Born of Water: An Elemental Origins Novel

by A. L. Knorr

  "He sounds like a man after my own heart," said Simon, taking a sip of wine.

  Martinius nodded. "Yes, I can imagine all of you entrepreneurial types have a singular kind of drive," he nodded at Simon. "With the help of his father Emun, they scraped together enough money to acquire a loan and build a small vessel that was seaworthy enough to be used for shipping commissions. People in Gdańsk knew Mattis was trustworthy from his newspaper venture so the community was in full support of him. Without the community of Gdańsk, it's fair to assume that Novak Stoczniowców Braciz may never have gotten out of port." He switched easily from English to Polish, both languages rolling beautifully off his tongue.

  "In the early years, he was chartered solely by the postal service to carry letters and packages across the Baltic and the North Sea. Within a few years, he was able to pay back the loan. Mattis proved to be reliable and was soon turning down private commissions because he'd signed a government contract that was to last for two further years. It frustrated him to turn down these higher paying jobs and he became impatient while waiting for his government contract to expire."

  "So, he worked even harder. He sacrificed a social life and leisure time until he'd saved enough to build a second ship. He did this in less than a year."

  "Impressive," muttered Simon, and there were nods of admiration around the table. I had no idea whether it was impressive or not, but I assumed these men knew something about what it took to build a ship in those days.

  "The ship he built was a beautiful three-masted barque," Martinius went on. "Before the ship was finished, Mattis fell in love and was married. He christened the ship The Sybellen, after his wife. The ship was fast and sleek and catapulted his business into a new age."

  I was so engaged in his story that I was surprised to look down and see that my dinner plate had been cleared and dessert was now sitting in front of me - a crepe topped with raspberries and icing sugar. When I bit into it I discovered that it was filled with a delicious tart and creamy substance. Martinius noticed my wonder and interrupted his own story to lean towards me to say, "It's called Nalesniki, and it's filled with quark. It's my favorite," before continuing with his tale.

  "The Sybellen remained the pride of Novak, even after he added many more ships to his fleet. You'll notice an illustration of her is still part of our logo.

  "Meanwhile, Sybellen gave birth to twin boys. Michal and Emun Junior. Mattis wasn't present for the birth of the twins as he was more away than home. The company was growing by leaps and bounds.

  "Lady Sybellen soon became tired of missing her husband, and of her boys being without their father. So, she made an agreement with Mattis to join him on one journey a year. Since these commissions often took months, the boys were to come with them until they were old enough to stay behind with a tutor. Lady Sybellen loved adventure and Mattis did whatever he could to make her happy, so he agreed."

  "I thought it was considered bad luck to have a woman on board?" interjected Eric from the other end of the table.

  My mother shot gave Eric a steely look at his not-so-subtle jab at her presence on the team. He looked back at her without shame, a smirk on his lips.

  "In many places that's true," admitted Martinius, "but the Baltic peoples don't hold with this superstition. In fact, they thought it lucky that the woman who had given her name to their ship had joined them for their journey. Unfortunately, for one particular commission, the luck didn't hold.

  "In 1870, Mattis and Sybellen set out on their yearly journey. The twins were eight. They'd taken Emun Jr with them but Michal suffered terribly from seasickness so he stayed home with his grandparents. That seasickness saved his young life, the future of his family name." He paused at this point to take a sip of water, his voice more hoarse than when he'd started.

  He patted his lips with his napkin and went on. "The Baltic is known for its sudden storms and The Sybellen, with a full cargo, was caught in one of these fast moving gales. The ship was never seen or heard from again." He allowed these words to sink in before continuing. Even the clink of silverware against china had ceased as the table sat in silence.

  "The Novak family was thrown into turmoil. The young Michal found himself without mother, father, or brother. And, further to the tragedy of it all, the company was also at great risk. Mattis' father Emun Sr had long been retired and was advanced in years. Two sisters of Emun's and their husbands, who were no spring chickens themselves, stepped in. They abandoned their own lives to keep the shipping company from going under. Ownership of Novak had legally fallen to Michal but he was clearly too young to take charge. The family shared the responsibility of running the company until Michal was old enough to finally take the wheel. Four heads in charge and none of them schooled in business, it was a very volatile time, and until Michal was in his twenties and able to run things, it seemed the company was always on the brink of collapse."

  "I can imagine," said Micah. "My father can't make toast without my mother telling him he's doing it wrong, running a company with family must be a nightmare." Everyone laughed.

  "Exactly, when everyone is in charge, no one is in charge," Martinius nodded. "The experience of the disaster pushed my ancestors to set an agreement. From then on, as soon as children were old enough to walk they were being groomed to take over. Executives were brought in to share the burden and learn the company's ways so that should someone ever find themselves in Michal's shoes, they would have the support they needed until they were ready to lead. They vowed never to be caught unprepared for the loss of their President again. There was too much at stake."

  "By the time Michal was married and his wife Saffi had given birth to my grandfather Jan, the company exceeded its prior growth. It has since been recognized by many of the Scandinavian and European governments for its contributions over the last 168 years. Its story is one of the phoenix rising from the ashes.

