Voyage of the Lanternfish

by C S Boyack

  The merchant captain grabbed James' opponent by the collar and yanked him off his feet. He leveled a pistol at James' head and cocked it.

  The captain stiffened. His eyes bloodshot instantly, like someone striking a mirror with a hammer. Then he tipped forward dead. His own pistol fired into his opposite forearm.

  A dart approximately four inches long protruded from the back of the man's neck.

  Mal lowed the bamboo stick from his mouth. Pants, the root monster, held aloft a pincushion full of darts, then Mal plucked another one. He loaded it into the tube then killed a sailor fighting with Johnny Jump Up.

  James had no time to observe. The next man rushed him with a cutlass, but this one was reckless. Two quick parries before he ran the man through.

  Mule worked his way through the pile of bodies, and past a cluster of root monsters hacking down one of the Hollish gunnery crew. He ducked to one knee, and offered up James' pistol. "I reloaded it, sir."

  James accepted the pistol, then shot another man who charged him from the vicinity of the main mast. "Lay down and keep your head covered." He slid a cutlass toward Mule with his boot. "In case of emergency, do what you can." He strode off into the fray.

  Only seven Hollishmen remained to surrender. This was a smaller crew, and they fought harder than the military crews had.

  Serang gathered the prisoners in front of the mast while the pirates searched below decks.

  The ship was loaded with medical supplies and gold. Written orders indicated it was headed for Saphelon to pay and supply the troops.

  James unfurled his commission as a Prelonian privateer then held it so the prisoners could see it. "I claim this ship, and everything in it for Queen Muireann Of Prelonia." He moved the papers along the line so everyone got a look. "You lads have a choice to make. Join my crew, or rot on the remains of this ship, hoping someone comes along to rescue you."

  Fala opened one of the chests of gold for them to look at.

  "What's it going to be, lads? A mug of gold, rum every day, and a chance to buy whatever your hearts desire."

  Not one of the prisoners took his offer.

  Dan had roped off the wheel, then clumped across to the merchantman.

  James put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Zealots. This is what war does to young men. Old men thump their chests and talk about glory. Young men pick up the banner and would rather die than give up the cause. Two months ago they would have all joined us."

  "I shot three of them from our poop deck," Dan said.

  "And you thought you'd never be useful again. See to this ship for me. Take the canvas, throw their guns overboard, then chop down these masts. Hollish may rescue their crew, but the hull will be worthless. Take everything else."

  "And their dead?"

  "Let them deal with it." James crossed back over to Lanternfish.

  Mal, still wearing his white skull makeup, helped Stowaway back to the surgery. James got an arm around him and helped. "What happened?"

  "Got shot," Stowaway said. "Got me in the shoulder with a musket. Miss Serang did for him."

  They got Stowaway on the table, and Pants scrambled up the cabinet for medicines. Mal took off the man's shirt, revealing a fifty caliber hole that went clean through his shoulder blade.

  Mal accepted a commandeered salt shaker full of herbal flakes from Pants. He shook some into his palm until he was satisfied, then used a finger to shove them inside the bullet hole.

  Stowaway screamed and fell back. Mal chewed up a clump of moss then plugged each side of the hole with it.

  "Come back tomorrow. I look. Smell," Mal said.

  "Burns something fierce," Stowaway said. Mal gave him one of the small bottles of rum.

  James picked up the bamboo staff. "What is this thing?"

  "Blowgun."

  "How does a simple dart kill a man faster than a cutlass?"

  Mal placed one of the jars out that he'd painted three Xs across. "Big Boogah."

  Pants laughed. "Ha, Big Boogah." He went stiff then fell over, miming the merchant sailors. When he landed on the shelf he burst into laughter.

  Mal slapped a bowl of white paint down beside him. "You. Clean up paint. Put medicine back."

  "I I I I."

  "There are a lot of medical supplies over there. Make sure you glean through them and take anything we need."

  "I help," Mal said.

  "Saved my hide more than once. I owe you a lot."

