Chapter 22
Jim went on, “Do you suppose I especially love them, Captain? Each butcher, each housemaid, each mother, each small boy like that one there, chasing a hoop…would you believe that I care for every one of them as a father?”
“I believe you’ve not told me what happened to Will.”
“Ah, so young.” Jim sighed. “I do love my home, Captain Lanyon. And I grieve at every wound left in her by war. I will not apologize for Easterly’s condition. He chose to join us of his own volition. Like you, he knew the cost. But nevertheless, I am sorry.”
Jason—Stephen—couldn’t talk. That cost. Will’s fragile health. The past tense. The blood on the handkerchief he’d found after sailing. The knowledge that he’d only received the message a month after Will’s collapse, because it’d taken too long to reach him, and too long for the Steadfastto fly home, too much time lost…
All of that punched a cannonball through his chest. He fought for breath. “He’s not dead.”
“He is not.”