Infinity Beach - Jack McDevitt [14]
Kim felt a special affection for him. Halvert seemed to represent the human condition: struggling under impossible circumstances, answerable for lack of perfection, holding the lantern nonetheless. But in the end it makes no difference.
Within a year of the event he died, and it became a popular legend that his spirit hovered in the vicinity of the wreck.
Divers only visit the Caledonian when the weather is good. But when the wind is stirring and rain is on the horizon, you can sail out to the spot and look down through the water, and you’ll see the glow of the captain’s lantern moving along the decks and ladders while he urges his passengers toward the boats.
Kim had read that in True Equatorian Specters. One version of the story had it that he was damned to continue the search until the last victim had been rescued.
Solly must have known what she was thinking. “There he is,” he said, directing her attention toward a luminous jellyfish over the port quarter.
They swam down to the pilothouse and passed before the empty frames. There was nothing left inside. Even the wheel mount was missing. But it was easy to conjure up the voyagers that night, lounging about the decks, looking forward to a week at sea, suddenly aware of a threatening sky.
They emerged on the starboard side and moved aft. Kim used her wristlamp to illuminate the interior. The cabins were, of course, stark and empty.
Forty minutes later they surfaced, climbed aboard the sloop, and changed. Then they broke out dinner: turkey and salad and cold beer. It was beginning to get dark. The sky was cloudless, the sea a sheet of glass.
“This place is a good example of what stage management does,” said Solly. “It feels as if the supernatural can happen down there. The stories are pure fantasy, but when I’m near the wreck I’m not so sure. That’s the way the Severin Woods will be.”
“Different sets of rules,” she agreed. “Take away the light, and werewolves are possible.” She touched a presspad and soft music came out of the speakers.
They sat in the cabin, the food spread out on a table. A couple of islands lay on the horizon. In the distance another sailboat was moving across their line of vision. Solly made a sandwich and took a bite. “Kim,” he said when he’d gotten enough down that he could talk again, “do you believe ghosts are possible?”
She studied him, and decided he was quite serious. “Running into a real ghost would change everything we believe about the way the universe works.”
“I’m not so sure about it,” he said.
“Why?”
“I once served aboard the Persepholis. It had a haunted stateroom.”
“Haunted how?”
“Strange noises. Voices no one could account for. Cold spots.”
“You ever see any of this?”
He considered the question. “Yeah. I can remember walking past it on watch, hearing voices inside.”
“Might have been the passengers.”
“This was after they stopped using it for passengers, Kim. It became a storage area.”
“Did you look inside?”
“First couple of times, yes. Didn’t see anything. After that I just let it go.”
“Not that I doubt you,” she said, “but I’d have to see it for myself.”
They ate quietly. Solly looked out toward the mainland, just visible in the east. “Plato believed in ghosts,” he said.
“Plato?” Kim was skeptical.
“He thought ghosts came from drinking too much wine.” He laughed at her reaction. “It’s true. He says somewhere that when people get too attracted to their earthly lives, too many good times, too much sex, that when they die their souls get tangled up with the flesh and can’t get free. He thinks that’s why spirits hang around cemeteries. They’re sort of pinned to their bodies.”
Kim finished the sandwich, scooped up some cranberry sauce, and washed everything down with the beer. “You’re really caught up on this Severin business, aren