  "You free me. I help."

  James placed a hand on the old man's shoulder. It seemed to say more than words at this point.

  Serang and Mule came across the deck as James exited the surgery. Mule drug a cutlass behind him.

  "I'm sorry you had to witness all that," James said.

  "Why? That was the most fun I've ever had in my whole life," Mule said.

  "But men died. It was a bloody mess over there."

  "Bad men. They weren't my mates."

  "Wasn't much of a fight," Serang said.

  "They seemed pretty fierce to me," James said.

  "Yes, they were brave, but there were not enough. I never even called the dogs."

  "Any fight you can walk away from is a good one," James said.

  "You sound like my old master."

  James took the cutlass from Mule. "Give me that. It's too big for you."

  "I will find him something appropriate in the coming days," Serang said.

  "I suppose that would be alright. He has the right to defend himself, and it wouldn't hurt to know how. Tonight, I need a drink."

  "I will get some huangjiu and join you."

  "Mule, procure me a bottle of rum and a glass. Then it's time to clean the weapons."

  "Aye aye, Captain." Mule ran below decks.

  James and Serang were on their second glass when Dan joined them. "Fala and McCormack will be busy all night counting up the loot. Not much to do but drink now."

  "Who's on deck?" James asked.

  "Don Velasco on our ship, Johnny Jump Up over there."

  "Sounds perfect. Mule, we need another glass."

  Mule sat two glasses on the table. He looked sheepishly at James.

  James raised an eyebrow toward him. "That reload came in pretty handy, but it was a foolish move. You don't even have a weapon."

  "I need to help my captain," Mule said.

  James poured a half inch of rum in a glass then slid it toward him. "Not one drop more, understand?"

  "Aye aye," Mule said.

  "And tomorrow, Miss Serang can figure out what kind of fighting man you are."

  "Ganbei!" Serang said taking a swig directly from her jug.

  Pants burst into the room and saluted. "I I I I."

  "What is it?" James asked.

  "Modders have new story."

  "And they want me to attend?"

  "I I I I. All."

  Dan stood up. "I like their stories."

  They worked their way to the forecastle. Boss stood in front of the semi-circle. He had a smear of something white across his face.

  "Mal ready. Make fight," Boss said.

  Army stood up with a tangled clump of yarn over his head, face and upper body.

  "Agghhh! Big Boogah!" the monsters all yelled.

  "Big Boogah comes," Boss said.

  "Take Big Boogah juju," Army said. "Make big fight with ship." He handed Boss something that looked like a wooden game piece.

  "Mal go fight," Boss said.

  Flattop stood up then pointed a fishhook at Boss as if it were a pistol.

  "Man comes, try shoot headman. Mal say thoooommpt! Big Boogah on you."

  Flattop went stiff and made a creaking sound as he fell back on the deck.

  The monsters rolled around laughing for the next ten minutes.

  "They're getting more theatrical," James said.

  "I liked it, considering they only had a couple of hours to make ready," Dan said. "Now it's more like a play."

  "Their culture seems to be growing," Serang sai
d.

  James used the toe of his boot to open the trap door. "Off to bed, Mule. Big day tomorrow."

  "Aye aye, Captain." Mule crawled inside the figurehead then curled up for the night.

  "I'm off too," James said. "Have a good evening everyone."

  The rest of the people dispersed, but the monsters stayed up to repeat the story again and again.

  The following morning, Biscuit Bill delivered breakfast, but stuck around. The officers showed up in random fashion, not like when they came to supper.

  "Something on your mind, Bill?" James asked.

  "Well, sir, it's just that some of the men was wonderin. Are we really going to give all our loot to Queen Muireann and them Prelonians? Mindin, you're our captain, and I don't care. They was just wonderin."

  "Of course not. Our loot is our own. We might sell Prelonia the medical supplies and cashier the profits later. I only showed the privateer papers as insurance for all of you."

  "I'm not catchin your meanin, sir."

