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Chapter 23~ The End
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The time I spent in London, England was not without its difficulties. Constantine assured me that they would be fine, and I trusted that that was the truth. Reyes promised to support her during the pregnancy and “do the raising that I was missing out on”. But I promised him I wouldn’t be gone for long. It killed me to leave Gretchen so soon after we’d only just reconnected. But she understood my wishes and promised to help Constantine during her delivery. The hardest part was walking away. Every goodbye kiss didn’t seem good enough to be the very last. Walking away felt like leaving home for good, and I was absolutely terrified. I had lost my strength, my armor, but I tried to assure myself that it wasn’t for very long.
The trip was long and excruciating. It felt like the long months would never end. But when I finally reached the shores of England, I felt the shift in the air. This was my birthplace and my childhood. I hadn’t returned since Tew captured me as a boy. It only seemed fitting that I returned a free man.
I found a cheap room at an inn in the very center of London city and began my hunt for a teacher. I visited every herbalist and hospital I could find, but no one even gave me the time of day. They laughed at me. What good is a doctor with one arm?
But I was determined to help folk nonetheless. I spent many days on the busy streets, tending to beggars and widows who could afford no one else. I cleaned and bandaged their wounds, advised them on their coughs, and realigned their out-of-socket joints as best I could. They brought their children to me and tried paying me with whatever they had. But I refused. I would not take from those who had less than me. My father hadn’t and neither would I.
It was during that time that I met Fredrick Dale, an Irish middle-aged drunkard who occasionally roamed the alleys of London after being thrown out of the pubs and brothels. I had only ever seen him as the loud, obnoxious git who stumbled up and down the cobblestone streets at night with an empty tin flask in his hand. One night, as I was sharing my water with one of the street children, I watched Dale round the corner from his usual haunt. He was loudly hollering the words to an old Irish drinking song in his native tongue when he slipped on a black puddle and hit his head against the cold brick building beside him. He had crumpled to the ground and laid there dismally moaning like a dying dog. I had no choice but to rush to his aid and bring him back to my room. When he woke the next morning, he was even more of a disaster than how he’d begun, groaning, puking, and shoving me away every time I tied to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead. Still reeling from his late-night escapades, it seemed. But as the afternoon sun fell behind the shadow of the London buildings, Fredrick began to come to his senses. And I learned he was actually Doctor Fredrick Dale.
It took a lot of convincing to get Dale to even consider taking me on as his new apprentice. He explained that he’d left Ireland after his land had been seized from his penniless family and took his practice to London where he’d scrounged for coin by treating maladies amongst the poor.
“It’s a thankless job oftentimes,” he said, “and no one in their right mind is going to want treatment from a lad who couldn’t even save his own arm.”
Despite his deterrent warnings, I stayed persistent, following Dale around on his errands and asking questions, begging for answers. I suffered his threats, his criticism, and his refusals. But somehow, it only pushed me to ask more. I’d stand outside his apothecary for hours, waiting for him to come out so that I may berate him more with my thoughts and questions and theories. This carried on for several weeks until, one day, I approached the door of his shop to find a leather-bound book lying on his doorstep. I almost thought it was meant for Dale himself until I spied a slip of parchment addressed with my initials attached. Inside, I found hundreds of illustrations, diagrams, and writings by educated physicians not much older than Dale himself. I studied the book for days. And soon, more and more books appeared for my pleasure. Manuals, guides, compendiums filled every kind of herb and plant in England. When the books stopped coming, I was sure that Fredrick was finished with me. But he finally opened the door and let me inside his small shack of a shop. I remembered the walls lined with shelves filled with hundreds of colorful, translucent bottles. I remembered the garage of smells I could not even describe that attacked me from every angle. Dale even showed me a human skull he owned sitting on his counter. He pulled out small jars of teeth and bones and started comparing them to the drawings in the books. He showed how the nerves ran up the different parts of my body and taught me about the flow of blood and how to properly stop it. And soon enough, I no longer had to sit outside his door.
