The Serenity

Boston, Massachusetts

Later that same evening

“Hamilton? How many years were you in the Navy? And do not worry, you have permission to speak freely.” Charles Fairbanks asked, curious. Robert Hamilton gave it serious thought. It had been years, but how many?

“I… I think twelve. Yes… I started when I was fourteen, I’m twenty-six now. Why do you ask?” He replied. The day had been long and tedious. Lord Birmingham had examined the ship earlier, and it was cleared. He hated every minute of it. It was to late to go and do anything fun. The harsh laws in the city made it very hard for him to go out and have any fun at all, especially at night.

“This is a long and dangerous journey. Even more so with the Admiral’s daughters on board. I need experienced sailors under my command,” Fairbanks returned, closing his eyes and leaning back.

“Haven’t I proven myself these past few years under your command?” Hamilton asked, not sure what Fairbanks was getting at.

“Of course you have. Why do you think I requested you personally as my first mate? I just was curious. Half the men on this ship are merchant sailors. Five years at most, and they no nothing about a sea battle. I have very few men from the Navy on this ship. Those that are from the navy are seamen or Midshipmen. I don’t know how you feel about this, but you are the most experienced sailor I have,” Fairbanks explained, opening his eyes and staring at his friend.

Hamilton was relieved. Having Fairbanks’ respect and friendship was all that mattered to him. Despite the fact it was not a proper question to ask a superior, he asked, “How long have you been in the Navy, sir?”

Fairbanks looked up from his letter and started laughing. “Much longer than you, son.”

“You’re only a few years older than I. How many more years could it be?” Hamilton prodded, trying to annoy his best friend.

“Twenty years in the Navy. Twenty two years as a sailor if you count my time as a cabin boy for a merchant. I should make Commodore soon if I keep my work up. I told you, I have been in it much longer than you,” he admitted, sighing. “You want a rum?”

“I’ve never been one to pass up a drink, you know that. How old are you?” Hamilton replied.

“No, you never have, and I am thirty-three,” Fairbanks said, taking out two bottles from his desk. He handed Hamilton one, who graciously accepted it.

“Bloody hell, thirty-three? That means you started when you were eleven! Really?”

“Yes. At thirteen I joined the navy itself. I was a powder monkey. Apparently I was to young to even make yeoman. When I was 15, I finally moved up to seaman, then yeoman at 17. I nearly lost my arm after one battle when I was nineteen and I made Midshipman because of it. From there, I got a promotion every once and a while until I made captain. I’ve been stuck with the bloody rank ever since. We met right before I got that promotion. The only reason I got it was because of that bastard Evanwood. The only time that pirate ever did anything good,” he explained, somewhat bitterly toward the end.

Hamilton was in awe. He had no idea just how amazing a life Fairbanks has already had. He shuddered at the sound of Evanwood. The last time they met, Evanwood had slit his throat and he had barely survived. Fairbanks had managed to destroy his vessel and severely wound the pirate, but he still somehow managed to get away. He remembered how furious Fairbanks was when it had happened. It went beyond the Naval officer defending his empire. Fairbanks wanted to destroy Evanwood more than anything else in the world. They had been mortal enemies for years, but Hamilton never asked why. He was too scared to. Not that he needed a real reason. After nearly being killed, Hamilton hated him too.

“Have you ever gone to the Indies before?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“Yes, many times. I’ve been all over the world. It is beautiful. Trust me, you will love the South Pacific. It is one of the most beautiful places in the world.”

“Sounds great to me. It will be nice to get out of Boston. I grew up here, and yes, I missed it. But we’ve been here a whole month! How much more is a man to take?” Hamilton stated drowsily.

“I think the rum is starting to get to you. You could never hold your liquor,” Fairbanks laughed. The two were best friends, and this was how most nights were. Fairbanks patted him on the shoulder and picked up his violin. He began playing a sad, depressing tune.

“What is this, a funeral?” Hamilton asked, depressed. “I’m drunk, you have a fiddle. I think a happy jig is in order.”

Fairbanks stopped playing and agreed, “Alright. As you command, lieutenant.” He picked up his instrument again and started playing a slightly happier tune. Slightly. It still was rather sad.

“What was that?” Hamilton pondered once it was done.

“Scot’s wha hae. It’s a song about William Wallace, and how he fought for freedom. It goes:

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled;
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led;
Welcome to your Glory Bed,
Or to Glorious Victorie.
Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lour;
See approach proud Edward's pow'r.
Chains and slavery!”

“Well… that was… depressing, and in another language. What language was that?,” Hamilton wondered.

“Gaelic. My mom use to sing it as a lullaby.”

“No wonder you turned out the way you did.”

“Thank you,” he replied sarcastically. “She was from Scotland, it meant a lot to her. And I think you need some sleep.”

“No I don’t, you’re not my father. One more song? A happy one, please. These songs you’ve been playing make me feel like jumping overboard and right into Davy Jones locker.”

“Fine.” He picked up his bow and played one more tune. It was the most beautiful one yet, but once he finished playing he found Hamilton fast asleep on his chair. Giving a small laugh, he got up and managed to make Hamilton stand up. Not waking him up, Fairbanks dragged his friend out of his office and into the first mate’s barracks.

He was finally able to put him down. He had greatly underestimated Hamilton’s weight. Giving a heavy sigh and wiping the sweat off his brow, Fairbanks carelessly tossed a blanket on his friend and climbed back up the stairs to his cabin.

Looking around for a moment, he decided to go on deck and take a walk around it. His nights were usually restless. On average he got about two hours of sleep. He stepped on deck and the cool Boston breeze swept across his face. Smiling, he walked to the edge and stared at the city. It was beautiful, much like London.

The sky was getting lighter, sunrise was coming. He quickly turned around and ran to the other side of the ship. Staring out on the horizon, he waited for the sun to come up. Suddenly, as the first beam of sunlight appeared, a brilliant flash of green shot up across the horizon, and was gone as fast as it had come. Fairbanks could have jumped for joy. He loved seeing green flashes, especially since they rarely occurred.

“Welcome back mate, whoever you are,” he whispered as he headed back to his cabin. Yawning, he lay down on his cot and finally managed to fall asleep.