The Last Ship by William Brinkley (1988)

Posted on 2023-07-03 by thelittleman
Get the paperback on Amazon
Get it in hardcover
Get it on Kindle
Get it on Audible
(paid links)

This is one of the larger novels I’ve read in a long time, since perhaps Hawaii or Centennial by the great James Michener. I picked it up in a Little Free Library as I was heading out on a road trip, and the scenarios offered in the flyleaves intrigued me.

Simply stated, a U.S. naval destroyer is ordered to fire off its nuclear missiles against Russia, but from that moment on, it loses all contact with the outside world and must wander the globe in a search for life and, soon enough, for land left uncontaminated by the holocaust that’s destroyed the planet. I love survival stories, and I’ve enjoyed a good number of post-apocalyptic (or at least dystopian) novels as well, so this one promised to please.

Author Brinkley breaks the novel up into 8 Books, the first of which is set in the middle of the story. Books II-V take us back in time to that fateful day and covers all their wanderings (coups and terrors and murders throughout), before Book VI catches us up once more to where we started and follows through to the bitter end. Even though the flyleaf contained spoilers, naming some of the major events the crew of the Nathan James would face during their 11+ months of exploration, I was still fascinated by how it all would play out. Brinkley’s style of relating these events was unique, and while it felt a bit uncomfortable at first, I really fell into it and found myself swept away by the story.

Apart from the overarching theme of survival through a nuclear holocaust, the two main thrusts of this book are, first, about the Captain himself as a person and a leader and, second, the presence of women sailors aboard a Navy ship (a novel idea, apparently, in 1988). This first thrust about the Captain is obvious, since the book’s style is first-person from the Captain’s viewpoint and recollections, and the novel is really about him as the sole human in charge of what’s apparently left of the human race. While the chapters contain a huge amount of dialogue, they’re also swamped by the Captain’s own incessant internal monologue, a monologue that starts off feeling high and mighty (and flowery, like “Come on, no one talks like that”), but eventually becomes a part of this man’s very personality (like “I might not talk like that, but this Captain certainly does”). Here’s an early example of his thinking that almost made me put the book down for its pompousness (this is a single sentence from a much, much longer paragraph of thought):

Even then I felt that life on the oceans was the only life worth living, the sea seeming to me, even at the earliest age—that surely but sensed dimly then, certainly put in no such grandiose terms; looking back I could but see the fledgling shoots for present, substantiated, full grown certainty—to possess a purity, a simple straightforwardness, a rectitude, a scrupulousness, yes, a clear aristocracy, but stood in contradiction to the unnumbered corruptions of the churlish and plebian land and the land life, and all its hustling, it’s tedious and incessant hype, its seemingly essential duplicities and deviousness, its insect business, its insatiable avarice, all in zealous pursuit of goals I did not judge worth having if, when, attained. (42)

I pressed through these shallow-water sholes, and I’m glad I did, because the book—different than anything I’ve read before—was ultimately well worth the reading, and the Captain worth getting to know.

The second thrust about female sailors aboard this ship is introduced in Book 1 but becomes a much bigger factor in Books VI-XIII. Early on, the story felt incredibly gender-focused, as the Captain considers their presence and recounts the Navy laws and decisions that have brought them to this point. He mentions, for example, that molestation of any kind in the Navy was deemed a court-marshal offense, and that affection between sailors is never allowed, on or off watch, to the point that the sailors view themselves as brothers and sisters in arms, and any other feelings towards each other are strictly forbidden. One sailor proves that this approach had some affect, voicing his concern that fraternization with the female sailors for the sake of repopulation would almost be akin to incest.

It’s hard to tell early on if the Captain is a fan of having women aboard his ship, though he affirms his equal treatment of them, recognizes their comparative maturity to the young male sailors, and their tendencies to handle apocalyptic stress in greater stride than their male counterparts. In time he even views their presence aboard his ship as a sign from God, that they alone, trained for hardship at seas as they were, would be capable of bearing the burden of global repopulation.

Because of these hard-fast rules about male-female engagement aboard ship, this book is surprisingly short on sex. That’s not to say that there’s none (I’ll get to that), but the book’s almost prudish in how it avoids it. In fact, were it not for the occasional blasphemy or cuss word in the first 500 pages, you might feel that this book was made for homeschoolers (I kid: it’s not that tame!).

Although we listen to dialogue from other sailors on the ship through the ears of the Captain, I would argue that few people on the ship had “sailor’s mouths,” least of all the Captain himself. He’s a dignified character who commands respect, not merely as commander of the ship but as a man of integrity. All hands (and their eyes) look up to him, and he of all people must remain calm, strong, and capable of leading this ship through the most troubled of waters without cracking his confident exterior. He’s unwed (married to the Sea or to the Navy, take your pick) and he’s always willing to be among the first to go upon potentially deadly shores.

But then come 2 chapters in Book VI where, upon an island and inside a cave with a particular woman, he changes his demeanor, sheds his external armor (among other things), and becomes the vulnerable man we all assume he really is at heart. Words, thoughts, and actions flood these scenes, bringing color (very adult color) that feels shockingly vivid in a book that’s otherwise splashed with white uniforms, grey bulkheads, and blackening skies. These scenes come 11 months into the apocalypse, so they feel almost like a relief to the reader—which is the danger of reading things like this, I guess. I felt so in touch with the character as I read it that I pretty much cheered him on after all he’s been through. Not a great place to be, the Christian husband and father rooting for the guy who’s getting frisky with his female Lieutenant in the cave. If you care to read the book but want to avoid the lewdness, then skip over Book VI, chapters 6-7. Just know that what you expected to happen between Lieutenant Girard and the Captain happens. A lot.

There were a number of lines I copied out in my book, lines that I thought were worth keeping. I have no idea if William Brinkley writes this way in all of his novels, but he writes well, and he certainly writes from inside the Captain’s head. Here are just a few of the lines that I thought bring good perspective to the Sailor’s life at sea:

Most mutinies are led by officers. (22)

Sailors are correctly viewed by landsman as human beings with tendencies to “let go” ashore. The reason they are such on the beach is that they are the exact opposite aboard ship. Shipboard they desire equanimity, discipline, even a certain rigidity, for the simple reason that they know as a first principle of life at sea that their welfare, even their survival, counts on the sure presence of these qualities, these rituals, throughout the ship’s decks. (48-49)

One assumes the possession of courage in a Navy man. Even if one had the opposite intention, or temptation, that of cravenness, of cowardice, there is no way to avail oneself of it: one may turn tail and run off a battlefield—this has been known; when harm comes calling, one part of a ship is as hazardous as another; one may not run off a ship without landing in the sea, which is very deep, and the shore customarily far away. (57)

And I loved this line about why the Captain likes to read before bed:

I have often wondered how anyone who does not read, by which I mean daily, having some book going all the time, can make it through life. Indeed if I were required to make a sharp division in the very nature of people, I would be tempted to make it there: readers and nonreaders of books. (85)

Overall, I really enjoyed this book. It was a massive time investment for me, so I’m not sure I’m going to run off to find another William Brinkley novel anytime soon, but I’ll keep my eyes open at garage sales and whatnot for another season in life where I’ve got tens of hours to spare. I recommend it as an intriguing look at post-apocalyptic possibilities with the small caveat to avoid those 2 sex chapters in Book VI. Other than that, The Last Ship was a epic read.

©2023 E.T.

Read More Dystopian and Post-Apocalyptic Novels:

This entry was posted in Fiction - Secular and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

What do you think?