by Ben Hammott
The captain strode briskly over to the man spilled on the deck. Ratcliffe’s skin was as white as the sails, and he had a look of fright etched on his face such as the captain had never laid eyes on before. “What happened and where are Langham and Clark?”
“They’re dead, Captain. Ripped apart by the devils on that accursed ship. I beg yer, Captain, yer must give the order ter cut Hannibal free before it’s too late and we’re all slaughtered.”
Warren shot his surrounding crew a steely gaze when some crossed themselves and worried murmurs of the devil coming to get them babbled through them. When their nervous prattling had again fallen to silence, he glanced at the entrance to the Fortuyn’s forward hold that the three men had entered a short while before. Unwilling to give up the prize so easily, he returned his attention to the terrified crewman. Something had obviously scared the man, but a devil? Not on his watch. It wasn’t unusual for officers to bring exotic animals onboard from the lands they visited to sell or impress their friends with back home. It was probably one of these more dangerous species the captain or an officer had collected, and it had escaped. Although he doubted that would explain the deserted ship unless—impossible as it sounded—the dangerous beast had killed and devoured them all.
“Could it not have been a lion or tiger that attacked you?” inquired the captain.
Ratcliffe shook his head. “Weren’t no cat and there’s more than one of ‘em. Six or seven were quite small but no less vicious, but the worst is a large evil one that killed Langham and almost got me.” He cast a frightened gaze back at the Fortuyn. “I didn’t get a good look as it was dark down there, but I knows they weren’t no lions or tigers. They’ve got spindly limbs with claws long and razor sharp which they swished and slashed something deadly. The larger, different one had eyes terrifying to gaze into. They looked straight into your soul, tainting it with its evil. If that weren’t bad enough, they’re so fast they sliced through me mates before they hardly knew they were there. I only survived because I was nearest the exit. I tell yer, Captain, and I begs that yer believe me, those things dwelling on that ship must have escaped from Hell, and if we don’t cut it free, they’ll soon be on this one, and then we’ll all suffer the same fate of Clark and Langham.”
When Ratcliffe’s babbling ceased, murmurs of disquiet and fear rippled through the crew, all too ready to believe and act upon their frightened crewmate’s warning.
The captain’s stern gaze that threatened a flogging for any insubordination again swept over them, bringing them to an anxious silence. “What about the cargo and Fortuyn’s crew?”
“Spices and a hold full of cargo, but its crew are as dead as me shipmates. What was left of them was in the bilge. It wasn’t a sight I’m ever likely ter forget, and the stench...”
In an unprecedented act of kindness, the captain placed a hand on Ratcliffe’s shoulder. “Head below and tell cook I said to give you a large tot of rum and then rest awhile.” As Ratcliff headed below, Warren selected four nearby men. “Arm yourselves and go kill these damn beasts, whatever they are.”
Though anxious about the task they had been given, they feared the Captain’s wrath more than any perceived devil aboard the ghost ship.
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
The chief mate was on his way to collect pistols from the arms locker but halted when the captain called out to him.
“Elias, take two men with you and bring extra weapons, powder and shot to hand out to the crew just in case whatever animal is aboard, makes its way topside.”
“Aye, Captain.” Selecting two men to accompany him, Myles headed below.
They returned a short while later and dished out the weapons.
Watched by the captain and crew, the four chosen men loaded their weapons. Matner drew his cutlass and led the others to the gangplank and cautiously boarded the Fortuyn. Halting at the bow entrance, Frank Matner gazed below, his pistol held shakily out ready to fire. The top step creaked when he stood on it and crouched to peer along the gloom-ridden corridor.
He turned to one of the men behind him and sheathed his sword. “Adams, fetch me a lantern and light it.”
The man went to do Matner’s bidding and returned a few moments later with two lamps. He handed one to Matner and kept the other.
Lowering the light below and spying it free of any threat, Matner descended and waited for his three reluctant shipmates to join him.
Making hardly a sound, they crept towards the galley. They found splashes and trails of old blood but nothing responsible for Ratcliffe’s terror. They entered the sleeping quarters and spread out in a line as they moved to the steps leading to the gundeck and the ship’s hold.
