Web viewA Quest to Find Everything. By Christy Bartel. A Quest to Find Everything. Behind the stoic face of every sea captain, there is a story. A defining moment

A Quest to Find Everything

By Christy Bartel

A Quest to Find Everything

Behind the stoic face of every sea captain, there is a story.

A defining moment etched that expression. Whether it was as simple as a young

midshipman deciding to copy the grim looks he received from his superiors, or the

moment they decided to send their ship and crew into combat for the first time.

Or a landing party gone horribly wrong.

Imprisonment, starvation, plague, the list goes on. These are the trials of the fleet.

But some lives are more interesting than others, and the stories behind faces are the ones

that become legends.

If people like me can manage to learn their stories.

My Quest to Find Everything

Date: Sometime in the winter, but definitely in the middle of it

Most people know me for my curiosity aboard the Perpetuity. Most are also

annoyed; I’m not pointing any fingers in case someone gets hold of this log. But,

whatever my status in the eyes of the sailors, everyone agrees that I know the most about

everyone. You could call it a hobby of mine: to know everything.

At first I told people I was a writer, but I eventually gave up; there is only a

certain amount of laughing one can take. But I continued to write, mastering the art in a

swinging hammock. I am now currently cold, wet, and swinging…easily explained by the

fact I am floating on an ocean.

Christy Bartel Page 1

I started this log separate from my normal journal because I have finally found

something interesting to write about. Rather, something to write about besides

seasickness, change of watch, and strange omens that the sailors somehow see

everywhere. The men I am in charge of alone have spotted three ghosts, a school of

mermaids, and blamed the death of scurvy on a murdered albatross. But being a

midshipman has finally paid off.

Yesterday the senior officer on the ship, First Lieutenant Parks, after his

customary scoff when I appeared in his range of sight, remembered that I was invited to

dinner with the rest of the officers. Good food was the immediate thought, but my hunger

for knowledge was a close second.

I will try to remember every single detail of the evening for you.

Sir Avery Dodgson is captain of my frigate, the Perpetuity. If I were to guess, I

would say he is about thirty-five years. He has had a command for seven. He isn’t tall,

but he isn’t short either, with dark hair, blue eyes, and a stoic expression.

A very good example of a common sea captain.

Dinner was quaint, probably because I didn’t sit across from Midshipman

Arewright, who is the only person on this ship with a sense of humor. Humor was not

invited to the officers’ dinner last night. Second Lieutenant Sandon made a gallant

attempt to form conversation about something other than the wind direction, praising the

cook and so forth. Parks discussed the southerly chill and charts and maps and navigation

and geography…. I was drowning in my soup when I was rescued by the sudden

interjection by Sandon. I apologize for my inaccuracy, but my hearing did fade in and out

quite often; I only heard snippets of the conversation, or rather lecture. “This spring the


Antipathy will join us…and then when we reach…if the wind and tide agree…we will

escort merchant vessels, if the treaty…and the coast line along Despereaux--”

“Hold, Parks.” Lieutenant Sandon held up his fork and swallowed. “Didn’t the

captain serve in the Despereaux push thirteen years ago?”

The room became utterly still. Parks’ fist clenched and his lips tightened. “Mr.

Sandon, a certain midshipman has put you up to this, but I’ll have you running double

watches for your apparent lack-”

“-Parks.”

All heads turned to the captain, including mine now fully alert.

“I believe Mr. Sandon has indirectly asked a question of me…and I will directly

answer it.” The captain then turned to Sandon very professionally, and confirmed, “Yes, I

served in the Despereaux push thirteen years ago, while I was a second Lieutenant. And

Parks! Don’t be shy, you were there as well.”

Parks mumbled something in affirmation, and then glared heavily at Sandon.

However, before I could become a martyr for more information, Parks continued.

Arewright leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, while Sandon sighed and began

stabbing his meat again. Soon after, the captain left the room.

When I was dismissed, I snuck a glance at the map Parks had been referencing.

Despereaux, Lancelle.

No course was made for that destination this morning, even though I willed the

helmsmen to turn the wheel, even just an inch. In case you have missed the last couple of

wars, Lancelle is one of our greatest enemies. But finally about a decade ago it was taken

over by the Vincentian Empire.