  "Not a single Novak ancestor has forgotten about the loss of The Sybellen. Since then, the company has set a budget aside every year to be spent her search. With our success, the budget has grown too. We notified all of the port countries and their naval forces, in case anything was ever found by a third party."

  "Why was it so important to find her?" I asked. Normally I wouldn't have said anything in a room full of my mother's colleagues, but my curiosity got the best of me.

  "Well, aside from having a cargo full of valuable and imperishable goods which would only be more valuable today, the ship has become a sort of holy grail for the Novaks. Finding her became an obsession, starting with Michal and passed down from generation to generation. In a way, I think finding her would mean putting the ghosts of Mattis, Sybellen, and Emun Jr to rest, along with all the sailors who were lost. It is a relief that the search ends with me," Martinius added, and I detected emotion in his voice.

  "Why is that?" Simon asked.

  Martinius paused, as though he wasn't sure if he wanted to answer. Then he took a breath and said, "Because I no longer have an heir to carry on the search."

  Looks were shared around the table. I glanced at my mom and even she had a look of surprise on her face. So, Martinius had had an heir at one point. I wondered what had happened to him or her.

  "Novak has always been a family business," he continued. "Since my own father, Ludwik, passed when I was only fifteen, I've been controlling the company for most of my life. Thankfully, I had a wonderful relationship with my grandfather. Jan loved to regale me with stories of the early days when the company was young and always seemed to be on the edge of oblivion. But he also taught me everything I know about the shipping business.

  "In the middle of the twentieth century, the search for The Sybellen captured the public's imagination. Her story was published in every newspaper and nautical journal that covered the Baltic and the North Sea. Donations poured in from our contemporaries. Everyone wanted to see her found and got caught up in the mania."

  "Like the Titanic," added Tyler.

  Martinius nodded
, "Yes precisely, and just as happened with the Titanic, time passed and the attention faded away. The Sybellen was forgotten. We remained faithful, whether the public cared or not. And every year we've exhausted the budget without success. Until last year.

  "We received a tip from the British Navy who, while searching for a wreck of their own, stumbled across a mysterious vessel sitting upright on the ocean floor. It was a three-masted barkentine of the same era as The Sybellen. The most incredible thing was that it's less than 30 miles off-shore.

  "We spent the remainder of our budget scouting the wreck, taking as many sonar readings and photographs with underwater robots as we could. I wanted to be sure it really was our Sybellen before we poured money into salvage activities."

  "How did you conclude that it really was her?" asked Simon. "Identification can be a tough thing, even in less salty waters. Did you find the bell?" Heads around the table turned with interest.

  "We haven't found the bell, but everything else about the ship lines up with The Sybellen. It's the right size, it has three masts, and it's the right age. I had the team take images of the ship's wheel, as I knew it to have a unique design unlike others of the same era. It was a match."

  "Remarkable," murmured Micah. "Remember that job in the BVI's?" he asked, looking at Simon and Tyler.

  "Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing," said Simon. "We had to identify a wreck by the wheel once too. It's not common, but it can be done."

  "What age was this wreck?" asked Martinius, curious.

  Tyler squinted, remembering. "She was what... 1890?" he said, looking at Micah for confirmation.

  Micah nodded, "1896."

  "Oh, well done," said Simon. "We've done so many now I can't keep all of the dates straight."

  "Were the spindles of the wheel by any chance-" started Martinius.

  "Designed to look like Celtic knots?" finished Micah.

  Martinius' eyebrows shot up. "How interesting, are you able to share the documents for that wreck?

  Simon nodded, "Yes, that one is public domain."

  "Please, I would love to see them." Then Martinius continued. "So, I took the decision to bring in a professional dive team, the best I could find. We have many accomplished teams in Poland, of course, but Antoni and I spent many hours personally researching the performance of salvage teams from all over the world before we put out our request for proposals. Your team is small, but it's appeared in nautical news continuously for your remarkable work. And that's what led us to call you." He gestured to Simon with this last statement. I thought he was going to continue talking, but he didn't.

  The table was quiet for a time. My mother finally broke the silence with a question that had probably occurred to everyone at the table, but no one else was bold enough to ask. "So, who will succeed you then?"

  I could have kicked her. Simon closed his eyes in embarrassment and Micah dropped his gaze to his dessert plate. Tyler buried his face in his wineglass.

  Martinius blinked at her question but recovered quickly. "With the passing of my only son..." he began, quietly. "Well, let's just say my legal team and I meet regularly to discuss this issue, and as of yet, it remains unresolved. I have a selection of Novak executives in place should something unexpected happen to me." Martinius steepled his fingers and I thought he appeared dissatisfied. I supposed that was fair; for the first time ever, the company would pass to those outside of the Novak family.

  My darling mother, not gifted with any social graces whatsoever, took the opportunity to make things even more awkward. "What happened to your boy?" She at least asked this with a modicum of sympathy in her voice.

  "A degenerative blood condition that we'd known about since his birth finally got the better of him, I'm afraid. We did everything we could to increase his chances for a long life, but it seemed God had other ideas. My wife is also no longer with us. The loss of our child proved simply too much for her to bear." This speech was delivered plainly, although the topic must have been extremely painful for Martinius.