I wrote to Constantine while I stayed in England. And every month, she’d write back. She told me how Reyes found work at the inn and brought back just enough to keep them going. She wrote of Gretchen and how the two had become great friends. But mostly, she wrote of the baby. She told me every detail, good and bad, and shared her worries and fears. She told me the dreams she had for the child and how much she couldn’t wait for me to meet them. As time went on, Constantine wrote back and told me that Reyes had decided to leave whenever I returned. He was determined to return to his village and restore it to what it had been before Kidd destroyed it. He said he had to make things right. Likewise, Gretchen felt the need to depart back into the world and find her own path. She wanted to continue the journey that Kidd had cut short for her and she assured me that one day she’d return. It felt as if time moved twice as fast in Cape Town. Finally, the week that Fredrick began to undertake me as his apprentice, I received a five-page letter from Constantine. Reyes and Gretchen had helped with the birth as they said they would. Constantine held back the bloody details as usual. Even in her youth, she’d always been hesitant to let me see her hurt. But none of it mattered. She was alive. And I had a son. A son.
It was another six months I stayed in England. Fredrick taught me everything he knew from his own university education and let me help run his apothecary alongside him. We had brought in more patients than ever, some suffering from small ailments such as cuts and bruises to those with fevers and coughs to others with broken legs. I had learned all sorts of remedies and medicines. My collection of books had grown tremendously, and I had finally saved up enough money to return home. Finally, I felt more like a real physician, more like my pa than I had ever been.
I left England as the cold hardness of winter began melting away. It was a strange thing to leave the place that I had dreamed of for so many years. I’d imaged a whole life here with Constantine, a whole future. Only months ago, I had been sure that if we never made it to England, we’d never truly be happy. I’d been so foolish to think that England was where my future had lied. It wasn’t. Constantine was. It had always lied with her.
Another two months I sailed, putting my practice into work with the sailors of the dingy trade ship I returned on. And when I finally reached Cape Town, I was a different man than the one who had left. Of course, Cape Town stayed the same—green and lush, hot and fragrant as ever, wholly different than the chilling frigidness of London. But I was not the same. I was older, wiser, and more learned. I dressed differently, more proper, and I now had valuable possessions of my own—books and brass figures, instruments and tools, even a few satchels of coin. I stood taller than before. My missing arm didn’t inhibit me the way I’d so feared all those months ago. Yet for the most part, I felt a sense of worthiness that I had never known before. I felt a future lined up for me in this world. Those two little coins Constantine had gifted me with had given me so, so much. Now, everything was different for me. Admittedly, I couldn’t help but wonder…was I now out of place here?
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I knew that dirt path so well. I knew those trees and those boulders that clustered around me as I hiked up the hill towards the inn. Only over a year ago, I had walked up that same path to find Constantine on the steps of the porch ready to give me a new future and a new chance at life. And I was forever grateful to her. Even so, part of me worried that we might’ve changed. I was so different than before and perhaps she wouldn’t want me. Perhaps I was not the harmonious, selfless man she’d loved before and nothing I could do would change that.
So many black thoughts clouded my head and face as I climbed the hill, my satchel strapped across my chest. My hair had grown a bit longer now and was tied in a short blunt tail behind my head, a few strands of hair falling in my face. My skin wasn’t as sunkissed anymore, lightened up by the cloudiness of London skies. But I had known that much would change. I had learned to get along fairly well without my right arm. And oftentimes, I hardly noticed its absence at all. Far behind me, a few hired men carried up the rest of my belongings. And I thought to myself of how many times I’d been reunited with Constantine. I tried to remember how it felt.
As we neared the inn and the top of the hill, I slowed. The hired men passed me by and set my trunks and bags by the porch steps. I nodded their way as a slight thanks and paid them their wages as they left. The inn looked the same, fairly run-down in spots and overgrown with ivy and moss. But now there were clothes hanging from the balcony. White linen chemises and hole-worn trousers and breeches far too small to fit Reyes.
“Edmund.”
My eyes flicked to the source of my name. And I saw her. She stood in the doorway of the inn. I could’ve sworn I was seeing a vision. It was her, my Constantine. And at the same time, not her at all. She wore patched-up trousers and stood barefoot. She was clothed in a long-sleeved linen blouse that rippled in the breeze like a flag and an aegean blue vest buttoned to hug her waist. Her fair skin glowed in the afternoon sun. And her black curls were wild and beautiful as ever. She nearly looked the way she had the day I first met her. Her striking blue eyes pierced straight through me—through my new garments, my new intellect, and my new identity. With one look, she broke through all of it. And suddenly, I was not an educated doctor or a matured man or a wise scholar any longer. I was the Cabin Boy. Her Cabin Boy.
