted to make sure you guys didn't need any help."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. She turned her attention to her assistant steward. "Is that snack all ready, Dawn?" She received a nod in reply. "You can go ahead and take it up on deck then. And take a break while you're up there. You can just come back down when it's gone, okay?"

"Thanks, Charlotte," Dawn gave a small smile and sighed. Elizabeth evaluated her as she left the galley. She suspected that the opportunity to cook for thirty-six people was not what had brought Dawn to LSO.

"She looks exhausted."

"Yeah, it's hard for the people who are assistant steward in the first few days. They haven't gotten used to the lack of sleep yet, and it's such a long day. Not a lot of chances to sit down. Plus, she hasn't said anything, but I think she may be a little queasy. If anything on this boat is going to make you seasick, it's the galley."

"Eeeh, tell me about it. I was so seasick when I was assistant steward on our cruise. Below all day, so hot, watching stuff slosh around in bowls, pots, sinks...makes me green to think about it. And you are such a nice steward compared to," Elizabeth made a vague gesture with her hand, "she gave me no pity at all."

"Lizzy, you mean you didn't like Killer Caroline? I'm shocked!" Charlotte laughed, "Remember how she used to yell if we didn't set the table her way?"

"And her way was so random! What ever happened to fork on the left, knife and spoon on the right?"

Charlotte laughed in a tone that dismissed the subject. Much as she loved reminiscing about their student cruise, they had discussed Caroline before and undoubtedly would do so again. She was more interested in what Elizabeth hadn't gotten to yet. "Okay, so why did you really come down here?"

Elizabeth sighed, eyes twinkling. "How do you read me so well Charlotte?"

"I know you, Elizabeth Bennet. You hate the galley. You never come down here. It's hot, stuffy, crowded, stuff sloshing around, generally bordering on chaos. Not a place to hang out if you can be aloft, or on the bowsprit, or...or just chatting on the quarterdeck." Charlotte began in a lively, playful voice, but faded into a tone of wistfulness that made Elizabeth narrow her eyes.

"Charlotte, you know you don't have to work in the galley," she said softly. "You are a sailor, not a cook. Why don't you work as one?"

Charlotte grabbed her spoon and stirred the stewpot with her back to Elizabeth. "Well, if you haven't noticed, I don't happen to have a license," she said flatly.

"Charlotte, that's ridiculous. You have the sea time. You have a ton of experience; you know everything you need to know. All you have to do is take the test. You'll get a license."

"Elizabeth, you know how I react to tests. I hate them. I'm terrified of them. I freak out and can't answer a single question. I would never pass it."

"So that's the whole reason, right there? You don't think you could pass, so you're not even going to try? So what happens if you do fail? Nothing. You've seen it once, you know what it's going to be like, you take it again. You get your license."

"Elizabeth, we've been through this before."

"But Charlotte, you hate your job. I know you don't admit it. You do a wonderful job of pretending, with all your jokes and smiles. But sometimes a little crack forms in that wall, and every time that happens, I see. I see that you are bored. And Charlotte, may I remind you that being a schoonerman is a life. If you are bored with your job, you are bored with your life. And that is a pitiable state. Especially for someone as capable as you are."

Charlotte sighed heavily and closed her eyes. Then she straightened herself, as if coming to a decision, and looked her friend in the eyes. "I didn't know when I should tell you this, Lizzy, but LSO offered me an office job, and I'm going to take it."

Elizabeth stared at her, stunned. "You? You are taking an office job? You, who always said you'd be a coal miner before you sat behind a desk?"

"That was on our student cruise, Lizzy. That was before I actually had to support myself. At least on shore I can leave my job and go home at night. Even if I hate it, I can get away from it. Here there is nothing for me but a bunk and a galley. Sleep and cook."

Elizabeth was somewhat subdued by Charlotte's coldly logical analysis of her life. The sparkle that she remembered was utterly gone. She looked around the galley in wonder. What have you done to her? Resigned, she simply asked, "Where are you working?" She would not have thought it possible for Charlotte to look any more defeated by life than she already did. And so she was astonished when the steward positively shrunk into a pitiful heap of person standing before an enormous stove. When she spoke, her eyes were on the floor and her voice could barely be heard over the hum of the stove's diesel engine.

"Admissions."

Elizabeth's head jerked back with a sharp intake of breath. When she spoke, it was fast and loud. Too loud. "What? Have you lost every ounce of self-respect you possessed? How could you possibly...I cannot believe you...you have the life you have always wanted within your grasp and you are too scared to take it. And so what do you do? You chain yourself to a stove and let it bake all the soul out of you. And when all the romance and joy has been systematically removed from your life, you sign yourself over to work for a penguin. So you can learn to flap and squawk all day long also! You are a coward, Charlotte Lucas."

There was silence for a few moments, and Charlotte lifted her gaze meet her friend's. Elizabeth's emotions quickly ran from anger to guilt as she saw in those eyes the sadness and the hurt she had inflicted.

"Elizabeth, I know that this is not easy for you to understand. You are right that Bill Collins is an idiot. "Penguin" is good also. I know he offered you a job once, and you laughed at him. I wish I could be in the position to laugh at him also, but I am not. By taking this job, I am already losing a dream. What I really don't want to do is lose a friend also."

"Oh Charlotte, I'm sorry. I should never have said those things to you. It's just that I want you to be happy. It's not fair that I should be so happy and you...I'm sorry."

"It's all right Lizzy. I understand. But do you think we could...not discuss this anymore?"

Elizabeth looked at the floor, so Charlotte continued, "So what did you come down here to tell me, anyway?"

"Oh, nothing really. Just some stupid little story about our friend the visiting scientist."

"Oh sure, so you come down here to my stinkin' hot galley, I kick out my assistant steward, and now you're not even going to tell me?"

Elizabeth realized that the last thing Charlotte needed was to dwell on their recent discussion. She smiled a little and began to recount her story. By the time she got through the spitting scene and on to his description of herself, they were laughing companionably once again.

"Lizzy, what the heck did you do to him to make him think you're vulgar?"

"That's what I can't figure out! I was trying so hard to be nice to him yesterday. I didn't say anything bad, I'm sure of it. And I'm not vulgar anyway, am I?"

"No, of course you're not. Well, I guess maybe most of us are a little more rough around the edges...or hands...than the Cornellians that he sees every day."

"But I am a Cornellian!"

"Yeah, that's the funny part. Lizzy the sailor in there with all those future doctors and lawyers."

"Charlotte, don't you start telling me that I'm a slacker for doing what I do."

"That bothered you that he said that, didn't it?"

Elizabeth sighed, "Yes, I guess it did. I don't really care what he thinks about my hands or my vulgarity or whatever, and I don't really care if he wants me to help him with birds, but yes, it does bother me that he has branded me as stupid without even talking to me."

Charlotte nodded sympathetically, but before she could reply, they heard steps coming down the midships companionway. A quick glance through the dirty dishes window revealed it to be the object of their discussion himself. Elizabeth grinned wickedly at Charlotte.

"Well Charlotte," she said loudly, "I would love to talk to you longer, but I need to go pumice my hands. Have to keep those calluses under control!" She stepped out of the galley, paused long enough to make eye contact with Darcy, then, with a nod, fled forward to her cabin where her laughter exploded as she swung into her bunk.

Got him! She thought. He looked like a fish!

Chapter Six

Posted on Thursday, 21 January 1999

Darcy sighed as he reached for his ear protectors. He was assistant engineer that afternoon watch, and his head was spinning with amps, volts, oil pressures, exhaust temperatures and a thousand things that he had already forgotten. He had been following the engineer, a capable woman named Liz, around as she gave him a tour of "the insides." They were returning to the engine room after a trip to visit the "reefer" and freezer.

Before putting on her ear protectors, Liz paused outside the watertight door and recapped the information she had just given him. "So. We use the alternator to make AC power. The reefer and freezer charge their cold packs directly off that. But we also like to be able to store the electricity, because that way we only have to run the alternator for a few hours each day. So we have a rectifier that converts the AC into DC. The DC is stored in battery banks in the battery room. DC power is pretty dangerous-you can get shocked easily. So don't go in there unless I take you. Our appliances, of course, all run on AC current-just like in your house. So we have an inverter that turns the DC back into AC as we need it. Got it?"

Darcy's eyes were wide, and his mouth hung slightly open, "Uhhh...yeah...sure."

Liz looked at him doubtfully, then grinned and shrugged, "It's all right. You're smart. You'll figure it out once you get used to living here."

Now it was Darcy's turn to look doubtful. He wasn't sure he would ever get used to living aboard the Austen, and he certainly wasn't feeling very smart. In fact, he wondered if he'd ever felt so inept at anything before. He pushed these thoughts aside, however, as Liz turned to the engine room door.

"Put on your ears," she reminded him as she turned the big wheel that drew back the latch. They stepped into the blasting heat and the loud hum of the alternator. Liz shut the door behind her, and gestured to a binder sitting atop the tool chest. She leaned close to his ear and shouted, "This is the assistant engineer's manual. Everything I just told you is in here also. All you need to do this watch is hourly checks, and in two hours we'll shut down the alternator. Read up on how to do that beforehand, and try and find as many of the appropriate switches and gauges as you can so you can do as much as possible without my help. OK?" She held up her hand in a thumb's up signal. Darcy returned it, and Liz nodded and left the ER.

Darcy sighed again and peered suspiciously at all the unbelievable number of meters and gauges arranged throughout the room. They were labeled with terms he did not understand, in units he had never heard of. Each one had a number drawn on it in blue permanent marker. As if there aren't enough numbers already, they have to write more on there. He shook his head and, picking up the manual Liz had pointed out, turned for the door.

He found himself seated upon the quarterdeck without really having thought about his destination. As usual, it was also the most crowded spot. There were several students from the watches below seated aft of the helm, chatting quietly or writing in journals. Paula, his own watch mate, was discussing the difference between a tack and a gybe with several others. He listened to her explanation, trying to visualize the bow coming through the wind in a tack versus the stern coming through the wind in a gybe. He followed her until she began discussing the "center of effort" and the "center of lateral resistance." He had no idea what these terms represented, but the students seemed to understand well enough. Since when is sailing so complicated? That sounds like physics. He gave up on tacks and gybes and let his eye come to rest on a watchmate that he had met the on midwatch in lab the night before. She had introduced herself as Teg, and they had struck up a certain friendship based on the fact that counting zooplankton through a microscope was making both of them throw up. At the moment, however, Teg looked both healthy and rather salty as she stood beside the helm. As he watched, Ann stuck her head out of the doghouse, "Teg, we're going to need a course change to get to our next sampling station. Please come to zero-six-zero."

"Zero-six-zero, aye," Teg repeated the command and began to turn the wheel. Whoa. Darcy was somewhat taken aback by her professional response. How did she know to say that? She didn't seem to know any more about boats than I did last night. He felt like everyone else knew just a little more about this place than he did and he was always trying to catch up. How is it that all the students know what to do and what to say and what the "center of lateral resistance" is? He had yet to be on deck watch, and was still somewhat awed by the mystique and history associated with sailing a traditionally rigged ship. He felt like he was dipping his toes into the worlds of Melville and Conrad. Except of course, he reminded himself, looking at the binder in his lap, that that the Austen has an engine room to contend with.

Shaking his head, he opened the book before him. He flipped through a few pages, seeing diagrams upon diagrams of various parts of the Austen. A few were reasonably intelligible, such as the one showing the positions of the fresh water tanks. Others, however, seemed impossible to make sense out of; the one outlining the maze of pipes running throughout the ship resembled and Austen-shaped plate of spaghetti. His bemused page-turning was interrupted by the voice of the captain.

"Ah-hah. I spy a well worn blue binder. How is our visiting scientist faring as assistant engineer?"

Darcy fleetingly wondered if he should salute or something, before recalling that all the students were on a first name basis with their captain.

"Hello, Ann. Not very well, I fear."

"Hmmm... I detect frustration in that answer. Welcome aboard. Now what exactly is the problem?"

"Not really one thing in particular. Just the feeling that everyone but me knows what's going on around here."

Ann laughed. "And what makes you think that?"

"What is the "center of lateral resistance?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because the students know and I don't."

Comprehension entered Ann's eyes. Competitive, aren't we, William Darcy? Aloud, she answered him, "William, there is something you need to remember about the students and about yourself. They have been in school for the past six weeks learning about oceanography and about nautical science. You, on the other hand, are a little more one-sided. You know the science already, but as far as sail theory goes you haven't had the chance to learn it yet. We know that--Paula knows it and she will help fill you in when you are on deck watch. And the other thing is, keep in mind that the students may seem to know more than they really do. They know what the center of lateral resistance is on paper. They can diagram the forces exerted on a heeling ship. But that doesn't necessarily mean that they can use that information to make the ship go. That is what the sea component is for."

Darcy was silent, looking at her expectantly.

Ann looked puzzled, then grinned. "The center of lateral resistance is the axis about which the ship pivots. Say for example a tugboat was to come and push against the starboard side of the bow. She would rotate about a point which is called the center of lateral resistance."

Darcy nodded, "And what does that have to do with tacking and gybing?"

Ann smiled again at his insistence. "Hang on. Let me go get Mr. Cotter Pin."

Darcy's brow furrowed as his eyes followed her into the doghouse. She soon returned, however, carrying a boat shaped piece of wood with rotating cotter pins that represented the Austen's sails and rudder. Darcy listened intently as she explained how the sails could be used to rotate the boat through the wind--one way for a tack, and the opposite for a gybe--simply by pulling them in or letting them out. He was intrigued. First by the fact that there did indeed appear to be more to sailing the Austen than met the eye. And then, having suspended his disbelief in order to accept Ann's explanations, by the fact that those little arrows that had meant so little to him as a physics student were indeed actual forces that could move this enormous ship. And then again by the consideration that the wind itself could move this ship at all.

