8 Chapter 7

Samuel Earnest looked at the endless expanse of wobbly waves, he felt so insignificant compared to the enormity of the ocean. The tides were like the ebb and flow of his life, the powerful wind that made impact with his face was like the struggles that had brought him to where he stood today- at the edge of two worlds. His ship was about to enter British channels. He had been journeying for so long, ever muscle in his body ached with the stress of being on a ship, of being near home. Coming home was always difficult, staying away was equally frustrating. He believed his son was the reason. How in the world had he reached this point, where he was unable to understand his one and only son, where carrying out a conversation with him had become so taxing that he'd rather carry stones on his back through mountains. How had things reached a point where there was nothing left to say, nothing left to hear. Silence was the solution. They could both be in a room and be immersed in their port or reading and not talk to one another, just be silent. This was how he was going to spend the rest of his life, not knowing his own son- sometimes he regretted it, he had not been a father to Emett. He realized that more than Emett would have known. He knew his son's grievances towards him and yet the circumstances seemed so strained that there seemed no room for improvement. Not now, not after so much time had passed...not after so much time had passed since Rosalind. Some relationships could never mend, no matter how hard one tried. He was old now, he wanted to spend the rest of his remaining life and leave the world- he knew his son would feel no remorse on his death, he knew he had treated him coldly enough to expect that in return.

"Lord Ernest! You have been standing there long enough, you'll catch a cold, sir! Come along into the hall, there are games and festivities in progress perhaps you can find something to amuse yourself." The jovial voice had come from Samuel Ernest's back and the sentence had been followed by a  friendly tap on his shoulder.

Samuel Ernest didn't need to turn around to recognize the man, he still stared into the water and the sunset and replied, "No, Captain Gerard. I'll stay here for a while longer. Loneliness becomes me."

"How quick you are at knowing yourself! I wish I were more of that sort! I cannot bear to be alone, I thrive in company. I hope I do not sound impertinent but pray what is bothering you?"

A dry chuckle escaped Samuel's throat, "I am a transparent man, huh?! I am thinking about life, captain. How strange it sometimes becomes, how unfathomable. I have been away from home so long. I'll feel like a stranger once I am there."

"Yes! We all feel like strangers to our own selves sometimes, don't we? Separation from our loved ones, for such extended periods, is, at times, bound to sever the strongest of bonds."

"You have often felt out of place, Captain?" Samuel Ernest inquired of the man.

"Not often, but it has happened. I spend a great portion of my life on sea. My crew sees me more often than my family. Naturally there are times when I feel more at home here than I do at home."

Such an admission must be really hard for a man, Samuel Ernest contemplated in silence. How was he any different from the Captain, his dilemma went even deeper than the captain's, while Gerard Kent felt at ease with his crew, Samuel Ernest found solace in no company, loneliness was his only friend.

Life deals you so many different hands, at times you are at a complete loss; contemplating your next move is next to impossible- same was the case when Samuel Ernest married Rosalind, a woman as beautiful as sin and equally complex. He had loved her at the beginning of their marriage, he had been a besotted fool back then, standing in a long row of admirers in high anticipation of slightest nod of recognition- he had courted her with the passion, desperation and valor of a brave knight in ferocious battle. The fondness slowly faded away, his love for her became more of a distraction than a thing to be cherished. He then resented the airs she had put on in front of him initially; how dare she make him wait in a line with so many other foolish, young men? He even resented her calm, self assurance with which she carried about in her daily life. It was as if she was on a pedestal, looking down upon the lesser mortals- looking down upon him. It was plain bitterness, their marriage, after the first year. He had gone to her bed, yes, but not as often as he would have liked to. She still aroused him, physically she was the finest beauty in London and he was still unprincipled where his lust for her was concerned- she gave birth to a baby boy at the end of the second year of their marriage. Even Rosalind's pregnancy had been a turbulent time for her, they fought consistently, they never lacked for issues to quarrel over; their arguments could be about a missing button on his coat that had not been mended in time or the fact that they detested each others undue attention towards the opposite sex.

Samuel Ernest had started having affairs even before

Rosalind had given birth to Emett. Rosalind knew about her husband's indiscretions and it maddened her, made her blood boil, she shouted, cursed and yelled at him but to no avail, after some time he was so detached from her emotionally that he found very less satisfaction in being with her, he needed another woman's arms for comfort, love and acceptance. Samuel Ernest's own wife always seemed to him more high-handed in comparison to all other simpler, sensual women. She was regal, elevated and also... frigid of late.

Samuel Ernest was suddenly reminded of all those times she used to vehemently order him not to go to another woman, she never begged and that bothered him. It was as though she reminded him consistently that he had no control over her that in fact she didn't really care that much about his infidelity, he wanted to establish his hold on her, to make her submissive, to make her realize that according to the English Law she was his possession and as such he would always have an upper hand where she was concerned. Rosalind never did understand, he believed she always thought of herself as the one in control, he couldn't help himself but get irrational and then hurt her by going to other women. All her incessant anger as a result was, to him, nothing more than a display of her overbearing animosity; she only resented being socially recognized as a jilted wife, he believed she never truly cared for him.

He knew how much Emett blamed him for what had happened to Rosalind, in all fairness, Samuel did believe that some of it might have been his fault, but for that to be true, he would also have to consider the fact that maybe he did have the capability of hurting his wife- he however, did not believe that possible.

Samuel Ernest didn't really know what he could do to salvage his crumbled relationship with his son. His son would go on to hate him, just as his wife had and he would never have any real family... he wasn't much saddened by the thought, he had been raised up to bear harsh, perilous circumstances and he would go on living in a similar state.