My knees felt weak and my heart beat faintly, stunned by everything she was. And I realized at that moment that—no matter how much I studied, or worked, or tried—with Constantine, I would never be anything but that frightened and awestruck pirate boy in the bottom of a ship. I never needed to be anything else for her.
I tore the satchel off my shoulder and raced to her. She ran to me, and I picked her up in my arm. She wrapped tight arms around my neck and buried her face in my shoulder. I squeezed her tight to my chest and felt every nerve in my body light on fire. She was here. I was home. I couldn’t stop myself from crying and burying my face in her hair. Christ, her smell…sweet lavender and sunbaked sand. How could I ever forget what it was like to come home to her?
I didn’t ever want to let her go. But when we finally pulled apart, I saw the tears streaking down her face too. She grabbed my face with both of her hands and gazed deep into my eyes as if she was seeing me for the first time.
“You came back,” she whimpered, a small smile on her face. She kissed me fiercely, lovingly. She was a tsunami and she pulled me into her ocean. I felt I couldn’t breathe at times, but the burning in my chest was so addictive. When we separated, Constantine laughed and wiped my tears away, her own smile trembling like a palm leaf in the wind.
“I missed you,” I said. It was the only thing I could say.
“I missed you.”
I smiled and wiped her tears away. “We can’t keep seein’ each other like this, love,” I joked.
She laughed again and pulled me into her embrace.
“Oh,” she said, sniffling as a thought broke across her face. “Wait here.”
She pulled away from me and disappeared back inside the inn. As she went, a boy came from within the doorway. It was Reyes, a whole foot taller, and hair shorter than before. He was dressed in nicer clothes but was still barefoot. He caught my gaze and a new expression I’d never seen on him before erupted on his cheeks.
“Edmūnd!” he shrieked, galloping down the steps and nearly tackling me to the dirt.
“Oof!” I grunted as he threw his entire body weight into a tight embrace.
“Te extrañé mucho! Te extrañé! I miss you!”
I hugged him back, wrapping a hand around his small head and ruffling his hair. “I missed you too, Reyes.”
A few moments later, I saw Constantine reappear at the door. She wasn’t alone. In her arms bounced a small child. She padded down the steps to me, and I pulled away from Reyes, immediately drawn to her like a moth to a lamp. Constantine brought the babe close to me—a small, peach-skinned little boy with honey-golden eyes and thick, curly black hair. He held Constantine’s own hair in his tiny fist. She smiled down at him.
“This is Benjamin. Benjamin Hemingway.”
I gazed at him, entranced and speechless. He looked just like Constantine, with the same head of hair and the same round-featured face. I could hardly believe it.
“Do you want to hold him?”
I nodded, unable to say anything else. Constantine lifted him into my left arm, supporting him where I could not. He was so light, not at all what I had imagined he would be like. He was quiet but certainly curious, grabbing at my ears and my hair with his fingers. I could not tear my eyes away from his face. He was perfect. Benjamin was everything I’d always dreamed of and more. And he was mine. My son.
I ran a gentle finger across the soft skin of his cheeks, just blooming with color. “Benjamin.”
Constantine came to my side as we watched him and as he explored more of me. But I didn’t mind any of it. There was nowhere else in the world that mattered more.
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A week after I returned to Cape Town, Reyes set off to sea in search of his home village Marie-Galante. I hadn’t realized just how much he meant to me until he was gone. Reyes had saved my life countless times. He got me back to Constantine and back to Gretchen. Without him, I’d still be on William Kidd’s crew, doomed to a life of emptiness and violence. I hoped that one day, he’d once again darken my doorstep with a toothy smirk and a snide remark. But for now, I knew the path that he was walking down. I respected it. And I understood it well.
