#I am blaming Miles O'Brien

[jenlrossman]

Is he very clearly the bad guy? Yes

Has my brain nevertheless decided his name is "train daddy" because I don't know his actual name? Also yes

[legends-of-time]

The Journey of Living at Downton

Chapter 12: August 1918

Masterlist

It is in the middle of the night when Emma and the others are awoken by Mr Molesley's hurried arrival with a clutched telegram in his hand. Miss O'Brien goes to wake Her Ladyship and subsequently His Lordship while Emma helps Anna get the girls up, which feels like old times except for the fact that it's the middle of the night and everyone is still wearing their pyjamas.

The family gathers in the Library talking to Mr Molesley as the rest of them wait anxiously outside the door.

Mr Carson steps into the room. "Ahem. Beg pardon, My Lord. But we're all very anxious to know the news."

"Yes, of course." Lord Grantham and the family appear at the door. "It appears that a few days ago, Captain Crawley was wounded. It's serious, I'm afraid, but he's alive and on his way home to the Hospital in the Village."

"Where there's life, there's hope." Mrs Hughes says.

"What about William? Is he all right?" Daisy asks.

"I'll find out what I can tomorrow. I'm not sure there's much more we can do tonight." His Lordship answers.

"William's father would have had a telegram if anything had happened." Mr Bates suggests.

"I'll drive over in the morning." Lady Edith says.

Lord Grantham nods to Mr Carson and everyone leaves.

——

Lady Edith returns the next day and informs everyone that William was caught in it and he's gone to some Hospital in Leeds.

Emma walks into the Servants' Hall, past George the hall boy, and slumps in a chair. Thomas and Miss O'Brien are in there with cups of tea and the former is smoking.

"I'm sorry for him. I am. I don't mind Captain Crawley. He's a better man than most of them." Thomas says. Emma is not surprised by the conversation. Like what is everyone else talking about?

"And William, too," Emma says. "He's good un." Gemma and Jean walk in and sit at the other end of the table. O'Brien nods in agreement. Weird but then again weirder things have happened.

Miss O'Brien sighs. "I wish I'd not written that letter to Bates's wife telling her he's back here."

Emma sits up straight. "You what?! What did he do to get that?" She looks at Thomas.

Thomas shrugs. "Don't look at me, I wasn't involved. Anyway, what's that got to do with it?"

"With everything else going on, I know she'll come up here and make trouble." Miss O'Brien replies. Emma scoffs. O'Brien sends her a look.

"Don't blame me, it wasn't my idea," Thomas says.

Daisy comes in with some food and places it.

"Any news?" Miss O'Brien asks.

"Only that the doctor won't let William come to the Village," Daisy tells them.

"Seriously?!" Emma exclaims.

"It's for officers only, he says."

Mrs Patmore comes in and sits next to Miss O'Brien. "His poor father's staying there with him, spending money he's not got, and travelling miles to do it."

"It's not right," Daisy says.

"No, it bloody well isn't." Everyone stares at Thomas. "Well, I'm a working-class lad and so is he, and I get fed up seeing how our lot always gets shafted."

Emma smiles at him. It's one of these moments that Emma sees the more positive side of Thomas.

——

The Dowager Countess, after failing to get William treated at Downton Hospital, pulls a few strings with her nephew-in-law the Marquess of Flintshire a minister with the Foreign Office. This is to have him arrange for William to be moved from the infirmary in Leeds to Downton Abbey. With that sorted, Emma quickly makes sure she's at the Hospital for Captain Crawley's arrival.

Emma is preparing the bed with Lady Mary assisting her when Major Clarkson walks into the room. "Right. They're here."

"Can I stay to settle him in?" Emma asks.

"Very well." Clarkson turns to leave.

"I want to help, too." Lady Mary calls.

Clarkson walks over to them. "Lady Mary, I appreciate your good intentions, but I'm concerned that Captain Crawley's condition may be very distressing for you. Might I suggest that you hang back until the nurses have tidied him up a little?"

"I'm not much good at hanging back, I'm afraid. I won't get in your way, I promise. But I will stay. You have volunteers, don't you? Well, that's what I am. A volunteer." Emma smiles to herself at Lady Mary's dedication.

"All right." Stretcher bearers walk in with the wounded. "Everyone to their posts!" Clarkson calls.

Emma says to Lady Mary. "You stand there." She points to the side. Clarkson orders the stretcher bearers and nurses on what to do with the wounded.

"Number two, Nurse Byrne, here." Clarkson indicates to Captain Crawley who had just been carried in. Emma moves into position. "Yes, just here. Gently, gently, gently."

"Yes, Sir. Take him under his feet." Emma says. Lady Mary, Emma, and a stretcher bearer lift Captain Crawley onto the Hospital bed. "Captain Crawley, can you hear me?" He doesn't respond.

"He's breathing, but he's not been conscious since we've had him. They filled him full of morphine." The Stretcher bearer explains.

Emma nods. "Thanks." The man walks away and Emma sees Lady Mary look at the card attached to Captain Crawley's shirt. "What's wrong then?"

"Probable spinal damage." They exchange a worried look.