Ann had one piece of advice left to offer him. "By the way, you should find that manual pretty easy to understand. The students know about the theory of a diesel engine, but they don't know any more about how to turn off the alternator than you do. And also, Liz M probably scared you into thinking you'll have to do it all yourself. She likes to do that to try and get people to take the initiative and learn your way around, but she will help you in the end. Good luck."

But Darcy did not turn back to the manual as Ann walked away. He was still deep in thought about the minor miracle of physics that he found himself living upon. I wonder why I didn't think about it before. He was reminded of the day when, as a small boy, he had come into his family home to announce his intentions of becoming a scientist. He had spent the afternoon by the pond, catching tadpoles, when he noticed one with little legs growing on either side of its tail. His father had explained to him before that the tadpoles in their pond would eventually become the toads that he would occasionally find in the surrounding woodlands. William had not really thought, though, about the transformation itself. There were tadpoles and there were toads, with a mysterious grey area in between. But on the day when he saw a tadpole becoming a toad he was fascinated. It was his discovery, his "proof" that the link existed, and he first came to realize that knowing and understanding something could make it far more amazing and miraculous than accepting it blindly. He remembered feeling the same way only a few years later, when, having read an explanation of how the Bernoulli Effect allows birds to fly, he went outside, lay on his back in a field and watched a hawk circling far above him. And now, on the deck of the Austen, he wondered when it was that he had last felt that way. How we forget to be amazed.

Chapter Seven

Posted on Thursday, 28 January 1999

Bow watch. If Darcy were asked for a one word description, it would be introspective.. Of course, it seemed to him that there had been a considerable amount of introspection going on aboard the Austen, at least on his part. There were other ways to describe it.

Light. The weird greenish pinpricks of light that glowed for a second or two before fading back into the inky void of water. He imagined one microscopic organism releasing a burst of bioluminescent energy. And he imagined a million, or a million million, creating the glowing V that streamed to either side of the bow as the Austen cut through the water. And over his head. More stars than he had ever seen before. A million million stars, and one had a little rocky sphere circling it, and the little sphere had a vase expanse of water on it, an the water had a little boat upon it, and the boat had thirty-six people on it, and one of them was thinking about the stars.

Rhythm. The Austen pitched in the heavy ocean swell. He was no longer seasick. He anticipated each motion. His breathing fell into the pattern. The Austen climbed up the front of a swell, the bowsprit rising higher and higher against the backdrop of stars. He knew when she had reached the crest. That the bowsprit would climb no higher. He could feel it, that weightless moment, she hung. Then fell, plunged downwards more violently than the climb, the horizon and the black, engulfing ocean rushing up to meet her. And she would give a shudder at the bottom, struggling a little to reverse the motion, to release herself from the water that engulfed her bow. The direction would change again as she began to climb another. And, in spite of all the warring forces that he had been grilling Paula about--lift and drag, the righting arm and the heeling arm, the center of effort and, yes, the center of lateral resistance--in spite of all the physics that governed the Austen, she climbed the next wave the same way she did the last, and recovered from the plunge with just as much tenacity. She was an intriguing mixture of delicately balanced forces and rubber-ball resiliency. "She will stay afloat without your help," Paula had said, "the question is, will she sail?"

Sound. The deafening roar of the water as the Austen plunged through the swell faded into Darcy's unconscious, as background noise, or an element of that rhythm that had him breathing in time. What he heard were the birds. He did not know what they were, and in truth, he didn't really care. No, that's not true. I do care. But the field guide will wait. For now, they were the ghost-birds, the virtual-birds, existing only when they were observed. They flitted like bats through the glow of the Austen's running lights; green birds to starboard, red to port. Outside of these faint glows, they were nothing, nowhere, having only their disembodied voices to call to each other in an eerie spine-crawling cry.

And slowly Darcy became aware that he could see the ghost-birds for a little longer as they passed the lights. The ocean began to have a surface once more, and the bioluminescence was not as brilliant. And in one corner of the sky, the night had lost its blackness and the stars had dimmed. He smiled to himself. I am watching the dawn spread her fingertips of rose over the wine-dark sea. I suppose it looked the same then as it does to me now...

"William." A hand upon his shoulder. He had not heard anyone approach, and startled out of his reverie. It was a watchmate, Jimmy. "I'm here to relieve you."

Darcy stood up, bending stiffened knees experimentally for the trip back to the quarterdeck. He unclipped his harness from the forestay and began to turn away, but hesitated.

"Have a nice watch," he offered softly.

Jimmy had overheard his somewhat sarcastic remarks regarding the hour he would be expected to spend at the bow, looking for lonely pricks of light on the vast ocean. But his countenance displayed calm and his eyes were sincere. She nodded her thanks and returned, "Don't forget to watch the sun rise."

And he had seen it. His first sunrise on the Austen, his first sunrise at sea, was one he would never forget. Paula had brought him to the helm, shown him the compass binnacle, given him a course to steer by it, and explained to him how to acknowledge the orders she gave him. And the sun rose to find him, hip braced against the wheelbox and one hand upon a spoke, at the helm of the Pride of Austen.

Among the many things that Darcy learned on his first watch on deck was the discovery that coffee cups tend to gravitate to the quarterdeck in the early morning. The first few to poke sleepy heads out of the doghouse were those who did not stand watch and were awakened every morning for the first sitting of breakfast. They were the Captain, Chief Scientist and Engineer.

Liz came up the companionway first, looking cheerful and rested. She grinned and greeted the helmsman. "I love it when we have wind. Makes my job such a cinch. You know, I got seven hours of sleep last night? All in one chunk, and all during the night. That's a minor miracle."

Ann arrived next, clutching her coffee but looking observant as usual. Her eyes roamed across the ship and its elements, the sea and sky, constantly. "And an utter impossibility if you're the Captain," she added to Liz's comment.

Charles stumbled up the companionway five minutes later, disheveled and uncombed. But his eyes smiled as they always seemed to and he beamed his good mornings at everyone in sight. William was alerted to the next arrival when the beam became several lumens brighter, and the photons redirected, with the candelas skyrocketing in a certain direction.

Sure enough, a blonde head emerged from the doghouse scuttle. Jane and Elizabeth's watch would be relieving Mary Kate and Paula's at 0700h, and the ongoing watch was awakened for first sitting of breakfast. The mate followed closely on the scientist's heels, and surveyed the morning.

Elizabeth was pleased with the overall appearance of the day. She tallied up the weather conditions quickly and was satisfied with the result. The sky was cloudless and the low sun turned the faces and the sails a warm reddish color. The southerly breeze was brisk, about force 4, she judged, making for effective sailing with five sails currently set. Must be on the upper edge of a high. We will set the topsail once we get on watch. She frowned a little upon seeing Darcy at the helm. She liked to relax with her coffee cup on these kinds of mornings and didn't relish putting up with someone who looked down on her expertise and intelligence and seemed like something of a whiner, to boot. I wonder why he came on this trip, anyway? Doesn't seem like the type. Can't wait 'till he's dish dog. Probably never put sponge to plate in his life, much less thirty-six of everything. When he's on my watch I will make him scrub. The chem head will be his domain every dawn cleanup. She smiled to herself and sat down on the mainsheet winch to enjoy the morning.

Jane, on the other hand, had no such compunctions and entered directly into a conversation with Charlie and William. Elizabeth for the most part ignored them. She had noticed that, while Jane and Charlie seemed to enjoy their conversations very much, they were bordering on inaccessible to virtually anyone else, since they usually dealt with such topics as oligotrophy and renitrification. So she was somewhat surprised when she heard her sister call her name.

"Elizabeth, you are our resident bird expert. Can't you help William out with what he will be seeing out here?"

Elizabeth examined her sister's sweetly innocent face and knew that she was simply trying to make conversation. Charlie appeared somewhat alarmed, as if he had been backed into an uncomfortable situation like a cornered rabbit. Her eyes rested on William. He was regarding her blandly, with expressionless eyes. He gestured to the helm, "Go ahead; you have a captive audience." He had meant it as a joke--he was perfectly prepared to let her say her piece. After all, a sailor could not do too much worse that one of his drunken undergrads. In fact, he rather enjoyed watching her speak. He had noticed at lunch the day before that her expressive eyes danced when she discussed something she enjoyed.

But right now, the eyes glared. I can't believe he would be that rude to my face! Well, Doctor Darcy, we'll see what I can do with your request.

She took a deep breath, searching for the ability to smile innocently to the three of them. Finding it, she began. "The birds we see offshore are all Procellariformes--true seabirds that expel salt through tubes above their bill. The two most common are the Greater Shearwaters--there are some sitting on the water over there--and Wilson's Storm Petrels. Those are the small dark ones with white throat patches that look like swallows during the day and bats at night." She noticed that Darcy shifted slightly at this and seemed to devote somewhat more attention to her. She wondered why that particular observation had caught his attention. It certainly wasn't very scientific. She continued, "Also, Northern Fulmars are pretty common--they are colored just like gulls but have the wingshape of a seabird. When you see a big raft of Greater Shearwaters on the water you can usually pick out a few Sooty Shearwaters among them. They are shaped exactly the same but are dark brownish-grey all over. Maybe once or twice a cruise we will see Gannets, but not very often. Near shore, of course, are many different Gulls, but I'm not very good with them. And up north we sometimes see Atlantic Puffins. That's pretty special."

Elizabeth finished off her list and tried to gauge the impression she had made. She generally did not try to flaunt her education or intelligence, but for some reason he drove her to compete. It's because he scorns me, she told herself. She could not resist adding some actual biology to her avian grocery list. "I think the most interesting are the Storm Petrels. They are so different from the other seabirds. If you watch most seabirds fly--look at those Shearwaters over there--you notice that they are gliders. Their wings have very high aspect ratios. Long, skinny wings that produce lots of lift but not much maneuverability. They rarely flap, because they don't have to--so they are very energy efficient. But Storm Petrels, they have much shorter, more maneuverable wings. They are great acrobats, but they have to flap constantly. And I almost never see them sitting on the water. They are always in flight. I wonder how they maintain their energy requirement out here on the open ocean." Elizabeth paused, "I also love their call. You hear it at night; it's very eerie."

When she looked up, she saw that William was staring at her intently. But she could not read the thoughts behind his immutable features.

Chapter Eight

Posted on Sunday, 14 February 1999

Author's Note: "jt" is slang-talk for "jib topsail."

"Mark, we need to set the jt. Do you want to call it?" Elizabeth stood on the quarterdeck overseeing her watch. They had been underway for just over a week now, and the students were becoming more and more capable. She loved this time, when they were just beginning to gain the confidence and skills to lead their watchmates. She usually chose one of the more outgoing and adventurous students to begin leading shipboard procedures, allowing the less confident members to get used to the idea before being called upon themselves. Mark seemed a likely choice, and she was rewarded by an enthusiastic smile.

"Sure! I'd love to."

"I'll take the helm for you. That way you'll have your whole watch to help."

"Okay. Zero-seven-five."

"Zero-seven-five, aye."

Mark went over a few of the details of the procedure before calling the watch together. "Hands to set the jt! We need two hands with harnesses on to lay out on the bowsprit and take the sail stops off." Two volunteers were quickly obtained, and the watch moved forward to handle the sail.

Elizabeth was left on the quarterdeck in the company of her sister and Charlie Bingley. A moment's attention revealed that their conversation was one of the kind that had become so typical for the two of them. Scientific. Elizabeth heard several big words that she knew she would once-upon-a-time have been able to define and swiftly lost interest. Sailing must be turning my brain into mush, she thought, but discarded the notion. Not really, I just don't have to think about biogeneous sedimentation rates anymore. I can't believe Jane can look that enthralled with the conversation. Something in her last thought made her stop. She regarded the pair closely, not paying attention to the science this time. Her sister's eyes flashed with energy, and, after some comment by Charlie, they shared a smile that crackled with intensity.

What on earth is going on here? Elizabeth thought with a shock. She forced herself to turn at least some of her attention to her watch, who had removed the sail stops from the jt and were moving to the appropriate lines. Her thoughts whirled as she listened to the call-and-response pattern between Mark and the rest of the watch.

"Ready on your jt halyard?"

"Ready on the halyard!"

I have never seen Jane look that animated about anything before, even science.

"Ready on your jt downhaul?"

"Ready on the downhaul!"

She is normally so calm and serene about everything. Nothing ruffles her, or excites her, for that matter.

"Ready on your sheets?"

"Ready on port sheet!" "Ready on starboard sheet!" Two voices came simultaneously.

And Charlie looks totally smitten.

"Haul away your halyard, slack away your downhaul!"

"Hauling the halyard!" "Slacking the downhaul!"

Doesn't seem quite so surprising from him, though. Except for the fact that they're...here!

"Tend your working sheet!"

"Tend the sheet, aye!"

Elizabeth was glad that Mark was coping well with the task she had assigned him, since she had very little attention for it herself. She was also glad that they were almost finished. Mark directed two hands to the jigger and they used its mechanical advantage to haul the sail up the last foot or so. Then they trimmed the working sheet so that the sail slotted effectively with the others, and the procedure was finished.

"Okay, coil and hang!" Mark finished.

As the students busied themselves with their lines, their watch mate was left to her thoughts. Elizabeth did not believe in shipboard romances. In all the cruises she'd done with LSO and elsewhere, she had never seen it happen. She had often wondered why, with twenty-five teenagers and early twenty-somethings aboard, it was not a common occurrence. For an answer, she could only think back to her own student cruise, and the dynamics of her student group. On the shore component, there had been a few pairs whom the rest of the group had marked as possible couples, but a very little time on the ship had turned them into something so near siblings that the potential for any other relationship was swiftly forgotten. Like me and Rich. She grinned as she thought of one of her favorite shipmates. Early on in the shore component there had been a certain amount of chemistry between them, but even before they stepped aboard the ship it had become a deep and long-standing friendship. They still kept in contact, although their respective career paths prevented it from being particularly regular. Rich had joined the Coast Guard and had found his niche as an officer aboard the training barque Eagle. To quote the captain of their student cruise, they both "caught the schooner bug" while on LSO. They both followed this new-found interest into a career. And they were both sworn single. Love was not something that fit into either of their lives at present, and they would jokingly call their motto to one another with a laugh and a high five. "No obligations!"

