by Rye Sobo
***
My eyes peered above the hatch. I surveyed the damage. The rigging laid strewn around the deck and over the splintered rails into the water. The storm ripped half the forecastle from the bow and was missing.
Where the mast of the Delilah Fritzbink once stood there was now only a nest of splinters, broken off a fathom above the deck. On the quarterdeck, Jabnit muscled the sharp, jagged spear that had once been the tiller. It was the first time in nearly two span I had seen anyone other the Lieutenant Bitar at the helm.
Jabnit and I were the only two crew members on the deck. I had half expected most of the crew to be running about when I came topside. Instead I found it grave still.
The wind was gentle in the gray skies. The water lapped the bruised sides of the ship.
I raised my hand to wave to the fighter-turned-helmsman, but as my arm reached shoulder height, I could feel muscles in my chest tear against themselves. I let out a pitiful shout, doubled over and spat a glob of crimson blood onto the deck.
“You live. Good,” Jabnit said in his broken imperial. “Captain is in his chamber.”
“Where is everyone?” I asked, though somewhere deep inside I knew the answer.
Jabnit just shook his head, his lips pulled tight against his tusks. “Captain is expecting you.”
I nodded and crossed the deck, slow and deliberate in my movements, to the officers’ mess and the captain’s chambers.
As I entered the officers’ mess, I could hear hushed conversation in the next room. I stared at the empty chair at the end table. I thought of the shaggy haired boy with bright eyes and the enthusiasm for the sea. Thought of his broken body, crumpled now beneath my feet. What would they say to his mother? What would his mother, who once tried to sell him for a handful of coin, say when she learned he would never return to her?
I pushed open the door to the aft chamber.
Claudio Azpa, a patch over his left eye, stood and offered a warm smile as he saw me enter, “Thank the gods you are alive.”
“I wish I could say the same for Cort,” I said. Tears welled up in my eyes.
“He was a good man,” Reno said.
“A good sailor,” Claudio corrected.
“A lot of good that gets you,” I snapped.
“He knew the risks, same as all of us,” Claudio said. “And he was not the only one we lost. Five men were swept overboard in the storm.”
I looked around the small table the Captain used as a desk. Reno held his arm with care, the same way the master carpenter had below. Majid, the ship’s cook, had a blackened eye and bandages covered his right arm.
Tredway, one of the two lookouts on the forecastle, still had blood in his hair and purplish-red rope burns on either arms. I saw no sign of his counterpart, Bek Bly, who I knew from the Sextant.
Kane Cloud, the burly Aeromonian sailmaker had his head wrapped in thick bandages. Fawz Khouri, the fisherman and deckhand I had helped when I first started my rounds with Tomas, sat with his bandaged leg propped on a chest he shared with Elazaro Wion, the carpenter whose foot I crushed in combat just days before.
Not a single member of the Fritzbink crew, nor even the ship herself, had escaped damage.
“Lieutenant Bitar?” I asked.
“Alive. She is below with the doctor,” Captain Azpa said. “She had a piece of the tiller sticking out of her chest when Reno pulled her over the rail. Even with the timber in her, she held fast.”
***
The ship sat low in the water. Waves broke on the deck, and the breach in the hull had filled the lowest portions of the ship. Correcting the heavy list of the ship was the priority for the survivors. The sea was still choppy after the gale and large waves broke over the larboard side. A tall enough wave could pull the Delilah Fritzbink under.
As the only remaining crew member small enough to crawl into the ballast chamber and bilge, the Captain relegated the task to me.
“It is a cranking device with pipe fittings on either side,” Claudio explained as we moved to the ladder. “The pump should be fastened to the bulkhead on the larboard side of the ballast chamber.”
I stepped off the bottom rung and into water. The water level has risen since I was topside. I sloshed through the putrid smelling water toward the bow, tried to locate the ladder to the ballast chamber. Crates and barrels once arranged with care now floated free. Most of the cargo from the starboard side slid into the central walkway and forced the ship even further on her side.