Matner took in the broken door at the far end of the gundeck he cautiously approached and aimed the lantern light inside the hold. He focused on the fresh bloodstains and then on something squashed on the floor. He stepped inside and crouched beside it while the others roamed their anxious gazes and weapons around the room crowded with stores and cargo. Matner prodded the crushed carcass with the pistol barrel. He had never seen anything like it. Its six limbs could indicate it was some type of strange crab, but it was like no crustacean he’d ever encountered in all his years at sea. Gills on the sides of its bulbous head were another strangeness attributed to the vicious-looking sea creature. He stood and looked around the stocked hold filled with the reek of expensive aromatic spices and something far less pleasant coming from the open hatch at the far end of the room.
The others followed his slow walk towards it.
Following at the rear, David O’Keefe glanced behind at a sound. Relieved to find nothing there, he turned back. Claw-tipped limbs stabbed him through the neck and lifted him from his feet. The pistol slipped from his grasp.
When something warm splattered the back of his neck, Adams glanced behind and frowned at the pistol clattering to the floor. Spying no sign of O’Keefe, he held the lantern out to shed light on the surroundings, but he was nowhere to be seen. After noticing something splattering on the floor, blood, he gazed up to where a large creature was hanging with O’Keefe impaled on one of its clawed limbs. Movement around the animal directed his terrified gaze upon the ceiling alive with smaller, but no less terrifying, creatures—many more than the six or seven Ratcliffe had reported.
Adams screamed when some of the small creatures dropped towards him. He dodged back, barging into Spelman, knocking him off balance. Adams fired a wild shot, killing one of his vicious attackers; the others landed on his chest and dug in their claws. He panicked and swung the lantern at the creatures clawing at him. Oil spilled from the lamp, splashed the beasts, his chest, and face and whooshed into flame. The burning creatures squealed but didn’t release their grip. Adams screamed as the flames consumed them and him. Screaming in agony, he dropped the lantern and flapped at the flames with burning hands.
Matner spun. Seeing Adams aflame, he grabbed a canvas cover from a stack of dry goods and placed it over the man, extinguishing the flames that would have destroyed the precious cargo and ship. He switched his scared gaze to the creatures scuttling over the ceiling and dropping to the floor, then at the larger, sleeker version that fell holding O’Keefe’s limp form.
Matner glanced at Adams, wracked with pain and then at Spelman backing away, terror etched on his face as he stared at the monstrosities surrounding him. Without the time to reload, the one shot in his pistol wouldn’t help him. Matner aimed his at the giant creature and fired as a smaller one leaped into his line of sight. The lead ball entered the small creature and deflected the shot, taking out another of its brethren before the ball buried itself in the ceiling. Matner flipped the pistol over and holding it like a club drew his sword. A shot beside him rang out, and a still smoking pistol skidded across the floor. He turned his head. Spelman flopped to the floor; the hole in his head had provided him with a quicker death than that offered by the monsters, as well as a more pain-free one. He was on his own.
Matner was knoc
ked off his feet when the large creature threw O’Keefe’s corpse at him. Both crashed to the floor. Matner turned his face to the awful stench that battled the spicy aroma for dominance in the room, overpowering now, and peered into the bilge. Bodies, bloated and rotten, floated in the foul water. Scampering claws spurred him to his feet. He stamped on one about to jump onto his leg, knocked aside another dropping from the ceiling with the pistol and stabbed at another with the sword. There were too many to fight. He sprinted to the side and nipped around the end of the tightly packed stores. He threw the pistol at one that dashed for him, breaking one of its long arms, and sidled through the narrow gap between hull, crates, and barrels. Some of the smaller creatures followed. Others climbed over the stacks of cargo. If he could reach the end and dash for the exit, he might survive.
