Dyne’s face softened into serene happiness. He took a glowing finger and kissed it lovingly, then turned to Jessie. “Thank you. For everything.”
A lump formed in Jessie’s throat and her eyes stung. She held her arms out and he pulled her into a gentle hug.
“Take good care of yourself. And keep up the good work guarding the crew and feeding them.”
“I will,” she said in a tight whisper.
He let go and turned to Mido. They clasped hands and wrapped each other in a one-armed hug. “Take good care of yourself and each other. And thank you for sticking by me all these years.”
“It was a pleasure, Captain—er, Dyne.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He stepped back. “Just keep up the great work. Make me proud.” He put a hand on the railing and watched them expectantly. Rhode stood near the railing, a hand on Dyne’s back. Both of them looked serene, so at peace.
Jessie’s throat tightened further as she realized what they were waiting for. She tried to say “let’s go, Mido” but the words wouldn’t come out. She clasped his hand and led him away, walking slowly and checking over her shoulder once. Dyne and Rhode patiently waited for them to depart.
She made herself go back to looking ahead, filled with a need to run back to Dyne and latch her arms around him. She didn’t want to let happen what she had a feeling was about to take place. It just couldn’t. Not so suddenly. Not to the man who’d given her the best gift in the world.
Once they reached the lockdown container, Jessie felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. She paused, putting a hand on Mido’s chest.
“What is it?”
Jessie whipped around. The stern was empty. Tears blurred her vision as she stared at where Dyne and Rhode had just been. She clung to Mido’s arm as her brain tried to register that Dyne was gone. And once it finally did, her knees gave out and she began crying. Mido sank to the deck with her, holding her tight and crying as well.
Jessie, Mido, and Rammus, who’d watched the whole thing from the wheelhouse, delivered the news of Dyne’s passing to everyone while gathered in the galley. Over the next few days, the entire crew mourned his passing before collecting themselves enough to hold a sailor’s funeral. They thought of holding it off until they returned to Newport or some other meaningful coast, but they all agreed it really didn’t matter where, since all the oceans were connected.
The first day after Dyne’s passing, O’Toole hid in the cargo hold, crying, then one day jumped off the bow. Jacobi dived after him, and the two were soon hoisted back aboard. Sam calmed the Irishman down enough to get him to stop trying to jump back overboard, but not enough to stop crying. Discussion on what to do with O’Toole cropped up, since his role was rather enigmatic. In the end, Sam decided he wanted to keep O’Toole around and continue to take care of him. He was like a son in a way, to him, one that never grew up. Plus it was because of Dyne that O’Toole ever set foot aboard the Pertinacious in the first place.
They had an honorary cheeseburger dinner in his name and swapped some of their favorite stories about him, and even talked about how Dyne had positively impacted each of their lives. The stories lifted everyone’s spirits, even Jessie’s. She was still sore about seeing Dyne and Rhode one minute, and then an empty stern the next. But she understood why he’d wanted to die in private. Souls had a tendency to cross when no one was looking.
Once talk had gone on long enough, they gathered on the starboard side of the stern. Sam handed out the percussion equipment, Jessie stood by the steel chest, sitting open and ready to accept their offerings. O’Toole hovered near her, quiet and subdued. Rammus stood on the other side of the chest, book of poems in hand and open to a choice page. Sam stood at the end of the line of drummers, a pair of bamboo sticks in hand.
Rammus took a deep breath. “This night is dedicated to Alan Lavere, better known as Dyne Lavere, and to all as Captain. Born July twelfth, 2135. Died many a time after. Finally found rest and peace on June sixth, 2413. He will be sorely missed.” The crew beat out a short rhythm and fell silent. Rammus took a carved object out of his jacket, then cleared his throat. The carving looked like a koi fish. “I’d liked to read ‘We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths’ by Phillip James Bailey.”
Jacobi tapped out four beats, and the drumming began. It rose and fell with each line, like last time, ebbing and flowing like waves on a beach.
“We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.”
Sam stepped away from the railing and deposited his offering in the chest: a bottle of whiskey. He handed O’Toole a leather-bound journal that’d been worn smooth with frequent handling. Sam whispered, “All good men have good mysteries about their lives. Drink loosened your tongue a few times, and I found your journals while cleaning out your drawers, Dyne. May whatever tales are in those pages rest in peace with your soul.” He walked back over and rejoined the drumming.
Rammus added his koi fish carving. “To one of the strongest men I ever knew.”
Sauna, Ed, and Ted threw in photos and two pairs of shorts with the parts that were supposed to cover the cheeks cut out. Ed said, “We’ll miss you, curse and all.”
“But especially grabbing your ass,” Ted added. “Your reactions were always priceless.”
Sauna said, “Thank you for being like a father to me, Captain.” The trio returned to the railing.
“And he whose heart beats quickest lives the longest:
Lives in one hour more than in years do some
Whose fat blood sleeps as it slips along their veins.”
Cancer added a bag of blood and a wedding band. “For saving you from a needless death, and for the rich life at sea you gave me, and for all I was able to give to my family.”
Jacobi added a folded up piece of paper and an empty gun holster. “A heartfelt apology for all the crap I made you put up with. You always treated me well and put me in my place when I needed it.”
Scully added ten arrows. “For all the enemy ships you had me sink with the Harpy. You taught me to step up to the plate and take on responsibilities I never thought I could handle.”
“Life’s but a means unto an end; that end,
Beginning, mean, and end to all things—God.
The dead have all the glory of the world.”
Mido came over and added carefully-wrapped food, one item a cheeseburger and the the other a whole pie of broccoli and mushroom quiche. “It was a pleasure cooking for you. May you eat cheeseburgers to your heart’s content wherever you are now.” He returned to the railing.
The crew still drumming away, Jessie added the spare lockdown container keys and her studded sparring gloves. “For helping me become strong enough to help others, and for giving me the best gift in the whole world.” She glanced at a smiling Mido. “May you find peace and joy wherever you are now.” She closed and locked the chest. Sam detached a section of railing and set it aside, then joined Jessie and Rammus in sliding the chest to the gap. The three of them paused at the edge, waiting for the drumming to conclude. The boys finished with a flourish, and then the pushed the chest over the side.
Water in the shape of a giant hand and sleeved arm shot out of the water and caught the chest. The hand lifted it higher, over their heads, and more water rose and filled out the shape of a man wearing a trench coat. Dyne. He tucked the chest under a giant watery arm and looked at all of them in turn. He smiled and gave an informal salute, then poured back into the sea, taking the chest with him.