Emma shakes her head and tries to appear calm. "Literally could mean anything. We'll know more in the morning." She picks up his uniform and a stuffed dog falls out. "What's this?"

"I gave it to him for luck. He was probably carrying it when he fell." Lady Mary explains. Emma softens at that. She places the uniform next to the bed with the dog.

"If only it had worked."

"He's alive, isn't he?" Lady Mary replies.

Emma smiles and nods. "I should wash him. This bit can be a bit nasty. Sometimes we have to cut off the clothes they've travelled in, and there's bound to be a lot of blood."

Instead, Lady Mary nods. "How hot should the water be?"

"Warm more than hot. And bring some towels."

The less positive news is Vera Bates turning up again. Mr Bates had given pretty much all the money to agree to a divorce but now Vera is going back on her word. Now she knows that her estranged husband is back with Anna, she going to sell her story about Lady Mary, about the Turk and also implicating Anna. Anna tells Emma about it and goes to Lady Mary, who has made the decision to tell Sir Richard what happened in order to get him to silence Vera Bates. Emma worries that Lady Mary is giving him too much power over her. Emma wishes Miss O'Brien hadn't sent that letter.

William is not doing well and will not get better. Lady Edith is looking after him and the only thing she can do is make him comfortable until he passes.

——

The next day, Major Clarkson is doing an examination of Captain Crawley's spine. Emma had met Lord Grantham and Miss Swire at the entrance and guided them to the Ward. Lord Grantham peeks in on Clarkson's examination. He opens the screen and Lady Mary, who's there, looks up and sees Miss Swire and Emma across the room. Father and daughter go to Miss Swire and Lady Mary smiles comfortingly at her as she takes her hands and kisses her cheek.

"Do they know any more yet?" Miss Swire asks.

"They're examining him now." Lady Mary tells her.

"So, he's conscious?"

"Just about."

"Have they found out what happened?" Lord Grantham asks.

"A shell landed near them. The explosion threw Captain Crawley against something. William had attempted to protect him it seems and got the full force of the explosion." Emma tells them.

"Go on."

"Dr Clarkson thinks... there may be trouble with his legs." Lady Mary adds.

Clarkson joins them. "Not good news, I'm afraid. I'd say the spinal cord has been transected. That it is permanently damaged."

"You mean he won't walk again?" His Lordship asks. Emma's eyes widen and she stares at the screen sadly.

"If I'm right, then no, he won't." Miss Swire starts crying and Lord Grantham puts a comforting arm around her shoulders. "It's a shock, of course, and you must be allowed to grieve, but I would only say that he will, in all likelihood, regain his health. This is not the end of his life."

"Just the start of a different life." Lady Mary says looking shocked and saddened.

"Exactly. Lord Grantham, I wonder if I might have a word." The man steps into the corridor with Clarkson and Lady Mary steps forward to comfort Miss Swire.

"Have you got a handkerchief? I never seem to have one in moments of crisis." Emma tries not to laugh at Miss Shire's comment but it just sounded so odd to her even after all these years. Lady Mary hands her one.

"Thank you." Miss Swire recovers. "Right." She walks bravely toward the screens around Captain Crawley and Lord Grantham returns as Lady Mary makes a step toward them.

"Give them a moment together."

She nods. "What was Clarkson saying?"

"Nothing to worry you about." Emma frowns. That clearly means the opposite. She hopes Mrs Crawley arrives soon.

——

Mr Branson's reading the newspaper as he sits on the steps of the car when Emma walks up.

"Lady Mary telephoned. She'll be on the late train. It gets in at eleven." She tells him. Lady Mary had gone to Sir Richard to get him to figuratively put a gag on Vera. Emma had been passing and had been the one to offer to deliver the message, she was just looking for an excuse to come down.

"All right." He folds the newspaper. "How's William?"

Emma sighs. "It's awful. Lady Edith is taking care of him, but there's nothing to be done. It's a waiting game, really." She walks past him and stands on his other side.

She sees Mr Branson staring off into space with a serious expression. "What's happened?"

"You were right. They shot the tsar, and all of his family." Mr Branson tells her.

"God." She knew it was coming but hearing it still felt shocking. "People think time travel is amazing and everything but once you are faced with terrible events, it becomes something else."

He stands. "I'm sorry. I'll not deny it. I never thought they'd do it. But sometimes a future needs terrible sacrifices. You thought that once."

"Don't see how murdering a family is a necessary sacrifice and you know we've agreed to put politics to one side until the war is won." Emma reminds him.

"Those lot did, you don't have to. Sylvia Pankhurst was all for fighting on."

Emma rolls her eyes. "Oh my god leave me alone will you!" She begins to march off, but Me Branson grabs her waist and she stops in surprise. She meets his gaze and he lets go of her waist and puts his hands in his pockets.

"Sometimes a hard sacrifice must be made for a future that's worth having. That's all I'm saying. That's up to you."

They are quite close as they stare at each other and Emma feels herself lean toward him and she looks down at his lips. She's surprised her reserve is fading. Mr Branson waits for her to give in, but she stops herself and pulls back. She hears him sigh disappointedly as she walks back to the house.