Elizabeth's life was one of motion and change. She had very few ties on shore to claim her responsibility and time. She did not have a home, since she would rarely inhabit it if she did, and, when ashore, lived in large part out of her Suburban. She kept a sleeping bag in the back, and if she needed a place to stay, she often did little more than flatten out the rear seats and stretch out in a makeshift bed. It was not an arrangement that she would wish to spend a great deal of time in, but since she generally only spent enough time ashore to find her next ship, she was perfectly happy with the simplicity of her scheme.

Her parents, certainly, were always more than happy to put her up, but she tried to limit her familial visits to a level which would not threaten the patience she found so essential to her job. She enjoyed spending time with her father, who, though he could be counted upon to tease her lightly about the irony he found in the fact that his most intelligent daughter had become a sailor, supported the choice she had made with regards to her life. Her mother, on the other hand, could be counted upon to alternate between ear-splitting bouts of scolding for not having found a husband, not throwing herself in the path of enough rich bachelors, having a man's job, etc., and fits of agony over the inevitable fate of her two eldest daughters--generally involving gruesome death at sea. She always blamed Elizabeth for having tempted Jane into the salty life as well, since Elizabeth had first participated in LSO and her excited descriptions had convinced her elder sister to set sail in the summer after she graduated from college. Her father was entirely useless in her defense against her mother, preferring as he did to laugh at the ridiculous antics of his wife.

Perhaps it was the lack of felicity in her parents marriage that put Elizabeth off the idea of love in general, but for whatever reason, she had certainly never made it one of her concerns in life. She had graduated from Cornell with a bachelor's degree in biology, but, instead of pursuing research or medical school as might be expected of an Ivy League graduate, she began accumulating sea time as a deckhand aboard tall ships. Eventually she acquired a mate's license, and, later, a captain's license for inland and coastal cruises. She spent a great deal of time as captain of several day-sailing schooners. She enjoyed the responsibility that being the commanding officer involved, though she missed the bluewater passages that long, offshore cruises offered. An offshore license required more seatime as a mate on cruises such as the one aboard Austen. Her ultimate object was to become a captain for LSO, which, in her admittedly biased opinion, was the best sail-training program out there. Despite her penchant for sailing, Elizabeth had been a biology major for a reason. She was a scientist at heart. She loved the puzzle, the challenge of understanding something. She loved to pick something apart and look at it on a microscopic scale, then put it all back together and look at it from afar, as a system, with its polished and smoothly functioning surface giving little indication of its complex makeup. She loved the way LSO combined sailing with science and even history and literature to give a deep and comprehensive understanding of the sea. She loved the cooperation between the two groups: that the scientists loved to sail and the sailors cared about the science. And she loved to teach; to pass on her fascination with the sea to others. She longed for the day when, as captain, she would teach the Nautical Science course on shore and then take her students to sea to show them why it all mattered.

But Jane, Elizabeth considered, probably did not share exactly her sister's attitude. As much as she loved going to sea, she had opted for a more secure life than the footloose one her sister led. Jane was a traditionalist. She had gone to graduate school after college and received a Masters in marine science. Afterwards she had signed a long-term contract with LSO and shared a house in Woods Hole with several of her colleges. She spent part of her time at sea as an assistant scientist and the balance ashore working on the data that LSO collected in such abundance. Elizabeth assumed that when a suitable project presented itself Jane would go on to get a doctorate. Whether or not she would at that point apply to become a chief scientist with LSO and continue her interrupted lifestyle, Elizabeth was not certain. She knew her sister enjoyed her cruises at sea, but she wondered if Jane would not prefer to adopt a more sedentary lifestyle ashore-one including a house, back yard, dog, and...spouse (Elizabeth even thought the word delicately, as if it might have spines). Though Elizabeth foresaw herself as a sailor for the long run, she suspected that sea life was simply a particularly interesting stop along the road for her sister.

The result of these ruminations was to make Elizabeth even more curious as to just what was going on between her sister and the chief scientist. She could not help but wonder at the logistics of a romance aboard a crowded sailing ship. They certainly had the advantage of proximity, but on the other hand, their chances of being alone for more than thirty seconds within the next five weeks were effectively nil. And she wondered how a relationship between an assistant scientist and the chief scientist would affect the shipboard dynamic of the lab watch. And she wondered if anyone else had noticed anything unusual.

Chapter Nine

Posted on Monday, 1 March 1999

That evening, Elizabeth's first stop on the Jane Gossip quest was Charlotte. But Charlotte was not very helpful, in Elizabeth's opinion.

"Well, I suppose I can see Charlie falling for Jane," the steward said, "but I don't really see much from Jane's corner."

"You haven't noticed how frequent and huge her smiles are around him?"

"Well, yes, but if she wants to get invited to join his research team, then being attractive can only benefit her."

"Are you kidding? Jane would never try to manipulate someone like that! She is way too honest to try to use anything but her own merit to get an advantage."

"Beauty is a merit."

Elizabeth sighed, exasperated with her friend's new mindset, "A relevant merit, Charlotte. Jane's looks do not in any way reflect on her academic ability, and she would never try to use them as such."

"Perhaps she should, or she might end up like me."

"Jane is not a-" Elizabeth bit back the word "coward" and lowered her voice back to an acceptable range. "Jane already has a job that she enjoys and is happy in. Any research would be icing on her cake at this point, but she doesn't need it. I'm not saying that the two of them shouldn't work together or anything; in fact it would probably make a huge amount of sense, but I really think there is more to it than that."

"Well, I'll pay attention now that you've said something, Lizzy."

"Okay, Charlotte, see you later." Elizabeth was discouraged as she stepped out of the galley, not about her quest for gossip, but about the state of her friendship with the steward. She simply could not understand the world from Charlotte's point of view any more. She shook her head and wondered what this monster was that ate people's dreams and joys and sense of awe and whether it would ever catch up with her. She ascended the main companionway and stuck her head in the lab, but Mary Kate was surrounded by students, and Elizabeth didn't see any reason why she should spread rumors over the whole ship. So she just said hello and inquired about the results of the hundred-count from their latest plankton tow. After poking around at a few amphipods and a crab megalops larva through the microscope, she bid her good-byes to the lab and headed for the quarterdeck. Conveniently enough, there she found Alice, the second assistant scientist, also off watch at the time. And even more convenient, neither subject of her quest was present. This time, however, she got a very different reaction to her inquiries.

Alice looked at her in disbelief, "Did you only just notice this, Lizzy? Mary Kate and I have been laughing about it for days."

"You have? Who else knows?"

"Well, we both discussed it with Ann, I talked about it with Spring, and I don't really know if Mary Kate has said anything to Paula."

Lizzy grinned and felt like she was watching colored dye spread out through the ship's gossip pathways. "I'm sure she has. I know that Jane would have been the first person I discussed this with if it hadn't involved her. Well, I guess I'm about the last to know. Except Charlotte. And the students. And maybe Liz."

"Nope, she was there too when we were talking to Ann."

No wonder there are never shipboard romances! What a network this place is. "So, do you think that she has fallen for him as well, or just he for her?"

"Lizzy, he had her laughing the other day. Really laughing. And once I saw her blush."

"What do you think will happen?"

"Well, I suppose they won't be able to pursue this very far on shipboard. Ever noticed how all they ever talk about is science? I think they're trying to stay on neutral, or professional, ground. And failing miserably, I might add. We'll just have to see what happens when the cruise is over, but I think I could venture a guess."

"Hmmm...well, thank you for your insight, o guru of love and human behavior."

Alice laughed and slapped her friend amicably on the back, "No problem, naďve one. Now, I have to visit my bunk, because I have dawn watch tomorrow."

"I'm on midwatch, so I'm going to stay up a little longer. Good night."

"Lucky. Have a nice sleep tomorrow morning."

"Have an nice dawn tomorrow morning."

"You do manage to find the best in everything, don't you?"

"Are you kidding? Dawn watch is my favorite. Besides, you slept in this morning."

"And you'll have dawn watch the day after tomorrow."

"I'm not the one complaining."

Alice laughed and waved dismissively at the mate, amused at Elizabeth's ability to have the last word in absolutely anything. Except her sister falling in love.

Chapter Ten

Author's Note: Elizabeth's story is dedicated to Kathlyn (you'll see why). It is a true story, told as accurately as I can make it, since it's second hand.

Elizabeth stayed on the quarterdeck contemplating the information Alice had given her. She was certainly struck by the irony of the fact that she was one of the last crewmembers to notice that her own sister appeared to be falling in love. But she also felt somewhat better after Alice's speculation that the two would wait for dry land before progressing with their relationship. Either her instinct or her dim view of love in general made her feel like living aboard a ship could get both stressful on a budding relationship and tiresome for the rest of the company.

She was awakened from her reverie when she noticed Darcy, Teg and Jimmy floundering in their attempt to sheet in the mainsail. They were undoubtedly undermanned for the task, but were also lacking in synchronization of their tugs. Jimmy was making a game effort at timing them by calling out the traditional "Two-six, HEAVE!" but it was quite apparent that more coordination was needed.

"Arrr...put yer backs inter it, yer pond scum!"

Darcy raised his head, surprised to find that this amusingly accurate pirate imitation was coming from Elizabeth.

"I'm thinkin' we need a chantey, do we mateys? Haul away on ther chorus parts."

She grasped the end of the sheet and broke into song. Teg and Jimmy had apparently heard it before, since they joined in singing the response and pulled at the appropriate moments, quickly bringing Darcy into the rhythm as well.

"Louis was the king of France before the revolution."

"WAY haul a-WAY, we'll HAUL away to-GE-ther."

"But then he got his head cut off it spoiled his constitution."

"a-WAY haul a-WAY, we'll HAUL away JOE."

Darcy's last four pulls were somewhat weaker than his first, as he was chuckling at her lyrics. Her next verse was so bawdy and off-color, and simultaneously so ridiculous to hear from a woman, that he was laughing out loud. Fortunately, the main was sheeted in, Teg called "Up behind!" and he was able to drop the line. He grinned to Elizabeth, "let me guess, that chantey was written when sailors were men?"

"They all were," Elizabeth replied noncommittally, "steamers began to roam the seas in the middle of the nineteenth century, and were the beginning of the end of the Age of Sail." She spoke the term reverently; he could hear the capital letters. "Apparently it was too difficult to climb the rigging in a corset."

He gave her a wry, crooked smile, "So I guess you're glad you were born now. Somehow I can't imagine you in a corset."

Did that mean I'm unladylike, Dr. Darcy? Very well, you are more than welcome to think what you will of me. "No, I suppose not. It's a hard battle to get me in a dress."

Without so much as a greeting to him she turned and moved away across the deck, leaving Darcy to contemplate this enigma of a person and why she fascinated him so. He had watched her that afternoon as she moved with her particular brand of grace and agility through the rigging. She was fearless, but always prudent, he noticed, clipping in her harness whenever possible. He did not get the impression that she had something to prove as she perched upon the yard, applying leather to a section that had been chafing the forestays'l when braced sharp. She was simply perfectly self-assured with her perch, and so focused on her task that she was unaware of the swinging leg that gave her a carefree appearance. He was learning to appreciate her humor. What he had originally marked as tasteless he now began to rethink. True, it was not fit for certain company, but he noticed that it never failed to be funny, and since everyone aboard were adults, what did it matter? Despite his initial reaction to it, he had used her "up your aft" mnemonic time and again when discerning the jib halyard from the jt halyard from the raffee halyard. It certainly was memorable, and wasn't that the point? He also admired her curiosity. From his initial shock at her scientific abilities when she discussed seabirds with him, he had noticed her constant interest not just in sailing, but in the results of their CTD casts, sediment grabs, plankton tows, chlorophyll samples, just about anything that science managed to throw at them. And she seemed to get particularly excited when she could wed information from the deck watch with information from the science watch to gain a more comprehensive picture of what the water-and air-around them was doing. And her excitement was infectious, it traveled straight into the smiles and minds of the students. Here was a teacher, a scientist, a humorist, all bound into the form of a sailor. He felt a little ridiculous now for the 180-degree shift his opinions had taken. I agreed to learn to be a sailor, he rationalized, shouldn't I appreciate a talented one when I see her? The research I can do falling off a log. Charles is right--the students' eyes are just as good as mine, they can collect data, and I will work on it when I get home. I am going to play sailor, and as long as I do, I am going to be a good sailor.

With this new agenda in mind he set off to join the rest of the crew.

As the sun sank below the horizon, several students were seated atop the doghouse, gathered around Dawn and Elizabeth who were strumming their guitars. William did not feel like he could actually join them, since he was on watch, but stood on the bench alongside the doghouse and rested his elbows upon the cabintop, watching her play. They sang mostly popular songs, but all ones with a sea theme. Dawn was well schooled in her Jimmy Buffet, and he found himself singing along with everyone else. Then Elizabeth played some older sea songs and he simply listened to her sing.

A lull in the music was filled by a request for Elizabeth to tell them a sea story.

"You mean a sea story, or something that really happened?" She asked. "Do you guys know the difference between a sea story and a fairy tale? A fairy tale begins with 'once upon a time' and a sea story begins with 'this is no shit.' It's true, too."

William spoke up. "Why don't you tell us the most frightening thing that has ever happened to you at sea."

She eyed him warily, but since the idea was heavily endorsed by the others, she complied.

