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James Wallace originally joined the crew of the Obra Dinn as a seaman. He only happened to be selected as an assistant to Henry Evans due to his father being a surgeon. He would occasionally visit his father, but he was never allowed in the room with the patient for severe injuries. Would he have picked the life of a seaman over being a surgeon's mate? Not quite. But being involved with surgery on-board means he would have to see the gore of whatever injuries any crew member sustains up close, especially when he has to help Evans out with holding the person down. He sat on his chair and tipped it backwards as he rested his feet upon the desk. After being awoken by and checking the commotion on deck, it was sure going to be a long night.
He and Evans waited in the surgery room as the wounded crew from the incident were brought down, first starting off with the ship's helmsman Finley Dalton with a spear right to the knee, gently placing him on the rough wooden bed.
"Do you think he'll recover?" The third mate Martin questioned Henry.
"Should be fine. If we quickly work with him and let him rest, he should be able to walk fine soon enough. Might need to have the captain steer for us for the time being."
"Alright. I'll leave everything up to you two." Martin remarked as he went to help out the other crew.
"James, hold down the rest of his leg, I'll try to pull the spear out. Finley, you'll be fine. Just stay still."
"Sounds good, d-… Henry." Thankfully, he had a decent amount of muscle from his role as a seaman which made him perfect for the job as the surgeon's mate.
"Still not out of the habit, huh?"
"Sorry."
"All good, keep it casual between us."
The two worked together to extract the spear from Finley's knee as he continuously yelped in pain any time the spear was moved around before it was eventually yanked out.
"Alright, place pressure here. I'll bandage him up."
The stench of metal quickly reached his nose and his hands started to be stained red as he held Finley's wound. Henry went over and grabbed the roll of bandage, then begun to spin the roll over Finley's leg before tightly tying it.
"All done now. I'll give you some laudanum to help with the pain. Don't perform any rough activity and rest up for the next few days and you'll be fine."
"Thank you, doctor."
"Someone come take him out. Wouldn't want him to walk with that leg I just bandaged up." Some seamen came in and lifted Finley out of the room as James worked in wiping down the bed for the next person. Even with constant cleaning, the odor of salt and blood never goes away in a place like this room.
Next in line was one of the midshipmen, Peter Milroy, who walked into the room with short and slow steps, looking downwards towards the floor, and sat down onto the bed. Once seated, he looked up towards Henry.
"So, what's the issue, doc?"
"Well, what happened to you up there?"
"I… was knocked out when I tried to stop the mutiny. I happened to be up there practicing my sword fighting…"
"A young lad like you being up this late at night? You know how bad that is for your health, especially at sea, right?"
"Yes, doc."
"Well, it doesn't seem you have any significant injuries, Pete. Try not to overexert yourself."
"Thanks… Um… Could I actually have a word with you, doc?"
"What is it?"
"I… can't help but feel guilty… If I hadn't let myself be knocked out… Maybe… What was his name? Timothy? Maybe he would still be alive."
"Maybe. But you never know. A person's life can be claimed at anytime by the sea. On a ship, we abide by its rules."
"Well… Maybe if I had just been able to disarm Nichols…"
"Even if he hadn't been shot by that mutineer, he could have lost his life at some other time. Death is just out of our control. I don't know if you've heard of what happened to Samuel but you were present on this deck. I believe Emil was guiding you through helping him butcher the cow, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, surely you must have seen or heard how two of the Indian seamen had died of disease then?"
"I think so…"
"Well, life can be cruel. The two caught some disease at the lascar house and perished from it."
Pete's eyes widened from Henry's statement.
"Don't worry now. It's not contagious. But my point still stands. You can grieve over members of our crew dying but blaming yourself won't accomplish much."
"But… Surely, as a surgeon, if you can't save someone… You'd feel awful, right?"
"Well, in this line of work, you witness people dying all the time, I'm afraid. Sure, I might feel bad, but I can't save everyone. It's just part of the process. It's better to not get too caught up over it. Isn't that right, James?" Henry remarked as he took a glance at James rocking in his chair, who responded by giving a nod.
In his time on board, James had seen a couple handful of deaths. Especially in his time as a mate to the ship's surgeon, he's seen a couple people die right in front of his eyes. James remembered the time he asked his father the same question when he was younger. He was waiting outside the surgery room, when his father had stepped out and broke the news to the family members anticipating for their loved one to come out with him, leaving them to drown in melancholy as he lets people bring the body out and clean up the place.
Of course, people would try to avert his vision away from spotting anyone dead, especially their injuries, but he was no stranger to the concept of death.
"Papa, why do you always react so differently about people dying than the people who bring them in? You don't even shed a tear at someone dying… Don't you feel bad?"
"Well, son. Not every surgery is a success. Death is just a natural part of life. I can't afford to grieve every loss I come across in my job."
"Oh…"
His father retired after a couple years but he was never the same.
Peter rocked back and forth on the bed, staring down at the floor.
"Got any more questions then, Pete?"
"No, doc."