——

A new maid called Jane Moorsum arrives, she has a son and is a widow and needs to find work to support her family. Emma met her the first morning and she seems to be nice and hard working, they'll probably have an easier time with her than they did with Ethel.

Captain Crawley has broken things off with Miss Swire and has sent her away. Major Clarkson had confided in Emma that it is not just the Captain's walking that is gone but also the ability to have children. It is likely why he broke things with Miss Swire, who left quickly.

William wants Daisy to marry him before he passes so she has the support of a war widow. The next day it is arranged for the afternoon as there isn't much time. Emma had made sure she has the time off to attend. The Dowager had to tangle the Reverend a bit but he eventually agreed to do the ceremony.

Speaking of marriage, Sir Richard had splashed the announcement of his and Lady Mary's engagement across the newspaper. Guess it's official then.

——

Mr Bates, Anna and Gemma stand next to Emma as she watches as Daisy stares into space, dressed for her wedding in the Servants' Hall. Emma thinks she looks lovely. Mr Carson enters with a bouquet of flowers. "His Lordship asked Mr Bassett to bring these in for you."

"Ah, how lovely," Anna says walking over. "Here. Daisy, sit down."

Daisy is guided to her seat. "I shouldn't be doing this. It's just a lie, you know it is." She mutters bitterly.

"You're doing it out of the goodness of your heart." Mrs Patmore says to once she enters. Anna tucks a couple of flowers in Daisy's hair.

"The falseness of my heart, more like." Daisy remarks in self-disgust. Emma knew that Daisy looked reluctant to be engaged with William but this just confirms that she's been pushed into it by Mrs Patmore.

"You look lovely, dear." Mrs Hughes says walking in. Daisy doesn't look at her. "Just to say, the vicar is ready for us."

"Let's go up, then." Mr Carson offers Daisy his arm. Anna hands her the bouquet. Daisy slowly stands up, takes the bouquet and Carson's arm and allows herself to be led to her wedding.

——

The bed is woven with vines of flowers. Daisy and William hold hands with Mr Mason next to Daisy and Reverend Travis on the other side of the bed. Lady Edith and the Dowager attend along with Mr Mason, Anna, Mr Bates, Mrs Hughes, Mr Carson, Mrs Patmore, Thomas, Miss O'Brien, Emma, Gemma and Anne.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union of Christ and—" Reverend Travis begins.

His voice seems to fade away for Emma as she gazes at the heartbreaking scene in front of her and the emotions on the others' faces.

"If any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace." After a pause, the Reverend continues. "Hand me the ring." Mr Mason pulls the ring out of his vest pocket. Emma feels she's on the verge of tears. William puts the ring on Daisy's finger.

"You may now kiss the bride." Daisy leans over the bed and kisses William. It won't be long now.

——

Emma is walking up the stairs to check on some of the patients who are able to get up the stairs after having collected some things from downstairs when she hears Mr Bates and Lady Mary talking on the landing.

She pauses on the steps out of sight as she hears Lady Mary say, "Sir Richard Carlisle telephoned me earlier. He says he's paid Mrs Bates for her story. She cannot speak of it now without risking prison." Emma smiles to hear that.

"She won't do that."

"So, I hope we can all forget it."

"It's forgotten already, Milady." Mr Bates replies.

"Thank you. I'm afraid she was very angry when she knew she had been silenced." Lady Mary tells him.

"I can imagine."

"He says she made threats against you. "If I go down, I'll take him with me," that sort of thing. I'm sure she didn't mean it."

"Are you, Milady?" Mr Bates asks almost disbelievingly. Emma wasn't so sure herself.

"Well, you'd know better than I." Lady Mary admits.

Emma walks further up the stairs to see them go their separate ways. Anna comes round the corner on the left and meets Mr Bates in the Hall with a tray.

"Lady Mary's back," Anna says as Emma reaches the top. Anna gives her a smile.

"I've just seen her. She says it's worked. Sir Richard has put a gag on Vera." Mr Bates replies.

"Thank God." Anna sighs with relief. "So everything in our garden is rosy again?"

"I hope so. I certainly hope so."

"Good news then," Emma says walking over to them. They smile at her and then at each other. Emma watches them with a warm smile.

"It seems so." Anna continues down the Hall with the tray. Emma and Mr Bates go their own ways as well.

William sadly passes away that evening. A few tears escape Emma's eyes when she hears the news.

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[gar-trek]

take a chance on me!

[realduru]

HOPE🌟🌠

You think of me while you look at the sky, you write while your tears fall on the paper, you write your hate for me into words as you look for the reason for hurting me in your memories, then our memories come to your mind.

When you think about how close we were once, you miss me, an emptiness surrounds your body, you miss me too, I know it. The thought of being able to see you with someone else is killing me. Sometimes I watch you. I remember being mesmerized when the sun touches your skin in the morning. The moment you enter the classroom, I feel like hell. While I'm swimming in the sea of ​​memories, I can't find the culprit. Who is to blame? Is there a criminal?

When the last argument happened I had to go after you. Why did we end? Why couldn't I be enough in your eyes? Why did you put someone else between us?

