Jan Pattie

The Deliverance

The sheeted wind howled at the cave’s mouth. Beyond, somewhere, Owen Stevens knew a world still existed but for him that world had disappeared. Curtained off by driving snow, all that was left to him now was this little recess of rock and ice and his only companion, the priest Uriah Mills. There had been four in their party but now only two remained, the bodies of Calstock and Birk down there in the valley amongst a tangle of rope, ice-axes and pegs. For two days he and Uriah had sat together on this ledge with nothing to do but stare into the void and listen to the wind skiting across the cave’s entrance. Time itself, obscured by frost and then frozen to a halt on Owen’s pocket watch, had become a bygone concept, irrelevant but for the planned rendezvous with H.M.S. Deliverance. Now the morning of Deliverance’s sailing had come and gone, taking with it their last hope of survival.

First mate Stevens had joined the expedition late on. He had been offered the post by his childhood friend Captain Duncan Hardacker some months earlier but had not replied to the request. It was only when the Captain appeared at his door, pleading with him to replace the sick and dying second in command that he had found it difficult to refuse him. The voyage would take less than a half year, he was promised, and the pay was good. Owen had not worked the whole year and could no longer afford to turn the position down. They would be searching for an ice-free route through the North-West Passage, shorter and more profitable. The ship to take them there, H.M.S. Deliverance, was a decommissioned ship of some three hundred tonne with a sound reputation. Where once it would have been the promise of adventure that tempted Owen out onto the high seas, in the end money was the deciding factor. Over the last year there were reasons why he would have preferred to have remained ashore, especially with Hardaker at sea. The voyage to the east coast of the Arctic Archipelago took three months; longer than expected due to unfavourable winds but the ship’s crew had remained in good spirits, the spirit keeping them so mainly rum. Owen recognized many of these men, had sailed with them before. The taverns of Bristol regularly rang out with their drunken cries, the draw of the narrow cobbled lanes around the canal resulting in encounters on land as well as at sea. While pleasantries might be exchanged amongst the smoke of candle-lit corners or familiar shadows spotted slinking through brothel doorways, on ship the officer class socialized separately. Owen was usually to be found only in the company of Captain Hardacker, Second Mate Jameson, and Buckingham, the third mate. As timbers creaked and brandy glasses pitched to and fro in mimickry of the rolling waves, the men poured over sextant and pencil to adjust their ever-evolving course to the vagaries of the weather. The ship’s surgeon and the priest were their only other regular companions, joining them as they did for supper. Uriah was one he’d met with often. The priest had known Owen for years; the captain even longer. The three of them had spent time together in Dartmouth when Owen and Duncan were at naval college, before the death of Owen’s father forced his premature departure without obtaining his final papers. In more recent years they came together due to their residence in Bristol town. This was where Uriah worked amongst the people of the local diocese, when not following the more recent calling of bringing God aboard ships, the captive audience providing fertile ground for conversion and a powerful sense of a purpose fulfilled. This last year onshore Owen had seen little of the earnest priest, keeping distant from the church of St Stephen’s where they were most likely to cross paths. On ship this had become impossible and the two were reacquainted, the cramped dining area being no place to avoid the inevitably of falling into shared tales of the past.

Uriah stood now, his broad back to Owen, gazing out at a world seemingly available only to his eyes. The wind had picked up once more, its banshee wail rising and falling with the squalls that ripped past the cave. There was little room in this shallow dimple on the cliff to shelter in, yet it was enough to prevent them succumbing to the extreme cold of the wind. How different the weather had been when setting out in bright sunshine three days previous but a mist had rolled in from the sea and they had become lost in a valley. With night descending and temperatures falling, Owen decided on climbing what he had thought was a low ice shelf as a way back to camp but, after exhausting step-cutting, the party had found themselves on a precipitous mountainside. Unsure if to continue or retreat, Owen had dislodged a peg from the ice, dropping him several feet onto a ledge and simultaneously breaking his ankle and saving his life. Birk and Calstock had fallen to their deaths, superior knot-tying ensuring a shared end.

From the front of the cave Uriah spoke. “It has grown quite light now, has it not?” Owen swept a stray blond forelock from his eyes but didn’t reply.

Uriah half turned, his ice-fringed beard hanging low to his chest. “Deliverance will be in full sail by now. And but two hardtack between us. How fragile our earthly bonds. If the cold does not claim us starvation surely will. Earth’s bounty has not reached this far. ”

Owen’s cracked lips parted and his throat struggled into speech, “Earth’s bounty or God’s, Priest?”