The ladder down was along the starboard side, a stack of crates collapsed over the opening. I maneuvered between the crates and the bulkhead and down the ladder. As the water reached my chest, I took a deep breath of the foul-smelling air.
I dipped below the water. Darkness. A wet, silent grave. The overhead was low, a cubit and a half at the tallest spot. Hand over hand I pushed along the beam, a full fathom to the larboard bulkhead. I swiped my hand and hoped to find the pump. Nothing. Pushed further back. Waved again. Nothing but the old tarred timbers. My lungs burned. I had to find the pump. Pushed back and swept again. A sharp pain in my hand. Splintered wood. The hull was breached, hidden below the water. I kicked off the bulkhead toward the faint light of the ladder.
I exploded out of the water, gasping for breath. My head struck the crates fallen over the ladder.
“Lurco!” I shouted as loud as my burning lungs would allow. The master carpenter heard my shouting and pushed his way to where I floated.
“How did you get down there?” He asked as he heaved massive wooden crates away from the hatch.
“Breach,” I said, spitting water. “We’ve got a hull breach, larboard side, about two fathoms back from the ladder.”
The brown eyes of the carpenter narrowed. “I knew there had to be another.” He darted away from the hatch and returned a moment later with a few pieces of wood and a red mage lamp sealed in a glass jar.
He handed the lamp to me, “You hold this while I patch. Ready?”
I nodded, took a deep breath, and dove below the water. Lurco followed. His massive body cramped and constrained in the narrow space. With the aid of the light, I looked around for the pump. Nothing. There was a gap in the timbers of the bulkhead, opened out to the great expanse of darkness.
Lurco took his two pieces of lumber fastened in the middle with a bolt. He shifted the piece so he could slide one to the outside the ship and the other to the interior.
As Lurco worked to seat the patch to cover the breach, I spotted a thin line which ran from the bulkhead out the breach. I tapped Lurco to get his attention, then pulled on the line. It was heavy, something attached to the end outside the ship. I pulled harder, and the pump glinted in the red light of the mage lamp. Hand over hand I pulled in the pump and set it aside. Lurco motioned his approval and seated the patch. My lungs burned with pain as we spun a wooden crossbar attached to the bolt and tightened the wooden patch into place. I grabbed the pump, removed the line, and kicked off the bulkhead back toward the hatch.
I broke the surface of the water with a gasp and threw the pump on the deck, then clamored to get clear of the ladder. A second later Lurco emerged from the water, coughing up water onto the deck.
“This day was almost much worse,” he said in his thick Maropretian accent. “Glad you found that pump.”
“I need to get this to the Captain,” I climbed to my feet and hefted the brass pump.
“Tell them to send anyone who can walk down here,” Lurco said. “We need to balance the cargo.”
I pushed through the cluttered lower deck until I reached the sunlight of the ladder to the main deck. Brass pipes from the deck to the bottom of the hold were already in place. I handed the pump to Reno and Majid. Elazaro and Jabnit headed below to help balance the cargo. With the pump connected to the pipes, Reno cranked the device and water rushed over the side.
I climbed on the quarterdeck. Captain Azpa had taken over the helm. I sat on the ladder. Soaked to the skin and bare-chested, I stared out to t
he hazy gray horizon and began to shiver. My chest and my face throbbed with pain. I reached up to touch the right side of my face and found a ridge of fresh scar tissue from my jaw to the hairline.
“I should have been in the rack,” I said. “Cort should have been in the hammock. He offered.”
“Lady Nex will come for you, too, one day, just like she comes for each of us,” the Captain said, his voice just perceptible over the crashing waves and the water pump. “Today was not your day. We lost six good sailors. I fear we will lose more before we return home. All that matters is that you do everything you can between now and the day she comes for you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The sun was low in the sky by the time the ship leveled. The fading light cast the sea with the same reds and oranges of the horrific morning. The skies had cleared and winds had softened to a dull breeze. Had we any sails, they would have gently fluttered, almost still.
