I finished the book about the battle of Toulon I was reading and started reading another one. This was written at the beginning of 20th century and therefore it is less reliable, that is why I left it for later. It is interesting because it is a compilation of the existing historical documents, among them the records of the trials by martial court that took place after the battle or the excerpts of the admirals’ logbooks. However, I also detected several mistakes, for example saying that after my death my nephew took command, when in reality he was my cousin. And the worst of it all is that the author doesn’t mention my death in any way, so it wasn’t very useful for me.
While I was reading, hoping to find something new about my death, I couldn’t stop thinking about the matter of verifications. In general, it seems that having a greater number of verified memories makes your claim that you were such person in a past life more credible. But researchers usually don’t take into account —who knows the reason why— that memory is not exact. And besides, according to the observations of those of us who remember past lives, our mind usually is less interested in specific and verifiable data of that life than in the emotional part. This makes things more complicated. It encumbers our task of researching and finding out, eventually —only if possible—, that this person whose memories we seem to have, existed for real. If that person was someone at the very least moderately known in their time, it is a bit easier. But only a bit.
However, in that book I mentioned at the beginning, I did find another jewel: the words I exchanged with one of the admirals before we tackled the Spanish fleet. That moved me. It seems what I said prompted the admiral to make a decision, as he was a bit hesitant about what we should do next, although this doesn’t mean I agreed with the moment he chose or the way he did it. I don’t remember anything about that conversation, so I can say nearly nothing about it, only that my words seem to suggest I was enjoying it as much as one can enjoy the eve of a battle, I believed in what I was doing and I was willing to go right to the end... in essence, as I commented in my previous entries, I lived that life with passion. Those words seemed to corroborate a feeling I had had only the night before...
While I was meditating, after seeing scenes from what appeared to be another life, my thoughts went to James. “I would give anything for seeing a normal day in the ship”. And I almost got it.
I started to feel the wooden planks beneath my feet, to hear the characteristic sound when you step firmly on them. I saw that I was going up some stairs and knew I was heading to the forecastle. I could see the bowsprit ahead of me (I just learned this word and its equivalent in Spanish, normally I would say “a stick that goes out from the bow”), and above I could feel (rather than see) the presence of many ropes. I gazed at the horizon and saw a reddish sun very close to the sea. At first I doubted if it was dusk or dawn, but after a while I decided the sun was setting, as its colour was very red and the sky was very dark. I supposed we were going westward, and somehow I knew we were returning home from the Americas. I gave my last orders of the day (drop anchor, lower sails) and I allowed myself a moment of calm, with my hands crossed behind my back, feeling proud of getting to the end of yet another day with the work well done. I breathed deeply, enjoying the peace and the view. I told myself, “This moment should last forever”, as I have thought many other times in this life too.
Someone asks me, “Capt’n, will you go down soon?” To which I answer, “Yes, in a while.” The deck is getting empty, only the men who will do the watch remain (the men-in-watch, comes to my mind). As the darkness of night falls (pitch black), oil lamps (lanterns) are lighted up all along the deck. The scene is beautiful, spectacular. It is as if I am seeing it right now. I know it is dinner time and I will join the officers in brief. As I step down the stairs, I tell a sailor, pointing to a small sail above, “See that sail is repaired for tomorrow.” I am always checking everything and I command the men very politely what I want them to do. I do this in a very natural way and with very good manners. I feel I like seeing my men at ease. I know they have now some leisure time and I see it not only as something necessary, but also rightly deserved.
Then I go to my cabin, quite narrow if I compare it to what I have seen in some movies. I have a small desk and there I write on the logbook, setting a lamp at my left. My last duty of the day consists of writing down the distance we have travelled, the latitude and longitude of the geographical point where we are (I suppose we measure this with the sextant), and of course, any incidence that might have occurred. Fortunately, today was a peaceful day. I also have to calculate the route for the next day.
Once I have done all that, I unbutton my shirt and make myself more comfortable for dinner. An officer comes in and asks me if I have some order for him. I tell him no, he can retire (he is dismissed). He says it in a very courteous way but with a lot of confidence, more as if he were a friend rather than a subordinate. Before the door is closed, I tell him that if he see little X, he must remind him to come and pick up my clothes for the laundry (I didn’t recall his name, but a lad no older than twelve came to my mind. He could have been a cabin boy or an aspirant to officer).
(Regression of Thursday, 16-2-2017).
Last thing I saw were short flashes of the dinner with the officers, moments I also treasure in my memory. Sharing food and drink, light conversations, and a good card game before going to sleep.
Everything was right. Everything was perfect. That was enjoying life indeed.
I love to be in past life mood of the British Navy. It is as if everything has changed around me but I keep being James, young James, when I was fighting for a dream and with effort I made it real. Nowadays I like to wear black ankle boots because they are very similar to the black boots I used to wear as a Navy officer; I love hearing the sound of the heels on the cobbles of the streets. This past life mood is not traumatic at all. It makes me feel I am not a common citizen. On the contrary, the protection of the people I encounter in the street is in my hands. They don’t know it, but they can live in peace thanks to us. It makes me feel great to know that I am part of a group of captains, not very abundant in that time, who are summoned when there is the need to navigate a warship and defend the country from the enemies. It makes me proud to have reached where I am. It makes me emotional when I see myself reflected on Russell Crowe in the movie Master & Commander.
“Today we have to be soldiers. Soldiers. And that means to hell with what happens to us.”
It seems that day I decided I had to be a soldier. And unknowingly, I went straight to my death. But it makes me very happy to know that my death was regretted and mourned by everyone involved, including my own men. There is no greater honour than that. Thus speaks of me one of the consulted sources:
“He was determined either to conquer or die; this was his inflexible resolution, and he strictly adhered to it to his last gasp.”