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Charles sought out the admiral, finding him pacing restlessly through the shadowed garden, the dim twilight casting eerie silhouettes against the ancient walls of the manor. The admiral’s hands were clasped behind his back, his face a storm of perplexity. As Charles approached, the old man quickened his steps, his agitation almost comical if not for the gravity of the situation.
“Uncle, I trust you’ve reached a decision by now?” Charles inquired, his voice steady.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” the admiral replied, rubbing his temples. “I’ve been thinking, but I keep circling back to where I started.”
“Surely, you’ve had ample time to consider it,” Charles persisted. “I haven’t troubled you too soon, have I?”
“No, no, it’s not that,” the admiral sighed. “I just don’t think very fast. My thoughts tend to wander back to the beginning.”
“Then, to be frank, uncle, you’ve reached no conclusion?”
“Just one.”
“And what might that be?”
“That you’re right, Charles. Having sent a challenge to this so-called vampire, you must face him.”
“I suspected that was your stance from the start, uncle,” Charles said, a slight smile playing on his lips.
“And why’s that?” the admiral asked, brow furrowing.
“Because it’s the obvious and natural conclusion,” Charles explained. “All your doubts and worries were merely attempts to find an excuse not to admit it. Now that you see the futility in that, I trust you’ll support me as you promised and not try to dissuade me.”
“I won’t thwart you, boy,” the admiral conceded, though his voice carried a note of reluctance. “But I still think dueling a vampire is sheer folly.”
“That doesn’t matter, uncle. We can’t use that as a valid excuse as long as he denies being one. And if he’s wrongfully accused, he’s a grievously injured man.”
“Injured? Nonsense! If he’s not a vampire, he’s some other bizarre creature. He’s the oddest fellow I’ve ever encountered, whether on land or sea.”
“Is he really?”
“Yes, indeed! Though, thinking back, I’ve seen some peculiar things in my time. The sea is full of wonders and mysteries. We witness more in a day out there than you landlubbers see in a year.”
“But you’ve never seen a vampire, have you, uncle?”
“Well, I don’t know. I never knew about vampires until I came here. There might’ve been plenty where I’ve sailed, for all I know.”
“True enough. But about the duel, could you wait until tomorrow morning before taking any further steps?”
“Until tomorrow?” The admiral’s eyes widened. “Not long ago, you were eager to act immediately.”
“Yes, but now I have a specific reason for waiting until tomorrow.”
“Very well, if you insist. Have it your way.”
“You’re very kind, uncle. I have another favor to ask.”
“What is it now?” The admiral raised an eyebrow.
“You know Henry Bennett receives a meager sum from the estate, which should rightfully be his if not for his father’s extravagance.”
“I’ve heard as much.”
“I believe he’s in financial distress, and I have little to offer. Could you lend me fifty pounds, uncle? Until my affairs are sorted and I can repay you?”
“Will I? Of course, I will.”
“I want to offer it to Henry. Coming from me, he’ll accept it more freely, knowing it’s given with genuine intent. Besides, they regard me almost as family now, with my engagement to Flora.”
“Quite right, and fitting too. Here’s a fifty-pound note, my boy. Take it and use it as you see fit. If you need more, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I knew I could rely on your kindness, uncle.” Charles accepted the note, a weight lifted from his shoulders.
Charles turned to his uncle, the thick, suffocating air of the evening garden pressing in around them. The ancient stone paths were cloaked in shadows, the dim light of the moon casting eerie reflections across the dew-kissed flowers.
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“Uncle, I cannot express how grateful I am for your help. Tomorrow, you will arrange the duel for me, won’t you?”
“As you please, though I don’t relish visiting that fellow’s house again,” the admiral replied, his voice a low growl of apprehension.
“Then we can manage by note,” Charles suggested.
“Very good. Do so. That man reminds me of something that happened long ago when I was at sea. Not as old as I am now, of course.”
“A story, uncle?” Charles’s curiosity was piqued.
“Yes, he’s like a fellow from an affair I once knew. Only, my chap was more mysterious by a damn sight.”
“Indeed?” Charles prompted, his interest growing.
“Oh, dear, yes. When something strange happens at sea, it’s twice as odd as anything on land. You can depend on that.”
“Isn’t that just your imagination, uncle? After all, you’ve spent so long at sea.”
“No, you rascal! What could you land-dwellers have that compares to the sea’s mysteries? The sights we see would make your hair stand on end and never come down again.”
“Do you mean in the ocean, uncle? Are those the sights you talk about?”
“Of course. Once, in the southern ocean, I was on a small frigate looking for a seventy-four to join up with. A man at the mast-head called out he saw her on the larboard bow. We headed that way, but what do you think it turned out to be?”
“I have no idea.”
“The head of a fish.”
“A fish?”
“Yes, a damn sight bigger than the hull of a vessel. It was swimming along with its head just barely above water.”
“But where were the sails, uncle? Your man at the mast-head must have been a poor seaman to miss the sails.”