Spurting along, he reached the end and squeezed past a curved hull beam. Stepping into a gap between the cargo, he came face to face with the massive creature squeezed into the space, waiting for him. A limb shot out. Matner swiped the sword at it, knocking it aside with a clash of steel on scales. Scampering of small legs behind gave him seconds to act. He threw the sword. It bounced off the giant creature’s head and slid along its scaly body before dropping to the floor. It retreated. Sprinting through the gap, Matner ducked around the claws swiping at him when he rushed past. Ducking and dodging the lethal claws, he ran for the exit and entered the gun deck. A glance behind revealed monstrosities large, medium, and small in pursuit, their shrieks, and snarls filling the ship. Matner sprinted through the gun deck and up the steps at its end. Scuttling of the monsters behind gaining on him heightened his fear. He barged through the hammocks, leaving them swinging and creaking in his wake. His heart pounded. His body trembled.
A glance behind revealed the giant creature was almost close enough to swipe its claws down his back. He stumbled on the pots and pans covering the galley floor but managed to keep his footing. The creature also slipped on the cooking utensils, slowing it slightly when it crashed into a table. Matner’s look ahead picked out daylight streaming through the doorway to the top deck. Confident that if he could reach the Hannibal and the armed crew he’d be safe, Matner thought through the actions he needed to survive. Leap up the steps. Rush across the deck while warning his crewmates of the danger. Jump onto the Hannibal and help the others cut the grapple ropes while those with weapons killed as many of the creatures as they could.
He placed a foot on the bottom step and leaped up them. He screamed when claws stabbed through his shin, spilling him painfully to the treads, his top half extended through the door. Aware his plan had failed, Matner looked at the captain and the crew lining the Hannibal’s rail staring at him.
“Flee! There’s no salvation here.” He screamed when he was dragged back through the doorway.
When Matner’s screams were cut short, blood sprayed from the doorway and splattered across the deck. Staring fearfully at the entrance where they all expected the thing responsible for slaughtering Matner to emerge, the crew gasped when his corpse, its skin shredded, shot out and skidded across the deck, leaving a blood trail in its wake. Their terrified gazes flicked back to the doorway when a snarl, deep and menacing, heralded the appearance of Matner’s killer.
The front limb stretched from the opening and stabbed a claw into the deck with a splintering thwack. The second limb was followed by its vicious head, which turned and looked at them as it hauled its terrifying form onto the deck. Tentacles on its back turned their tips towards the men on the Hannibal and chomped their teeth menacingly. Seemingly unperturbed by their numbers, it snarled at them when it skulked closer to the Fortuyn’s rail and them, sending some of the Hannibal’s crew retreating in terror.
When a wave of smaller crab-like creatures poured from the doorway, the captain was shaken from his shock. “Shoot the damn things and cut us free!” he yelled.
As weapons were fired, men armed with axes and knives rushed to the tethers and chopped through them.
Though some of the smaller creatures were killed or wounded, the bigger beast was so fast at dodging the shots it remained unscathed.
“They’re coming!” someone screamed.
As the crew frantically reloaded their weapons, the smaller creatures raced to the rail. Keen to taste the fresh prey on offer, they leaped across the gap between the two ships and attacked.
The larger creature observed the human slaughter that ensued.
Witnessing the merciless creatures’ attack on his men, the terrified captain backed away before they turned on him. Realizing Matner was right when he said there was no salvation here, his thoughts turned to survival. Grabbing his first mate’s arm to drag his frightened gaze from the carnage that would soon come their way, he issued his orders, “If we remain on the ship, we’re all doomed! Grab some men and launch a landing boat. It’s our only chance.”
Myles selected those around him, and together they set about hoisting the small landing craft over the side. As they began lowering it to the sea, the captain and first mate climbed in. As soon as it hit the waves, the crew released the lines and slid down the ropes into the boat. Terror drove them to abandon their surviving crewmates. They grabbed the oars and started rowing away from the Hannibal.
WONDERING HOW THE MEN that had boarded the Fortuyn had fared, Ratcliffe lay in his hammock listening to the events unfolding on deck. Though he hoped the men who’d gone aboard the ghost ship had killed the devilish creatures, his experiences with the horrors pictured a different outcome. They should cut the cursed vessel free, sail away to a safe distance and use the cannons to blow it out of the water and send the demons back to whatever hell from whence they’d come.