  "There is a war going on right now. Hollish against Prelonia. Right?"

  "Aye."

  "We hold papers that make us privateers in the Prelonian Navy. Privateers must be treated like prisoners of war. They aren't hanged like pirates. If the Hollish are rescued, word will spread, and it might save the crew from the noose one day."

  "But we ain't privateers."

  "No. Not unless it suits us. Now I'd appreciate it if you would spread that word to our crew. You know, those few who might be worried about such things."

  Johnny Jump Up grabbed a biscuit. "Caught Miss Fala before she made it to her cabin. We ain't cashiering the men until we're out of sight of the Hollishmen. Might help sell the captain's bluff."

  "I understand, sir. And I'll tell them doubters what's the truth of it."

  "Thank you, Bill," James said. He leaned back in his chair with a cup of tea. Mule wore a new pair of boots with his pants tucked in below the knees. He'd also commandeered a tricorn hat, and a new vest. "That is a smart looking vest."

  "Thank you, sir," Mule said. "Stuttering Lewis said my mother did good work. He liked the patchwork of the bird skins, and the marks where the feathers were. He didn't want to throw my tunic away, so he made it into this. He even cut some leather from the skirts to add pockets inside and out."

  "And the hat and boots?"

  "I searched the Hollish dead until I found something that fit."

  "That's industrious, but we usually get items at the cashiering. Someone else might have taken them as their turn."

  Johnny said, "I think everyone here has clothes, sir. We also have the artillery uniforms to pick from. Now if he was to help himself to a compass or a pistol, the men might be concerned about that."

  "Did you find anything like that, Mule?"

  "I, um, I found this snuff box, sir." He placed the ornate silver box on the table. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know."

  "Now what does a boy want with snuff?" James asked.

  "It's not that. I liked the mermaid on the lid."

  "The snuff box goes in the pile, and you will pick last. That's your punishment. If someone else chooses it, that's the way it goes. We all share in the loot around here."

  "Aye aye, sir."

  Johnny picked up the box and looked at it. "That is a fine looking snuff box." He winked across the table at James. "Might be worth something once we make port."

  James picked up on Johnny's lead. "True enough. As an officer you get one of the first picks. Probably have a good chance at it."

  "Or Mal. He could put some of his bugs or weeds in there."

  "It would make a fine container for his pharmacy."

  Mule stood by with a dejected look on his face. The sound of axes striking wood filled the background.

  "Sounds like we're close to leaving," James said. "Take your time eating, and I'm sure some of the others will file through. I'm going across to check on progress. Mule will attend the table until Bill comes back." He grabbed his hat then stepped outside.

  Stowaway came out of the surgery with a fresh bottle of rum, then headed below. James stuck his head inside. "How's he doing?"

  Mal said, "He lives. Smells right. No infect."

  "Did you go through the medical supplies?"

  Pants opened a lower cabinet. It was filled to overflowing with bandages and wraps.

  "White man medicine only. Some good. Some worthless. Little knives, clamps, saws. Some thread and needles. Some of the men held opium." Mal pulled out three small clay pots of resin.

  "Keep that under lock and key."

  "Yes."

  James watched the Hollish masts topple, then went about his inspection.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The Lanternfish crew retrieved their grapnels, then untied the Hollish hull in the late morning.

  James waited until the hull was far behind them before he authorized the cashiering. McCormack and Fala oversaw the process.

  James donated his cups to the ship's portion as normal. He approached the pile of items then sorted through it. "These pistols appear to be a set. I donated my cups, and am taking both of them. If anyone has heartburn over it, speak now."

  Nobody complained. Everyone was well supplied with weapons by this time. Things of silver and gold drew the most attention. They were a matched set of short flintlocks, but were still fifty caliber. He would not have to fumble between different sized balls for various pistols. They had beautiful figured wood, and were rifled like the finest modern weapons.

  Serang chose the box of pearls from the salt dragon. Mal, as usual, chose something strange. It was a tear-shaped weatherglass filled with crystals that changed shape before a storm.

