The Surfacing Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Cormac James
brother was married, Morgan said.
He’s not.
Who is she then, the picture?
Some poor girl with pretensions. It was arranged. To keep him here. To let me go
home.
It was a definite arrangement?
In his mind, yes.
And in hers?
Who’s to know? Since the whole thing started he’s had one short letter, though he
himself wrote quite a few. Or rather, I did, on his behalf. She never answered.
An uncomplicated courtship.
The best kind, they say.
They say, Morgan said.
If you ask me, she has no intention of coming, she said. The one letter was last
summer, when she wrote and promised to come, and never appeared.
This year too, for the past two months, Rink had been waiting for her ship. But the
days were filing past patiently, politely, and he no longer took his walks on the
high ground, to stare offshore.
You must have been in a rush, Morgan said.
He was looking at her chest. Her tunic had some two dozen buttons, solid little balls
of bone. She’d slipped the right button but one into the bottom eye, and worked her
mistake all the way up. With both hands he reached across the open space between
them, took the thick thread of the eye between finger and thumb, and popped the first button out. The cloth was thick, held its shape well, and even with the second button
free he could see no more of her neck.
He pressed the top button into the top eye. It was a nice, tight fit. One by one,
he began to undo and redo every button on her tunic, in the right order, lining them
up the way they ought to be.
You’ll be an expert by the time you get to the bottom, she said.
He was almost halfway down. The fit was snug, and he could feel the warmth against
his hands.
Maybe I’m an expert already, he said.
In any case, you’re doing quite well. I’m impressed. I would have thought sailors
a little less . . . habile.
Sailor?
Seaman?
He shook his head. Seaman was even worse.
I’ve offended you? she said.
Greatly.
Can you ever forgive me?
He was not sure if he could. He would consider the matter. He returned to his work.
We must have caught you unawares, he said. And here’s me thinking you’d be on the
lookout for us, night and day.
I admit, I didn’t expect you back so soon.
Yet here we are, Morgan said.
They’ve found them, and are now returning home to glory. That’s what I said to myself
as soon as I saw you round the cape. They’ve found the missing ships.
Alas, no.
They drank their coffee, calmly held each other’s gaze. She asked him about The Pack,
the efforts and obstacles, the accident, the return. She knew better than to ask
if they now intended to go home. She knew well they wanted to start all over again.
Do you realize how many square miles it is, that we must search? he said.
I said nothing, she said. She looked at him curiously. He was harassing himself.
Get out the map, Morgan said. Even the best of them are half blank. Land or sea or
ice, what’s up there no one knows.
With a reckless flourish she drained her cup to the last drop. They were in the kitchen
together, she was rinsing the cups, when the others arrived.
DeHaven ambushed him alone in the hall. Did she ask to come with us? he asked. The
words were a hiss.
No, Morgan said. Saying it, he felt a rush of relief, and a rush of dismay. He was
at DeHaven’s mercy now, until DeHaven told him what he’d heard from her brother.
6th July
They began to refit the rudder as best they could, and to take on whatever they could
find in the way of stores. Rink signed the bills without reading them, DeHaven looked
at the worst of the natives, and that Sunday MacDonald held a service for the whole
island in the tiny wooden church.
Afterwards, Rink set up a table of food for the officers, in front of the house.
They stood and stared at the view, the ship. Myer had volunteered to take the watch
alone, so that everyone else could attend.
In his arms, DeHaven held the infant he’d delivered – saved – the day they’d arrived,
who now
He’s not.
Who is she then, the picture?
Some poor girl with pretensions. It was arranged. To keep him here. To let me go
home.
It was a definite arrangement?
In his mind, yes.
And in hers?
Who’s to know? Since the whole thing started he’s had one short letter, though he
himself wrote quite a few. Or rather, I did, on his behalf. She never answered.
An uncomplicated courtship.
The best kind, they say.
They say, Morgan said.
If you ask me, she has no intention of coming, she said. The one letter was last
summer, when she wrote and promised to come, and never appeared.
This year too, for the past two months, Rink had been waiting for her ship. But the
days were filing past patiently, politely, and he no longer took his walks on the
high ground, to stare offshore.
You must have been in a rush, Morgan said.
He was looking at her chest. Her tunic had some two dozen buttons, solid little balls
of bone. She’d slipped the right button but one into the bottom eye, and worked her
mistake all the way up. With both hands he reached across the open space between
them, took the thick thread of the eye between finger and thumb, and popped the first button out. The cloth was thick, held its shape well, and even with the second button
free he could see no more of her neck.
He pressed the top button into the top eye. It was a nice, tight fit. One by one,
he began to undo and redo every button on her tunic, in the right order, lining them
up the way they ought to be.
You’ll be an expert by the time you get to the bottom, she said.
He was almost halfway down. The fit was snug, and he could feel the warmth against
his hands.
Maybe I’m an expert already, he said.
In any case, you’re doing quite well. I’m impressed. I would have thought sailors
a little less . . . habile.
Sailor?
Seaman?
He shook his head. Seaman was even worse.
I’ve offended you? she said.
Greatly.
Can you ever forgive me?
He was not sure if he could. He would consider the matter. He returned to his work.
We must have caught you unawares, he said. And here’s me thinking you’d be on the
lookout for us, night and day.
I admit, I didn’t expect you back so soon.
Yet here we are, Morgan said.
They’ve found them, and are now returning home to glory. That’s what I said to myself
as soon as I saw you round the cape. They’ve found the missing ships.
Alas, no.
They drank their coffee, calmly held each other’s gaze. She asked him about The Pack,
the efforts and obstacles, the accident, the return. She knew better than to ask
if they now intended to go home. She knew well they wanted to start all over again.
Do you realize how many square miles it is, that we must search? he said.
I said nothing, she said. She looked at him curiously. He was harassing himself.
Get out the map, Morgan said. Even the best of them are half blank. Land or sea or
ice, what’s up there no one knows.
With a reckless flourish she drained her cup to the last drop. They were in the kitchen
together, she was rinsing the cups, when the others arrived.
DeHaven ambushed him alone in the hall. Did she ask to come with us? he asked. The
words were a hiss.
No, Morgan said. Saying it, he felt a rush of relief, and a rush of dismay. He was
at DeHaven’s mercy now, until DeHaven told him what he’d heard from her brother.
6th July
They began to refit the rudder as best they could, and to take on whatever they could
find in the way of stores. Rink signed the bills without reading them, DeHaven looked
at the worst of the natives, and that Sunday MacDonald held a service for the whole
island in the tiny wooden church.
Afterwards, Rink set up a table of food for the officers, in front of the house.
They stood and stared at the view, the ship. Myer had volunteered to take the watch
alone, so that everyone else could attend.
In his arms, DeHaven held the infant he’d delivered – saved – the day they’d arrived,
who now