When I realized that there was no turning back, I decided to move on. I stopped watching you, I burned everything that reminded us, when I stopped writing about you, I felt ready to focus on myself.

There is a girl recently who looks at me differently. When I look into your eyes, I can read your admiration for me. She... She is the new student in the class, she is the person who gave me a second chance.

When I started talking to you, a torment came over me but when I got to know you, I knew that you wouldn't betray like her. You cared about me and loved me. I decided to make a fresh start.

When I decided to move on, She came to my door. I told her that I had turned a new page and I couldn't go back to her. I couldn't have made her the third person like she did to me.

I am living a normal relationship now. Is it normal to have such strong feelings for someone? As a person who has experienced fear, I have never been so scared before. I feel that I am not enough no matter what I do.

When I wanted to talk to her about it, she approached me with compassion. I could feel the strength of our relationship even from miles away. I am happy now.

I was very excited when I decided to propose to her. Yes! When I heard her say that, I was as happy as I have ever been in my life. I was trying to prepare to be a father when I was sure that I was experiencing the strongest feelings of my life with her.

[thedobermansam]

What if in that episode 4×25 "Body parts" instead of Kira were Garak?

Runabout.

Keiko: (unconscious, heavily injured)

Julian: (in inner panic) Her ribs are broken, she's bleeding, I can't help her without taking child to a safe womb.

Garak: I believe, we don't have an extra wombs, do we?

Julian: No, but...

Garak: No.

Julian: But Garak, it's a solution! I could...

Garak: I said no, Julian.

Julian: I don't mean it must be you! I count as well...

Garak: FOR GOD'S SAKE

Later on the DS9:

Julian: And so, I had no much choice...

Sisco: (cracks)

Miles: (pale as heck)

Julian: I should make a decision very quickly...

Sisco: (bursts with laughter)

Miles: (almost faint)

Julian: It worked after all! Isn't it amazing?!

Garak: Yes doctor, very impressive speech.

Julian: And you, you insisted yourself, Garak!

Garak in irritated voice: Because you left me no choice! He wanted surge himself, captain.

Miles whispering: I can't believe it... there should have been another option...

Julian getting louder, to Garak: oh, so now you blame me in all the circumstances we occurred to get?!

Garak getting tears in his eyes: don't shout at me, I am carrying a baby!

Everybody stares at Garak's round-shaped belly

Julian ashamedly: sorry. Eh, Garak's body pretty strangely reacts on pregnancy... he's more sensitive now.

Garak touching his belly and smiles to Odo: will you stop pursue me and suspect in all the strange occasions on the promenade for a while, dear?

Odo: huh, you wish, MOM.

Garak comfortably seats on the sofa, surrounded with cushions, eating a fruit salad, very pleased face. Bashir and Odo are arguing.

Bashir: I stay with Garak and take care of him and baby, not you.

Odo: huh, why, may I ask?

Bashir: I am his DOCTOR

Odo: And I am his GUARD

Bashir: We have had lunches together!

Odo, smiling with superiority: Oh really? And we have had BREAKFASTS.

Garak like nothing happens: dears, could you bring some more fruit salad, please?

P.S.:

O'Brien's quarters. Bashir is all around Elim, touching his belly, putting ear up to it, listening to baby moves.

Miles: Julian, there's MY baby, NOT yours, GET OUT.

[peashooter85]

44 Years Ago Today — The Sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald,

At over 700 feet long and with a dead weight tonnage of 26,000, the SS Edmund Fitzgerald was the largest freighter of the Great Lakes in the 1960’s and 70’s.  However the Edmund Fitzgerald would go down in history as a doomed ship, its fate foreshadowed when it took three blows to break a champagne bottle on her bow at her christening.  From 1958 to 1975 the Edmund Fitzgerald hauled iron ore from mines in Duluth, Minnesota to iron and steel mills in Detroit, Toledo, Buffalo, Cleveland, Chicago, and other Great Lakes ports.

On November 9th, 1975, the Edmund Fitzgerald set off on a run from Superior, Wisconsin to a steel mill in Detroit.   The next day the Fitzgerald was caught in one of the worst storms in Great Lakes history, with waves over 35 feet high and hurricane force winds.  At 3:30 PM the Fitzgerald reported that it had sustained topside damage and was heading for safe port in Whitefish Bay, Canada.  40 minutes later the Fitzgerald requested radar assistance from a nearby ship, the Anderson, as she had lost radar capability.  By 6:00 PM the Fitzgerald reported,"I have a bad list, lost both radars. And am taking heavy seas over the deck. One of the worst seas I’ve ever been in." The Anderson continued to guide the Fitzgerald into Whitefish Bay, until it was itself struck by a large wave and force to seek safe harbor.  At 7:00 PM the Fitzgerald sent its last radio signal reporting, "we are holding our own.”  By 7:30 the Fitzgerald had disappeared from radar screens and no longer responded to radio calls.