“That’s a shore-going notion. You know nothing about it. The spray from the fins near its head was so massive and white, it looked just like sails.”
“Oh!” Charles exclaimed, wide-eyed.
“Ah! You may say ‘oh,’ but we all saw him—the whole crew. We sailed alongside for some time until he tired of us and dove down, creating such a vortex that the ship shook and seemed as if she’d follow him to the bottom.”
“And what do you suppose it was, uncle?”
“How should I know?”
“Did you ever see it again?”
“Never. Others have caught glimpses, but none came as close as we did, that I ever heard of.”
“It is singular!”
“Singular or not, it’s nothing compared to what I can tell you. I’ve seen things that would make you think I’m spinning a romance.”
“Oh, now, uncle. No one could ever suspect you of such a thing.”
“You’d believe me, then?”
“Of course, I would.”
“Then listen. I’ll tell you a story I’ve never mentioned to anyone.”
“Indeed! Why so?”
“Because I didn’t want to fight people for not believing it. But here it is: We were outward bound—a good ship, a good captain, and good messmates. We had every prospect of a pleasant and happy voyage. Our crew were tried men, sailors from infancy, none of your French craft that go ashore after an apprenticeship. No, these were stanch and true men who loved the sea as much as a sluggard loves his bed or a lover his mistress. Their love was enduring and healthy, growing with years and making men stand by each other to the last limb, able to chew a quid or wink an eye, let alone wag a pigtail.”
Charles gazed across the darkened garden, its twisted paths hidden beneath a canopy of creeping ivy and overhanging branches. The moon’s pallid glow filtered through the thick foliage, casting ghostly patterns on the ground. He turned his attention back to the admiral, whose face was etched with lines of worry, a stark contrast to the serene night.
“We were outward bound for Ceylon, with a cargo of spices and other goods from the Indian market,” the admiral began, his voice carrying the weight of the ocean’s mysteries. “The ship was new and beautiful—she sat like a duck on the water, and a stiff breeze carried her smoothly across the waves, unlike those old tubs that rock and pitch like mad.”
The admiral’s eyes glinted with the memory. “We were well-laden and pleased, weighed anchor with light hearts and hearty cheers. Down the river we went, rounded the North Foreland, and stood out in the Channel. The breeze was steady and stiff, carrying us swiftly through the water as if it were made for us.”
Charles listened intently, the eerie atmosphere making the tale more vivid. “Jack,” the admiral continued, “a messmate of mine, stood looking at the skies, the sails, and finally the water with a graver air than usual. I thought it strange.”
“What ails you, Jack?” I asked. “You look as if we’re about to cast lots to see who gets eaten first. Are you unwell?”
“I’m hearty enough, thank Heaven,” Jack replied, “but I don’t like this breeze.”
“Don’t like the breeze?” I scoffed. “It’s as good a breeze as ever filled a sail. What would you have—a gale?”
“No, no; I fear that,” Jack admitted.
“With such a ship and such a set of hearty, able seamen, I think we could weather the stiffest gale that ever whistled through a yard,” I said confidently.
Jack sighed. “That may be, and I hope so. But it feels like something’s hanging over us, and I can’t tell what.”
“Yes, the colors at the masthead, flying with a hearty breeze,” I joked.
Jack glanced up at the colors and walked away without another word, attending to his duties. His melancholy puzzled me, but I shrugged it off. Within a few days, he was as merry as the rest of us, the shadow of his unease seemingly gone.
We faced a gale off the coast of Biscay and rode it out without losing a spar or a yard—no accidents, no tears. “Now, Jack, what do you think of our vessel?” I asked.
“She’s like a duck on water,” Jack replied, “rising and falling with the waves, not tumbling like a hoop over stones.”
“She goes smoothly and sweetly,” I agreed. “She’s a gallant craft on her first voyage, and I predict a prosperous one.”
“I hope so,” Jack muttered.
For three weeks, our journey was serene. The ocean was as calm and smooth as a meadow, the breeze light but steady, and we sailed majestically over the deep blue waters, passing coast after coast, though all around was the seemingly pathless sea.
“A better sailer I’ve never stepped into,” the captain said one day. “It would be a pleasure to live and die in such a vessel.”
Then, one morning, after the sun had risen and the decks were washed, we saw a strange man sitting on one of the water-casks on deck. Being full, we had to stow some of them on deck. The apparition was startling, and every man on deck stared wide-eyed at the stranger. I was no exception.
The stranger, with an air of extreme and provoking coolness, looked calmly at us. He then cocked his eye up at the sky, as if expecting a message from the heavens.
“Where has he come from?” one of the men whispered to his companion.
“How can I tell?” replied the other. “He may have dropped from the clouds. He seems to be examining the road; perhaps he’s going back.”
The stranger sat with a calmness that was both eerie and unnerving, barely acknowledging our presence with a passing glance. The ship, the ocean, and the night seemed to hold their breath, waiting for what would happen next.