"All right. This really did happen, and it was on the Austen. Two years ago, we were sailing in the Sargasso Sea, en route from the Caribbean to Bermuda. We were having some really tropical weather, afternoon squalls and thunderstorms included. Most of these squalls we were seeing on our radar well in advance and just sailing around. But then a cold front came through and there was nothing we could really do but take in sail and wait for it to pass. Now, you guys all know that cold fronts bring severe weather with gusty winds and thunderstorms and everything, but an important thing here was that the cold front was moving into really warm, wet air, which makes the temperature and moisture gradient even bigger, cranks the wind and supercharges the air."

Elizabeth's brief weather review was not lost on William. He was also aware of the fact that her story would leave a more indelible imprint than any textbook could on the students minds. He realized how much her job must mean to her--just because she was off watch she did not stop teaching.

"I was off watch at the time, but we had all known that this front was coming through. We had been plotting it on the radar for hours, and the watch on deck had a plan and were prepared. My bunk was in the foc's'le cabin, and I woke up when they slammed the scuttle shut. That was how I knew that it had started to rain. I was going back to sleep, since after all I have slept through more cold fronts than I even know about, but the front started getting close and the thunder was keeping me awake. Thunder is weird in a steel ship--it sort of echoes and resonates through the hull. Finally I got up to watch the show. Most of the rest of the watches below were awake at this point, even though it was about midnight. Everyone was gathered around the main salon munching on midnight snack. Most of the students were a little nervous; most of the crew were pretty calm.

"I went up the midships companionway to watch the storm in the night, but the rain was pelting in, so we decided to shut the watertight door and I went below again. I'm glad I did, because about five minutes later the mainmast was struck by lightening. I'm glad I wasn't standing in the midships companionway, four feet away from the base of the mast. I'm not sure anything would have happened to me, but I'll leave it up to someone else to try it out. The only people on deck at the time were the helmsman and the bow watch, and they were fine, but it scared the hell out of the girl at the helm. She said the whole mast and stays and everything sort of lit up for a second.

"Now, even below we knew pretty quickly what had happened. The masts are very carefully grounded, or watered, or whatever, so no one got zapped from the actual lightening bolt, but the huge charge induced a current in the rest of the metal on the ship. Anyone touching anything metal got a mild shock. We heard the thunder, and we didn't need the watch on deck to tell us what had happened. We all split off and did a quick below boat-check for the deck and established that we were neither leaking nor burning nor anything else deadly. And all our rigging was still standing, so we considered ourselves pretty lucky. But there was one thing wrong. Most of the electronics in the engine room had survived, except for a few things that were fried by the induced current. But all of our navigational electronics were dead. Everything. They are all attached to antennae on the mast. Both GPS units, both radars, the loran, both high seas radios, all the VHF radios except one handheld unit with about a six mile range. So we still had a reefer and freezer, but we didn't have any electronics to tell us where we were, and, even more importantly, we couldn't communicate with LSO.

"You guys know how we call in to them every morning at 0800h? Well, if we miss a day, they start paying close attention but wait another day, because things happen at sea and it doesn't necessarily mean we're all dead. But if we don't call in the next day, they call the Coast Guard. This has never been done, of course, but that's the policy. So we knew that we had to find a way to get word to them within the next thirty or so hours. Since we were much farther than that from land, we were pretty much at the mercy of any ship that happened to come near enough to hear us on our little VHF. So we set a course for nearest land, the Bahamas, and began sending out PanPan messages requesting an answer from any ship that heard us. PanPan messages imply something serious, but not life-threatening. If you were sinking you'd use Mayday.

"So except for the radio, all was for the most part well. All of the deck crew were well schooled in celestial navigation, and since we were several weeks into our trip the students were pretty handy at it also. We figured with eight sextants aboard we could hardly go wrong as long as it stayed relatively clear. But as morning came the clouds behind the front began to clear out, and we noticed that the dawn was starting to glow off our port beam. That was all wrong, because we were headed west, to the Bahamas. The sun was rising in the south.

"It didn't take us long to figure out what had happened, but in the time that it did take, all four of us deck crew were just staring at the dawn, wondering if we were hallucinating, or asleep, or dead or something. The lightning had changed the deviation on the compass. It had realigned the iron atoms in the steel of the ship so that the compass was pointing west instead of north. And we didn't realize it, because in the immediate confusion after the lightening and the windshifts with the front passing through, no one noticed that it was the compass and not the ship that was off course.

"So we were left with the stars. We used them and the sun to work up a makeshift new deviation table so that we could keep using our compass to steer by, but we were continually checking and refining it. By the time the next evening rolled around we were established with our new routine of sunsights and deviation calculations, but we were starting to sweat over making contact with LSO. We knew that they would be pacing a hole in the floor, since they have eyes too and could read the weatherfaxes as well as we could. They knew that we had met up with a cold front, so our missing the call the next morning was probably their worst nightmare. Finally at about 2200h, only ten left to go, we were answered by a containership in our area. We asked them to call LSO for us, and we got an answer. It was the President--he had taken the high seas radio home with him. We told to him what had happened and what our plans were, but cautioned that we still would not have definite radio contact until we made port in the Bahamas. So we were left to our own devices.

"It was a fascinating cruise from there on in. I've been using celestial nav for as long as I have been sailing--I learned it on my student cruise just like you guys are. But until then I had never had to depend solely upon my sextant. They're enormously accurate, but to some extent they are at the mercy of the elements. I'd never had to worry about whether it would be clear or not when we passed through the Gulf Stream. Dead reckoned positions are really inaccurate in the Gulf Stream because the current is so strong that it can put you miles off your course. I'd never had to worry if it would be clear when we approached the Bahamas. They are full of reefs and sand and you want to know just where you are when you meet up with them. It was a very impressive lesson in self reliance."

A weighty silence greeted the end of Elizabeth's story as they considered that the implications of this mildly frightening event could have been exponentially more deadly if LSO did not believe in the absolute necessity of proficient celestial navigation. Elizabeth had deliberately played down the fact that they had no navigation devices, but everyone present had enough experience working with these instruments to appreciate the significance of losing them. William was mesmerized by the story. He realized that the reason that the mate came across as fiercely independent and capable was that she was just that. Set her loose anywhere on this ocean with a sextant and a few charts and she can find her way home, he thought. No wonder she is so confident. And yet, she tells the whole story from the perspective of "we," of everyone, of a crew. Never says that "she" did anything heroic at all. She shares everything; her knowledge, her laugh, her success.

Unexpectedly, Elizabeth spoke again. "Can you guys still see that weather vane up there at the top of the mainmast?"

They all peered into the growing darkness and could just make out a black arrow silhouetted against the navy blue sky.

"When it got light that first morning, we kept finding little blobs of melted and singed plastic stuck to the deck. We finally figured out that it had rained weathervane."

Chapter Eleven

Posted on Wednesday, 10 March 1999

"So he stares at you. And you think the only possible explanation for this is that he is repulsed by you? I must question the logic of that, Lizzy."

"But Paula, why else would he act like that? I think it's the novelty. Like this: he's a scientist, right? It's like he's found some new, bizarre species of cockroach and even though it's a disgusting thing in itself, he can't stop looking at it because it's so strange."

Paula gave her friend a disbelieving stare, as if questioning Elizabeth's sanity. "Ok, I'm with you on the novelty bit, but cockroach? No way, girlie."

The two mates were enjoying a crystal clear day from the fore topmast spreader. They sat side by side on the wooden planking far above the deck, legs hanging casually over the edge. The water, that astonishingly clear navy blue of the open ocean, stretched in all directions to a horizon drawn at last by the curve of the earth. The textured, moving blue was broken only by the rippling path of the sun, cheerful and blinding.

But the beauty of the scene was momentarily lost on Paula, who was more interested in her friend's internal blindness. How can you be this dumb about something you're normally so good at, Lizzy? First the thing with your sister and Charlie, she shook her head, amused. Mary Kate had told her what Alice had said about her conversation with Elizabeth on that particular topic. She had to wonder at the Mate's peculiar brand of insight. She never failed to be shrewd and penetrating with the students; she determined within days what made them tick, and what made them stop ticking. She was acutely aware of her watch's strengths and weaknesses, and when the time came to rotate watches and mates, as they had two days before, she always passed on a valuable portrait to the mate who was lucky enough to come after her. It seemed, however, that they had found her blind spot. Elizabeth understood the workings of courage, fear, joy, confidence, curiosity, leadership, and the myriad of other traits that were tested and proven at LSO. What she did not seem to have the slightest inkling of was the workings of the heart. Admittedly, William's case was somewhat complicated, especially having overheard as she did his initial impression. But Jane and Charlie? They were as transparent as they come.

"Well, third mate, do you have any better suggestions?"

"I would only say, o superior one, that I sincerely doubt he is repulsed by you."

"Then what possible motive could he have for staring at me all the time?"

Do I tell her? That might make things even more screwed up between the two of them than they already are. I think you're going to have to figure this one out on your own, my friend. "Well, maybe he wants to learn as much as he can about sailing," Paula returned evasively.

"Then wouldn't he look to you or Spring? I haven't been his watch mate yet. Besides, there is no way that guy could ever care a shred about sailing. He cares way too much about his lofty position as a professor. And he flunked the callus test." She added the last almost petulantly, like a little girl trying to justify herself.

Paula laughed, "but he didn't know then. I would be willing to bet that he looks upon his own newly hardened hands with a little more appreciation since he suffered the blister phase. And anyway, you're the chief mate, as you so tactfully pointed out a minute ago. Perhaps he's only looking for the best instruction."

"But what about Ann? She's the captain. More sea time and rank than me."

Paula sighed, "Lizzy, I must regretfully beg off this conversation because I go on watch in twenty minutes. I'll leave you with this," she swung herself onto the ratlines, clipped her harness, and added, as she disappeared from sight below the spreader, "If you have to ask..."

At 1500 hours, afternoon snack made its appearance. And as usual the tray was mobbed by thirty-six ravenous sailors. The fact that they had eaten only two hours before was inconsequential-it seemed that no matter how much food they poured into their bodies, they only became slimmer, more toned and hungrier. They quickly discovered that eating six times a day was not a luxury but a necessity.

As assistant steward, Laura had outdone herself. Snack was not cheese and crackers today, but a tray of hot crepes, each oozing with brown filling.

Elizabeth made her way to the front of the crowd and grinned. "Nice job, Laura. Crepes can not be easy to make while in motion."

Laura laughed, "Yeah, I gave Charlotte her entertainment for the day. It was touch and go at first, but I got better with practice."

"What's in here?" came a voice from behind Elizabeth; she turned in time to see William gesture at the filling.

"Nutella," Laura answered, "Chocolate hazelnut spread."

"It's great stuff," Paula's voice chimed in, "you can do anything with it."

Elizabeth's eyebrows knitted briefly. There was something about the way Paula had said "anything" that made Elizabeth think the mate had meant something else, or something more, than what she said. She was further convinced, and further perplexed, by the amused look that passed between Laura and Paula, and by Mark chiming in with, "Just wait 'til I'm assistant steward!" Elizabeth was well aware of the bent that the minds of these three tended to take, but this time she could not seem to find any logical progression from Nutella to there. William appeared to be oblivious to any innuendo, so Elizabeth was somewhat appeased by the fact that even if she was on the outside of a private joke, at least he was not included either. She shrugged, dismissed the interpretation as her imagination, briefly wondered why her imagination had come up with something so bizarre, and finally sat down on the break of the quarterdeck to enjoy her crepe.

But the crepe was warm and the Nutella runny. A little glob had dripped out of the bottom end and landed on the inside of her leg, just below the shorts line. She didn't notice it, though, as she was looking the Austen over, inventorying the work she hoped to accomplish before the end of the cruise. I still need to put some leather on the forestays'l where it's chafing against the yard...and the jibstay at least needs some lanolin-well they all do, but at lest the jib...

Her thoughts were interrupted by William's voice. He sounded a little strange; he seemed to be talking too fast. "UmElizabethyouhavesomeNutellaonyourleg." An before she could even look down and verify this claim, he had leaned over and was carefully wiping it off with one long finger.

"Uhhhh...thhhanks," Elizabeth spoke slowly, despite the fact that her mind was whirling in overdrive. What on earth was that?

Her bewildered gaze fell on Laura just in time to see that she was looking their way, before the assistant steward turned away and shared an inconspicuous high five with Paula. And what was that?

She turned her mind back to William Darcy. She just couldn't see him deigning to do her an offhand favor and wipe up her dribbled food. But she was well aware of the jolt that had passed through her at his touch...It was almost as if he were coming on to me. No Lizzy, don't be ridiculous. He would never be interested in someone so vulgar and low-class as a sailor. Thank goodness. She added the last to banish the part of her brain that had reacted the way it had. She decided that her eating habits must have offended his good breeding. Still, it did seen strange that he would personally remove the offending morsel.

Why is everyone acting so looney all of a sudden? Did they put something in the crepes?

Chapter 12

Posted on Monday, 5 April 1999

It was the kind of day that sailors dream about. The weather pushed the borderline of too windy, but in the sparklingly fresh sunlight it was closer to perfection. Fluffy cumulus clouds scudded hurriedly across the blue sky, and foaming white caps surfed lazily across the blue water.

The Austen was charging. She was heeling to 18 degrees, so the low edge of her deck cruised just above the water level, only occasionally dipping below a wave. The quarterdeck was the only remotely dry area of the ship, and most of the company was gathered there to spectate. Except for those intrepid few who were prepared to brave the spray for a special experience.

"Don't you want to go out on the bowsprit and watch her sail, Elizabeth?" William asked.

She smiled but was silent until he repeated his question.

"I heard you the first time, William, only I couldn't decide how to answer you. I know you expected me to say yes so that you could laugh at my childish appreciation for boats. However, I am in the mood to be difficult, so my answer is no, I can see perfectly well how she is sailing from here. Now try and laugh at me."

William gave her a strange look, but only shrugged, "Suit yourself. It's your loss, but I'm not laughing."

