My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

72

Is was time for supper and the inspection was unsuccessful. Depending on your point of view.

Chip met me in the Wardroom as I was munching down the ‘Mock’ Corned Beef & Cabbage, the cabbage having been replaced with frozen Brussels Sprouts from the pantry.

“You realize, don’t you, Cookie,” Chip said as he joined me, “that Corned Beef & Cabbage is actually an American dish?”

“Well, Irish American then. Thought it would be nice since the skipper’s in Dublin now.”

“We think,” Chip said. “He may not be there yet. They were planning on doing a little extra sightseeing first.”

“Yeah,” Cookie grinned, “ain’t that just like him. Captain Adventure we ought to call him.”

“Returning to the subject of Corned Beef & Cabbage,” I said, smacking my lips, “this is worthy of a five star restaurant, Cookie.”

“It is? At last I have something to lord over Sharkey with,” he laughed.

“BBC coming on,” Sparks announced over the PA as the monitor came to life. “At least the prelims said there was going to be something about the skipper.”

But as the station went on and on about upcoming elections in Parliament, we were beginning to lose hope, until the image formed of a very familiar sight.

“Here we are at Number Ten Downing Street in London,” the reporter was saying, “where the prime minister has just announced that Her Majesty’s government has just issued a bill to exonerate Sir Walter Raleigh’s conviction of treason and to formally apologize for his execution. Yes, history’s Sir Walter Raleigh.  If you remember your history lessons, Sir Walter was convicted of treason by King James the First. Political reasons aside, of which there were some legitimate and contrived political accusations, most everyone at the time knew the actual order for his death was primarily a punishment for his failure to discover the legendary El Dorado in the New World. Ah, here the PM is now...Sir, what brought on this bill?”

“Through the centuries, distant family members always wanted Sir Walter to be exonerated. But such requests always had to take a back seat to more pressing matters of state. Now, however, I believe it’s high time that it be seriously considered.”

“Is it true that Captain Nelson-Crane called and asked you to personally propose the bill to Parliament?”

“He called me last night about it, yes.”

“Would his visit to Myrtle Grove in Ireland, where Sir Walter lived for a few years, have sparked his interest? After all, most American’s aren’t all that interested in British history, especially as they're hardly interested in their own.”

“The captain has a vested interest in seeking justice for Sir Walter.”

“Vested interest?”

“Yes. He had a…visitation.”

“What? Like another vision?”

“No,” the prime minister said, somewhat embarrassed, “apparently Sir Walter’s ghost  visited him.”

“Oh Lordie,” one of the mess specialists groaned, watching from the tween through, “not another damn spook.”

“Sir Walter Raleigh’s ghost?” the reporter asked after a stunned silence, incredulous.
“Sir Walter Raleigh’s ghost. And frankly, after all we’ve seen and heard regarding the captain, I have no choice but to believe it really happened.”

“So...just what did the ghost say to the captain?”

“Apparently our earth bound spirit wants to be formally acquitted, which is a more than reasonable request as far as the captain is concerned.”

“Why seek out a Yank to talk to? Why not talk to you or to the queen? If you can believe in that sort of thing, you know, ghosts, ghoulies, pooka’s  zombies, and the like.”

“I don’t know. Of course, Her Majesty could simply issue a royal proclamation on behalf of the Royal Family, but that’s not quite the same thing as a governmental pardon or acquittal.”

“This is all a bit hard to take seriously. Your re-election could be in jeopardy.”

“That's beside the point. We should take this matter seriously. For justice’s sake.” With that he waved to the limo to pull up, got in, and was whisked off to wherever.

“Well, this certainly will be the most unusual bill ever brought to Parliament,” the reporter said. “We will keep you posted about the outcome, and return you to the news desk.”

“Thank you,” the anchor appeared on the screen, “we’re taking you to Dublin, Ireland, now, and our agent in the field...”

“Good evening from the Connolly Train Station,” the  reporter said, “we’re awaiting the arrival of Captain Nelson-Crane with the Piccadilly Culinary Tour in the hope that we may get an interview. Ah, there the train is now….”