Tomas brought a dry change of clothes up from my cabin, and Captain Azpa had offered his cabin to change. I accepted the folded bundle and brought them into the warm chambers at the aft of the ship.
Compared to its earlier comfort, the Captain’s cabin looked as though someone had ransacked it, armoire knocked over, ledgers and maps strewn about the room. I righted a chair and placed the dry clothes in a careful pile. I stood in silence, and stared at the pile of borrowed clothes. The bloodied and torn rags that clung to my body were his too.
Cort had every right to object to my intrusion. I had stolen from him the only privacy he had on the ship, his sanctuary. And he gave it up willingly. With enthusiasm he shared his clothes, his food, his fears. At ten years old Cort was a finer sailor—a better person—than I could hope to become. And yet he rests down there while I must continue.
Perhaps Claudio was right. “You must do everything you can until your day comes.”
But where is the justice? What justice is there in the death of a child? I took a deep breath. My chest burned with pain as it heaved.
I strode to the Captain’s basin and rinsed the blood off my face, hands, and body. The dark brown of my skin, split in so many places with fresh scars, gave way to deep purples of bruises.
My black hair was a tangled and blood-caked mess. I rinsed my hair in the bowl, turning the water crimson. I dried myself with a towel and combed my hair back. I touched the deep scar on my face—a mark of shame. He died, and I lived.
I pulled off my wet, bloody clothes and dropped them into a pile on the floor, exchanged them for the warmth of the cotton shirt, the woolen tunic, and a pair of breeches that just barely fit.
***
When I returned to the main deck, the remainder of the crew gathered. On a plank along the larboard side lay the body of Cort, cleaned and dressed in his finest uniform.
Tomas motioned for me to join him. I hesitated, then quietly moved to stand next to the doctor.
Claudio stepped up to the body and leaned down. With a quick motion, he removed the midshipman insignia both Cort and I wore. In its place was a different insignia, the mark of Merchant Ensign.
“In the event of a death in service to the Company,” Tomas whispered, “a promotion is automatically granted. Master Zori’s orders.”
I looked up. My brow furrowed.
“To award higher death benefits to your family,” he said.
While the Captain affixed the new rank to the boy’s small uniform, Reno adjusted something at the feet. Claudio looked to Reno, who nodded and stood to attention.
“Ensign Cort Dufor of Maropret died in service the Southern Empire Trading Company,” Captain Azpa said. “Though we commit his body to the deep, we ask Lady Nex to guide his spirit to a peaceful slumber."
As the Captain and the Sergeant each held a side of the plank near the boy’s head, I glimpsed what Reno had placed at his foot. The men lifted the plank at an angle, and a large stone tied to the foot slid over the rail and into the water. The rope snapped taut, the body slid from the plank, and crashed into the sea. The stone pulled the boy below the waves.
My eyes burned as tears ran down my face, but I dared not move.
After a moment of silence Tredway Persson, the lookout, came forward, holding a folded uniform.
“Boatswain’s Mate Bek Bly, I commit your body to the deep. May Lady Nex guide your soul,” Captain Azpa said, and Tredway dropped the uniform into the sea.
Jabnit took to the rails next.
“Boatswain First Rate Graham Beut, I commit your body to the deep. May Lady Nex guide your soul.” The Captain’s eye reddened as one after another, a crewman took to the rails.
Cooper Orad Bah.
Carpenter First Rate Suud Amari.
Ropemaker First Rate Tamal Shandy.
“Blessings upon you, Father, Lord of the Deep. We are but humble sailors, cast upon your waves,” Captain Azpa said, his voice cracking as he prayed. “Lord Aequor, god of the seas, we offer you these gifts and humbly ask that you watch over us. Protect us, until the day you call the rest of us home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The funeral concluded as the last light of the day slipped below the horizon. The Fritzbink drifted without direction on the sea. Tomas returned below deck to see to Lieutenant Bitar, while Captain Azpa, Reno, and I headed to the officers’ mess. It had been turns since the last meal, but the thought of food only made the bile rise in my stomach.
