Grantville Gazette 38

Chapter Forty-Three: There's Got To Be A Morning After

Bengta died during the night. Doctor Durand had done all he could, but she had lost too much blood. Pam sat beside her to the end. She passed quietly, with a soft smile on her lovely face. Pam wept, held by Dore as Gerbald and the bosun stood behind her while Durand gently closed her pretty sea-green eyes. A tear rolled down the French doctor's tired face. He was visibly devastated to have lost one so young and brave. Pam decided that she would indeed be his new best friend.

The butcher's bill had been high. Of the colonists, they had lost twenty-three total, twelve of them had succumbed over their long months of captivity, including three children. The rest had been killed fighting for their freedom, eight men and three women, including Bengta. The details of Bengta's torture when the slavers discovered she had started the revolt made Pam draw blood from her palms as her nails bit into her clenched fist. By the time the colony's men had been freed and could rush to her aid it was too late. In their rage they had literally torn Bengta's torturers apart limb from limb, confirming Pam's earlier suggestion that they were quite capable of doing that. She looked forward to mentioning it to the deposed captain in their next meeting. Pam decided that being blown up had been too good for the ones who had tried to escape. They were heartless men who sold their own brothers and cousins into slavery back in Africa, chosen by the renegades for duty here because of their ruthless cruelty. Pam vowed vengeance on their evil tribe one day.

Of the crew of the Muskijl, only fourteen had survived. Pam had lost five of the Second Chance Bird's men, two sailors and three marines. Their names and faces paraded through her mind, her friends and protectors, smiling and full of life; that's how she wanted to remember them. She would never, ever forget them and their sacrifice for her cause. Lojtnant Lundkvisthad lost his leg after all,no fault of the doctor, who truly was a fine physician for his time. The proud, young captain of an enemy warship he himself had helped capture would have to walk on a peg leg with a cane for the rest of his life. And, finally, there was Pers, who she had brought into her heart as a true son, laying feverish and comatose, somewhere between life and death. Doctor Durand told her there was hope, but she hardly allowed herself to feel it.

Pam stood high on the town's wall, looking out across the harbor. Beside her, Dore's flag flapped in the early dawn breeze, proof of their triumph. She had asked for a little time alone. She needed to stop and absorb all they had gone through. The torches and lanterns of the fleet of ships they had accumulated glowed warmly in the slowly brightening purple light, casting long, orange reflections across the bay's clear waters. The Annalise and Ide had been brought into the dock and the colonists had slept there, back in the relative comfort of their bunks after months sleeping on the ground. The renegades now occupied the former slave quarters, under guard by grim-faced colonists. There were a few exceptions, five parolees released into Durand's command, good men who had been shanghaied into service just as he had. Pam trusted the man and his judgment, but a couple of burly Swedes kept a close eye on them anyway.

As for Capitan Leonce Toulon de Aquitane, that heartless bastard was now in solitary confinement, locked in an outhouse. Pam had told her men to "Put this shit somewhere small and dark," and they had taken her literally. Actually, she thought it was too good for him. She intended to let him spend the entire day there without food and water, enjoying the stench. They would interrogate him the following night, by then he ought to be plenty cooperative.

Pam shook her head in disbelief. How had she come to think such black thoughts as these? How had she come to be a calm, cool, killer of men? Hard times made one harder, if you lived through them. They had been lucky, so lucky to have pulled this rescue off without even more loss of life and limb. Pam wasn't much of a Methodist anymore, but she did say a brief prayer of thanks to a God that usually seemed distant and uncaring. All told, she thought maybe He had been on their side for once. She silently prayed He would take their fallen into His arms up in Heaven. They had more than earned their places in Paradise. The thought comforted her despite her modern doubts, she would take all the solace she could get.

The sun came up over the ocean as if in answer to her prayer, a golden beauty of a dawn, complete with radiant beams and towering lavender clouds. Pam couldn't help but smile. She had lost much, but she had won more. This island was hers, the dodo would be saved, and maybe there was even hope for a rangy old crow like Pam Miller. Maybe she could make a new and better life for herself now that she had been through all this. Redemption, la, hallelujah! She clambered down the bamboo ladder to the trampled path below and set about looking for her friends.

Walking out onto the dock she was greeted by the bosun, who was bustling his way toward the shore. It was plain to see he hadn't slept much, but his eyes were bright and lively anyway. "Captain Pam! Good morning! I was just coming to fetch you!"

"Good morning! What's happening?"

"You have to come see for yourself, please, follow me!" The bosun, quite uncharacteristically took Pam by the hand, and practically dragged her behind him down the dock. Pam had to laugh aloud at such behavior from her usually stolid and rank-conscious friend.

"What is it? What do you want to show me?" she asked, falling into a near jog to keep up with him.

He turned to her with glee on his red-cheeked face. "It's a miracle, that's what it is!" and he would say no more. They passed by Second Chance Bird to board the Effrayant. One of her still slightly orange-skinned marines, broad-shouldered Ulf, stood guard. His face was split in a silly grin to match the bosun's. Just what on earth was going on?

Pam was led onto the deck and told to stand looking out at the water. She heard the bosun whisper something, then there were footsteps. She turned around to see Kapten Lagerheim and beside him stood . . .

Pam's jaw dropped. She was seeing a ghost. It couldn't be! There, his long, reddish blond hair a-glow in the morning sunlight like a bronze halo, stood Torbjorn, lost captain of the Redbird. Not a ghost, but an angel! He was a lot thinner, and there was a bit more gray in his hair than before, but he was still tall, and a warm smile was spreading across his angular but handsome face, his icy blue eyes shining. Incredibly, against all hope, he was alive. Alive! Pam's heart skipped like a stone across a pond, her palms grew sweaty and her knees wobbled.

Torbjorn chuckled, that warm, rumbling sound Pam had thought she would never hear again. "Pam! It is so lovely to see you!" She just stared at him, her mind spinning around on a merry-go-round, unable to find its way off. He nodded, understanding her startled surprise. "My apologies Pam, I'm sure it's something of a shock, you must think me a ghost! I am so sorry for that. The fates cast me off to the north while you went south. I suppose I must call you Captain Pam now. You have become quite the hero. I always thought there was more to you than meets the eye! It seems I shall have to find a new job! Perhaps you could use an able mate?" He gazed at Pam with great admiration on his face and something more. Something wonderful.

Pam lunged forward, launching herself into an embrace that would have knocked him over if he hadn't been such a large man. She hugged him tightly, unable to form words yet. He hesitated in a gentlemanly way for a moment, then hugged her back with equal strength and affection.

"I am so glad to see you, Pam," he told her softly, "I was so afraid that it was you who might have left this world. I thought about you every day, and prayed that-" Torbjorn was unable to finish his sentence because Pam was now kissing him on the lips with a fierce urgency she hadn't felt since she was seventeen. Torbjorn's eyes widened, but the good captain had the presence of mind to kiss her back, and there was no mistaking he was glad to be doing so.