"Well, then you're all set. Can you stand up by yourself?"
"I think I'll be fine, thank you."
"Notify me if you ever need any laudanum."
Peter stood up and left the room. After cleaning down the bed, another seamen entered the room in a similar state as him and had no major health issues as well, letting him leave shortly afterwards.
Now, just the surgeon and his mate was left in the room. The two made way to their beds outside the surgery room.
"Well, what a night it's been, don't you think, James?"
"Mhm."
"How are you faring? What with the murders that's happened lately, it seems death has been more present with us than what is typical on a ship."
"I don't know… I mean, like you said. It's just part of life, we see it a lot with positions like ours."
"Fair, fair."
"…Say, Henry?"
"Hmm?"
"How do you personally handle all this death? I know you stated that you try not to grieve those who die, but surely it must eventually get to your head, right? My dad who was a surgeon went mad in the end."
"Hmm… Don't know. Deaths are all like lines on a list. It's like… filling out a template form. A line is just who died, how they died, and what killed them. Maybe a drink?" The doctor hesitated, while staring down towards a little box. He always had it stuffed under the bed in the surgery room. James always wondered, what did Henry have in that box? He never let him see despite being his mate. Must be something personal.
"Well, maybe we could relax in a pub once we touch land maybe? Booze?"
"Can't say I'm against the idea. Sure, why not? My head could use a night off."
"Then we have a plan. I can't wait."
Henry stood up from where he was sitting at.
"Huh? My body feels a lot lighter."
Looking around, he was in an unfamiliar terrain, seemingly a grassy plain. It was dark at night, but the moon was bright enough to illuminate his surroundings.
"Wasn't I just in my bed earlier? I could've sworn I was so sick that I would…"
Henry furrowed his brows as he looked down.
"I'm dead. The tragedy of the Obra Dinn has finally claimed me. Haha." He chuckled as he stood up and looked around.
An endless sea of green interrupted by patches of colors, surely flowers, filled his vision.
"This is it, huh? I'm sad I never got to say goodbye to the other three… Emily, Jane, Davey… I'm sorry. At least I'm at peace now. Thank you, inspector."
While skimming the view, he noticed a lit-up building in the distance. Perhaps there were people there.
He walked. And walked. And walked. And eventually, he made it. It was quite a large building, surely it could fit a large amount of people. It was like a mansion.
He knocked on the door. He wasn't sure if anyone would actually answer the doorbell. Might as well give it a shot.
After a brevity of waiting, the inside of the building rang of faint footsteps before the knob turned and the door creaked open.
"Hello there, new-!"
Standing face to face with him was his mate when he was on the Obra Dinn. James Wallace.
"James?"
"Henry?"
Henry tackled James with a tight hug.
"I missed you. It's been so long."
"I missed you too."
"I regret not being there when that monster scissored your head off. I'm so sorry."
"Oh? What happened to deaths on a ship being just lines on a list? Wasn't it just part of the job?"
"Hey! Forget that! Perhaps… I held you and perhaps the others more dear to me than I thought. I'm glad I left your fates to be solved by someone capable enough for the task. The fate of the Obra Dinn and you all… No. Us all. Can now be put to rest."
"Why don't you come inside? You can brief us on what we missed there."
The two walked into the building, only to see the lobby room was quite empty.
"Maybe everyone's in their rooms. Oh well. Let's have a seat."
The two sat down before resuming the conversation.
"So? What's this about an inspector, Henry?"
"Ah, yes. The Obra Dinn had returned to Falmouth after years. I wanted someone to solve what happened on the ship. It only felt fair since only the survivors know what truly happened."
"And how did you manage that? Surely, with most of our bodies dumped into the sea and the rest decomposed, there was nothing of note."
"I handed them a book containing items like the manifest list, a map of the ship, and the sketches Spratt made."
"Is that it? Surely, even the brightest of minds wouldn't be able to piece everything together with just that."
"Well, I had in my possession a magical pocketwatch. It was the Memento Mortem. It let them visit and walk around a snapshot of when a person died through their body. Even if it was just the few on the ship, it was enough for them to solve everyone's fates."
"Oh… When did you get such a thing?"
"Before I became a crew member of the Obra Dinn."
"Wait… Was that what was in the box?"
"You noticed?"
"You weren't particularly too secretive about it. You'd think with me cleaning the bed every time, I wouldn't something under it?"
"Well… Haha. Now you know."
"Thought you had some secret diary or something of the sort."
"Well, I suppose the loose end of the Obra Dinn has now been wrapped up. I can only wish the three that I have left well."
"Hold on. There's still something of the sort that is left unfulfilled."
"Huh? What is it?"
"Remember the promise we made? Come on! Let's have go to the pub and have a drink."
"Oh! Well, ever since I fell ill, I haven't been able to have a drink. Let's go have some."
The two went down to the pub, had each other some drinks, and laughed the night away as they shared what else had happened while the other was gone, before crashing in James's room.
The next day, the two went outside and sat down with each other in the fields, taking in the scenery together and enjoying each other's company.