The following morning, the Captain's eulogy was brief. "We are guests on this earth. We come and we go. No one knows when or how his time will come. We can only have faith and abide."
He nodded to the Count, who was seated next to him, his cello poised between his knees. With a dramatic flourish the Count launched into a Bach suite, only to have two strings crack out like pistol shots.
As if a curse had been lifted, a faint breeze suddenly shivered across the water. Overwhelmed by this sign of grace, passengers and crew turned their swollen faces towards the breeze. The Finn shouted, pointing to a frigate bird hovering off the starboard bow. Cox sank to his knees. The two Germans raised their hands over their heads, reaching for handfuls of wind. Zebulon shook the Finn's hand. The crew hugged and slapped each other on their backs, then scurried aloft. Sails snapped and billowed and the ship began to move, slowly at first and then at a brisk five knots.
They crossed the equator under full sail. The Captain, true to his word, ordered a grand celebration, even providing a generous selection from his private stock of Chilean wine, Mexican mescal, and Spanish rum.
That night the crew appeared on deck in white jackets and stand-up collars. The passengers wore their finest European and New York clothes. The Count was resplendent in a combination Russian-English military uniform of red and black striping, Delilah elegant in a high-busted Parisian evening dress and white bonnet. Zebulon, accompanied by cheers, appeared in a leather overcoat that he had borrowed from the Finn, topping it off with an improvised hat made from sail cloth and a piece of the Captain's French underwear.
The Captain fired three pistol shots.
The passengers, except for Cox, who had crossed the equator before, were ceremoniously dunked into a large tub of salt water. After their bodies were smeared with red and yellow dye, they were made to crawl through a gauntlet where the crew spanked them with paddles. After a long, incomprehensible speech praising Neptune and local maritime deities, the Captain announced that Zebulon would be given a special sacrificial role, a decision greeted with wild cheers and foot-stomping approval.
After Zebulon's head was shaved, a blue circle was painted around his face, followed by two red lines across his forehead and down his cheeks.
When the Captain asked him to dance, Zebulon shuffled around the deck, crying out a vision prayer with two sailors prancing behind him, one playing an accordion, the other pounding an African drum:
He stopped in front of Delilah. "You are the spirit who lives where the sun goes down, who takes care of all the waters in all the lands. Tell me if that ain't true."
"If you wish it to be so, then it will be," she replied.
Taking a cigar from the Captain, she blew smoke over his face and head. Then she gave the cigar to Zebulon, who repeated the act on the Count and then on the rest of the passengers:
"Listen here, Wakan Tanka, Great Spirit!" he cried out, walking back and forth. "Listen to this man askin' to purify himself. Because of you the wind has come again and our journey goes forward. Now we're on the move! It's no flatlander or greenhorn that's callin' out to you. It's an old mountain wolf askin' for enough power and light to shake us all loose from where we've been stuck between the worlds. Is that too much to ask? Any way you look at it, it's a job that only you, the Creator, can handle; after all, Wakan Tanka, you're the one who gives the birds and fish the power to fly and swim…. Listen to this man, Wakan Tanka! Give us a sign. Let us know we ain't lost: Hecheto wa~elo!"
Drums pounded and horns blared as the Captain, along with the crew and passengers, wept and sang and shouted their thanks through the night.
hen Zebulon woke at dawn the passengers were still passed out on deck, all except for the Count and Delilah, who were standing by the ship's rail.
Suddenly the Count pulled Delilah's hair, jerking her head back.
"Foolish woman," the Count said. "After all that we've been through, you still cling to hope."
When Delilah slapped him across the cheek, he forced her to her knees.
"Confess your failures," he ordered her.
He pushed her chin to the deck. "Let me remind you: Failure to amuse, failure to polish my boots, failure to listen."
Her eyes found Zebulon, who was on his knees, staring back at her.
"Failure to refrain from ignorant betrayals," the Count continued. "Do you want more? I have several in reserve."
"No more," she said softly:
She pushed the Count with such force that he fell to the deck.
As Zebulon stood up and walked towards her, the Count held one of her ankles, then struggled to his feet and wildly tried to embrace her, kissing her neck and breast as they both cried and yelled at each other in Russian. When she broke away, he tried to reach out for her, but she stumbled and fell backward over the railing.
It was only when Zebulon had jumped in after her that he remembered he couldn't swim.
He sank below the water with closed eyes, his lungs bursting, as if his descent — a slow drop towards what he imagined to be a giant open mouth — was controlled by an unseen force. Or had he already been swallowed and was now being digested? The reality of surrendering to a black crush of water brought a certain relief: that he was finally facing what he most feared. It was a fear that he had never confronted, one that had been inside him ever since he had been a small boy, when Hatchet Jack had tried to drown him in the stream in front of the cabin as a way of making himself known to his new adopted family.
He was brought face to face with his own death, and suddenly life and death weren't the same. They were different and he had a choice, only it was too late.
As he began to lose consciousness from water filling his lungs, an arm underneath his chin pulled him upward towards the light.
"Lie still," Delilah instructed, holding his head above water.
But he felt only panic. He shoved her off. The sky was too empty and far away, with no beginning and no end.
As he sank down again she reached out for him but he pushed down on her head, trying to hoist himself up — an act which made them sink even faster, their arms and legs entwined, until she yanked his head towards her, smiling at him even as they were drowning. Somehow the maniacal gesture released his panic and he went limp in her arms, allowing her to guide him to the surface.
Treading water with one hand, she held him underneath his chin, comforting him like a frightened child. "I'm holding you. Don't be afraid. If you fight me, you'll drown."
And so he floated, his body on hers, staring at the sky until a lifeboat appeared and they were pulled up over the side.
NCE THEY WERE RETURNED TO THE SHIP THEY WERE GIVEN hot mugs of brandy and escorted below, where the Captain waited for them behind his desk.
"Count Baranofsky has been confined to his quarters," the Captain said to Delilah. "I am assigning you a spare cabin."
"What happened was between the Count and myself," Delilah replied. "No one else."
"Dear Lady," the Captain said. "Let me remind you that if it hadn't been for the heroic actions of Mister Shook, you would have drowned."
"I demand to see Count Baranofsky," she said.
"You will see him when we land. Not before. If we're graced by favorable winds, that will be in less than a week."
He turned to Zebulon. "I am ordering you to keep your distance with both of them. If you stray one inch, I'll have you arrested."
With an abrupt wave of his hand, he dismissed them.