Captain Nemo awoke when he felt his submarine, the Nautilus, rise to the ocean's surface. They ran underwater by day and surfaced at night. Jumping out of his berth in seconds, he dressed in his dark blue uniform, tucked trousers into tall black boots, and wound the pag around his head several times, placing his silver pin in front. He added the bracelet and the warrior's kirpan dagger as he heard Lieutenant Aman tap on his door.
"Yes?"
"Captain, we rescued a lady alone in a small dinghy. An American. Women are looking after her in the guest state room."
"Very good. I'll pay them a visit."
Since it wasn't an emergency, he had time to wash, comb his long black beard and don a sash. He checked the calendar: September 17, 1870. A little after 10:00 am, and he usually rose at 11:00 anyway after staying on duty until very early hours. Then he strode from his small cabin, first one from the front stairway, and headed next door. Mrs. Singh opened it at his knock, and utter chaos greeted him.
A dozen talking women had brought fabric, dresses, saris, skirts, scarves and other feminine articles heaped on the bed and tables. His presence was enough to quiet them, and a motherly woman, Indian like himself, with an air of leadership, but gray haired, was near the back.
"Maabebe," he greeted her. "Is our guest well? Could she have an interview?"
"Yes, Captain. But let me see." She went to the private washroom to say something.
A clear voice with a very slight Hispanic accent replied, "I'm not getting out of this delicious tub for at least a half an hour."
Frowning, and then chuckling, he said, "I'll be back after I get a cup of tea."
The ladies bundled up their guest's tattered clothes, combed her hair, and explained they were now back under the ocean to one absolutely amazed Mrs. Owens. And that this huge under-sea boat was quite safe compared to trains, wagons and other sea vessels.
True to his word, Nemo came back and the door to the suite was ajar. The ladies let him in and he saw a beautiful dark haired woman on the sofa, her long hair still wet, and she was wearing an embroidered silk robe that he had seen purchased by one of the officers' wives in Fortaleza a month ago. He was surprised that the rescued lady looked like she could be any nationality: Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, Indian, or perhaps from here in the Caribbean. He certainly had many nationalities onboard.
Maabebe said, "Mrs. Owens, this is Captain Nemo."
"Akaal Sahai, Madam."
She put down the fruit and water they had brought, stayed seated and understood this was a greeting from the striking man in the turban. "Hello Captain. Your people are so kind. Mrs. Maabebe and the men who pulled me onboard." How did this luxurious boat exist? Why was this mysterious, very handsome master of the boat here, with his silver buttons and military bearing? "I have so many questions."
"I too," he said. He removed some articles from a chair and sat. "Ladies, thank and you may go."
Mrs. Owens spoke up. "Sir, may they stay for a moment? I can tell my story just once, and I'll be brief. Everyone seems to be asking."
He assented, admitting to himself this was logical. With happy sighs, the ladies sank to the bed, chairs and floor, allowing Maabebe to sit on the sofa too.
"Were you traveling on the steamer whose boiler exploded three days ago?" he asked.
"Yes. Is that what it was? We had passed through the Yucatán channel. Do you know if the other passengers perished?"
"I believe so." Everyone murmured sadly.
Sorrowfully, Mrs. Owens said, "Oh no. I was traveling from Houston to Caracas with them all." She paused.
"How did you get to the lifeboat?" Nemo asked.
"It was incredibly lucky. I was on deck at the stern and had seen the two little boats hanging there. The explosion knocked me over the rail toward one and somehow I grabbed onto it. I got a bit of shrapnel in my arm but it came out clean later. And I managed to untie the rope in all the smoke and chaos. Shall I continue?"
"Please."
As she arranged her robe closely around her, Nemo thought, I don't think she's wearing anything under that silk. Her bare toes peeped out.
A bit shaken, she composed her voice. "My name is Maya Isabella Garcia Brown. Born in Monterrey, Mexico, my mother is half Cacalote Indian and my father was a white man from Texas."
Captivated, everyone listened.
"Both he and my husband, Louis Owens, died in the American War of the States. There's no family remaining now except my mother. But I learned nursing during the war. A hospital in Caracas needing a Spanish speaking nurse just sent me an offer of employment. And I hope to become a physician." She paused and the ladies whispered in a bit of awe. "Perhaps I can send them a telegram. And one to my mother."