It was Uriah’s turn to stay silent. For a minute the wind filled the spurned space between them, then the priest faced Owen. “This is no time for doubts. If we are to face parting this world, it is now our faith in God’s mercy must not waver.” The priest paused, a contemplative frown etched above his blue eyes. “My thoughts of you have been troubled for some time, Owen. Do you still believe in the one true God?” Owen shifted his position uncomfortably on the hard rock. When he answered his eyes did not meet the priest’s. “I do not possess the certainty I once felt.” The wind sang mournfully through the valley.

At last Uriah spoke again, “And this incertitude, does it bring comfort or disquiet?”

“I have felt disquiet this year, that is certain. But the reason for it is little to do with God.”

“Little to do with God? I believe everything is to do with God.”

“Including the godless?”

“Especially the godless.”

Owen hid awhile in the silence that followed, fumbling at a loose coat button that refused a return to its hole. “I will not be joining you on that journey to heaven. My fate is to be cast down, Uriah. I have sinned and am lost and must now accept what is to come.”

“Owen, what words are these? In the past you and Captain Hardacker were both in attendance at St Stephen’s. Now whenever I am ashore the only face I see in the pews is that of the captain, the captain and his young wife.” His charge left unchallenged, Uriah continued, “This change was recent, I believe?”

Head bowed, Owen gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Then what has changed your aspect to this abject sense of ruin?”

“I have told you, I cannot be saved. I am a sinner.”

“And you think God will desert you because you have sinned? We are all born from sin. God welcomes sinners but to reach the kingdom of heaven repentance is required. ‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’ ”

“John, Chapter 1, Verse 9.”

Uriah smiled. “You still know your Bible.”

No words came from Owen, a grimace all he could muster.

The priest paused once more. No longer looking outward from the cave, he searched his companion’s face for a way in.

“Owen, we have known each other a long time, have we not?”

“We have,” mumbled Owen.

“Is there something you would like to say to me, something that might unburden your soul?”

Still Owen did not look up, but almost lost to the wind came a whispered, “yes.” “Time is short. Would you like me to hear your confession now?”

Still taciturn, Owen turned blank eyes towards the lost horizon, then finding no perspective in the snow-blind storm gave the same near silent assent. Uriah stood and waited. He had been a man of the cloth all his adult life and had faced similar situations many times. There were occasions when a confession would burst from the lungs at the first granted permission to speak but that was rare. Even on deathbeds he had watched as the old struggled to acknowledge falls from grace, hovering between heaven and hell as the sands of time ran out of them in guttural rattles. Usually they found words at the last but sometimes they slipped away before he could save them. What he had learned over the years was that each man held his own measure and at this time no words from him would hurry forth what was needed.

The wind had fallen to but a murmur, as if itself straining to hear what came next. Eventually, Owen spoke.

“Elizabeth. Elizabeth shares my sin.”

At first the priest appeared mystified. Then the meaning reached him. “Elizabeth Hardacker? Have you lain with the captain’s wife, the wife of your dearest friend?” Had he pronounced himself too harshly? He had briefly lost his composure and thus risked Owen’s soul. Saving men from sin was his calling; why he had been placed on the earth. He mustn’t falter. Only he could save Owen now, and still there was time.

For a while no answer came, then Owen turned again to the priest. “She enticed me. Duncan was away, she was lonely as was I. We became close and then one night she gave herself to me. She tempted me, asked me to bring some wine to her chambers and when I arrived…, she was naked, laying on the bed. She drove me to do it.”

Uriah spoke gently, “That is not your confession, that is only hers to make. The Tenth Commandment, what is it Owen?”

“Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife.”

“And did you covet Elizabeth?”

This time Uriah did not need to wait. “Yes, yes, I did,” Owen cried. “I wanted her, I always wanted her.” His fists had tightened by his side and his chest heaved and fell. The shock of the revelation had not left the priest, yet he steadied himself. “You are not alone, Owen. Sins come in many forms but atonement only in one: through confession to the Almighty. Calstock, God rest him, was barely in time this week, unburdening his soul of a theft committed years before.”

Owen looked hard at Uriah. Was this not against his seal of confession? Priests took vows of silence in such matters. The indiscretion shocked him.

Uriah talked on hurriedly as if reading Owen’s mind. “Of course I tell you this only as Calstock is dead and with his confession obtained, his soul saved.” Glancing nervously across he added, “I have told only you and the captain, as my oldest friends.”

A moment of uneasy quiet followed. Then the priest spoke, reasserting himself. “You have been tempted and led astray. But your God hears you, Owen. His Kingdom is never closed to one who truly repents.”

Uriah looked down in pity at his friend. Yet he had expected more. This was only a muted release, no catharsis of the passions. Though tears rolled down Owen’s cheeks, more seemed left inside. Uriah tried again.

