“Soon, my love…”

Looking out over the main deck, towards the bow of the ship, Jack gripped the poop deck railing, his knuckles white with anticipation. Behind and below him, the ship’s crew, men and women who had become his dearest friends and companions, worked to harness the power of the wind and sea as they sailed towards their destination.

“Jack!”

A voice broke through his reverie. He looked up to the crow’s nest, hooding his eyes with his hand. He chuckled and shook his head as he spied the blonde, blindfolded girl waving excitedly down at him.

“What is it, Spes?”

“Land! It’s still far off, but I see land!”

Grinning from ear to ear, Jack turned, facing the wheel.

“Hear that? We’re almost there!”

A small head poked out from behind the wheel, grinning cheekily. “You mean someone can see something other than this damned steering column?”

“You’re the one who insisted on having a full-size wheel, if I remember correctly.”

The child scrunched her face up and stuck her tongue out at Jack. “I’m gonna grow into it, obviously. Besides, shouldn’t you be getting ready for your last challenge, oh mature one?”

Shaking his head and chuckling at that last gibe, Jack sauntered his way down to the main deck, humming a faint, wistful tune. Feeling his eyes mist up, he made his way to the port-side railing, where, gazing into the distance, he let the salty spray mask the tears beginning to run down his face. For a minute, he stood in silence, surrounded by the creaking of wood, the whistling of the wind, and the crash of the boat’s keel breaking into the small, open-ocean waves, before being joined by another of the ship’s meagre crew.

“You think she’ll recognize you?”

Jack looked over at the old man, leaning next to him with a wry smile, and paused, looking confusedly at his companion.

“Your wife,” he continued. “Do you think she’ll recognize you? I mean, it’s not like you’ve gotten any prettier since you’ve been gone.”

Jack shook his head, a small smile breaking through his melancholy tears. “You tell me, Old Man. At least I’ve still got my hair.”

Chuckling, the old man turned to face Jack. “Maybe, but you can’t deny you’re not the same boy I met by the river, Lad, and I’d be willing to bet my last teeth Fides’d say the same.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb at the steering wheel before continuing: “You’ve grown a lot, matured a lot...” He squinted at Jack. “I’d almost be willing to call you a man, but, ah, you’re not quite there yet. God only knows if this last test’ll finally do the trick, eh?” The old man clapped Jack on the back, smiling, as he turned to walk belowdecks.

“See if Benevolentia can whip us up something special with what’s left of the rations, will you? It’s about time we celebrated something.”

The old man raised his hand as he walked, acknowledging the request without breaking stride. Turning back to his portside view, Jack began unraveling a knotted piece of string from around his wrist. In a manner betraying practiced habit, he slowly moved his fingers from knot to knot, mumbling as he went: “Grant me, God, safe passage home and protect my family in my absence.”

***

The ship sailed uneventfully through the day, keeping its course on the piece of land sighted by Spes earlier. Under the gentle moonlight, laughter and song can be heard rising from the ship’s belly, echoing up the stairs. Belowdecks, eleven men and women laughed and ate, taking turns rotating with the twelfth, who was currently at the wheel. Some were retelling stories with gusto to certain of the other companions, striking caricatured poses of heroism, which were met with uproarious guffawing, hear-hears, and raised glasses.

One of the men in the group, a middle-aged man, with streaks of grey forming at his temples, raised his glass towards an older, silver-haired woman sitting slightly separate from the rest of the group, near the galley door: “Bene, I gotta hand it to you. I don’t know what magic you have hidden up your sleeve, but you’re the only person I know who can make hardtack, salted meat, and a handful of barely-fresh vegetables into kingly cuisine.”

At his words, a few others raised their glasses, some echoing his words with cheers of their own, others nodding silently. Taking advantage of the change in mood, Jack stood, glass in hand, and looked over the room.

“Soon, maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after, we will reach the final challenge. As with all the others, I cannot tell you what to prepare for, as even I myself do not know. Nor, even, do I know what will happen once this final task is completed. One thing, however, I do know: I have been immensely blessed and am eternally grateful for the friendship and companionship you all have shown me, a stranger, torn from his home. Whether we’ve known each other for the whole journey,” he looked briefly towards the young girl who had been at the wheel that morning, before shifting his gaze to a turbaned young man in loose, sun-faded clothing. “... or for but a brief minute, I count myself to be far richer, wiser, and better for having known you all. Thank you.”

With those final words, he raised his glass and tossed back what remained of his drink as eleven other glasses copied his motion.