We watched as the film crew tried to sort out the stream of passengers disembarking behind the guard rails... frankly I was getting dizzy from the camera moving around.

“Ah, Captain Nelson-Crane? Captain?” she called out as we saw Lee hoist his duffle over one arm, using the other for his suitcase. I could tell his shoulder was still a bit sore, but then usually only I notice his lingering wounds.

As soon as he and Joe exited the gate, he stopped, sat his luggage down and smiled at the reporter. She practically drooled.

“Yes, er, Captain...you can’t be serious about this ghost business with Sir Walter Raleigh? It’s a joke, right?”

“Lady,” Joe said, “if Lee says he saw him, he saw him.”

“Easy, Joe,” Lee said, “it doesn’t matter if no one believes me. I know what I know and that’s enough...and I’ve had enough experience with the paranormal to know that I wasn't imagining it.”

“Is he...here, now?” the reporter asked, looking around.

“He didn’t made his presence known on the train, no.”

“So, what will happen if the bill to exonerate him doesn’t go through? Will he continue to haunt you?”

I could hear the groan all through the boat.

“And why hasn’t Sir Walter crossed over to the Great Beyond?” she added.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to be an ill willed ghost. He may be here by his own choice...waiting for the justice he never got in life. Maybe then he’ll feel like crossing over.”

“But why seek you out? And there were some legitimate reasons for the guilty verdict, you know.”

“None worth killing a man for, surely. And that El Dorado business, absurd. Maybe I’m thinking like an American, an American several centuries later, but I’d say, pass the bill and give the old ghost some rest. He’ll miss tobacco though. I don’t think they have it in Heaven. But what do I know.”

“The group’s boarding the bus, Lee,” Joe said.

“We have to go,” Lee told the reporter, picking up his luggage as his hair curled even more in the mist.

“Anything particular you’ll be doing here in Dublin?” the reporter asked as they walked toward the tour bus.

“Well, there’s the National Leprechaun Museum,” Joe said with a smirk, the only one in the crowd realizing that Lee had had enough of leprechauns, thank you very much.

“O’Neil’s Pub,” Lee said, “and the Fahrenheit Grill at Clontarf Castle are supposed to be the best places to eat in Ireland.”

“Don’t forget the Queen of Tarts,” Joe said, “Mrs. Piccadilly says they serve the very best Irish breakfast and lunch.”

“We’ll also visit Dublin Castle and another one, what’s its name, Joe?”

“Malahide Castle.”

“Oh, yes, and then there’s the National Wax Museum and....”’

Just then the bus honked.

“Sorry, we don’t want to get left behind...bye,” Lee said as he and Joe boarded the bus, as an attendant loaded their luggage. In minutes the bus had driven away.

“And so we say goodbye to Captain Nelson-Crane and Commander Jackson. Personally, I’d like to believe this story, after all, the captain is convinced of it. However, the BBC neither confirms nor denies the existence of ghosts. We’ll be back after a moment....”

“Well, I hope he knows what he’s doing,” Chip said as the monitor went blank. “Admitting he had a conversation with a ghost...he’ll never hear the end of it. Neither will we.”

“Only from folks who don’t know Lee and want to think ill of him. I wonder though, if going to the Leprechaun Museum is such a good idea...”

“Oh Lee, Lee, Lee,” Chip groaned, “what he's going to get himself  into now....”

Just then we were alerted to the fact that the inspection team had found a few ‘heat’ signals in the hydraulic system. Chip hurried off, while I finished my supper. Let Chip handle it, Joe had said. Good advice for me as well.

I can hardly wait for the laptop signal to come on again, tonight or tomorrow, whenever. I am compelled to spy on my boy. Especially when things are getting so interesting.

I’m also keeping my fingers crossed that the team has found whatever culprit or culprits may have triggered the diving plane problem so we can fix it.

I want to join Lee in Dublin so badly it hurts. But things being what they are, it’s best I stay here for now.

Sometimes duty is the pits.