Against the Tide of Years

"Promise?" Heather said.

Marian kissed her brow. "No, because I can't be sure. Now come on, honey, sugar. Make us proud."

They took the girls' hands; both bravely stifled tears as they led them back to the quarterdeck. Their sea chests were there-sources of immense pride, with their names neatly stenciled on the sides, Guard-fashion: HEATHER ALSTON-KURLELO and LUCY ALSTON-KURLELO, and guard house, nantucket town underneath. So was the other luggage, souvenirs, boxed presents from their Kurlelo relatives, their favorite stuffed animals.

Captain Nguyen of the Eagle was there as well, saluting and then repeating the gesture smartly down at the two nine-year-olds. "Ready to go aboard?" he said.

The Alston-Kurlelo daughters looked at each other and shed a little of their solem

"You might want to keep them in irons below until you make the Brandt Point Light," she said. "They're as mischievous as apes, the both of them, and what one doesn't think of to get into trouble the other will."

"Mom!" A wail of indignation.

Gri

"Don't worry, Commodore, Ms. Swindapa. I'll see them and Eagle both home safely."

"I'm sure you will, Mr. Nguyen," Alston said.

Swindapa nodded silently, a single tear track ru

Orders echoed over the water, crisp and precise:

"Up and down!"

"Avast heaving!"

"Anchor at short stay!" There was a clatter of steel on steel, and the capstan crew paused.

Then: "Break out the anchor!" and they heaved again, slowly at first, and then suddenly no longer straining against the flukes' hold on the bottom.

"Anchors aweigh!"

Sail broke out from the bottom of the masts toward the top, and the ebbing tide and freshening offshore breeze took Eagle and heeled her slightly, a wave appearing at her bow.

"Shift colors!" came faint but clear, and the jack and ensign came on smartly; then the steaming ensign broke out on the gaff.

"Mr. Jenkins," Marian said.

He saluted, smiling, and turned to bark orders. The bosun's pipe twittered, and a team bent to the quarterdeck carronade.

Boom!, softer and deeper than a long gun, and the puff of smoke blew away to the south and leeward. The two girls jumped up and down as the signal gun saluted their departure, waving both arms from Eagle's fantail railing until all sight was lost.

"Fair voyaging," Swindapa said softly. "Always fair voyaging, and a fortunate star, and may partings never hurt them worse than this. And may they never have to sail to war."

"Amen," Marian Alston said, and settled her billed cap firmly on her head. She wished that with all her heart, but she suspected it wasn't very likely. "Final dining-in for the fleet captains tonight," she said.

Swindapa nodded. The Republic's fleet would sail to war as soon as the Farragut's final killing tool was installed, and there was a moa pit-roasting ashore for the last gathering of the commanders.

"So much has happened here," she said, looking ashore to where she'd been roped from her collar to a stake, naked and filthy and shivering, when the Eagle first arrived in these waters.

"We'll be back," Marian said. "And we'll be home, and this will be memories, too."

"The war isn't over yet," Swindapa said. "So much at stake."

"But we haven't lost yet either," Alston smiled. "And we're not going to."

For it is not the bright arrival pla

But in the journeying along the way

We find the Golden Road to Samarkand.