Elizabeth expected to have offended him and so was quite surprised at his unruffled tone. Her surprise grew as she watched him slip on his harness, exchange a word with Paula, and head for the bow. Did he actually mean that? He's going to go out there and get wet? Elizabeth knew from prior experience that the end of the bowsprit itself was a relatively dry place to be. The bow itself and the first eight or ten feet of the bowsprit, however, meant certain drenching. She watched him pause to evaluate this scene as he neared the splash zone. She had seen this unwieldy ballet and indeed performed it herself countless times, and it was almost inevitably unsuccessful. William timed his dash carefully, beginning as one wave crashed into the hull. But the elements were to thwart him at every turn. His run across the deck resolved itself into a rather undignified waddle, as he contended both with the sideways heel and the increasing upward pitch of the deck. He gained the bow just as the Austen reached the crest of the wave, reached over to clip in his harness, then swung one leg over the rail as she crashed into the trough. He was particularly unlucky here, as his position put him directly in the path of the impressive amount of water that was flung up by the collision between the hull and the wave. He held one arm in front of his face, ineffectively, while clinging to the rail with the other. Shaking the water out of his hair, he finished the trip with an ungainly dive onto the netting and crawled out to his place beside Teg before he could get hit again. Elizabeth derived considerable enjoyment from watching him get soaked, but her mirth was dampened somewhat by the fact that he didn't seem to care overmuch. She could not see his face from where she was, but Teg and Laura were looking back at him with smiles that looked fit to crack their faces open, so she surmised that he must have done something to warrant such a reaction.

Suddenly Elizabeth realized that in craning for a better view of the events taking place at the bow, she had wandered forward to the beginning of the foredeck. Knowing that she was in full view of most of the ship, she cast about for some excuse to have come forward. She noticed a balentine coil that had slid across the deck slightly when the ship rolled. She sighed. She hated balentining, but everything else was perfectly shipshape. Cursing William Darcy for existing, she kicked apart the remains of the coil and savagely formed it back into its Venn-diagram shape, with three overlapping circles. Having vented her frustration by handling the line with the finesse of a gorilla, she turned to resume her dubious position on the quarterdeck.

Spring was frustrated. And she was all the more annoyed by the fact that this frustration was not stemming from any of the usual places. The class was wonderful. Both watches that she had lead so far had been full of bright and interested people and had wonderful group dynamics. As was to be expected, some were better leaders and some were more comfortable being led. Some fell into the shipboard rhythm quickly, others struggled with the watch rotation. Some caught on quickly to the huge amount of information and procedure that was presented, others became somewhat overwhelmed. But the important part was that they dealt with all these things as a group, supporting each other's weakness and building off each other's strengths. That was the key quality that made them a watch, and she was very pleased with this group.

This was a lucky thing, she realized, because the person who always managed to smooth over the problems, to make a watch out of a group of individuals, was suddenly rubbing against the grain. The Band-Aid was not healing anything. The tension between Elizabeth and William was almost palpable at times, and Spring could find no logical reason for it. For the first time, Elizabeth seemed to be causing the very problems she usually solved.

Spring had overheard the interaction between the first mate and the scientist, and was now watching as Elizabeth paced the quarterdeck with a face like a thundercloud. William, she noticed with some feeling of irony, was lying on his stomach on the bowsprit with a handful of others, looking something like an enraptured eight-year-old. They were hanging their chins over the edge of the netting, watching with mouths agape as 270 tons of steel blasted its way through enormous waves. Good. He's the one who deserves to be enjoying this. Lizzy is being ridiculous.

She was not entirely sure what it was about William that Lizzy objected to so strongly. She was aware of what the mate had overheard at the very beginning of the trip, but that did not seem to be a hanging crime, particularly since he seemed to be trying his best to make peace with her. Of course, William did not possess the same easy people skills that Elizabeth had, but he seemed to be overcoming that as she watched. In the past the Elizabeth she knew would try to encourage these signs of his emergence from his shell, rather than trying to stifle them instantly.

In other areas, William seemed more like Elizabeth's ideal pupil than her arch nemesis. The cruise was approaching the end of its fourth week, and it would soon be time for Spring to turn William and the rest of C-Watch over to Elizabeth's care. She had had virtually nothing but good experiences with him during her two-week leadership of the watch. Admittedly, he was not the most motivated dishwasher in the world, and dawn clean-up was not his favorite part of the watch rotation, but she did not view those as condemnable offenses provided that he did what was expected of him, as was always the case. On deck, he was exemplary. He seemed determined to learn everything that any of them had to teach him. He was curious, asked questions, cared about doing everything in the most correct, efficient and graceful way possible. It went without saying that he was intelligent, but Spring added that to her portrait also. She enjoyed teaching him. He caught on quickly and cared about understanding concepts rather than simply memorizing procedures.

In all these characteristics, including the distaste for dishes, he and Elizabeth seemed to be cut from the same mold. The only difference Spring could detect between them was a rather subtle difference in outlook. While Elizabeth regarded her calling with almost religious seriousness, William seemed to be playing. He seemed to view their entire profession as an elaborate, grown-up version of make-believe, as if they had graduated straight from Cops and Robbers to Sailors without any type of reality check in the middle. His interest seemed to stem from some combination of a competitive tendency to want to do it better than the other person and a certain amount of curiosity despite his judgement of the profession he called "sailor." That he was proud of his intellect and position she had no doubt; but then, so was Elizabeth in a more subtle sense. Elizabeth tended to want to pass on the knowledge she had mastered where William seemed content simply to amass it in his own mind. I wonder if he's a good teacher, she thought doubtfully. The irony in all this was that Elizabeth, as far as Spring could tell, was the only one of them that William did take seriously. It was not that he didn't get along with the rest-he was liked by everyone aboard with one notable exception-but he gave the impression that he was humoring them in their game for the time he was at sea. Elizabeth, however, he seemed to recognize as an intelligent, adult human being. Paula was certain that he was attracted to her, and although Spring was not about to refute that claim, she believed that he also respected Elizabeth, perhaps even in spite of himself. She wondered if he didn't think Elizabeth's decision to become a sailor was a waste of a perfectly serviceable brain.

At any rate, Spring was looking forward to the upcoming watch change with no little apprehension. For the sake of the rest of those aboard, she hoped that Elizabeth would have the maturity to treat William at least neutrally for the two weeks in which they would have to work together.

Elizabeth was frustrated. She had been leading C-Watch for the past five days. Nearly all the students had taken their first turn as Junior Watch Officer ("J-Whoa!" as some of the mates liked to call it). As JWO, she took the job of deckhand, and the student stepped up as Acting Mate. Legally, of course, she was still the Mate, but the JWO was responsible for organizing the watch, getting them where they needed to go, making sure that hourly boat checks happened on schedule, rotating shifts at the helm and on bow watch, and communicating directly with the captain about any special procedures.

Everything had gone well so far. Too well. She had discovered almost immediately that making William suffer through giving him maid duty was not going to be an effective way of torturing him. She had piled every distasteful task she could think of on him but could not seem to ruffle his cool demeanor. Even when she had met him on the companionway as he carried a bucket of syrupy white juice wet-vacuumed from the bottom of the reefer, he had only grinned, "Sip?" She was perplexed. Although he never displayed any signs of unwillingness to perform his job, she couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't take her, or any of her colleagues, seriously.

William's first turn as JWO had been flawless. And he had not had it easy, either. The weatherfax map that had rolled in during morning watch had shown the tooth-like triangles of a cold front bearing down upon them. When William took over at 1300h, it was apparent that this piece of weather would fall to him to deal with. Although JWO's were not technically supposed to ask their Mates for support and advice during their watch, in extenuating circumstances such as this one Elizabeth was prepared to lend not just advice but a level head. But William had calmly switched on the radio, noted the characteristics of the front, and taken the information to Ann. They had formulated a plan which William had executed to the letter. The front was radar plotted, several sails came down, and William watched from the quarterdeck as the wind gusted and the rain began to fall. Elizabeth slacked the jt halyard and then helped to furl the fisherman stays'l.

Very well, Mr. Perfect, I will simply have to come up with a different strategy!

William was frustrated. Well, he wasn't always frustrated. He had become accustomed to the entire spectrum of emotions that seemed to characterize life at sea. He was also intrigued, sometimes overwhelmed, and recently even a little nostalgic. There were only four days left of the cruise, and he had started to realize that he would miss it. He had grown closer than he had ever thought possible to his shipmates, the very undergraduates that he had scorned less than two months before. He would miss them, he would miss being part of the team they called "watch," he would miss this exhausting and exhilarating life. The six weeks he had spent aboard the Pride of Austen seemed both an instant and an eternity. On one hand, it seemed only moments ago that he had been seated on the quarterdeck cursing his stomach for betraying him and himself for agreeing to come aboard. On the other hand, as he followed the now-logical paths of lines up and down the masts, it seemed inconceivable that only six weeks before he had not known the jib halyard from the jt halyard from the raffee halyard. Or even what a halyard was, he thought wryly. He remembered learning that in his first introduction to Elizabeth and her lively teaching style. I can't believe I called her Miss Bennet! He laughed at his own pompousness.

And thus his thoughts had come full circle for the hundredth time in the past few days. Elizabeth Bennet. A name, he realized, that he would not forget easily. But he certainly did not know what to make of that. He did not know what to make of her. She had treated him strangely from the beginning.

At first he only noticed that she treated him unlike anyone had ever treated him before. Especially single female anyones. It was not that she did not respect him, but she required that he prove himself to deserve her respect, instead of bowing and scraping to the great scientist at every turn. He supposed that a sailor would have no reason to respect a college professor, but at the same time he got the feeling that it was not their disparate professions which drove her lack of automated deference.

Since she had taken over his watch, however, he had noticed that she also treated him differently from any of his shipmates. She drove him harder, expected more out of him, and gave far less praise in the end. For a while she had seemed bent on making him scrub, polish, squeegee and vacuum every disgusting part of the ship she could come up with. He had spotted this as a test and never voiced a complaint or pulled a grimace. When the drudge work stopped, or at least slowed, he assumed that he had passed her test. She began to challenge him. She taught him more and more difficult procedures and techniques until he knew far more than any of the rest of his watchmates. When he was shooting the sun and the stars, she presented him with increasingly complicated methods until he was scrambling to conceptualize the trigonometry he had learned in high school in terms of the spherical Earth. When he was radar plotting, she taught him how this single tool could be used in a multitude of ways to gather information about their surroundings until he was struggling to track the relative motion vectors of neighboring vessels they happened across. When he took his second turn as JWO, she tossed the MOB buoy over the taffrail as they cruised along under sail and asked him to retrieve it. When he did she barely acknowledged him, except to suggest that next time they might not have to use the boat hook.

It wasn't the fact that she was exposing him to so many difficult things that frustrated him. On the contrary, he was pleased that she thought him capable of understanding them. He was annoyed with the fact that, try as he might, he could never seem to meet her standards. She drove him to try and be above her reproach, but she always found something to improve. And when she offered him a challenge it was exactly that: as if she were daring him to be able to perform it. Sometimes he was not even certain if she wanted him to succeed.

Perhaps, though, it was better that way. For he had to admit that the fascination he held for her did not stem from her independence and her spirit alone. He was attracted to her. Perhaps it was better that the smile with which she favored the rest of the watch so often was rarely directed at him. For it made his gut wrench. It threw him off balance more than ever the Austen's pitching could. Perhaps it was better that he would return to his safe world in only four days. In a sense he envied his friend, to whom everything seemed to come easy. Elizabeth is just as smart as Jane; why couldn't she have gone to school and studied something respectable as well? This last thought startled him. What am I doing falling for a sailor? What am I doing wishing she weren't a sailor?

Ann was flipping hamburgers. She wondered why this job always fell to the Captain. She saw no reason why she was any more qualified as grill master than the rest of the crew, but this was the tradition and she was not prepared to break it. So it had been on her student cruise; so had it been when she sailed as deckhand, as Engineer, as Mate, and finally on her first cruise in command and every one since. The last night was special, and the barbecue was part of it. So was the music, the dancing, the silly outfits, the pride, the elation and the tears. Every time she sailed, she felt this same sense of loss. It had been most acute the first time, just as she could see in the bittersweet expressions of the twenty-five who had come aboard students and developed into a crew. Or twenty-six, she thought with a glance at the tall scientist whose legs dangled from the topsail yard as he watched the setting sun with some shipmates. It was difficult for them to look shoreward once again, to return to life on land, to the friends and families who could not share their experience. Many would arrive at the reunion in the summer, glad to be once again in the company of those who understood. Some would undoubtedly sail again, unable to leave this strangely compelling lifestyle that had lodged itself in their hearts, never to be forced aside completely. But this group, this crew, after knitting itself so tightly by necessity, would never be whole again once the heaving lines reached the dock.

Sail the sea, follow your heart; no regrets. Sing and dance, laugh, love and cry; no regrets. Now turn away; no regrets. It is the hardest, that which is last.

Chapter 13

Mid- July
Woods Hole, MA

"LLLLLIIIIIIIIZZZZZYYYYYYYY!"

Elizabeth grinned and halted her walk through "downtown" Woods Hole. She was fairly certain already who she would see when she turned around. Who else would alert the entire town of his presence just to get her attention?

"Rich!" She spotted her friend waving to her from a seat on the steps of the WHOI/MBL Marine Sciences Library. His location immediately made her curious. When they had researched their oceanography project for their student cruise, he had complained about that building more than she had thought possible. She made her way back down the street toward him.

Woods Hole was a somewhat eccentric place as towns go. One end of its long main street was swarming with tourists. They came in flocks every few hours to catch the ferry to the Vineyard and Nantucket. Ice cream shops and kitsch boutiques catered to these migratory vacationers. Further down the street, however, the tourists thinned almost entirely. This was the realm of the scientist. To Elizabeth's left, along the harbor, were some Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute buildings. The balance of their facilities was located on their campus a few miles out of town. To her right, along salty Eel Pond, lay the Marine Biological Laboratory complex. Between these two behemoths of research, the main road took up all the land that was left of the narrow spit on which the town was situated. Ahead, at the far end of the street, was the government-run National Marine Fisheries Service. Every summer the population of the town grew exponentially, as researchers rolled in from all corners of the globe to take advantage of this oceanographic Mecca. And this weekend the population increased by several hundred more-the LSO alumni were arriving in droves for their reunion.