I wasn’t aware of the Despereaux push, which I supposed was because I was a

new officer…an officer who made it a point to know everything. I was already making

plans to badger Sandon about it when I realized the captain was standing at the end of the

passage, with his back to me and his hands folded behind it.

I couldn’t help thinking to myself as I watched his silhouette: the slightest inkling

of a small town by the coast in a distant country made Parks angry. He knew something.

Captain Dodgson had a story, and I intended to get it from him.

As I continued down the deck, I deliberately stepped on every squeaking board

with the heaviest step I could manage. I didn’t need to, though. Captain Dodgson turned

to stare at me as I was spreading one of my legs farther than normal to reach a specific

spot in the flooring.

“I have heard you are a writer, midshipman.”

“A man’s got to have a hobby, sir,” I replied. I straightened up, then with a rush

of courage, I asked, “Do you have one, sir?”

The captain thought a moment, and answered seriously, “One. I play the violin.”

There was an awkward pause where I stood at attention, expecting to be

dismissed.

But the captain continued. “You pursue knowledge. That is a good quality in an

officer, something that certain people on this ship lack. Do you…write what you

discover?”

“If I can, sir. I have realized that real stories are sometimes even more exciting

than the ones I can imagine…sir.”

The captain smirked out across the water.


“And I was actually touched by Lieutenant Parks’ comment earlier, but I didn’t

put Sandon up to it, he came up with the question all on his own. I’m not aware of any

“Despereaux push” or anything in any naval log--”

“--It wasn’t a naval campaign, so I don’t suppose it would be in one.”

I was busy congratulating myself on what little information I gleaned, when the

captain said more.

“…And, before you go looking for a log that does have it, I should tell you I

highly doubt you will find anything about it besides a list of mens’ names and the word

‘Failure’.” The captain turned away from the moon and sea and looked directly at me.

“Life is always more exciting than imaginings, midshipman, because I never know what

will happen to me tomorrow. I could wake up to a clear sky and fair wind--something

never mentioned in your books, mind you, sir--or I could wake up with three enemy

frigates surrounding me, waiting to accept my unconditional surrender.” This next part

was so quiet, I turned my head like an owl to hear it. “But sometimes, in life, one doesn’t

win, midshipman. One must accept and shoulder defeat more often than any story

nowadays records.”

The captain’s face was completely in shadow, but as it turned again to the

moonlight outside the passage, I saw his mouth twitch. “Maybe someday you will have

your own adventure. And you will write it, and the world will become greater for it. But

some of us are not…are not like you.”

“I’m just a writer, sir.”

“Aye, that you are.”

I don’t quite know what I was hoping for. Maybe I fantasized he would sit me


down and conveniently tell me his story in the form of a memoir of his past life in

sweeping language as he stood gazing at a lantern, the candle flickers serving as a

sentinel in the dark, and his gateway to deeper memories.

And I used to wonder why people laughed at me when I told them I was a writer.

Instead, it was very different. He beckoned me onto the deck, and we both looked

out at the night waves, and the stars, and the winter moon. The captain started slowly and

haltingly, stating facts like a history. Why was I the one to trust with this information? I

never said that I told anyone what I find, and I certainly don’t gossip. I don’t have time

for that; I’m too busy writing. And, a secret is sometimes all a sailor has, so it’s

something I take seriously.

Captain Dodgson was always conscious of my being there, but as he became more

confident in his ability to communicate what had obviously been on his mind for years,

he became more and more enveloped in his story, as did I. The words weren’t beautifully

formed or chosen, but their simplicity made it all the more…real.

He began his tale, and I quote, “…There was a girl.”

Despereaux, Lancelle

Date: sometime in the summer, but definitely in the middle of it

There was a girl. In a small village on the coast of Lancelle.

And, a young lieutenant. Farther inland than he’d been in two years.

Thirteen years ago the King’s forces, the most advanced military power in the

world, gave aid to the expanding borders of what would become the Vincentian Empire.


Lancelle was the last country along the north of the continent, the last hurdle and a

symbol of victory. Everyone knows the struggling country fell quickly.