The Edmund Fitzgerald took all 29 crew with her, leaving nothing behind but an oil slick and some assorted pieces of wreckage.  Four days later the wreck was discovered using sonar, located 530 ft below Lake Superior.  She was only 15 Nautical Miles from Whitefish Bay and safety. None of the crew’s bodies were ever recovered. After most shipwrecks, gas from decay causes corpses to float back to the surface. With an average temperature of 36 degree F (around 2 Celsius), decay is prevented or delayed, causing corpses to remain on the lake bottom. Thus it is said Superior never gives up her dead. Over the coming decades the wreck has been studied and surveyed, with numerous theories offered as to the reason for its sinking.  The most prominent feature of the wreck is the fact that it had been ripped in half, either before of after its sinking.  It is often suggested that the Fitzgerald was overloaded, causing large waves to create stress fractures on the Fitzgerald’s hull. According to the Anderson the Fitzgerald faced three rogue waves in succession, a phenomenon known as “The Three Sisters”. Numerous other factors are to blame for the Fitzgerald’s sinking. 

After the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald and to this day the Mariners Church in Detroit maintains the tradition of ringing the ship’ s bell, which had been recovered from the wreckage, 29 times in honor of the 29 dead crewmen.

McSorley, Ernest M. Captain

McCarthy, John H. 1st Mate

Pratt, James A. 2nd Mate

Armagost, Michael E. 3rd Mate

Holl, George J. Chief Engineer

Bindon, Edward F. 1st Asst. Engineer

Edwards, Thomas E 2nd Asst. Engineer

Haskell, Russell G. 2nd Asst. Engineer

Champeau, Oliver J. 3rd Asst. Engineer

Beetcher, Frederick J. Porter

Bentsen, Thomas Oiler

Borgeson, Thomas D. AB Maint. Man

Church, Nolan F. Porter

Cundy, Ransom E. Watchman

Hudson, Bruce L. Deckhand

Kalmon, Allen G. 2nd Cook

MacLellan, Gordon F. Wiper

Mazes, Joseph W. Spec. Maint. Man

O'Brien, Eugene W. Wheelsman

Peckol, Karl A. Watchman

Poviach, John J. Wheelsman

Rafferty, Robert C. Steward

Riippa, Paul M Deckhand

Simmons, John D. Wheelsman

Spengler, William J Watchman

Thomas, Mark A Deckhand

Walton, Ralph G. Oiler

Weiss, David E. Cadet (Deck)

Wilhelm, Blaine H. Oiler

[bigyack-com]

We MPs Were Given 2 Days To Fly Home. What About Migrants?

Earlier this week, all of us woke up to a nightmare - to the horrific news of 17, at last count, migrant workers being run over by a goods train in Aurangabad. They were walking home, hundreds of miles, from Maharashtra to their villages in Madhya Pradesh. Exhausted, they had dropped to sleep on the tracks and hadn't heard the train coming.This tragic episode was the culmination of weeks of apathy shown by the centre towards stranded migrant workers. The heart-wrenching visuals of migrant workers and their families walking down highways, with hunger in their eyes and blisters on their feet, were enough to shake any conscience. The central government, however, offered only a blind eye.Between the time parliament was adjourned and the restrictions began, MPs were given two days to board flights and return to their home states. But for the rest, a 21-day lockdown was announced with just four hours' notice. Whodunit? Somebody must be answerable. The sudden firman led to panic for millions, and a mad scramble to find any means to get home. Jobs dried up overnight, leaving workers destitute. With no respite in sight, the only request such workers had was to be allowed to go home.But for weeks, such pleas fell on deaf ears. The centre was so far removed from ground reality that on March 31, the Solicitor General told the Supreme Court there were no migrants on the streets and highways. This at a time when reports and pictures were flooding in from across the country - of thousands of migrants trudging desperately.  For the Trinamool Congress, it has really hurt. We have been flagging the issue of migrant workers - or guest workers, as we prefer to call them - virtually from Day One when the lockdown began. Our party has done many digital press conferences in the past few weeks, both at the national and state levels,  on a variety of subjects including the plight of migrant workers. Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee was the first to write to 18 other Chief Ministers requesting that migrant workers from Bengal be looked after in their states. She assured them that guest workers from other states in Bengal would be taken care of adequately.The Trinamool government in Bengal started the Sneher Porosh scheme to provide financial assistance of Rs 1,000 each to around 100,000 guest workers stranded in other states. Two trains carrying Bengal's guest workers back reached the state a few days ago. Over the next few days, many more are boarding trains from different states to return home. In total, approximately 80,000 people have been brought back to Bengal. As Mamata Banerjee has assured some weeks ago, she will personally oversee welcoming back our heroes.The centre has arranged chartered flights to bring back Indians stranded in other countries. This must be appreciated, but when it comes to millions from the poorest and weakest sections of society, the BJP government has no solution and no heart. After being called out for its callous attitude by opposition parties and by civil society at large, the central government finally decided to start trains to send migrant workers home. Not one to give up on a gimmick, the trains started on May 1, Labour Day. Do note this was five weeks after the lockdown was initiated.Alive with hope, the eyes of migrant workers turned to despair at the railway stations. They realised they had to pay for their train tickets. Besides the full sleeper class fare, an additional charge of Rs 50 per passenger was levied. Train tickets averaged between Rs 700-800, plus there was the bus fare to reach train stations. Workers also had to get a medical certificate, clearing them to travel. Each migrant worker had to spend about Rs 1,200. And a majority of them had not earned a rupee for weeks.The central  government has tried to spin it by saying it is paying 85 per cent of the cost of the ticket. What does this mean? The Railways always offer a notional subsidy - 45 per cent - on a passenger ticket. This is cross-subsidised by freight traffic. That notional subsidy has gone up to 85 per cent for the migrant workers' tickets due to social distancing and limited passengers per compartment. But there is no concession on the actual ticket price. Instead, the centre  has tried to shift the burden and the actual collection of fare to state governments. On May 2, the Ministry of Railways issued a letter that clearly said: "The local state government authority shall hand over the tickets to the passengers cleared by them and collect the ticket fare and hand over the total amount to Railways."Indian Railways is a public sector undertaking. It has both an economic mandate and a social responsibility. During the 2015 Nepal earthquake, it arranged special trains for evacuees and gave them free travel facilities. What happened this time? The PM CARES fund was set up on March 28, apparently dedicated to the Covid-19 pandemic. (Conveniently, it has been kept out of the ambit of the Comptroller and Auditor General, but let's discuss that another day.) What has been done with the funds collected under PM CARES? Why could some of this money not be used to support train journeys of migrant workers?The Prime Minister has repeatedly said COVID-19 is a national effort and this is no time for politics. Trinamool and Mamata Banerjee entirely agree and have participated in the challenge to overcome the pandemic by delinking it from partisan politics. We are all equal stakeholders and we have to work together. These are noble thoughts, but frankly the BJP has let us down. The central government has shown this propensity of taking credit every time something good happens, and blaming the states for any mishap or failure. The migrant workers' issue is only one such. Please Mr Prime Minister, can you show more leadership? Or are you only a Prime Time Minister!P.S. As I send this piece to press, I am picking up news that the Home Minister has surfaced after 45 days. What's the first thing he does in the middle of a national health emergency? Leaks a letter written by him (riddled with lies) attacking his favourite foe: Bengal. That will be the subject of my next column.(Derek O'Brien, MP, leads the Trinamool Congress in the Rajya Sabha)Disclaimer: The opinions expressed within this article are the personal opinions of the author. The facts and opinions appearing in the article do not reflect the views of NDTV and NDTV does not assume any responsibility or liability for the same. Read the full article

