As for himself, he was more or less scrap too. He might have to face criminal charges in the States, and there would certainly be civil suits as well. If he got through all that, it was still doubtful that Cunard would take him back. He could perhaps get a job managing a hotel inland somewhere. That would suit him very well.
On their last night together, Bliss, Bernstein, Higpen, Hartman, Winter, and McNulty had a late dinner. “I must say I’m proud of the lot of you,” said Hartman. “If there’s any justice, you’ll all go down in the history books. Even if not, you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you’ve met and defeated the greatest threat humanity has faced in a hundred thousand years.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to you. May you live and prosper.”
“Now I suppose we’ll never know what might have happened, if it had gone the other way,” said Winter. “It’s a shame we didn’t find out more when we had the opportunity.”
“Such as?”
“Oh, well, for instance—how does the thing reproduce?”
McNulty looked startled. “Good question. Maybe it’s just as well none of the passengers were pregnant.”
About twelve hundred of the passengers were taken off by helicopter, over a three-day period, and transported after further delays to Guam; the rest elected to stay with Sea Venture to Manila. The vessel seemed emptier and older than she was; there was a curious sense of decayed majesty in her lobbies and corridors, as if she were an ancient hotel about to be tom down. Some of the passengers became quite sentimental in their loyalty, and spoke with scorn of those who had “left the sinking ship.”
Tugs warped the battered hull into Manila Harbor on a May afternoon. The sky was cloudless, the air hot and moist. Jim and Emily Woodruff went down the ramp together, her hand tucked into his arm. “It’ll be good to get home,” Jim said.
“Yes.” Her expression was calm as she looked out over the sprawling city. Jim was getting used to that. “Feeling okay?” he asked.
“Yes, Jim.” And she pressed his arm, gently, as if to reassure him.
Captain Hartman boarded the ramp with a twinge of regret. It was not an experience he wanted to repeat, but, after all, it was something to tell the grandchildren about: a real sea adventure. He and Bliss had exchanged promises to meet. Perhaps they would, someday, and reminisce over their pints like two old seafaring men.
Julie Prescott boarded the ramp with her parents. Stevens was a little ahead of them; they had said their good-byes. Stevens was going to fly to Switzerland; they had arranged to meet in New York in October. “When I come back, you must not mind if I have another name,” he said.
Feeling a little dizzy, she thought of something she had not told Stevens about: the circled date on her calendar, two weeks ago. She had never been this late before. She was still not sure how she felt about that, or about Stevens. Was there anything ahead for them?
Well, she thought, they would all have to wait and see.