When she was within hearing range, Elizabeth greeted her old friend, "I thought you got enough of this place from doing our project."

He rolled his eyes, "Tell me about it," but did not offer an explanation until they had shared their customary bear-hug and greetings. She asked after his Coast Guard cadets from the Eagle, and he assured her that he had only killed three recently. He asked about her life and was informed that apart from losing one student off the bowsprit she had a clean record this year.

He nodded his head toward the library. "That's why I'm on the outside," he gestured for her to take a seat beside him. "I'm waiting on my cousin who wanted to peruse the science journals."

"You have a brainy cousin? What, did he get those genes from the other side of the family?" Elizabeth loved talking with Rich because his personality came with the assurance that he could take whatever she should choose to dish out.

"Maybe the science, yeah, but I think he's more like me than he wants to let on."

She elbowed him. "You would say that. Well, are you bringing him to the alumni party? You know he'd be welcome."

"I've been working on him, but somehow I don't think he'll show. He's not really the partygoer type, and those he does attend are usually black-tie fundraiser kinds of things. We're actually here to visit our aunt on the Vineyard. But if you met her you'd understand why I try to plan the visit when there are as many other diversions as possible."

Elizabeth jumped out of the way as the door opened and looked up in time to see William Darcy coming out of the building.

"Will!" Richard cried jovially, unaware of the surprised faces of his companions, "I've found an old friend of mine that I want you to m-wait, you guys know each other?

William was the next to find his voice, "You two know each other?"

Finally Elizabeth, most shocked of all, "You are cousins?"

"I think we have Lizzy convinced that one of us was fathered by the milkman," Richard said conspiratorially to William.

"That's not possible, Rich, because my mother was your-"

"Whatever, Will," Richard shut him down.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and waited for the conversation to return to its original course. She was intrigued by the interplay between her friend and her...and William, and by the fact that William seemed to be the subordinate one in the relationship.

"Anyway," Rich gestured to her, "Lizzy and I were shipmates on the Austen way back when. We've been friends ever since, but I never introduced you to her because you never took much interest in my sailing friends."

William looked a little guilty and kept his mouth shut, so Elizabeth offered to keep the conversation going.

"I was Mate on William's cruise as Visiting Scientist."

Comprehension dawned on Richard, but only lead to greater surprise as he pieced this new information together with the stories he had heard of his cousin's cruise. He stared hard at Elizabeth and then at William.

"You are this mate that-" he caught his cousin's terrified gaze and stopped, "-that sailed with Will?"

Elizabeth missed neither the calculating stare nor the floundering retreat and wondered what Rich had opted not to say. She also wondered who "this mate" was, exactly. She looked at her friend, but his head was turned toward William as they walked three-abreast down the street. "Yes, why?"

But Rich seemed barely to be hearing her end of the conversation anymore. Without looking her way, he answered distantly, "Oh, it just seemed like a coincidence; that's all..."

Richard's mind, meanwhile, was whirling. He had been so certain that William had been attracted to, or possibly even fallen in love with, this mate he talked so much about. It had never even crossed his mind that this person might be his old friend, so he hadn't bothered to ask. The idea of Will falling for Lizzy still seemed so utterly ludicrous that he had to stop and rethink his cousin's description of the woman.

He realized that William had, in fact, given a very accurate portrait of Elizabeth-more accurate than Richard would have thought him capable of. He had spoken of her energy and enthusiasm. Of course, these were some of Elizabeth's most outstanding characteristics, but he was surprised that they had made a positive impression upon his more reticent cousin. He would have thought that William would be intimidated and ultimately put off by her tendency to be a dominant presence on shipboard.

William had also mentioned the Mystery Mate's wit. In truth, Richard doubted that his cousin could even keep up with Elizabeth's sense of humor, much less enjoy it. He assumed that she must have employed some of her favorite sailor cracks during the cruise, and very likely at William's expense.

He had said that one of her greatest characteristics was her curiosity about the world around her. Richard smiled, recalling the incessant string of questions that poured from Lizzy's mouth on their student cruise. He had to wonder, though, how apparent this characteristic was now that life at sea was familiar and relatively routine for her. He was rather impressed with William's astuteness.

And then there was the description that had stood out even before he knew the famous Mate's identity. William had admired her as a teacher. He spoke of her dedication, her genuine interest in sharing what she knew with anyone who was interested in learning. It struck Richard as odd from the very beginning that his cousin should value such a trait. Dr. Darcy had never cared a lick about his students, as far as Richard could tell. But now he realized just how perceptive William was. This was the core of Elizabeth's being. This was her single defining characteristic. This was how well William understood Lizzy.

And yet he did not. For the last thing he had said about the Mate was an expression of regret. Regret that she was who she was. "It is such a shame," he had said, "She is so intelligent. So talented. She could really go places if she were to get a real job. But instead she spends her life playing sailor. Pretending to live a life that ended a hundred years ago. "

With that, William missed the mark entirely. Perhaps William understood Elizabeth's personality, but he had no concept of her philosophy. At the time Richard had bitten back the urge to remind his cousin that he had effectively the same job as the mate. He knew that his own career only met the mark of "respectability" because it was recognized by the Coast Guard and therefore William saw it as a noble, if somewhat unusual, calling. He had never been able to change his cousin's ridiculous standards and had finally stopped trying.

But now Richard could explain something else his cousin had reflected near the end of their conversation , "You know, the funny thing is we really didn't get along that well." Richard could well imagine that if Elizabeth had merely caught some notion of William's view of her chosen life, she would never have bothered speaking to him again. The thing that puzzled him was that she apparently had paid attention to him. He would have expected her not to give the time of day to someone who meant so little to her as William if he didn't respect her. Now he reflected that he would have given an arm and a leg to be able to watch this unfold.

At the time, however, he had been distracted when William continued, "There was always this...something...between us. It was strained somehow. But when I look back...I don't think of it like that."

Richard had recognized something in his cousin's voice. It was something he had not expected to hear there. "I know Will. It's like Marlow says, 'and, tell me, wasn't that the best time, that time when we were young at sea; young and had nothing, on the sea that gives nothing, except hard knocks--and sometimes a chance to feel your strength--that only--what you all regret?'" William had looked a little surprised to hear his cousin quoting literature, but Richard had ignored him and continued, "It gets to you. You don't fit your old spot properly when you come back. The nostalgia hits as soon as you step ashore."

Then William had surprised him again. "No," he had said, "before."

Chapter 14

Posted on Friday, 21 May 1999

Author's note: The "royals" are the top set of sails on a square-rigged vessel. As you may (not) remember, the "yard" is the pole perpendicular to the mast that the squaresails hang from. Therefore, the "main royal yard" would be the top yard of the mainmast, which is the highest. The USCG Barque Eagle's rig is 147 feet high, and the main royal yard is probably a little less than ten feet below that. It's a heck of a long climb.

Elizabeth spent the day with Rich and William. This arrangement didn't suit her entirely, as she could have done without the latter, but she reasoned that she could tolerate Dr. Darcy for one more day if it meant that she could spend time with her friend. His cousin. Who would have thought?

They took a long walk down the bike path, along the beach, and on the way back hiked up the hill to the Nobska Point Lighthouse. From there they could see where they had anchored on the final night of their most recent cruise. William surprised his companions with his reminiscences of the evening. Elizabeth, like Rich, recognized the tone of his thoughts, and was also surprised at their source.

Back in Woods Hole, they stopped off at an ice cream shop near the Steamship Authority, better known as the ferry dock, and then ambled down the street, cones in hand. They were headed for a grass strip across the street from the library, where they could claim a park bench, watch the activity of the harbor, and catch ice cream as it dribbled off the cone. But as they approached their destination they found the bench in question occupied by an entangled couple whose Cape Cod t-shirts seemed to be very much in the way.

Elizabeth groaned, "Just what we need to watch-tourists making out. Lovely."

"We can sit on the sea wall in front of them. It's no big deal," Rich reasoned calmly.

"I guess so. Really, though-that's so tasteless. Thank goodness we're all clearheaded and uninvolved." Elizabeth fully expected to initiate a round of "no obligations" calling, as such a statement always had in the fast, and so was mildly surprised when her friend slowed and bit his lip. But she was still entirely unprepared for what he said instead.

Rich was silent a moment, regarding his friend. "Actually Lizzy, that's something I've been meaning to tell you," he spoke softly, "I'm in love."

Elizabeth stopped dead, jaw slack. She wondered if he were playing with her. But she couldn't begin to find the voice to ask.

William, however, was less affected. Surprised, yes; but speechless, no. "Richard Fitzwilliam is in love? With whom?" At the sound of his voice, Elizabeth snapped back into motion, and scurried to hear the answer to this.

"With a colleague of mine. Carter." Judging from the utter mush that had once been Rich's face, Elizabeth knew that this was for real; not some form of dark humor. She didn't notice anything else until she heard William repeat the name, "Carter?"

This time, apparently, it was William's turn to stop in shock. Both Rich and Elizabeth seemed to snap back to reality. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. She knew what William was thinking, but couldn't quite believe it. She had known Rich for a long time, and was very certain of his taste. It was obvious, however, that his cousin had leaped to a conclusion without second thought and was now experiencing the free fall. Elizabeth opted to keep both feet on deck and see where this went.

"Do you have a problem with that name, Will?" Rich's tone was offended, but there was something in his face that looked calculating, and his meaning suddenly dawned on Elizabeth. She shifted her weight to one leg, hip cocked, and crossed her arms. Rich noticed her movement, and, sizing up this jaunty, defiant posture, sent her a conspiratorial glance. She held his gaze levelly; neither cracking a smile nor changing her pose, and remained silent. Richard turned back to his cousin.

William looked like he smelled something repulsive. He avoided his cousin's gaze and mumbled an incoherent sentence, then pretended to notice his watch. "Oh! I have to go, um, I'm meeting an old colleague of mine while I'm in town."

"You are?" Rich asked innocently, "When did you cook that up?"

"I, uh, ran across him in the library this morning. He's going to show me his lab." William was backpedaling as he spoke, and upon finishing turned around and headed for the nearest building.

"Um, Will?" Rich called after him, "That's the visitor's center. I don't think you're going to find any labs in there!"

But William disappeared through the doorway.

"That wasn't very nice of you, Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth spoke at last.

Rich grinned, and gestured for Elizabeth to seat herself on the seawall before replying, "You know me too well, don't you?"

Apparently not. "Nope, I'm just too smart for you. Now what is her first name?"

The mush returned to his expression, disgusting Elizabeth to the point where she regretted having asked.

"Megan. Meg. And if Will had stuck around long enough, he could have found out that he knows her too, in a sense. Our families were great friends and we all grew up together. I have no idea when the last time they saw each other was, though. They didn't always get along very well. Meg used to beat on Will. I think he resented it."

Despite the turmoil of her mind, Elizabeth could not help but laugh at this image. "I'll bet he did!" Reluctantly, she turned her thoughts back to the original subject and asked the requisite question, trying to keep the skepticism out of her voice. "Well, what's she like?"

"She is an officer on the Eagle as well, though we try to work separate watches. That works out well for us, because it's about the only way we get to see each other." Elizabeth shuddered at the thought of sailing with this ridiculous looking caricature of Rich and the cause of his sentimentality herself. She tried not to listen as he expounded her virtues, ending with an enthusiastic, "I can't wait for you to meet! You'll love her."

I'm sure, Elizabeth thought acidly, but only asked "Does she pass the callus test?"

"Lizzy, she can beat me in a race to the main royal yard."

Perfect, Elizabeth thought, not Megan, Perfect. He's whipped forevermore. Look at him. Pathetic.

Elizabeth put on the bravest smile she could muster, "I guess that means yes. I'm happy for you, Rich. But I think you should go talk to William. That really wasn't very nice of you, and it's hardly going to reconcile him to her."

"I really didn't mean to do that. I was talking to you more than to him, and her last name just popped out automatically after I said she was a colleague. But once I realized what he was thinking I just couldn't resist! I'll be back." He retrieved his legs from their position hanging over the wall and levered himself to his feet. Elizabeth did not turn to see him off.

In truth she did not care a bit about Richard's deception of William. But she didn't think she could look her friend in the eye without revealing the hurt-the anger-she felt. She could not explain its sudden swelling in her chest, but she knew she needed a few minutes of introspection to examine this feeling, and grasped frantically at the first reason she could come up with for getting rid of Richard. As he departed she turned back toward the harbor and was startled to feel tears pricking in her eyes. It had been a very long time since she had cried over anything, and a startling thought struck her.

Am I jealous about Rich?

The notion seemed so unbelievably absurd that she almost laughed. No, this was not jealousy she was feeling, but something different. More like betrayal.

Betrayal? She asked herself caustically, How has he betrayed you? He's still here.

But he is not my carefree and unattached friend anymore, a petulant voice answered. So much for the motto. He has obligations now-emotional ones. I don't understand why everyone thinks they have to fall in love. First Jane, then Rich. I'm not in love, and I'm perfectly happy with my life! And I won't fall in love. I'm the only one left now with her head on straight. Apparently they've left it up to me to uphold the tenets of bachelorhood. Fine.

Elizabeth felt like shouting out a defiant, "I'll show you!" but doubted the maturity of such an act. Instead she clenched her fists and stared into the water below her feet, steeling herself against the feelings of loneliness she was suddenly experiencing.

Chapter 15

Posted on Monday, 3 January 2000, at 9 : 17 p.m.

Elizabeth was wearing her Hawaiian shirt. The sun had sunk below the treetops of LSO's campus, and she was engaged in an after-dinner game of Ultimate Frisbee with an assortment of alumni and staff. They did their best not to crash into the stakes of the tent under which a steel drum band was setting up their array of harmoniously pockmarked metal. The reunion party was beginning.