[readbookywooks]

THE wind, serving us to a desire, now hauled into the west. We could run so much the easier from the north-east corner of the island to the mouth of the North Inlet. Only, as we had no power to anchor and dared not beach her till the tide had flowed a good deal farther, time hung on our hands. The coxswain told me how to lay the ship to; after a good many trials I succeeded, and we both sat in silence over another meal. "Cap'n," said he at length with that same uncomfortable smile, "here's my old shipmate, O'Brien; s'pose you was to heave him overboard. I ain't partic'lar as a rule, and I don't take no blame for settling his hash, but I don't reckon him ornamental now, do you?" "I'm not strong enough, and I don't like the job; and there he lies, for me," said I. "This here's an unlucky ship, this HISPANIOLA, Jim," he went on, blinking. "There's a power of men been killed in this HISPANIOLA - a sight o' poor seamen dead and gone since you and me took ship to Bristol. I never seen sich dirty luck, not I. There was this here O'Brien now - he's dead, ain't he? Well now, I'm no scholar, and you're a lad as can read and figure, and to put it straight, do you take it as a dead man is dead for good, or do he come alive again?" "You can kill the body, Mr. Hands, but not the spirit; you must know that already," I replied. "O'Brien there is in another world, and may be watching us." "Ah!" says he. "Well, that's unfort'nate - appears as if killing parties was a waste of time. Howsomever, sperrits don't reckon for much, by what I've seen. I'll chance it with the sperrits, Jim. And now, you've spoke up free, and I'll take it kind if you'd step down into that there cabin and get me a - well, a - shiver my timbers! I can't hit the name on 't; well, you get me a bottle of wine, Jim - this here brandy's too strong for my head." Now, the coxswain's hesitation seemed to be unnatural, and as for the notion of his preferring wine to brandy, I entirely disbelieved it. The whole story was a pretext. He wanted me to leave the deck - so much was plain; but with what purpose I could in no way imagine. His eyes never met mine; they kept wandering to and fro, up and down, now with a look to the sky, now with a flitting glance upon the dead O'Brien. All the time he kept smiling and putting his tongue out in the most guilty, embarrassed manner, so that a child could have told that he was bent on some deception. I was prompt with my answer, however, for I saw where my advantage lay and that with a fellow so densely stupid I could easily conceal my suspicions to the end. "Some wine?" I said. "Far better. Will you have white or red?" "Well, I reckon it's about the blessed same to me, shipmate," he replied; "so it's strong, and plenty of it, what's the odds?" "All right," I answered. "I'll bring you port, Mr. Hands. But I'll have to dig for it." With that I scuttled down the companion with all the noise I could, slipped off my shoes, ran quietly along the sparred gallery, mounted the forecastle ladder, and popped my head out of the fore companion. I knew he would not expect to see me there, yet I took every precaution possible, and certainly the worst of my suspicions proved too true. He had risen from his position to his hands and knees, and though his leg obviously hurt him pretty sharply when he moved - for I could hear him stifle a groan - yet it was at a good, rattling rate that he trailed himself across the deck. In half a minute he had reached the port scuppers and picked, out of a coil of rope, a long knife, or rather a short dirk, discoloured to the hilt with blood. He looked upon it for a moment, thrusting forth his under jaw, tried the point upon his hand, and then, hastily concealing it in the bosom of his jacket, trundled back again into his old place against the bulwark. This was all that I required to know. Israel could move about, he was now armed, and if he had been at so much trouble to get rid of me, it was plain that I was meant to be the victim. What he would do afterwards-whether he would try to crawl right across the island from North Inlet to the camp among the swamps or whether he would fire Long Tom, trusting that his own comrades might come first to help him - was, of course, more than I could say. Yet I felt sure that I could trust him in one point, since in that our interests jumped together, and that was in the disposition of the schooner. We both desired to have her stranded safe enough, in a sheltered place, and so that, when the time came, she could be got off again with as little labour and danger as might be; and until that was done I considered that my life would certainly be spared. While I was thus turning the business over in my mind, I had not been idle with my body. I had stolen back to the cabin, slipped once more into my shoes, and laid my hand at random on a bottle of wine, and now, with this for an excuse, I made my reappearance on the deck. Hands lay as I had left him, all fallen together in a bundle and with his eyelids lowered as though he were too weak to bear the