The point of this one is that it’s MY take on the unpublished final chapter of the memoirs Carolyn and Daniel write. It’s Daniel’s message to “his” family, meant only for them.
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!
by: Walt Whitman (1819-1892)
Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up -- for you the flag is flung -- for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths -- for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
To end my life with the ending of my life, I record that I have died. It was on 13th November, 1869. As uncomfortable as I am with discussing it, I must report to you that it was an unfortunate mishap that took me from the world. A gale was blowing, and so I closed the window in my bedroom, as any sensible man would do. In my sleep, I kicked on gas on the heater and was asphyxiated. Blast!
When I first realized I had died, I must admit that I was terribly frightened. I stood over my own body and watched in what I can only describe as abject horror. How could I, Captain Daniel Gregg, have died such a pitiful death? I was certain that I would die at an old age, and had hoped it would be at sea. But, fate conspired against me and I suppose I could say that I brought about my own demise.
In the years since I passed, I have considered what exactly my fate was. I did not leave the plane of the living and ascend to a greater place, nor did I, thankfully, descend to a lower one. I have only shifted into a realm where I am neither alive nor truly dead. I am a ghost, an apparition, a spirit, a shadow of the man I once was. I have often pondered why this was my lot. Why did I not leave for different climes?
For ten decades I have patrolled the rooms of my home, Gull Cottage, alone. At first, I tried to get anyone who came near to listen to me, to understand that it was my wish to have my house turned into a home for retired seamen. But, none would listen. I suppose it was because most everyone believed that I had committed suicide. Based on the nonsensical rantings of my housekeeper, the coroner determined that had been my fate. Only my two best mates, Brendan Darcy and Lord Caswell, believed that a misfortune had befallen me. They were unable to convince anyone else. Thus, I was not even given a proper Christian burial. My ire was raised and I became determined to inflict my anger on the living.
Everyone who came near Gull Cottage incurred my wrath. It didn't matter whether they were a relative or not as I treated all boarders the same. My temper was in full swing and I was relentless in my pursuit of solitude. Some visitors stayed longer than others. And I did take pity on one or two elderly relatives who came to live in Gull Cottage. Still, I was determined to make it unbearable for anyone to live here.
When a cousin had electricity installed in the house, I did my best to sabotage the efforts, and succeeded quite admirably. However, I am willing to admit, now, that perhaps I should not have been so thorough in my obstruction. The current occupants of Gull Cottage do require both adequate electricity and water.
Yet, my quest continued, and I garnered quite a reputation among the locals as a fearsome ghost and Gull Cottage was reviled as the haunted house of a madman. I could not have been more pleased. My plan was working. Then, one day, that fraudulent poltroon, who pretends to be my great nephew, rented Gull Cottage to a young widow and her two children, who all came with a housekeeper and a dog. To say that I was outraged would be incorrect! I was incredulous. How dare that sea slug lease my house to anyone? Little did I know I was in for the shock of my after-life.
When Carolyn Muir and her family arrived, I was angry. I wanted them gone as quickly as I could get them out. I reckoned that I would not have a difficult task ahead of me. How hard could it be to scare off two women and two children? It would be a minor inconvenience at the most. I could not have been more wrong. Carolyn Muir was (and is) the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I was blown down. Despite being mostly dead, I was left breathless by her. She was like an angel.
I made the acquaintance of her son, Jonathan, first. He reminded me of some of the cabin boys that I had known from life, although he was a bit younger than most. He was not frightened of me, and I informed him what I wanted done with my house. He relayed my message and the house was put in order.
When I finally confronted Mrs. Muir, I was arrogant, sarcastic and bombastic. I wanted her to understand that this was my house and she had no right to be there. Looking back on the meeting, I am sure I knew even then that she was the one woman I had searched for my entire life. She was everything I had ever wanted: strong-willed, intelligent, beautiful, caring, and determined. The women of my day, and there were many with whom I became acquainted, paled in comparison to Carolyn Muir. She stood up to me and told me how it was going to be. I was in love, although it took me some months to finally face the reality of that situation.
The situation was, indeed, an unusual one. Living in my house was the most desirable woman I had ever met. Her children were a delight and I grew increasingly fond of them. I found myself, more than a hundred years after my death, faced with the chance to enjoy the one thing that I had been sure I never wanted when I was alive: a real family to call my own. I even relished the presence of the housekeeper, Martha Grant (her culinary skill is not to be dismissed as minor), and the dog, Scruffy. Though the beast and I have had our differences, he can be an amiable companion.
To everyone who knew me in my life, I was a sea captain first and foremost. My life at sea was the one I chose. I knew that it was expected of me, in most quarters, to marry and have a family. I never met the woman I felt was right. In this volume I have chronicled my encounters with many women, and my brief engagement to Vanessa Peakskill, but none of these females were the one whom I felt could make her life that of the wife of a sea captain. After all, I was not about to give up that life to sit by the fire as a pet poodle and be resigned to domesticity. I was a man and led a man's life. I admit now, as I did on the day that Carolyn Muir arrived at Gull Cottage, that had I met her a hundred years earlier, I would have taken her off to sea with me and that would have been my end. I find now that I am more of that pet poodle than I ever thought possible and quite enjoy it.