I tried to avoid looking to the end of the table as I sat in Bitar’s chair.
Captain Azpa flipped one of several timing devices mounted to the wall and gave it a good thump before he entered his cabin and returned with a roll of parchment.
“I will speak straight with you. We are dead in the water and do not know where we are.” The Captain rolled a navigational chart of the Azurean Sea over the rough-hewn table.
“This is where we were when the storm struck,” he pointed to a course plotted with care, drawn from Drakkas Port to a point one hundred and fifty leagues from Whyte Harbor.
Reno continued the calculations, “The storm came out of the southwest. From the time Jabnit spotted it on the horizon to the time it was on top of us was two turns. That’s ten to fifteen knots, not enough to snap the mast.”
“No,” Claudio said, “But the wind inside the storm can be much faster than the gale itself. The highest ever reported to the Harbor Master in Drakkas Port was a hundred knots.”
“We were within the storm for five turns,” Reno said. “We could be anywhere in this area.” He placed his thick hands in a wedge-shape on the map spread out from our last known position.
Deep furrows formed on Claudio’s forehead as he frowned.
“That’s half the damn Azurean!” I shouted.
“Only a quarter,” Claudio said as he studied Reno’s hands on the map. “But we are within these latitudes?”
“Most certainly,” Reno said.
The Captain turned and walked back to his cabin and returned with a thick book and a leather satchel. He thumbed through the pages until he found the one he needed.
“It is the twenty-fourth day of Panis,” He ran his finger over the page and looked to the timer on the wall and back to his book. “A half turn past sunset means the constellation Pallum should be between three and four marks above the eastern horizon. Shall we?”
The Captain set the book on the table and marched through the hatch to the main deck.
“I should have paid better attention to my helmsmanship lessons,” I said as I rushed onto the main deck. “I have no idea what is happening.”
“He’s trying to determine our position based on the stars,” Reno said.
The captain stood on the quarterdeck and looked out at the eastern horizon. Jabnit nodded to the captain from the splintered tiller.
Claudio reached into his leather satchel and retrieved a large brass sextant and held it up, first to his bandaged left eye out of habit then shifted it to his right eye and made a few adjustments to the device as Reno and I stood and watched.<
br />
He returned the sextant to his bag and pulled out a brass astrolabe and changed out the plates. He held the round device up to his eye, then examined the device. His brow furrowed and his mouth drew into a tight line.
He climbed down from the quarterdeck and returned to the officers’ mess, Reno and I close behind. The Captain turned the map toward him at the table and studied it.
“Well, Reno, your estimation is superb,” he said after several breathless moments. He walked over to the rack of timing devices, and as the last grains of sands left the upper glass, he flipped it back over.
He returned to the map and pointed at a spot east of Whyte Harbor. “Here is where we are.”
“Ten Hells, Captain!” Reno shouted.
The spot under Captain Azpa’s finger was two hundred leagues east of Whyte Harbor.
“So we make due west?” I asked.
“If we had a sail, perhaps,” the Captain said. “But we are in the middle of the Azurean Current.”
I shook my head.
“Ever wonder why shipments to Maropret go through Whyte Harbor?” Reno asked.
“Sure. Zori said it’s faster than going east along Greater Auster,” I said.
“That is because the Azurean Current is a powerful sea current that runs from Whyte Harbor to Maropret in the East and back along Greater Auster toward Drakkas Port. Whyte Harbor is the only island in the current, which helps with the speed. A ship leaving Whyte Harbor can reach Lesser Auster in four spans,” Reno said.
“So now we’re four spans from port instead of four days?” I understood the worry on their faces.
“Again,” Captain Azpa said. “If we had a mast and a sail. Adrift on the current, it will take closer to two, maybe three months.”
My stomach sunk, and my head spun. Two months adrift on the open sea.
“When we do not arrive in four days, the company will know there was a problem,” Reno said. “The Harbor Master will look for us then.”
“They will look for us south of Whyte Harbor,” Claudio said. “They will find debris and assume we were lost in the storm.”