Gretchen left not long after. She claimed she was in search of a life beyond Cape Town. She’d been trapped there for so long that she needed to know a life without the bondage of cruel men holding her down. I fought with her often on her decision to leave. She said she needed to find a greater purpose whatever that might’ve been. It felt like she was walking out once again. She told me it was different, that now she was older and could fight for herself. Nevertheless, I armed her with two pistols and a few knives, teaching her how to use them before she went. She promised she’d visit. And I truly hoped that she would.
Soon, it was just Constantine, Benjamin, and I. We left the inn once and for all and moved into a small cabin on the outskirts of town, close to the Lion’s Head mountain. It wasn’t much, but it kept us settled. We’d been blown around the world so much that we didn’t mind a couple of roots. I took my practice with me and established a small shop with the rest of my coin from England. Constantine had helped me pick it out, mentioning it to be the old shop of another doctor she once knew. Cape Town was quite short on physicians, so I knew that I could be of real use to the villagers.
And that summer, I married Constantine Every. It was a small ceremony. Constantine had found a Dutch priest in town and asked him for a favor. She didn’t want Benjamin growing up to be a bastard child. I guess she seemed to have some experience there. We married on the beach of Cape Town during a crisp summer morning when the sky was as clear and blue as spring water. She wore a simple white dress, one of her favorites, just for the occasion. I could still remember the way the breeze made it cling to her frame. I wore my nicest coat. And that morning, we swore to each other a promise that had been unspoken between us for so long. A promise to love each other for every waking moment of our lives. It was one of the greatest moments of my life.
Benjamin grew so fast, shooting up like a tree, and his boundless energy grew with him. Once he learned to walk, he became a moving target for both Constantine and me. Most days, she stayed at home with him. But as he grew older, I’d see Constantine take him to the coast to teach him to swim and hunt for crabs. She’d show him to penguins that roamed the seashore and told him stories of days long behind us but not so far gone.
The fall nights were warm and calm in Cape Town. After the lively adventures of the day, the town settled to peaceful stillness at night. The stars fell on the world above us and sparkled across the darkness of the sky. The waves lapped at the shore and foamed snow white. In our small corner of land, all around us was the chirping of crickets and the sigh of the breeze through the tall grasses. My toes were buried in the cool white sand of the beach where I sat. I inhaled deeply, letting the smell of salt overtake my senses. I looked out across the horizon and thought about all the horizons I’d looked at through the years and all the things I had wished would sail across them.
“I thought I might find you here,” Constantine said behind me.
I barely turned my head and instead let her walk across the sandy hills to join me. After the birth, Constantine started wearing trousers again. She could finally be comfortable and free in Cape Town. We both could. She plopped down next to me and ran her hands across the silky surface of the sand. She leaned her head against my shoulder and sighed. How calm she looked…It almost seemed too good to be true.
“Constantine,” I said.
“Hmm?”
“You ever think that if things had been different…if your father hadn’t left and if I hadn’t gotten captured…we would have ever met?”
She was quiet. So was I. I had thought a lot about our story throughout the years. It always seemed to the both of us that we were destined to find one another in the end—that all of the turmoil and tragedy was just preparing us for a long life together. But perhaps it hadn’t meant to be that way. Maybe it was a miracle that we had found each other when both of us needed one another the most.
“I don’t know,” she hummed. She slid her hand into mine, and I felt her warmth. “But we’re here now.”
The waves rippled across the shore and hushed our thoughts. Our eyes fluttered closed at the sound.
I had fallen in love with a Bastard Girl. But I ended up with Constantine Every.
I smiled to myself.
And that was so much better.
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The End.
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A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you all for reading The Cabin Boy. First of all, I want to tell you all how much it means to me when I hear how this story has affected you. Your support and love never go unnoticed, and I'd like to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for all your kind words. The Bastard Girl and The Cabin Boy have been a huge life project for me and have been received so wonderfully from people all over the world. I hope you have connected with the characters and have felt that your world has been expanded just a bit more than it was before. There are a million things I could say about how much this story means to me, but I'm going to save it for a super BIG announcement I have coming up concerning this series. Expect to hear more from me in the next couple of months.
In the meantime, please check out the other works I have on my page or maybe take another look at The Bastard Girl in preparation for my BIG announcement 😉
Thank you all again for going on this journey with me. I love you all xo
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