Moreover, I have come to realize that having this family was something I longed for. I knew that a life at sea would cheat me. I chose the sea and was cheated out of a wife and family. I could have chosen a family and lost the sea. Somehow Fate has permitted me to have both. I lived the life I wanted. Saw the world in time and manner few ever would. Did things of which I am proud and things of which I am not so proud. But, my life was the one I wanted, or so I thought. Still, without regret, I can say that I am glad I chose to go to sea and would not change that decision.
Now, my "life," for lack of a better word, is immersed in a joy and love that I have never before known. I find myself in the very incredible position of being that man of fabled glory: the man who suddenly got everything he ever wanted. I have pondered this status for many long hours, searching my mind to find something to let me know what I have done to deserve this happiness. Indeed, two lifetimes of happiness. I can find no explanation. Carolyn has said that perhaps the explanation is as simple as a twist of Fate. Her plain answer being that Providence meant for the two of us to come together and that is exactly what happened. I find the answer in its simplicity both easy and hard to grasp. For the first two years that Carolyn and her family lived in my house, I denied that it was possible that my lot should be so rich as to have everything I desired. I was, to my mind, a spirit, nothing more than an elaborate illusion. I knew in truth that that was not entirely accurate, though I had managed, for a time, to convince both myself and Carolyn that actual physical contact between the two of us was impossible. As time went on, it was harder for me to disguise my corporeality.
Jonathan and Candace picked up on it first and confronted me one afternoon with their observations. I will never forget that day. They convinced me that sustained corporeality would allow me to take up a position in the family that I had already felt was mine: father. Even now, the sound of the word is beyond my comprehension. I do find that being a father, such as I am, is one of the best things I have known. Jonathan and I have always had a bond. As I have said, the lad reminded me of the cabin boys on the ships on which I served. His willingness to learn all I had to teach him about the sea and sailing felt right from the beginning. And, he was a boy without a father. Carolyn's husband had died when Jonathan was not quite two years old and he had no memory of the man. In my day, a boy needed a father, a man, to show him the ways of life. As my own father did with me, I wanted to instill in the boy the best gifts my father gave to me: qualities of loyalty, self-reliance and honor. To act without honor was to bring shame on all who knew you. I lived my life, I hope, in an honorable way, never wanting to shame my family or those who knew me. Jonathan allowed me to teach him that lesson. I am proud that he has taken it to heart, as I did.
Candace, as she now prefers to be called, was a bit more of a challenge for me. Girls her age were creatures I had never encountered in my days, except when I was that age, but by fourteen, I was off to sea and girls were entirely different. Yet, this girl, so like her mother, intimidated me. I laughed at the thought many times and found that it was unbelievable that I would be intimidated by a child. But, I was. I had no common experience with her and felt unsure as to how to approach her. For a year, I kept my existence a secret from her, though I learned that Jonathan had convinced her I did exist. When I finally revealed myself to her, the tongue-lashing I received was fierce. Her pride had been wounded that I would think she would be frightened of me and that she wouldn't understand. I was apologetic and humbled and Candy and I have become quite close. I am proud to call her daughter, when she'll let me! We have, the two of us, discovered a shared love for astronomy and jigsaw puzzles. Like her brother, Candy's eagerness to learn about sailing delighted me. She is her mother's daughter in so many ways, and I am grateful Candy is not a simpering ninny as were so many young girls of my day. Still, Candy was unsure of my ability to replace her father, and I explained that I never could. Candy was nearly four when her father passed and she has many happy memories of him. I would never think to take those away. The day that she called me "dad" instead of Captain was one the happiest of my existence. Carolyn laughs even now over it, telling me I didn't stop smiling the whole day. The children and I have developed a relationship that is familial and even though they do still call me Captain, the word is heard as "dad". I see now what all the fuss of parenthood was about.
I write this part without pretense because, when I speak of Carolyn, my heart is laid bare for all to see. She is, to me, the summit of all that is good and pure and beautiful in the world. Words often escape me when I try to express the profoundness of my love for her. It is something that cannot be so simply expressed and I do feel that such words that would capture the meaning of it have not been invented.
Carolyn Joy Williams Muir is a woman I was sure never could exist. I had searched the days of my life for her, how was I to know then she had not been born? The circumstances that brought us together are as unbelievable to me as they are to her or to anyone who truly knows. I have cursed many times my state as a spirit, not dead and not really alive and have wondered why I would met this most perfect of women now. Carolyn, in her practicality, reminds me that the story of us is one fashioned by Fate and meant only to be understood by He who forged it. I can but say that with that I must agree. Even now, three years after our meeting, I find myself angry that I am not a living man. But, I am possessed of a state of corporeality that permits me to show Carolyn, in a real way, the depths of my love for her. Getting to that point was an arduous task for us both.