Muffled pistol shots from deep within the Fortuyn indicated the fight had started, then shortly after, Matner’s voice rang out.
“Flee! There’s no salvation here.”
Shots from above rang out.”
Screams soon followed.
Hearing the commotion that followed topside and the shots that indicated the creatures had shown themselves, Ratcliffe listened for a few anxious moments before climbing from his hammock. If the beasts were attacking, his shipmates would need all the help they could get. He headed along the corridor and ascended the steps to the forecastle.
Ratcliffe shivered in fear when he stepped onto the deck and gazed around at the massacre taking place. Creatures had swarmed aboard the Hannibal and were attacking the men. All were doomed. Men, dead and dying, already littered the bloodied boards, and all were being feasted upon. Ratcliffe glanced at his comrades still on their feet fighting battles they couldn’t possibly win and then dodged back into the doorway when the large creature leaped from the quarterdeck above him and thudded to the deck. As soon as it landed, it rushed forward a short distance and lowered its head to a gap in the deck. It then started ripping at the boards, sending chunks of wood and splinters flying.
LIT BY SLITHERS OF light seeping through the gaps in the deck boards badly in need of maintenance, the slaves gazed aloft. Aware something that had the crew rattled was going on above them, the slaves trapped in the dark hold listened to the frantic, shouted orders they couldn’t understand.
“Oh, my God, what is that?”
“It’s the devil!”
Pistol shots.
Panicked footsteps on deck boards.
“They’re coming!”
Multiple screams. Clacking of things scuttling across the deck. Bodies thudded to the boards. Blood dripped through uncaulked gaps onto the slaves.
Some of the captives began to panic. Women and children sobbed.
Chains clanked through the hold as men desperately tried to yank them free of the floor fixings.
The screams and footsteps faded.
Except for the creaking of timbers, ominous silence fell over the ship.
The shackled captives’ frightened gazes followed the numerous sets of click-clacking footsteps across the boards as unknown terrible things moved about. A man gasp
ed when the tip of a curved black claw slipped through a board joint, and bright eyes lowered to the gap.
“The dev...” a man began to utter fearfully, wrenching at his restraint furiously.
The man beside him quickly slipped an arm around the man’s face and smothered his mouth, holding him still. “Quiet, you’ll bring it down ter us,” he whispered.
With fear-filled eyes, the man calmed enough for the man restraining him to risk removing his arm when the eyes moved away.
“What’s happening, Martaigo?” whispered Jonus, his frightened eyes staring at foul beings interrupting the light rays as they crisscrossed the deck.
Martaigo shrugged. “Nothing good fer us.”
A series of smaller scuttles across the boards were followed by the gruesome sounds of the creatures feasting upon their fallen victims littering the deck. Blood dripped onto those directly below the carnage.
Martaigo silenced the whimpering of a ten-year-old boy with a stern look and a finger to his lips.
Zumba, who had been heaving continuously at his restraints where he was shackled a row in front of Martaigo, reached down and slipped his fingers under the metal plate the chain on his side ran through. As his fingertips probed the moist timber, they grazed the tip of a stout nail that had almost pulled free. He turned to Martaigo. “My ring is almost free. The boards are more rotten here.”
Martaigo stood as tall as the cramped space and the chains looped through the iron rings attached to the floor would allow, and looked at the metal plate raised on one side. His eyes flicked to the ring of two keys hanging on a hook by the steps leading above. If Zumba could free himself from the floor and reach the keys, they might stand a chance against whatever threat had attacked their captors. He turned to Zumba. “Quietly as yer can, try and free yourself and go for the keys.”
Zumba nodded and set about hauling on the metal plate.
Martaigo gazed around at his frightened comrades and whispered, “It’s important we all be silent. The slightest noise could attract whatever demons are up there down ter us. Zumba is almost free. If he succeeds, everyone this side of the chain must feed our slack to him. If he can reach the keys, he’ll unlock our chains.”