light. He looked up, however, at my coming, knocked the neck off the bottle like a man who had done the same thing often, and took a good swig, with his favourite toast of "Here's luck!" Then he lay quiet for a little, and then, pulling out a stick of tobacco, begged me to cut him a quid. "Cut me a junk o' that," says he, "for I haven't no knife and hardly strength enough, so be as I had. Ah, Jim, Jim, I reckon I've missed stays! Cut me a quid, as'll likely be the last, lad, for I'm for my long home, and no mistake." "Well," said I, "I'll cut you some tobacco, but if I was you and thought myself so badly, I would go to my prayers like a Christian man." "Why?" said he. "Now, you tell me why." "Why?" I cried. "You were asking me just now about the dead. You've broken your trust; you've lived in sin and lies and blood; there's a man you killed lying at your feet this moment, and you ask me why! For God's mercy, Mr. Hands, that's why." I spoke with a little heat, thinking of the bloody dirk he had hidden in his pocket and designed, in his ill thoughts, to end me with. He, for his part, took a great draught of the wine and spoke with the most unusual solemnity. "For thirty years," he said, "I've sailed the seas and seen good and bad, better and worse, fair weather and foul, provisions running out, knives going, and what not. Well, now I tell you, I never seen good come o' goodness yet. Him as strikes first is my fancy; dead men don't bite; them's my views - amen, so be it. And now, you look here," he added, suddenly changing his tone, "we've had about enough of this foolery. The tide's made good enough by now. You just take my orders, Cap'n Hawkins, and we'll sail slap in and be done with it." All told, we had scarce two miles to run; but the navigation was delicate, the entrance to this northern anchorage was not only narrow and shoal, but lay east and west, so that the schooner must be nicely handled to be got in. I think I was a good, prompt subaltern, and I am very sure that Hands was an excellent pilot, for we went about and about and dodged in, shaving the banks, with a certainty and a neatness that were a pleasure to behold. Scarcely had we passed the heads before the land closed around us. The shores of North Inlet were as thickly wooded as those of the southern anchorage, but the space was longer and narrower and more like, what in truth it was, the estuary of a river. Right before us, at the southern end, we saw the wreck of a ship in the last stages of dilapidation. It had been a great vessel of three masts but had lain so long exposed to the injuries of the weather that it was hung about with great webs of dripping seaweed, and on the deck of it shore bushes had taken root and now flourished thick with flowers. It was a sad sight, but it showed us that the anchorage was calm. "Now," said Hands, "look there; there's a pet bit for to beach a ship in. Fine flat sand, never a cat's paw, trees all around of it, and flowers a-blowing like a garding on that old ship." "And once beached," I inquired, "how shall we get her off again?" "Why, so," he replied: "you take a line ashore there on the other side at low water, take a turn about one of them big pines; bring it back, take a turn around the capstan, and lie to for the tide. Come high water, all hands take a pull upon the line, and off she comes as sweet as natur'. And now, boy, you stand by. We're near the bit now, and she's too much way on her. Starboard a little - so - steady - starboard - larboard a little - steady - steady!" So he issued his commands, which I breathlessly obeyed, till, all of a sudden, he cried, "Now, my hearty, luff!" And I put the helm hard up, and the HISPANIOLA swung round rapidly and ran stem on for the low, wooded shore. The excitement of these last manoeuvres had somewhat interfered with the watch I had kept hitherto, sharply enough, upon the coxswain. Even then I was still so much interested, waiting for the ship to touch, that I had quite forgot the peril that hung over my head and stood craning over the starboard bulwarks and watching the ripples spreading wide before the bows. I might have fallen without a struggle for my life had not a sudden disquietude seized upon me and made me turn my head. Perhaps I had heard a creak or seen his shadow moving with the tail of my eye; perhaps it was an instinct like a cat's; but, sure enough, when I looked round, there was Hands, already half-way towards me, with the dirk in his right hand. We must both have cried out aloud when our eyes met, but while mine was the shrill cry of terror, his was a roar of fury like a charging bully's. At the same instant, he threw himself forward and I leapt sideways towards the bows. As I did so, I let go of the tiller, which sprang sharp to leeward, and I think this saved my life, for it struck Hands across the chest and stopped him, for the moment, dead. Before he could recover, I was safe out of the corner where he had me trapped, with all the deck to dodge about. Just forward of the main-mast I stopped, drew a pistol from my pocket, took