When Carolyn first arrived at Gull Cottage, I was absolutely taken aback by her beauty. Never had I seen a woman more lovely. Not to be boastful, but in my life I had seen many women from exotic places and encountered beauty in its many forms. Carolyn Muir eclipsed them all. Her delicate features and femininity belied her stubbornness and determination. Did such a woman exist? The question was one I had always left unanswered until I met her. Carolyn is beauty, grace, charm, elegance, spirit, spunk, fire, intelligence, desire and love in one person. She awes me. Yet, I am inspired by her to be my best. I must, to be all that she deserves.
To say that I am grateful to her for her love is an understatement. Carolyn saved me from an existence of pain and loneliness that I had imposed on myself from wanting what I thought I could never have. In those first months of her residence at Gull Cottage, we fought. Fought over the house, its furnishings, my monkey puzzle tree, the children, the dog, you name it and we fought about it. But, under that outward animosity dwelt a deep and abiding love, and, I am not ashamed to say, desire. Though it is easier for me to express it now, my desire for Carolyn at times overwhelmed me and I absented myself from my own home, a prisoner of emotions I had long denied. It was with incredulity that I learned that Carolyn harbored the same desires. Still, at that time, I had not revealed to her my corporeality. Though, she assures me that she knew, the signs were too many and I was not as good at concealing it as I had thought.
The explanation of why I kept my state from her is simple: honor. Like it or not, I am a man of the 19th Century. My sense of honor would not permit me to take advantage of any lady, and Carolyn is a lady. I had tried to convince her that I could not touch or be touched and the ruse seemed to work, for I had even convinced myself that it was so. Then the children confronted me and I was forced to make a decision.
It was only two years into our unconventional relationship and things between all of us, with the exception of Martha, were friendly and welcoming. Martha was still not aware of my existence and laughed me off as an imaginary friend to Jonathan. I remember in exact detail how I "let slip" my secret. Carolyn and I were alone, the night balmy, the sky clear, a bright full moon shining on the bay and we stood on the balcony off the main cabin engaged in a delightful conversation about my adventures at sea when I was overcome by a feeling of love so great that I had no control and reached out for her hand. When my fingers touched hers, I swear that time stopped. I was soaring! Oh, sweet rapture! Carolyn's reaction was not at all what I expected. I was sure she would draw back in fear, but she didn't. In her usual way, calm and controlled, she merely squeezed my hand in hers and smiled at me. Her acquiescence was calming and scintillating at the same time. No words of surprise were spoken that night, but it was a step forward for us and I knew she understood me more completely in that moment than I understood myself. A hundred years of regret and anger and anguish dissolved in me like the tide rushing from the shore. It was then that she turned to me and spoke some of the most invigorating words I had ever heard: "Thank you, Daniel," was all she said. She had known my secret, after all and her perfect response made me burst with confidence. I knew then that she loved me as much as I loved her.
From this point, Carolyn and I were determined to let our relationship evolve slowly and deliberately. It was important for me that she knew my intentions were honorable. My greatest wish was to marry her, and it seemed an impossibility. But, we knew (know) our love is strong . It is only now that I am able to recount one event that took place, as this final chapter of the book of my memoirs will undoubtedly remain unpublished. It was on a cold, but bright St. Valentine's Day that Carolyn and I professed our love and fidelity to one another before Him from who all things come. It was the only manner in which we felt we could be joined in a union unbreakable and true. The struggle with reaching such a decision was much more difficult for me than it was for Carolyn. In so many ways she is much wiser than I and I am appreciative of her patience with me. I wanted more than anything to give Carolyn the kind of wedding I felt she deserved: a grand affair where she would be queen for the day, for she is truly the queen of my heart. Her firm insistence that no such event was needed or wanted struck me as odd. Still, the unshakeable reality of our situation was that to everyone else in the world, save five people, I was a ghost; existing only in vapor. But, I knew that Carolyn loved me and she knew I loved her, the next logical step was to seal that knowledge with solemnity.
One of the singularly most annoying things I have learned about Carolyn is her penchant for being right when it counts the most. She knew, and rightly so, that the only being to whom a pledge of love and faith could be sealed was God Himself, and so armed with this realization we made our vows to each other, before His silent witness, to live as husband and wife. On that day, all my dreams had come true. I had the family I had so long wanted and so long denied. Yet, how happy I am to have found them, they all have made my life complete. I hope only to have returned that in some small way.
I write this final part of the final chapter of my memoirs with honesty, for there is no other way to express what has happened to me in three short years.
To Claymore Gregg : I write these lines with some reluctance: Thank you for renting out my house. You may be a Gregg after all.
To Martha: Thank you for being a friend, and for being a "t'other mother" to a fellow who lost his own at a young age and never knew he really needed another. I appreciate all you have done.
To my children, Candace and Jonathan: I love you both so very much. My heart swells with pride every time I think of you. You are everything any father could hope for. Thank you for making my life richer.
To my dearest Carolyn: What does a man say to the woman he loves, except: I love you. I love you with all my heart, with all that I am, have been or ever will be. You are my salvation, my one true love, my soul mate. You have made all my dreams come true. I think of you by day, pray for you by night, and find my sweetest comfort in your arms. I look forward to the eternity that we will spend together.
End.
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