The number of alumni from each class who arrived at the reunion was generally determined by the time elapsed since they sailed. Representatives from the more recent classes came in droves; they missed it most, and had fewest responsibilities to draw them away. Within this loose temporal pattern, however, classes varied dramatically in their attendance. The determining factor here was not something that Elizabeth could put any name to, but had to do with the chance workings of group dynamics. Some classes had a sense of "we" that persevered through years of separation. These were the ones that had large turnouts even when members were bringing along spouses and children to take part in the festivities. Elizabeth's class was one of these. Old shipmates had been turning up out of the woodwork all day, with an end total of ten-a good total for any class, and a remarkable total for one that sailed many years hence.

Elizabeth had pushed aside her former ill humor in favor of the celebratory mood of the evening. Tonight was the night to be free of all cares. Tonight was the night to revel in the bittersweet memories of the group that was once unified by circumstance into a smoothly functioning machine but would never be assembled as a whole again. Elizabeth generally found these evenings to be heady experiences, full of joy of reunion and regret at lack of it, until she wasn't sure if she was deliriously happy or on the brink of tears. She never seemed to remember these evenings as an individual string of events, but rather as a reeling kaleidoscope of colors, motion, smiles, plastic cups and the constant backdrop of music. This night unfolded the same manner, and much as Elizabeth tried later to piece together a clearer picture, she couldn't collect more than some photographic stills of the scene.

She remembered Rich arriving rather early with William in tow. "I don't know what you did to him, Lizzy! He actually wanted to come," Rich had jested. This had suited her quite well, as she was interested in seeing how he would manage to flail about the dance floor in the company of the group to which he now, if somewhat involuntarily, belonged. Then the plastic cups began to play a more prevalent role, and the kaleidoscope seemed to spin faster.

Mostly she remembered dancing; spinning amidst faces she recognized from countless sails. She distinctly remembered that freewheeling sensation of one of Rich's favorite dance moves: he twirled her in such a way that she was inexplicably arranged for him to lift her off her feet into a mid-air somersault, set her upon her feet again and continue without missing a beat. Rich had been doing this for as long as she had known him, but she had never quite puzzled out how he managed it. Then there was the memory, disconcerting in retrospect, of pulling into the dance none other than William Darcy. At the time she had thought it a wonderful joke; a chance to put the stuffy scientist on the spot. What she had failed to note that night but would see in her memory time and again, was the ease with which he complied.

Her next clear picture of the night was a memory of its cool, velvety summer darkness and soft smell. She was with a large group, but the contrast between the bright lights and music of the party tent and the dark road to Racing Beach subdued them. Elizabeth's mind began to clear. They were going swimming. It was an old post-reunion party tradition, and most of the alumni were pressed to go whether or not they had suitable attire. For Elizabeth's part, she was an old veteran of these trips and, reasoning that she had long since served her penance as a suitless wonder, had been wearing a swimsuit all evening.

Buzzard's Bay was calm as a mill pond, and the beach lighted only by the quarter moon which now hung low in the west. Dipping a toe in, Elizabeth was delighted to see the water glow green in expanding ripples from where she broke the surface. They had chosen this beach to swim for a reason: its water was always several degrees warmer than that of Vineyard Sound, and Elizabeth waded in quickly, opening her eyes to watch the bioluminescent pinpricks that flashed before her hands.

The swimming party, though merry, was short-lived. As the noisy group headed home, leaving the residents of the area in relative peace, few noticed the lone figure that remained seated motionless along the high-tide mark. Elizabeth was counting on their inattention and waited for them to leave her to her reflections. As usual, she was mourning the end of the night; it would be another full year before they would reassemble. And with these thoughts the events of the rest of the day had returned to her, and she dwelt darkly on Rich and his traitorous turn. Hardly in the mood for a party anymore, Elizabeth hoped not to be noticed as she remained on the strand. But this was a day when the unexpected prevailed. She was startled out of her reverie by a tall shadowy form. When it spoke she could barely recognize the voice of William Darcy.

"Thank you for staying behind."

Elizabeth was dumbfounded at this opening, both by its content and by his garbled and nervous delivery of it. Annoyance at the implication that she had intended for him to appear out of the darkness followed swiftly on this confusion, but before she could formulate a reply he continued.

"Elizabeth, I had hoped that I could leave this behind with my LSO adventure, but it looks like I won't do either. Ever since I saw you again I've needed to tell you that I have fallen in love with you."

Elizabeth's body tensed with shock and not a little bit of fear. She disliked being unprepared for anything, and this situation was alien enough to terrify her. But she was saved the trouble of having to pry her jaw out of its paralysis and make some reply when William went on.

"I confess I never intended for this to happen. Obviously falling for a sailor is hardly what a tenured university professor aspires to. But I can see that you are enamoured of your fairyland, as much potential as you may have. So I've thought about this, and I've decided that since I'm lucky enough not to have to work for a living I can give up my position at Cornell to be with you. Of course I could still do research, because I'm already respected enough to be published without-"

"Excuse me." William was cut short by Elizabeth's clipped tone. "But before you plan our entire life together, would you mind giving me the opportunity to answer what I am going to be liberal and call your 'request'? Do you think you can come up to me, make me an offer like that, and whisk me away without another thought? Well I have some news for you: First, I do not love you. I have more self-respect than to accept a proposal like that, and more sense than to accept any sort of proposal from someone I don't love. Second, if you have any delusions that you are saving me from the life of a poor sailor, you should know that I have no need of a knight in shining armor."

Elizabeth's words became more and more heated as she started to feel the necessity of defending herself, her livelihood and her philosophy. "From day one you have thought of me as a stupid failure who became a sailor for lack of anything better to do. Well guess what, this is the 1990's not the 1790's. I became a sailor because it makes me happy. I did the whole academia thing. I spent my share of hours in Uris Library. I chose not to become a scientist. I wanted something that would challenge me, fascinate me, mystify me and when the day is done leave me in awe. I found that in the sea. And you know what? I learned something. I learned that what I wanted was not a job but a way of life. You won't find life until it's passed you by. You are always looking outside, at what other people think of you, or ahead at what your next accomplishment should be. I live my life from day to day, and I enjoy every one of them. If there is a problem I will solve it. But if it's a beautiful day and the wind is fair and the sails are full then I will sit on the bowsprit and watch the sun set. And me, if I am lost tomorrow I will be happy with what I've done and who I am. Can you claim that? If you die tomorrow will there be enough papers with your name on them? Will you be mentioned in enough textbooks? Will there be enough mourners at your grave? And if you don't die tomorrow and you go through your life and write enough papers, what will you have? When you are old and exhausted will you be able to look back on memories of a fulfilling youth? How can you have any memories if you never took the time to watch the sun set? And with all this, you think you're doing me a favor?" Elizabeth's voice rose several decibels, "You think I'm the one living in a fairyland? Playing make-believe? There is nothing wrong with what I do or who I am, and I certainly don't need any help from someone as arrogant and narrow-minded as you!" Elizabeth broke off, winded by her fury. There was a moment's silence, and then she turned and fled. She fled from the source of her tumult, her anger, her confusion. Her Tevas pounded the long dark road, and she gasped raggedly for air through her gulping tears.

Chapter 16

Posted on Sunday, 26 March 2000, at 3 : 01 p.m.

"Lizzy."

Elizabeth didn't turn, but she knew that Rich was standing behind her. She would recognize his voice anywhere, of course, but he was also the only person who would think to come looking for her here. She was sitting on a rock below the Nobska Point lighthouse, looking eastward as the light from the setting sun diffused gently to the far horizon. The boats in Vineyard Sound had glowed golden and then faded, and now the horizon was a deep turquoise fading to muted pink over her head.

"No one ever looks east at sunset," she observed quietly, "it's underappreciated-so peaceful." She found the peace was exactly what she needed. Elizabeth had gone through the motions of her reunion today-attending parties, smiling, greeting, chatting. But she hadn't been there, really. She knew Jane had noticed, but she had managed to slip away when her sister was preoccupied by a certain scientist. No one had noticed her leaving-she had roused out of her lethargy to a certain level of bitterness at that. Rich's Megan had arrived that day, and Charles had gleaned the vast majority of Jane's attention. She had the distinct feeling of 3rd or 5th wheel, and convinced herself that she would not be missed. Obviously, she had thought wrong. "Where's Meg?" she asked, making a conscious effort to mask any bitterness her voice might betray.

"She's at Jane's house. I told her my friend needed a friend. Lizzy, can I join you?"

"Why would I stop you?"

Rich sighed at her uncharacteristically noncommittal attitude and joined her on her rock. "I spoke to Will, Lizzy." She stiffened, but kept silent, and Rich continued, "I noticed that you were both in something of a funk today, and finally he told me what happened. Or at least what happened in his eyes."

"Rich, I'm not sure if I've ever been so furious. Ever."

"I know. It sounded like he managed to push all the proper buttons. I've never known anyone who could dine on his foot in such gourmet style as Will. And to the extent that he understands the issue, I think he regrets how he acted. But he can't really grasp the magnitude of his offense, because he has never known anything that means as much to him as your daily life does to you."

"But how could he possibly...I've never had anyone approach me with two so different sentiments in one paragraph before. That somehow made it all the more infuriating. How could anyone think..."

"I don't know, Lizzy. I'm not here to defend my cousin, but I know from personal experience that Will has a very carefully structured world built for himself. When someone who breaks his mold appears, his defenses kick in. You, of course, are more than enough to challenge his comfort zone. What's really remarkable is that he is genuinely attracted to you. I couldn't believe it at first."

"You think he's sincere in that, then?" Elizabeth was a little incredulous.

"I knew he had something going for his chief mate long before I realized that you were that mate. Yesterday I put two and two together and it about knocked me flat then and there. Never would have thought. With all the ridiculous courting of His Professorship that goes on up there at school, it was our Lizzy that finally caught his attention. Maybe he is human somewhere down there. I have to admit he's got taste, even if he doesn't have the finesse to go with it."

"Flirt," Lizzy grinned genuinely for the first time that day. "Thank you, Rich. You are a wonderful friend."

"I guess that's really what I came here to talk to you about, Lizzy."

"What do you mean?"

"I try, Lizzy. I try to be your friend and keep up with you and be there when you need me, and this time I was. But if it had been anyone other than Will, or if it had been anytime other than now, I wouldn't have been able to be there for you. We just don't see each other enough, don't overlap enough, and now I've got Meg and I know that hurts you, but I am telling you from experience that it can't work forever."

"What can't?"

"The motto. 'No Obligations' is not the right creed. It makes a life like ours a whole lot easier, but eventually you must realize that it's possible never to be alone and still to be very lonely."

"Are you saying that I should have accepted William?" Lizzy asked hotly.

"Of course not. You had every right to give Will exactly what he had coming to him. And I know this is a weird time to bring this up, but maybe in a sense it is appropriate. Have you told anyone what happened?"

"No."

"Were you going to?"

Lizzy sighed. "Jane is in love, and never really understood me completely anyway, close as we are. Charlotte I don't even know anymore. That leaves you."

"Would you have told me?"

"If you hadn't been his cousin."

Rich waved away that technicality. "So I am still your confidant. Lizzy, I love being your closest friend, and I wish this weren't the way it was, but we never see each other. I won't always be there for you. I can't."

"Well what am I supposed to do about that?"

"Just be aware of it, Lizzy. That's all I'm asking of you. You can't be obligation-free forever and still be happy. You have to make a commitment. You've always made that to your job, and that has worked, but it may not work forever. I just want you to promise me that you'll be aware of that and not toss aside every relationship without a thought because of some creed we made up in college to help us justify our lifestyle. Please just think about it, Lizzy."

Elizabeth studied her friend carefully and saw the deep sincerity of his expression. "You really do love Megan, don't you?" He nodded but remained silent. "All right, Rich, I will remember what you said. Thank you for caring so much about me."

Rich reached out and drew her into an embrace. "You took that with a lot of maturity, Liz. No one likes being lectured to."

Elizabeth laughed without humor and buried her face into Rich's shoulder. "And if only I weren't so interpersonally backward I might even be called a grown up."

"Interpersonally backward? You're the wold's best people person; what do you mean?"

"That's the ironic part. I can give everything I have in me to my students without a thought. It's like breathing. But relationships-I don't know, Rich, I just can't do it. It's like I don't have anything to give."

Rich's arms tightened about her involuntarily and he shook his head slightly as he understood for the first time that Elizabeth's impenetrable self esteem did in fact have a flaw; one which she hid so well that her best friend had never even dreamed of its existence. "Please don't give up on yourself, Lizzy. No one could be as passionate about something as you are about sailing and not be able to hold up half a relationship. It's there Lizzy. Just be patient."

Elizabeth sighed and two tears squeezed out of her eyes and onto Rich's shoulder.

Chapter 17

Posted on Monday, 17 April 2000

William sighed in frustration. He was standing before his ornithology class, wondering how to bridge the gap. It was not a gap he had ever given any thought to before, but now, when he had finally noticed it and wished to cross it, it seemed a gaping chasm across which his voice could barely be heard. Physically, it was the five feet between him and the first row of tables in the room. Psychologically, he was up against an entire education system whose machinery was so tuned to mass-producing college graduates in great numbers that the individual faces and minds had ceased to matter. He could, he knew from prior experience, teach these twenty students for an entire semester and never learn a single one of their names. He had done it before, and he knew that his attitude was to blame, but he had not realized until now that the indifference was mutual. The students, too, had grown so accustomed to the anonymity of a lecture hall that even here, in this more intimate setting, they acted as passive learners only. They had filed in silently, speaking neither to him nor to each other, opened their notebooks and sat with pens in hand, waiting for him to begin speaking.

