At our post-tour bonfire on the beach, I saw her have a glass of wine for the first time. She absolutely glowed in her black dress. To me, that night, she was brighter than the moon, and the tiki torches, and the candles in the glass vases that lined the long table. I couldn’t help staring at her. I tried to hide it less with every drink.

There were six people left at the table when she stood, said goodnight to the rest of the table, and looked me in the eye.

“Nice night for a walk.”

I stood and held out my hand.

Chapter 82

Chapter 82

In the summer of 1967, my life changed forever. I was three months into my second tour on the Beagle when I began noticing a change in Lin. She was more distant, avoiding me. We had been dating (such as it was on board a submarine) for about six months. I cornered her, wouldn’t let her deny something was wrong, and finally got the answer out of her: she was pregnant.

I was overjoyed. And terrified. I believe people who had a difficult childhood are more averse to having children. That was certainly the case for Lin and for me. If biology hadn’t intervened, who knows where life might have led us. But it did, and I will never regret that. We moved back to London, into a flat in Belgravia that was owned by a member of the Citium (who rented it to us for a song). We got married in a small ceremony a month later. Yuri was my best man. Father and Mother were there, as were Lin’s father and mother.

On a snowy night in March, our son, Andrew, was born. We both felt that our lives changed in an instant. From then on, nothing was more important than him. The doctors called his condition “amelia,” a birth defect in which one or more limbs are missing. In Andrew’s case, his left arm below the elbow was missing. Lin was crushed. No matter what I said, she felt responsible. She blamed her genes and her behavior: conceiving a child on a nuclear submarine where radiation may have caused the condition.

I could never bring myself to use the words “genetic defect,” but to Lin, the answer clearly lay in genetics. After that, the Looking Glass took on a whole new meaning for her. Drive became obsession. She talked about a world where no mother would see her child born with a defect, where no child would have to face the world at a disadvantage or endure daily ridicule from his peers.

His condition most certainly didn’t change our love for him. Andrew was a smart kid (which I believe he got from his mother) and adventurous to a fault (perhaps my contribution). He was brave and curious and never backed down.