But no one remembers the failed attempt at its borders.

A small dispatch of the King’s ships was sent to the coast of Lancelle to meet

their troops and carry them back to their own country. Some of the crews were sent to the

occupied town until the Vincentian army was able to secure the coast. And I was sent

because I could speak Lancellean. I wasn’t good, and I felt useless off the Sovereignty,

but it was my first time on foreign soil, and part of me was willing to put myself through

whatever necessary to earn a new experience. I would not have trusted myself; I was far

too young, and an officer whose uniform was still new.

“I believe a thank you is in order for what I did for you back there.”

“Fine, but I think you’re going to have to wait. Until you leave.”

Lieutenant Avery Dodgson shook his head in disbelief. “How can you be this

way?”

The girl scoffed and pointed down at the moon-lit frigate in the bay. “That is how

I can ‘be this way’. You think you can show up here in that ship called ‘Sovereignty’ and

order us into submission. Why are you helping the Vincentians invade us, huh?”

“I--”

“--Because you have no respect for freedom.” She stepped towards the edge of the

cliff, seeming to defy the world she glared at. “You are mere slaves to your king, and you

prefer it that way. I bet you’ve never done anything without orders.”

“I did. And look what it’s gotten me.”


The girl scoffed again. “You may take orders, but you can’t order me to do

anything off your ship.”

He was truly exasperated now. “You know what, you’re right. My life is order.

When I receive one, my career, and life, depends on how I respond. But it has to be that

way.”

“I wouldn’t want that.”

“No you wouldn’t. Challenging Generals is what you prefer.” He paused, and let

his voice ring in the night, staring at the ground. When he looked up again, his eyebrows

were furrowed. “...By the way, it was brave. What you said to him.”

The girl waited.

“I guess somehow I agreed with you….I have the freedom to sail anywhere, but I

always find freedom in the hours I spend alone watching the waves.”

The girl continued to wait, but the officer didn’t say more. “You really love the

sea, don’t you?”

“More than a lot of things.”

“I’ve stared out at that horizon my whole life, and all I’ve seen is what I will

never know.”

“I never thought I would live long enough to see the day I got out of my old town.

But one night my father told me I had been accepted into the navy; I’ve been gallivanting

around the world ever since.”

“That sounds so…” She glanced up at him.

“What is it?”


The girl straightened up. “...It’s just, when I look at you, and your uniform...I

can’t help but think about all the stories about what your people have done for the

Vincentians.”

“I’ve heard stories about what you have done to keep your freedom from them.”

“I didn’t do any of those things-”

“-and neither did I.”

He saw his words sink in. Avery walked towards her. “Maybe we shouldn’t trust

real stories. Our own stories are sometimes even more exciting than the ones reality can

imagine for us.”

“Our stories…?” A slight smile played across her lips. “I think my story started

today, Lieutenant.”

“Avery.” The officer touched his hat. “It’s Avery.”

“Ataelin.”

“Ataelin.” The Lieutenant turned and started down the hill.

She threw one final glance at the ship before stopping him. “Wait.”

The Lieutenant looked back.

“...Thank you.”

“You’re late, Lieutenant Dodgson.”

The officer kept his back as straight as possible, and grabbed his hands behind his

back. “Aye sir. I was detained at the camp, sir.”

“That is a poor excuse, Lieutenant. I’m afraid I’m going to have to speak to the

General about this.”


“Aye sir.”

The officer tried to keep his face under control, but he couldn’t stop the smirk that

grew on it.

Ataelin laughed. “You’re dismissed, Avery.”

Avery hung his head and started down the dirt path again, when his bicorn was

tugged off his head.

“This is in terrible shape. Next time you are summoned, I want it immaculate.”

The girl punched out the wrinkles, and then went to arrange the insignia, but paused.

“Ataelin, you’re just like my captain. Are you sure you’ve never sailed on a ship

before?”

The girl stared at the white colors on his hat, and then sighed.

“...What’s wrong?”

“It’s not straight, that’s all--”

“Ataelin.”

The girl looked up. “Yes?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something…”

Suddenly the stream of white uniforms turned the corner of the road.

