A Captain's Duty

port at Mombasa, the message came across the PA that we’d changed course and were now under way to save another American ship, the Liberty Sun, which was under attack by pirates. I ran into Captain Frank, who began to apologize for not getting meto the rendezvous with my crew. I said, “Not at all, just go get ’em. Save those sailors.” We met the Liberty Sun and chased off the pirates, then turned back toward Kenya and docked amid high security and media scrutiny. I left the Bainbridge at 0400 on Friday morning.
    The SEALs, meanwhile, had slipped off into the night, never to be seen again, without fanfare or recognition.

NINETEEN
    A t the farmhouse, the media frenzy ratcheted up again. Alison went out to make a statement, telling the journalists that it was Easter Sunday and the Phillipses needed family time. Calls poured in. Senator Patrick Leahy phoned and told Andrea they were dancing in the church parking lot where they heard the news. Diane Sawyer called to say she was doing cartwheels. Our Vermont senators and governor and everyone who’d been so good to my family called to express their joy at how things had turned out.
    Late Sunday evening President Obama called Andrea.
    “I just got off the phone with your husband,” he said.
    “You mean I got the second call?” Andrea said jokingly.
    Obama laughed.
    Andrea knew how big a part he’d played in freeing me and she wanted to thank him warmly, but at the same time she knew this man is the president, and you want to have that respect and formality. The president told Andrea that “the whole nation has been praying for you” and how glad he was that it worked out—and that I sounded really good on the phone. “I couldn’t thank him enough for what everyone had done forus,” Andrea told me. “I remember saying at one point, ‘My Easter basket runneth over.’” I thought it was amazing that he took the time to call not only me but my family in Vermont.
    People were flooding into the house to celebrate. But the emotional release of my rescue had left Andrea drained. “It was like a plug had been pulled and all my strength and energy had flowed out,” she said. “I needed to be alone with our kids.” So she and Alison worked out an exit plan to get everyone back to their families. One of her friends knew she was back to normal when, hours after we got the good news, she heard Andrea’s voice from another room: “WHO SPILLED SODA ON MY RUG?” Andrea doesn’t remember that, but it sounds right. It was such a relief to be back to those kinds of things, she told me: Was everyone eating enough? And who was destroying my house?
    The rescue restored Andrea’s faith—or put back something that had been misplaced for quite some time, as she put it. “I don’t believe in the God that punishes you or keeps track of every sin,” she said, “but I do believe in a God of love. And afterward, I was like, ‘Dear God, I haven’t been your greatest follower, but I owe you a big one.’ And I intend to be true to that obligation.”
    I was rescued on Easter Sunday and I flew home on the following Friday. The owner of Maersk provided his private jet, and a journey that usually took forty-five hours took only eighteen. I’d returned from the sea to Vermont so many times in thirty-odd years, flying in from all points on the globe, but this time felt completely different. Not only the luxurious jet and the direct flight, but the anticipation of seeing my family’s faces again. I sat there sipping a Coke, looking down at theclouds and thinking of that moment when I finally caught sight of them.
    Andrea told me that after my plane landed at Burlington airport, Dan, Mariah and she were walking up to the plane, and Mariah turned to Andrea and said, “Mom, I just have to run.” She said, “Go ahead, run if you have to,” and Mariah went tearing off. It was just like when she was a little girl. The next thing I saw was Mariah pushing through the customs guys and just hurling herself into my arms. I gave her a big hug and a kiss. I grabbed Dan in a bear hug and then I saw Andrea. She jumped into my arms and I was too overcome to speak. She said, “Oh, God it’s so good to see you.” The second thing she said was “You didn’t change your clothes?!” Because I was dressed in the same jumpsuit I’d been in four days ago when she first saw me on TV. I laughed. I’d kept the clothes on to keep my connection with the Bainbridge , the Boxer , and the