“Elizabeth will need to seek her own peace with God but she is a good Christian and has the fortitude for confession to find redemption. Maybe it is her soul’s fortune that still deprives you of relief?”

Finding the bridge Uriah had made, Owen crossed it. “It is not that. There is more.”

Even in the Arctic cold, the words chilled the priest’s spine. “More? More adultery?”

Owen raised a puzzled head. “Adultery? No. Though it was this sin that led to another.”

“Led to another? What sin? Under what circumstance?”

Solemn as a pallbearer, Owen addressed the priest. “You will remember Miss Catherine?”

“The Hardacker’s maid?”

“Aye, that’s the one.” There was a pause as Owen searched for the right words, or maybe having found them deliberated whether they were for sharing. Presently he resumed. “A day last summer. We were careless, Elizabeth and I. We had left the room unlocked. Our passion was upon us when Miss Catherine entered Elizabeth’s boudoir. She was shocked, as were we. I stayed from the house several days but eventually could not bear to remain from Elizabeth. When I reappeared she told me there had been much awkwardness and she was planning to dismiss Miss Catherine but I was against it. Captain Hardacker was due back from sea and would want to know the reason for her departure, I explained. But more than that, what if she were to seek revenge for the dismissal and inform the captain of our affair. Elizabeth saw the sense in this but raised the prospect that the maid might tell him regardless or the matter of our liaison would reach his ears from local gossip. Miss Catherine’s character was not well known to us and neither was the company she kept. It was a fretful time. We could but not count the days until the captain’s return. I began to see him in my dreams, astride a figurehead, cutlass in hand like some pirate from yore bearing down upon us. Our lovemaking ceased under the shared consternation. What were we to do?”

The priest’s face was stern. He too found words he did not wish to utter. “As I recall Miss Catherine is now deceased.”

Having breached the subject, Owen barely broke stride. “It was two days prior to his arrival. We were in great distress and a plan was begot. When first mentioned we dismissed it as madness but in those last days we had indeed become mad. We would do away with Miss Catherine, our secret would stay safe and our love could continue.”

The priest drew in his breath, then as calmly as he was able sought what he wished not to find. “She fell to her death from the Hardacker’s window. The newspapers told it so. Was it simply a fall?”

“We never carried out the plan. In the end the act was spontaneous, almost a whim. Miss Catherine was cleaning at the top of the house. It was unusual for me to be there when she was present. I kept away for want of embarrassing Elizabeth but she had stayed beyond her usual hours to complete her duties. She had opened the window to clean the streetside glass and was leaning out. I looked at Elizabeth and she at me. She glanced at the maid and I knew at once what she meant. I was standing behind her, the opportunity there but for a second. One, two steps took me to her. Her hand was reaching further for the outer frame, bending at the waist as her heels rose from the floor. Gently I placed both my hands to her shoulders. My breath moved the curl of hair at her neck. It could only be now or not at all and I pushed, pushed firmly on her upper back. She swung over the window’s sill, straight as a plank ‘cross a wall. There was no scream, merely a gasp of surprise, as if all that was falling was the cloth from her hand. Then she was gone. Outside the window, persons were already running to her side and I withdrew into the room lest I be seen. The deed was done and there was no more to be said of it. Elizabeth hurried me to the rear of the house and ushered me out. We parted and have never talked of it since.”

The wind dropped, giving clarity to the priest’s words. “This is most grave. It is a sin that cannot be erased without absolute sincerity.”

“Priest, absolve me I beg you. I was sincere from the first. That night sleep would not come to me and has not come easy since.”

“This was the time you ceased to attend church?”

As the wind slowed further, the snow, lacking its driving force, drifted hither and thither in search of a new direction.

“Aye. I knew Elizabeth would be there, and the captain. But also yourself. I could not face you Uriah; pretend the world was as it had been. I sickened, turned away from the Lord and instead to drink. My monies, such as they were, disappeared in the ale houses. Elizabeth sent word she wished to meet but even to think of her increased my guilt tenfold and I stayed away. I sought the company of common girls simply to lie in their arms but nothing brought me succour.”

“You speak of remorse yet stayed from God’s house. Now you ask me for absolution though I cannot grant it. Forgiveness is not mine to give, only God’s.” Uriah had reached a path well-trodden by him before. He had no need to deliberate. Words flowed out of him like an incantation from a book. “If you are truly repentant He will not forsake you. You must pray now for your time will soon come. If you do not you will face His wrath alongside the unforgiven in the valley of death and the fires of hell. Give yourself freely now, from your heart. Show God your true desire to find His forgiveness and your way back to love.”

A glimpse of some far off rescued future passed before Owen. He gazed at it a while longer, then knelt clumsily onto the hard rock and placed his hands together. He closed his eyes and the world around him lost its presence.

