A Noble Wind

Libby clutched the tattered backpack to her chest not caring about the grime soiling her jacket and read the letter once more.

Dear Ms. Warner. We regret to inform you your father was lost with his party during a confrontation in the North Sea…

An image she carried like a treasured childhood book bloomed along with her sorrow. She was snuggled in her dad’s arm while he crammed himself onto her tiny bed and spun tales of the great behemoths that once ruled the seas. By the time she was eight, he'd read aloud to her all four hundred plus pages of Moby Dick... three times.

“Are you okay, Libby?”

She blinked and focused on her shipmate. “I just need to sit a minute.”

“There’s a bench by the bulkhead,” he said as he gestured to the spot. She stared at it, still gripping the bag to her chest, then got herself moving. He followed her.

Libby sat and looked up to find the features of his face obscured by bright sunlight. She tried to remember his name and thought it was Joe.

His voice was kind. “This seems like a private moment, but I'll be around welcoming our crew and can hop right back here if you need me.” Libby nodded her appreciation and he scooted away.

She eyed the pack as she settled it on her lap. The canvas was encrusted with soil, stained, and smooth from use. The edges frayed. She wondered what clues it held about her father’s life because she knew it had traveled with him for the last two decades.

Libby was here, preparing with the crew to set sail for the Faroe Islands in part so she could learn about his life on board vessels just like this one. She had followed in his footsteps, becoming an eco-warrior dedicated to earth’s oceans and the life contained in them, which meant she understood her father’s commitment. What she didn’t understand was why he stopped coming home, or if he had any idea what that had done to her.

Joining this crew in this part of the world had given her a vague hope she might cross his path on a campaign, though she’d lost track of him years ago and knew her chances were slim. But the courier rushing to deliver the news and her father’s effects before they sailed had dashed those dreams and her hope of getting answers.

She twisted the fastener and pried open the compartment. Her breath hitched. Libby stared at a familiar object. All sorts of questions flooded her mind. With a trembling hand, she pulled out the plushy white whale she’d once gripped to her chest every story and through every word of Moby Dick. It crinkled… and she froze. Could it be?

Libby ran her thumb along a seam. It split to reveal a piece of paper, just like the ones Dad hid for her in those early days before leaving on a mission. She didn’t notice the toy falling off her lap as she read her message through eyes blurred with tears.

Were I the wind, I’d blow no more on such a wicked and miserable world… Yet tis a noble and heroic thing, the wind!

You, my feisty shadow, are nobler. I’m proud of you for answering the call. But take care or you will find yourself with a target on your back. It’s why I stayed away, though I’ve been watching you grow… and waiting for our time. I’m sorry it took so long, and that I had to resort to such a cruel trick to get back to you.

A hand set the whale in her lap, and a beloved voice said, “Hello, little shadow. I thought you might appreciate our favorite line from Melville.”