“Get to the camp!”

“The town is making a barricade!”

“They’ve forced us out!”

The moment was gone. A change fell over Avery, and in his place was an officer.

“Organize reinforcements immediately! We cannot wait for the Vincentians to come!”

He was about to follow, when he felt an arm around his.


“Don’t go.” She tried to make him look at her.

“I have to, Ataelin.”

He put his bicorn on his head again, and she watched as he disappeared with the

other soldiers dressed in white. Soon, she couldn’t tell him apart.

As she neared the village gate, she could see dozens of men busily downing trees

and dragging them across the opening. “They’re…they’re coming back!”

All eyes turned to her, and then the frenzy of action increased tenfold.

She was rushed inside, and trapped in Despereaux. About noon, she heard the first

cannon, and picked up a child that was wandering in the square.

“Ataelin-”

“Shh…it’s going to be--” Ataelin didn’t finish.

She had received so many empty promises in her life, she couldn’t bring herself to

do it.

“Thank you, Ataelin.”

“Make sure your daughter stays inside. It’s going to be a long day.”

Boom…Crash. Boom…Crash. Boom!

Shouts.

Load, reload. Reload, reload.

Fire!

Fire!

FIRE!

Fear, exhilaration, fear, glory, fear, pride…fear…


An hour after sunset the sounds of fighting died.

The night was dreadfully still, and warm and sticky. The world seemed as though

it wanted to hold on to the memory of the sun, and would never relinquish its heat. The

girl in the shadow could hardly see through the dimness, with no moon and the lonely

lights of the stars as her only illumination. But she could hear the silence like a clear

sound, pushing in on her head.

And then it was shattered by a shot.

Ataelin screamed and involuntarily feel to her knees, frantically covering her ears.

You weren’t hit, you weren’t hit. Run away!

Then a fatal twig snapped. The Lancellean looked up and saw a glaring figure like

a ghost, completely white, standing before her and aiming a musket. She tried to shuffle

back through the grass, but the figure took one step forward.

She wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn’t tear them away. The stories of the

terrible men from across the sea were-

“Stop!” The shout broke her trance. “Are you out of your mind?! I order you to--”

Bang.

“Sir!”

But Ataelin was already through the brush and out into a small clearing. She ran

past a large boulder, and then pressed her back against it. Slowly sinking down to the dirt,

she buried her face in her knees. She was dizzier than she had ever been in her life, and

her ears were ringing like a hundred bells…

A gruff touch on her shoulder.

Ataelin shrieked and stood up, falling against the boulder. “Who are you?!”


“Lieutenant Avery Dodgson, sir.” It was him. He smiled weakly, and then he

glanced over his shoulder for a moment, before turning back to her. “You have to get

away from here. If the Vincentians see you, I can’t protect you.” The young man offered

her his hand, his chest heaving.

“Avery, you’re hurt--!”

“I can do this.”

Ataelin stared at him. The tears pooling in her eyes blurred her eyesight, but she

could see the urgency in his face. The chaos of the day and the evening and the night

wouldn’t end, it wouldn’t stop just for her, for them.

“You have to trust me!”

Ataelin took the hand.

You don’t have time. You shouldn’t have left her. Orders. Follow your orders.

Head. Keep your head. Head forward. You’re following your orders. We don’t kill the

innocent. Then why are we here, why am I here? Avery ran through the branches and

leaves, gripping Ataelin’s freezing hand, struggling with ethics. Or was it conscience?

All he knew was that Ataelin was terrified, and he was fading, but he could at

least save her, if they could just get far enough away from the town. “I’m sorry, I’m

sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Avery-”

And then it happened, so fast. There were three of them, bayonets glinting in the

starlight, pointed at his chest. Ataelin was yanked from his grasp. A voice was shouting at

him, but the words echoed in his head.


“Where is the Lancellean army, traitor?”

“The little girl knows!”

“Stop! Let me go!”

“Our information, or he dies.”

“I don’t know! Please, I--”

Before it went dark, Avery saw the shining uniform of a Vincentian General step

out from the trees. “Unfortunately, we always keep our promises.”

“No!”