Uriah watched as Owen’s lips moved. Though no words were uttered, the priest could tell from long experience when a man clung to false prayer simply to save himself and when he truly communed with God. To his relief he could see his friend’s plea was heartfelt.

Owen stumbled to his feet. It seemed that the light at the cave’s opening had brightened. The cloud was dispersing, no more a solid sheet obliterating the world but torn scraps of white contoured here and there by shocks of blue. A shaft of light fell upon them

both. Looking through the breaking clouds Owen realised they had gained considerable height on their climb. Below across the valley he spotted a lower hill and beyond that their encampment. Then it struck him. Incredibly he must have misread the compass. He had sent his team up the wrong side of the valley and it had cost two men their lives. As he contemplated his error the low cloud lifted further. Sitting proudly out in the bay, dwarfed by a ring of glaciers sat The Deliverance, three pencil-line crosses marking the outlines of masts and yardarms.

“Deliverance must have been trapped by the storm.”

“Aye,” acknowledged Owen. “And sheltered in the bay through its duration.” As they watched the mainsail began to be hoisted.

Uriah was frantic. “She seeks to sail. We must alert the crew to our position.”

Owen’s face was grim. “Birk had the only Very pistol. We cannot send a flare.”

“Then my eyeglasses!” cried Uriah. “I may catch the light so they see its reflection.”

Owen shook his head. “That will not do. It should be lost amongst the glint of snow and ice.”

“Then we remain lost. They will have thought us deliberately from camp and depart for another fortnight. We will not hold out to see the ship again.”

“Priest, you have a tinderbox or lucifers?”

“Some lucifers.”

“Take off your coat.”

“What heavens for?”

Already removing his own coat, Owen repeated himself brusquely, “Your coat. We will set light to them and create a fire. They may see the smoke against the white of the cliff face.”

“And they may not. This is madness, we will freeze to death within hours.”

“And if we do not we simply die more slowly. Give me the lucifers.” Both men shuffled off their heavy coats and made a tented pile. The first match fizzled out into a forlornly curling black line. Uriah looked anxiously at Deliverance. The mainsail was now billowing in the wind and the other sails were being raised. “Try again,” implored Uriah.

Owen struck another match but the coats wouldn’t take. “Uriah, pass me your scarf.”

“We will surely perish. God has deserted us.”

“No, I believe we can be saved.”

The woollen scarf was shoved beneath the coats. This time the match sparked confidently into flame. Owen held it against the scarf and it caught immediately. Dark smoke rose upwards and Owen removed his waistcoat to waft it out of the cave. Deliverance, now in full sail, was beginning to turn to the open ocean. The priest rambled incoherently but Owen stuck resolutely to his task, choking as his eyes smarted in the acrid smoke. The scarf was wrinkling into oblivion but the fire had caught the hem of one of the coats and the smoke thickened, then thickened some more.

“Deliverance, she’s coming around. They’re returning for us, Owen!”

Owen watched as the ship’s bow swung towards land. Still at a distance, he could see the lowering of a small boat at Deliverance’s side.

The fire burned brightly for a moment but then sank lower, spluttered and went out. One coat sat charred but still hunched on the ground, the other was but a charcoal shadow gone to the flames. Owen glanced at Uriah. His teeth were already chattering. Although a bigger man, Uriah was older and Owen felt more confident in his own chances of survival. He studied the priest carefully before speaking. “Do you think the crew saw us?”

“Not through the smoke but possibly now. Should we signal to them? They might lose our location without the fire.”

Before Owen could answer the priest had walked to the cave’s entrance and was waving both arms.

“Come join me.”

Owen hesitated, staying crouched in the cave’s shadows. “Can you see the men now?”

“I see them from a distance though not clearly. Perhaps the captain is in their number. Come join me.”

“I will shortly,” said Owen, deep in his own thoughts.

Uriah waved his arms up and down feverishly. “To think I had all but given up hope and soon we will be reunited. Dear Duncan. I have so much to tell him. We will see Bristol again.”

“Do you see them now?”

“Yes, there are six but still too much at a distance to tell man from man.” Uriah didn’t turn to his friend but his tone was tender. “Oh Owen, you have successfully come through your spiritual journey. Tonight your ankle will be tended in sick bay while I shall sit with the captain and tell the tale of our struggle. Come now and join me at the cliffside.

A small solitary cloud drifted across the cave’s entrance. Owen limped one, two steps up to Uriah. Gently he placed both hands at his back. His breath met the hair at the priest’s neck. Beyond the cave everything had again vanished but Owen knew all was still there as it had been. Soon the cloud would pass by and his world would once more be returned to him.