a cool aim, though he had already turned and was once more coming directly after me, and drew the trigger. The hammer fell, but there followed neither flash nor sound; the priming was useless with sea-water. I cursed myself for my neglect. Why had not I, long before, reprimed and reloaded my only weapons? Then I should not have been as now, a mere fleeing sheep before this butcher. Wounded as he was, it was wonderful how fast he could move, his grizzled hair tumbling over his face, and his face itself as red as a red ensign with his haste and fury. I had no time to try my other pistol, nor indeed much inclination, for I was sure it would be useless. One thing I saw plainly: I must not simply retreat before him, or he would speedily hold me boxed into the bows, as a moment since he had so nearly boxed me in the stern. Once so caught, and nine or ten inches of the blood-stained dirk would be my last experience on this side of eternity. I placed my palms against the main-mast, which was of a goodish bigness, and waited, every nerve upon the stretch. Seeing that I meant to dodge, he also paused; and a moment or two passed in feints on his part and corresponding movements upon mine. It was such a game as I had often played at home about the rocks of Black Hill Cove, but never before, you may be sure, with such a wildly beating heart as now. Still, as I say, it was a boy's game, and I thought I could hold my own at it against an elderly seaman with a wounded thigh. Indeed my courage had begun to rise so high that I allowed myself a few darting thoughts on what would be the end of the affair, and while I saw certainly that I could spin it out for long, I saw no hope of any ultimate escape. Well, while things stood thus, suddenly the HISPANIOLA struck, staggered, ground for an instant in the sand, and then, swift as a blow, canted over to the port side till the deck stood at an angle of forty-five degrees and about a puncheon of water splashed into the scupper holes and lay, in a pool, between the deck and bulwark. We were both of us capsized in a second, and both of us rolled, almost together, into the scuppers, the dead red-cap, with his arms still spread out, tumbling stiffly after us. So near were we, indeed, that my head came against the coxswain's foot with a crack that made my teeth rattle. Blow and all, I was the first afoot again, for Hands had got involved with the dead body. The sudden canting of the ship had made the deck no place for running on; I had to find some new way of escape, and that upon the instant, for my foe was almost touching me. Quick as thought, I sprang into the mizzen shrouds, rattled up hand over hand, and did not draw a breath till I was seated on the cross-trees. I had been saved by being prompt; the dirk had struck not half a foot below me as I pursued my upward flight; and there stood Israel Hands with his mouth open and his face upturned to mine, a perfect statue of surprise and disappointment. Now that I had a moment to myself, I lost no time in changing the priming of my pistol, and then, having one ready for service, and to make assurance doubly sure, I proceeded to draw the load of the other and recharge it afresh from the beginning. My new employment struck Hands all of a heap; he began to see the dice going against him, and after an obvious hesitation, he also hauled himself heavily into the shrouds, and with the dirk in his teeth, began slowly and painfully to mount. It cost him no end of time and groans to haul his wounded leg behind him, and I had quietly finished my arrangements before he was much more than a third of the way up. Then, with a pistol in either hand, I addressed him. "One more step, Mr. Hands," said I, "and I'll blow your brains out! Dead men don't bite, you know," I added with a chuckle. He stopped instantly. I could see by the working of his face that he was trying to think, and the process was so slow and laborious that, in my new-found security, I laughed aloud. At last, with a swallow or two, he spoke, his face still wearing the same expression of extreme perplexity. In order to speak he had to take the dagger from his mouth, but in all else he remained unmoved. "Jim," says he, "I reckon we're fouled, you and me, and we'll have to sign articles. I'd have had you but for that there lurch, but I don't have no luck, not I; and I reckon I'll have to strike, which comes hard, you see, for a master mariner to a ship's younker like you, Jim." I was drinking in his words and smiling away, as conceited as a cock upon a wall, when, all in a breath, back went his right hand over his shoulder. Something sang like an arrow through the air; I felt a blow and then a sharp pang, and there I was pinned by the shoulder to the mast. In the horrid pain and surprise of the moment - I scarce can say it was by my own volition, and I am sure it was without a conscious aim-both my pistols went off, and both escaped out of my hands. They did not fall alone; with a choked cry, the coxswain loosed his grasp upon the shrouds and plunged head first into the water.