"Hmm, yes, to your mother," Nemo said. "However, Santiago de León de Caracas is somewhat unstable right now. They have earthquakes and pirates. Please stay onboard the Nautilus as our guest until you've rested and recovered."
Maya nodded once, graciously, but she hadn't read about any earthquakes lately. A major earthquake was 50 years ago, right before their war of independence in Caracas.
Maabebe spoke. "Ladies, we must allow Mrs. Owens to rest."
"Thank you so very much, all of you," Maya said, as the crowd filed out, some of them clasping her hand, and she patted those on the shoulder or arm.
Maa was almost the last, and gave Maya a warm hug. "When you wake, follow this hall and you'll soon see our dining room and common area. People are awake at all hours. I can give you a little tour and see what you need." Maya thanked her wholeheartedly.
And then just the Captain remained. They were both standing awkwardly close, and Maya had a treacherous, lustful thought. What was it she had read that an Indian woman could do to say 'I want you?' Touch noses or put one foot on top of his? Yes, the foot. She was almost ashamed of herself. He was the Captain, so naturally he was strong and radiating assuredness.
She was drawn to him, but of course she did not reach out her foot.
His brown eyes met hers, and she wondered what he was thinking. Finally, he bowed to her and said, "Rest well."
"I'm grateful to be rescued," she said.
He half smiled and she shut the door.
Maya was exhausted. She pushed aside some of the clothing on the big bed but didn't see a nightgown. So she disrobed and slipped naked into the free corner and covered up. Her last thought was, I'm too tired to turn down these gas lamps. Are they even gas? And she fell fast asleep.
As Captain Nemo walked to the control room, he was thinking a dozen things, as usual. His vessel, his crew, their heading, world events, and restocking supplies this week. And the fact that his lover, Amina, had left the boat amicably only two days before.
He and Amina did not love each other, but they shared his berth occasionally and secretly. She would come to him on nights of her own choosing, from her own room on a lower deck, and silently she would work her mojo on him just as she skillfully used spices by day. All she would say was "don't bump your head on the berth above," as he mated with her, or simply "I like that" to something new.
Nemo knew she had agreed to stay onboard for a year or two, earn enough for a little house of her own, and he knew that second year 'or so' was ending. The little pouch she took away, which he handed her, had some gems in with the gold coins. Amina was a brief but pleasing thought.
There was a Sikh saying: closing of doors is not the end but the beÂginÂning. Look for keys to new doors. Make new keys; do not wait. He never held back to the one which has alÂready closed.
Maya awoke hours later, hungry. Stretching happily, she saw the beautiful blue and white and carpeted stateroom and remembered her kind hosts. An old painting on the wall seemed authentic of a European lady, whose eyes seemed to follow you around the room. A blank telegram form had been pushed under her locked door, so she quickly addressed it to her mother with a short note.
And she was able to find a pale blue plaid cotton dress, thankfully without hoops. A chemise, pantalets, petticoat, and flat dancing shoes. No stockings. There wasn't a corset either, but perhaps the snug, short silk blouse would work underneath. Some of the ladies onboard wore them visibly under oriental-style draperies. The dress was a tiny bit tight in the shoulders and the shoes a little big, but they had ribbons to tie.
Amazed again at the private bathroom/dressing room with commode, tub, sink and mirror, she arranged her hair in a simple braid down her back. A purplish silk flower tucked over one ear made her think of Mexican dahlia. It relieved her plain costume, imitated the colorful ladies and expressed her personality somewhat.
I know one thing, she thought. I must be the queen of cool, calm behavior to the captain -- and crew.
She opened her door and saw she was in a hall like a balcony, with brass railing, facing another balcony on the other side, and some actual trees in the middle! While her room had been cool, now it felt tropical out here, and she looked down three or four decks to a little jungle. There was even a sound of a fountain. She heard children. And a colorful parrot flew to the railing not ten feet from her!
Just then, she saw Captain Nemo emerge from the next door and she closed her mouth, which was agape.
"Mrs. Owens. I'm going to the dining room. Come with me." It was half command, half invitation.
"Captain," she said, "I'm afraid I left the lamps burning in my room all day."
"They aren't lamps, they're actually electric lights." He opened her door, pressed a button inside, and the lights went out. Nemo enjoyed her amazement.
One surprise after another, she thought, joining him to walk on lush carpeting. She remembered her vow to be completely professional, even as she followed his broad shoulders, narrow waist and long legs.
"I see you've met one of our pets," Nemo said.