  Another hush descended, which was again broken by my mother. "What about Antoni?"

  I shot my mother a look of horror. I wanted to slap my palm to my forehead but I held back.

  "Mira," Simon said under his breath.

  I was relieved when Martinius laughed in response. "It's quite all right, Simon. I'll be sure to take him into consideration."

  The tension was broken with his chuckle and some of the men took the opportunity to ask Martinius more details about the wreck. Before long, the men moved into an adjoining room to talk. Mom gave me a kiss on the forehead and went with them.

  I was happy to head back to the suite as I felt very full and wanted to relax. I made my way back through the windowed hallway which was now barely lit with the glow of sundown when I saw Antoni's broad-shouldered shape coming down the main staircase.

  "How was dinner?" he asked, as we met in the foyer. He had a stack of file folders in his arms.

  "It was great. Martinius seems... great," I said, feeling lame.

  "He is. Did he tell you about The Sybellen? How long we've been looking for it?" He had such an open expression. It was difficult not to like him.

  "Yeah, it's a pretty amazing story."

  "We're very excited that you guys are here. So, Martinius told me to show you around, did you want me to take you out to Gdańsk sometime? Or perhaps, show you some of the best beaches?" He held my gaze very directly, an anticipatory smile on his face.

  "Yeah, that would be nice. Thank you, Antoni." I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about being assigned a chaperone but he seemed like he'd make good company. I agreed to meet him the next day after breakfast.

  I mused to myself as I made my way back to our suite. I was going to be spending some time with a very handsome twenty-something. True to form, I was more excited about seeing my friends' reactions to a photo of him than actually spending time with him.

  Eleven

  Much to my surprise, Antoni and I ended up spending time together every day that week. I barely saw my mom since she was stuck in meetings with the team every day. She fell into bed complaining that men talk too much. I don't know if it was because she was bored with the tedium of analytics or if spending her time in a room full of guys who both desired her and detested her sapped her energy.

  Although the temperatures were warm, we had cloudy skies and sprinklings of rain all week so we spent a lot of time in Gdańsk. It was perfect weather for museums and cafes. Antoni knew a lot about the city and it was obvious from the way his face lit up when talking about the architecture that he loved history. On Monday and Tuesday we visited three different museums, and on Wednesday he showed me the shopping district and we walked along the canals. On Thursday, we visited Malbork Castle, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and a gorgeous Gothic construct. It was the largest medieval castle in Europe and easily the site that thrilled me the most.

  We took the night tour, one that Antoni had taken at least three times already and said he'd never be sick of. The night lighting was enchanting and the castle, though it had been reconstructed after WWII, felt like going back in time. It had been built by Teutonic Knights and crusaders and was filled with art, armour, and courtyards with shadowy corners.

  We strolled the grounds after our tour, not wanting to leave. Antoni stopped to admire a sculpture of a knight and stepped into a circle of light. Under the guise of photographing something beyond him, I zoomed in and snapped a picture. I sent it off to the girls with the caption: Strolling Malbork Castle with my own personal tour guide.

  Right after I hit send, Antoni looked over at me, his expression thoughtful. A dimple appeared in his cheek, highlighted by the way the light fell across his face. Our eyes made contact and he held my gaze for longer than was maybe polite, but then he broke the tension with a big grin. I couldn't help but smile back.

  He took me to a place called Kubicki for dinner, and translated everything on the menu. I wasn't picky so I asked him to choose a
local dish for me. What arrived was an artfully arranged plate of perogies stuffed with duck. They were delicious. Antoni had wild boar in gingerbread sauce and insisted I try it. It wasn't to my taste but I nodded that I liked it when he asked.

  Over dinner, Antoni told me about his family and his studies. "I'm the oldest of three. I have a sister Lydia and a brother Otto. I adore both of them but I'm closer with my brother. My sister is still in high school, I'm pretty uncool to her right now," he chuckled. "How about you? Any siblings?" he asked, popping a piece of boar into his mouth.

  I shook my head. "Only child. Although I have three girlfriends who pretty much feel like sisters."

  "And your dad? The man who got your mom must be quite a guy," his lips twisted in a smile. "Wish I could meet him."

  "Sorry to say that's not possible," I said. "My dad passed away when I was eight."

  Antoni's wine glass paused halfway to his lips. "I'm sorry." He took a sip and then put his wineglass down. "My dad passed away, too. I was five. Lung cancer. Vicious smoker."

  "That sucks," I said, making a face. "I'm sorry, dude."

  He looked at me thoughtfully. "Turns out we've both done most of our growing up without fathers."

  I nodded, my heart twisted momentarily. Grief was like a deep-sea monster lurking far below, occasionally wrapping a cold tentacle around an ankle to pull me under. The monster used to have me completely tangled up, suffocating me, but as the years went by its grip loosened. It still liked to remind me that it hadn't gone away completely. I changed the subject, "How did you end up working for Martinius?"

  I scraped my plate clean with a piece of bread from the basket and a waiter appeared at my elbow to remove it.