  Mule's snuffbox went when the crew got a chance. Stowaway claimed it for himself. Mule was still thrilled with two mugs of gold, and a nice pocket-knife.

  After the sun set, James went to work extending his mathematical constant. Before sunrise, he was able to move the ship one hundred miles with minimal error. Any difference was down to the positioning of the swells where they arrived.

  For the next three days, James and Mule worked the night shift. The officers sailed during the day, and James jumped the ship ahead hundreds of miles each night.

  A storm moved in on the fourth day. James stepped outside at midday to check the sky. A group of men gathered on the main deck below him while Don Velasco watched over them. James leaned over the rail to watch.

  "You must keep the wraps even, caballeros. Your knot will not be round if they aren't even." He approached Serang. "Bueno. Now slip the musketball inside before tightening the lines."

  Chappie produced a small tangle of rope that resembled nothing James had seen before.

  "The monkey's fist is good for the end of a rope. It gives a hand hold, but also makes a good decoration," Don Velasco said.

  "B-b-b buttons?" Stuttering Lewis asked.

  "Yes. It could make a nice button if you tie it well."

  "How come mine ain't comin out?" Chappy asked.

  "Perhaps that is why I am the sailing master, and you are a deck hand. Untie it. Try again."

  Mule shouldered past James with a length of rope in his hand. He sat cross-legged among the others, eager to learn something new.

  Serang finished tightening her perfect sphere then held it up. Don Velasco complimented her. She bowed and said, "Doh je," before returning aloft with her flute.

  James climbed to the wheel where Johnny was at the helm. "Smooth sailing so far, Captain. I expect some rougher seas as we move into this storm."

  "We might have to sail through the old-fashioned way. We aren't leaping ahead without stars."

  "Understood, sir. We've cut weeks off our trip already."

  James looked at the monkey's head knots that signaled the gunnery decks. He tried to peek between the rope strands to see what was inside, but they were too tight.

  "There's a shot for the swivel guns inside. Watched Don Velasco tie them myself," Johnny said.

 
; "I thought maybe you tied them."

  "Only knot I'm good at breaks a man's neck. Carpentry and gunnery are more my style."

  "And we're glad for it. Keep an eye on that storm and let me know if it starts breaking. We've got a favorable wind. Might make eighty miles today."

  "Aye, sir."

  James found Stuttering Lewis busy repairing or replacing sails. Chappy sewed more bags for the gunpowder. "We'll need plenty of those where we're headed. Make sure someone replaces you and keeps making them."

  "Aye aye, Captain."

  McCormack and Fala were in the caravan, adjusting the ledger about ordinance.

  "Didn't use much at all on the merchantman," Fala said. "We can handle several big fights even after that. Didn't even fire the mortars."

  James poured himself a cup of tea. "That's good. A prize keeps the men happy. We'll need them happy to take on Grandelor."

  "How are you planning to do that?" Fala asked.

  "We'll use the sextant to get the jump on Maldron, at the mouth of the river. It's always been the merchant port, but is bound to be a naval base now."

  "That's where they said the pirate hunters are based, too."

  "Same difference at this point. All of them are pirate hunters if we come across them. With surprise on our side, we ought to be able to sink anything in port. Then we head up river to Grandelor. With luck we can sue for Miss Bonnie and sail away. If not, we lay waste and take her."

  "Um, not to debate the captain, but if we sail upriver we could get trapped there by the navy," McCormack said.

  "It's a risk I'm willing to take. Can't use the sextant either, because of the elevation. It's above sea level, but I really don't know how far. We'll deal with the navy if we have to, but we're going to Grandelor."

  "Ha ha ha," the anvil bird said.

  "Hush now," Fala scolded.

  "Ha ha ha. I I I I."

  James went back on deck. He scowled at the grey skies before returning to his cabin.

  Biscuit Bill had cleared the table, and Mule awaited his orders for the day.

  James unrolled his charts and stared at the one for Grandelor.