I remember the pain, and the struggle towards the sounds in my head. The voice

rose and fell like ocean waves, in a cadence that echoed the sea’s endless rhythm…but

then I realized it was calling my name.

I opened my eyes and saw the figure lying on the ground. With all my might I

tried to struggle closer to her. The girl managed to turn her head to me.

“You promised me you would come back…”

“It’s not something I could.” I took her in my arms. “Ataelin, I shouldn’t have left

you when--”

“Listen to me. We never knew each other, all we knew is what we didn’t--”

“Stop. We could have known each other….Our story could have--”

“You will forget me. You’ll live the life you should have, free from the

memories….” And then a weak smile, a shadow of an echo of a smile. “Go sail the

world, Avery.”

“I could never sail far enough away to forget you.”


And then the voices began to approach, and Parks crashed into the clearing.

“Dodgson?”

“It’s too late for our freedom, but maybe I can give you yours. Take him, get out

of here!”

I stared at her, and shook my head as Parks slung my arm over his shoulder. “No,

no. Save her instead. Leave me here!”

“Retreat! Retreat! We’re overrun!” Soldiers in white pushed through the trees all

around them now, like deer fleeing a wolf pack.

“Just hang on, Dodgson. I’ve got you, just keep moving.”

“Are you deaf? Leave me here, save yourself, save her! Go back!” Tears of pain

blinded my last look at what I was being torn away from.

But my screams were lost in the last stand of the Despereaux push.

My Quest for the Beginning

Date: Sometime in the winter, but I don’t feel the cold

The captain paused.

His back was turned to me, but I could see his shoulders shaking.

“I...never did forget her.”

I wasn’t going to reply for the world.

“…‘Real stories are sometimes even more exciting than the ones I can imagine’…

Midshipman?”

To be honest, my mind was still stuck in Lancelle, in the thick of battle for my life


and love. The world around me was familiar, but everything I saw became another; the

shrouds were broken window panes, the masts were towering trees ready to be felled for

the barricade, the sea with its thrashing waves was a battleground filled with soldiers, the

ship the small village of Despereaux in a vast world, alone.

But I was alone.

I was on the side of the sea, the side that should have sunk that pesky ship. But the

ship continued to sail, while the sea and I lay tamed and defeated.

Captain Dodgson had only told me so little, but I felt like I knew her, and the

anguish of losing her, and the guilt, the duty, his first crushing defeat.

He still didn’t turn around. But his voice cut through my fantasy with a raised

voice. “We--we must understand someone’s story before we inflict our own misguided

‘solutions’. As an officer, you should understand this, because if you push someone too

far, they will fight back. And then some….” He drew in a long breath. “…and then

someone will get hurt.”

The anguish in his voice was too real for me. How long had this man regretted

what had happened…?

Thirteen years I suppose.

“But…as a man….” Captain Dodgson slowly walked towards the rail of the ship,

and gazed out across the waves. I still couldn’t see his face, but he lowered his voice

again to its contemplative tone. “I feel as though an anchor has been lifted off my chest,

midshipman…. Maybe, maybe you realize now that there’s another message in this night.

You’ve already begun to understand the nature of humanity far beyond anyone I know

of.”


I was finally able to persuade my mouth to answer in one, halting sentence.

“I realize, sir…that my ‘Quest to Find Everything’ has…only just begun.”

Behind the face of every single person, there is a story.

A defining moment painted that beautiful smile, with the sadness behind. Or the

angry scowl, pain perfectly hidden. Still water runs deep, they say. If the eyes are the

windows to the soul, then the face is the strongest line of defense, the façade and the

barricade built up with years of practice; years of living with sadness and anger.

Losing the one we cared about most.

Stress, fear, loss, the list goes on. These are the trials of life. Some lives are more

difficult than others, but the stories behind faces are the ones that can change a life.

If you would take the time to learn their stories.

Be compassion. Be salt. Be light, to someone who is lost and weary.

All it takes is a listening ear, and a shoulder to lean on.

--Mason O’Brien, Midshipman


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Web viewA Quest to Find Everything. By Christy Bartel. A Quest to Find Everything. Behind the stoic face of every sea captain, there is a story. A defining moment