My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

30.  Stage Fright

 “I can’t help thinking it’s all too convenient,” I said, pacing in the Observation Nose a few hours after  Seaview had docked at  Norfolk.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Lee said, smirk on his face as he joined Jiggs and I and dismissed his escort.

“What? Just what do you know, Captain?”

“Well, it seems that someone, an eyewitness in fact,” he nodded toward my old friend and his sometimes nemesis, “ just happened to inform the press that be that if I’d had no hesitation to mutiny and pull a gun on you in the line of duty, and that it hadn’t been the only time I’d had to choose duty over you, and you likewise in  similar situations, that it was rather doubtful we’d put each other  above duty in the future. He also told them that for Washington  to demand I change my name because just because they thought we were too close, was not only stupid, but unconstitutional. The American Civil Liberties Union also agreed with him. Made a big fuss. Seems Washington’s reconsidered.”

“Don’t look at me like that Harriman,” Jiggs said. “I might not like your relationship, but I’ll be damned if I’ll stand idly by and let them blackmail you both like that.”

“I don’t know what to say, how to thank you.”

“Well, you can begin by pouring me out another scotch.”

Later, as I changed into a business suit for the press conference I had time to reflect on the day so far. Because of the threats, Washington had arranged for our ‘cargo’ to be transported to a secure lab on the base. They’d also brought in the forensic experts from the Boston Maritime Museum. But the complete examination of the remains, the bell, and the box was going to take time.

 Funny thing about time. When you’re in a hurry, it drags. When you don’t have enough time, it flies. As it was, (since my last entry) I’d endured forty eight plus hours getting here from Bermuda, to find Seaview surrounded by a welcoming flotilla of public craft trying to get up close and personal with us. If it hadn’t been for our Coast Guard escort they very well may have.

Our discovery of a slave ship was history, a very ugly part indeed, but it was apparently deemed worth the time, trouble, and expense of the government to protect the bones and relics. (In spite of the fact that we’re still not sure if the ship’s owner was Sheamus or even an American!) However, due to Lee’s visions it’s been  pretty much assumed that we did find the Sea Nymph.  Amazing what people are willing to believe without even one shred of scientific proof, just because they want it so badly. The fact that I pretty much believe it as well is neither here nor there.

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that Lee had arranged (with or without Chip’s approval-I wasn’t sure) an honor guard, including himself in his dress uniform, to see the dead off after we were greeted by the base commander. The fact that Lee was still blind when he saluted the remains made the gesture all the more poignant. Of course, I knew, and Doc knew, hell,  everybody knew, that Lee  hadn’t included the supposed bones of Sheamus’ in his snappy salute as the remains were off loaded in the specialized crates.  

Lee had insisted on joining me for the press conference. While he wouldn’t be able to see the wall of video links from the various official, public, and private organizations, he would be   able to respond to questions if asked, but mostly he just wanted to be at my side.

We’d been warned that some of the questions might get personal. But frankly I didn’t care. Damn the torpedos, full speed ahead, again.