William knew his part. He was to hand out the syllabus listing assigned readings that the students never did; he would discuss his office hours, when he would be available to visits from students who never visited. Then he would begin his opening lecture, and for the rest of the semester, those students who came to class and stayed awake would take diligent notes and offer no part of their own minds to the group. Suddenly the semester loomed before him like an insurmountable obstacle, and he felt too exhausted to face it. A memory rose to mock him; he saw an unconventional teacher in an unconventional classroom and a group of students huddled about with laughter on their faces and interest in their eyes. He felt a stab of pain but brushed it aside and faced his class. He tossed the stack of syllabi aside.

"Let's go birding. Bring your field guides, but leave your notebooks." He noticed several eyes lighting, and even a few smiles. It's in there somewhere.

He led them through the brilliant August day along a path that wound through the woods and along the shore of Beebe Lake. He discussed the birds they encountered along the way and was surprised at the ease with which this informal teaching style came to him when he didn't think too hard about it. I can do this. And it's more fun that reading notes, too...

They crossed the street and sat in a circle on the lawn of the Cornell Plantations. "I hate to do the summer camp thing, but I want to make sure we introduce ourselves. So lets forego the major/year/school thing and each of you give your first name, your favorite bird, and why it's your favorite. Any reason."

As each student spoke, William jotted down their names and the four-letter abbreviation of the bird they chose beside. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thought, but he was surprised to see how much he could learn about each student from this seemingly insignificant fact.

He wrote the next student's choice mechanically, Kathlyn-WISP, before it occurred to him that the Wilson's Storm-Petrel, a strictly pelagic species breeding on a few rocky islands in the far south Atlantic, was not a bird that he would have expected to hear about in this context. Curious, he waited for her reasons.

"I like them because they look tiny, but they are completely independent of land and can go absolutely anywhere on the ocean. They are totally self-sufficient. I like them because they are one of the most abundant species on earth, and yet most people will never see one. And I like them because they make a cool sound when they flit around in the dark."

William was silent for a moment, hearing another voice in his head. "They are the small dark ones with white throat patches that look like swallows during the day and bats at night...I also love their call. You hear it at night; it's very eerie." He shook himself and faced Kathlyn again. "When have you had the opportunity to see Storm-Petrels?" He asked, trying to hide any discomfiture the class might have noticed in his face.

"Have you heard of the LSO Semester?"

"I sailed with them last May."

"Really? I went last fall. I didn't know much about birds before then, but our chief mate was really into them. She got me so psyched up about them that I couldn't wait to take this course."

William wasn't really sure he wanted to know, but he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Who was your chief mate?"

"Lizzy Bennet."

He felt like crying, but found that he was smiling wildly. "I had a feeling. She was first on my trip also. Elizabeth is one of the best teachers I've ever met; I'm not surprised she got you interested. I'll try to live up to the referral."

Kathlyn gestured at the circle of cross-legged students. "I think she'd approve so far," she said with a smile, sensing inexplicably that the observation meant a great deal to the professor.

William smiled at the challenge that Elizabeth had unwittingly issued him. Very well, I accept, and their evaluations will be judge.

several months later...

"Let me get that, guys. I'll be back," William said to the group gathered around him. He grabbed the phone and moved to where he could hear before answering it.

"Will?"

"Charles, is that you?"

"Hey Will, yep it's me. I was just calling to say hello because I thought you might be lonely on a dreary Ithaca evening, and...what is all that noise?"

"Charles, thanks for calling, but could I talk to you later sometime? I kind of have twenty people in my house right now."

"You do?" Charles sounded as if William had calmly informed him that he had dyed his hair green. "Who?"

"My ornithology class. Their final is the day after tomorrow, so we're having a little dinner study party thing."

"You have twenty undergrads in your house for dinner. How long are they going to be there?"

"Until the brownies run out, I suppose," William responded cheerfully. He was enjoying the conversation immensely.

There was a pause while Charles digested his latest intelligence. "Can I call you tomorrow, or is the local elementary school coming over for tea?"

"Call me then. How long are you on shore for?"

"Another five weeks. My next class just got here a week ago."

"Okay. I'll ask you all about it tomorrow. Thanks for calling. And Charles?"

"Yeah?"

"It's really your fault, you know."

eleven weeks later...

William's was one of a long string of messages on Charles' long-neglected voicemail.

"Hi Charles, I know you're at sea, but I wanted to let you know that I've got a new phone number this semester. I moved into the Baker Court dorms as faculty-in-residence, so my new number is [phone]. Call me when you get back and tell me how your trip was..." Charles shook in his head in wonder and realized that in his surprise he hadn't written a digit of the number Will gave. He sighed and replayed the message.

two months later...

"Are you doing fieldwork this summer?" Charles asked.

"Nope. I'm teaching."

"Really? A summer course? Ornithology?"

"Fifth graders."

"What?"

"Yep. I'm science officer and deckhand on the Spirit of Derbyshire. Summer camp programs."

"You're sailing! Will, are you serious? What made you decide to do that?"

"I guess I just miss it. I'm feeling awfully landlocked here. Cayuga Lake isn't cutting it for me."

"Be careful, Will. You're catching the bug."

William laughed without mirth. "Maybe I am."

Charles' warning lingered in William's mind after he hung up the phone. His friend had been joking, but in fact was essentially correct. He had somehow, in his six weeks aboard the Austen, come to love the sea. He had only partially noticed at the time, but somewhere in his determination to learn the art of sailing, a challenge that began as an unspoken competition with Elizabeth, he had learned to be a sailor. He missed the immediacy of life at sea. He missed the challenge and the feeling of capability, of meeting it with alacrity and efficiency. More surprisingly, he missed the community that he had become a part of. He missed the commotion of packing hungrily about a table that was a little too small for all the people it held. He missed being woken up every day, or night, by another human being rather than a computer chip. He missed the enthusiasm for life that radiated from his shipmates' faces and that he knew was reflected in his own.

He had returned to Cornell to find himself beset by restlessness. It baffled him at first, and he tried to combat it by throwing himself into his teaching and, later, into his new role as faculty-in-residence. The latter had, if anything, been a greater challenge than the resurrection of his ornithology class (which, he thought with pride, had been a great success and more fun that he had thought possible). Dorm residents, he had discovered, have little desire for a professor in their midst, and many of the faculty who filled the position were content with keeping a low profile and benefiting from the free living arrangements. But by frequenting TV lounges, dorm events and even holding and ice cream party in his living room, William felt that he had eliminated any hostility and even made a few friends. He had already accepted the position again for the next year, and he hoped his place in the residence halls would continue to grow. And in the meantime, his education with respect to network television had never been better.

But he had finally realized that all this had been an attempt at recapturing a life he had known for six weeks and somehow become infected with. He had realized it one dreary February night, when dusk had fallen at 4:30 in the afternoon and a grey sky spit balls of ice upon a weary campus. Restless again, and unable to identify what it was he sought, he had been flipping through a book of poetry when one piece caught his eye. It was a poem he had been familiar with since his childhood. But reading it again, the feeling that struck him immediately, overwhelmingly, was new. I know this, he thought. And he knew at that moment what he wanted. He knew what he would do with the first free time he had. And he realized the startling truth of how easy it would be for him to give up everything: his cinderblock rooms, the grey city, his professorship, his lab. The thought filled him simultaneously with fear and elation. He was wildly, deliriously happy to have found what it was that had been making his life seem stagnant, and to find that it had a solution. He felt with this knowledge that no challenge was too great, no problem too difficult, so long as he had a goal at last. But he also felt the terror of a departure, as if he stood at the edge of a precipice wanted nothing more than to throw himself off and experience the freefall. He had no idea where he might land.

Since he had announced his intentions of becoming a scientist at age eight, William's life had been reasonably predictable. He had proceeded through his education, taking tests, writing theses and giving presentations when necessary. He had held several postdoctoral fellowships and finally landed here, with a lab, an ornithology class and a tenure. And suddenly he was realizing that he could throw it all away, all of it, in favor of a life without a home or a need of one, where night did not imply sleep, where cleaning toilets was a daily event, where he had learned to laugh again after so many years of frowning.

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

-John Masefield, Sea Fever

Chapter 18

Posted on Wednesday, 20 December 2000

Some explanatory notes: AB stands for Able Bodied Seaman, which is basically the first step in the Coast Guard licensing system, and something I thought appropriate for Darcy on both a literal and figurative level. Also, it was customary on ships of old for the officers to be addressed formally, as "Mr. So-and-so."

a year and change later...

Lizzy arrived a little early, but that was all right because she would have the chance to scope out the crowd. People-watching was one of her favorite pastimes, particularly in a new place, and the local bar was as likely a vantage point as any.

Initially she sat down at the bar itself, but when she noticed a large table peopled by jackets that read Spirit of Derbyshire, she reconsidered. She was 90% certain that she would be hired to drive that particular ship for the next five months, so meeting her new crew seemed like a logical step.

But as she approached the table, the jacket with its back to her stood up and turned around. Her instinct was to flee, but tempting as it sounded she crushed the urge instantly; it was too late. Elizabeth Bennet and William Darcy stood face to face once again.

"Um..." she swallowed and could manage no more.

"Uh..." he took a deep breath, "Elizabeth. What a surprise. You should sit down. I was just..." He pointed toward the restrooms and bolted, neglecting to make any introduction at the table where he gestured for her to sit. Elizabeth was puzzled, however. She could hardly say that he had been polite, but on the other hand she could vouch that saying anything at all during that moment had required a colossal strength of will; more effort than she had ever before seen him expend on civility. Meanwhile, she felt she had better introduce herself to the extremely curious pairs of eyes that remained about the table. She put on the most genuine smile she could muster.

"Hey, I'm Lizzy Bennet. I think I'm going to be relief captain on Derbyshire for the next few months."

The eyes became instantly warmer when she revealed her identity as a member of their ilk. They introduced and identified themselves as the engineer, the bosun, the science officer ("ed. officer" in on-board parlance), the cook and several deckhands. That left a mate and however many more deckhands she might have on board at the moment.

There was a pause, but finally the engineer took the plunge, "So it looks like you know Will already?"

"I sailed with him once. On the Pride of Austen." Elizabeth decided that keeping it short was her safest bet.

"He's talked about that trip. Sounds like he had a great time."

"Yeah, I guess he must have..." Vague. Stay vague. But her curiosity won out, "What...what's he, uh, doing here?"

"Well, he's our mate! Or your mate, I guess," the young ed officer, introduced as Fred, piped. Elizabeth cringed at a double entendre she had never noticed before.

"Mate? But he's...he's...a professor!" Good, Lizzy; nothing like coming off completely brainless to your new crew.

"Oh, he's a sailor also," Fred enthused, "He was ed officer here last summer, and an awfully good one despite his claim that he'd never worked with 5th graders before. Over the winter he got his AB, so he came back as mate." William Darcy: role model. Perish the thought.

A voice from behind Elizabeth made her freeze once again.

"Are you discussing your senior officer, Mr. Wentworth?" It was delivered in a tone of a principal to a naughty school child, but even through her desire to crawl under the table in shame at having been caught prying the crew for information, Elizabeth recognized the joke. Teasing, after all, was one form of social interaction that she did have a fairly firm grip on.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy, sir. And I'm discussing you with your senior officer, Captain Bennet."

At this Elizabeth felt duty bound to face him. With a weak smile, she affirmed, "I'm meeting Helen here tonight to talk about driving this summer." Helen Reynolds, owner and primary captain of the Spirit of Derbyshire was ready to turn day-to-day command over to another so she could devote time to some of the other education programs she was in the process of creating.

If he was anything but happy to hear this news, William gave no sign of it. "That's great! We have a really good crew this summer and I'm sure everyone will love working with you." He smiled at the rest of the table and Elizabeth could instantly see his protective instincts toward the rest of the much-younger crew. It was a feeling she recognized from her relationship with students at LSO, but it was less common among a crew itself. As for them, he might have been Dad, the president, and Santa Claus all rolled into one from the way they treated him. Elizabeth could see that being on good terms with the entire crew would hinge on her relationship with William Darcy. She could also see that, for the first time since they met, she was treading on his territory.

There was generally some awkwardness for a new captain arriving on a ship with an experienced mate. Elizabeth could sympathize: it was hard for a mate to be under the command of someone who knew little about the ship but possessed the necessary Coast Guard-approved piece of paper. What was rare was for that mate to be the favorite of his crew; generally this rank enjoyed more of a scapegoat position than anything else. But William had a history with the Derbyshire already, and had begun as what amounted to a deckhand with some extra responsibilities. To this crew he was one of their own. It seemed like a recipe for disaster if she had ever seen one.

Meanwhile, William was the picture of friendliness. "Have you sailed on the Derbyshire before?"

"Never. Tomorrow, I hope." Elizabeth was fairly sure that this was how she answered his question.

"Do you know Helen already? She's a fantastic captain; I learned amazing amounts from her last summer, about teaching as well as about sailing. Actually, her teaching style reminds me a little of yours. I didn't know the first thing about teaching ten-year-olds last year, but she really helped me through it and I had a great time. You'll love the summer camp that we run. The kids come for two weeks straight, so you can really watch them learn-unlike in our day sails. Helen designed the entire program herself, and she's sort of perfecting it as she goes-trial and error. But the nice thing is, since she owns the ship she has total freedom with her programs, and she'll listen to anyone's input. Even me, and I hardly ranked anything last year as ed. officer. Knowing that I'd be taken seriously really helped my confidence in my teaching instincts, and it's the same with everyone," he gestured to the rest of the table, "even if you're fifteen she'll treat you with whatever amount of respect your work commands. It's really pretty phenomenal."

Fortunately for Elizabeth, an interruption from one of the deckhands shifted the conversation and left her to digest the import of the longest speech she had ever heard from William Darcy's mouth. Though she was by no means oblivious to the size shoes she was about to step into, what lingered in her mind was not her newfound doubts in her professional abilities, but William's curiously high regard for Helen Reynolds.

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