Winds of Fury

by Peter Duysings

  No one at the tables had moved other than sliding forward to the edge of their seats. It was evident that their shipmate was at the end of his climatic tale and they were all ears and breathless in their focus on the story.

  “Seeing Ortega losing his bite in the fight, I stepped toward him intending a vicious assault when instantly he came in low swinging his sword at my legs and using his dagger hand scooped up dirt, he tossed it into my face hoping to distract me. The dirt, fortunately, hit one side of my face and did not succeed in its goal of blinding me. But it was enough to force me to spin to my left away from his blade. Suddenly, my boot slid out from under me as I stepped on a branch and now completely off balance, I found myself on my knees with a frenzied madman poised to strike the final death blow. This time I scooped up dirt and tossed it into his face, stopping his charge and allowing me enough time to jump back several feet. But not for long as the capitán quickly reasserted his attack and came at me. He was stark raving mad; his saber whipping through the air and his dagger stabbing right behind it to finish me off. Angling away averting his attack, I leaped right back at him with lightning-fast strikes; this time getting a few through to his body, but only as shallow wounds. I realized however that I had him in a formidable situation, so I did not let up.”

  The men seated around the tables noticed Diego’s fists balled up tight and his face had a harsh expression. They continued their silence through the horrific tale.

  “His wounds were seeping; it gave me hope, which turned into increased confidence. The capitán was backing up. The tide was now in my favor. But before I knew it, he exploded with a kick I was not ready for. Ortega deftly landed his boot on the outside of my left knee buckling it enough to pull me off balance. He followed it up by stepping inside and landing a hefty blow with his saber hilt to the side of my head. I fell hard to my knees … facing away from my attacker!” I felt the surging pain inside my head from the impact, and my eyesight was briefly blurred.

  “I was dumbfounded at the absurdity of losing the advantage, stunned at the turn of events, and now certain the capitán would quickly be done with me. In great angst, I tried to summon whatever hope I had left, but the reality of my predicament was too overbearing, and any hope was dashed to bits. With utter despair I gave up any chance of surviving after being thrown into an execution posture with my opponent standing over me, ready to strike the final blow that would send my soul into the next world. Why he waited so long I do not know. Perhaps he was so delighted with the circumstance and was relishing it, but señors, that was his folly for it provided me with one last-ditch effort. My mind screamed to act instantly, because action meant a chance of survival, to do nothing meant certain death. It was pure desperation.

  “Before I could summon my body to lunge to either side, the man’s shadow loomed before me. I could see the saber in midair in the shadowed form ready for its death strike. In reflex, my sword still in my clutches, I drove the blade back with both hands at an upward angle past my body and under my shoulder into the figure behind me. Miraculously, the weapon ran true and instantly I felt the contact as the point drove deep through soft flesh until it stopped abruptly on what had to be bone; most likely his spinal column. A loud guttural groan emanated from behind before I was able to swing my upper body around. As I swung around getting to my feet, I reversed both hands on the grip; I twisted the saber around and pushed the grip upward through his hands which were clutching the wound and the cutting edge sliced all the way to the sternum. The wretched sound of excruciating pain bellowed forth from his mouth a foot away from me as the blade sliced through internal organs, opening up a long cut. The entire length split open, and his torso was nothing but blood and gore. I stepped away holding the freed saber in hands drenched with blood. I still remember the sickening sweet metallic scent. I took in the sight of the mortally wounded man with his head stooped before me. How he was still standing was beyond me.”

  The sailors around the tables were hypnotically staring at Diego. Diego paused, letting these last words sink in. He took gulps from his tankard and went on.

  “Unmercifully my blade had driven into him with fatal results. The man was a pitiful sight. His sword lay on the ground beside him, and his body shook from my saber having ripped his insides to shreds. His arteries were pouring heart-pulsating geysers of life-sustaining fluid out. He stumbled backward and awkwardly tripping over his own feet. Red rivulets seeped onto the ground and what was left of his uniform shirt was soaked with blood. Both hands minus several fingers unsuccessfully tried to cover the deep and long gaping wound starting from below his rib cage to the sternum, from which dark red fluid was freely streaming. Ortega’s lips were quivering as if to say something while frothing of spittle bubbles mixed with blood formed on his mouth; evident that his lungs had also been damaged. His eyes bore a stunned expression; one I perceived as none other than horrific disbelieve to find his life ebbing away after just moments ago believing he was in absolute control of the situation. In seconds he expired. My eyes took in the horrible scene, while my mind was yelling out victory, but later my conscience won over and sought a more middle ground to store the memory of the event to find solace with its magnitude of repulsive violence. I did not mean to mutilate him. I only wanted to survive, and every fiber of my being in me drove that desire.”

  Diego came out of his reverie and slumped in his chair; entirely spent after telling his story. The Spaniard was sweating as if he had just fought the duel all over again. His face seemed ashen even though he was deeply tanned and a faraway stare besieged him. Fritz quietly set a full tankard of rum in front of Diego.

  There sat a man brokenhearted in the refreshed knowledge of what had happened long ago. The sordid incident claimed not only two lives, but also a third who was forced to take a different path of life due to the tragic event.

  Reiner, who knew too well the gruesome consequences that such an act of malice could inflict on a person, arose from his chair and made his way over to his friend, he placed a hand on Diego’s shoulder to comfort him. Knowing well the effort would not produce the intended fullness of comfort; it was a gesture to let Diego know Reiner understood his agony and that he was there for support.

  “From that fateful day on, no matter where I was garrisoned, nor how well I performed my duties, the military leadership was against me as soon as they found out I was the son of a high government-appointed official. Alas, the result of being born into aristocracy was the thorn in my flesh. I finally resigned my commission and ventured off somewhat blindly and look where I have ended up; adopted by a German crew that cares not at all about my family status,” Diego stated with forlornness.

  The disparaging scene was erased in its harshness by the bright smile of the young woman waiting on the men’s table who swayed her way over. Her innocent sweet voice asked them if they wanted more to drink. Before anyone could answer, it was Diego who spoke up and ordered drinks for the entire table. Waving a flute musician over, he proffered a coin into the man’s hand and had him play a medley of tunes.

  Soon Diego’s forlorn facial expression was altogether gone and was replaced by a gleeful smile as he clapped to the tune playfully and whirled the young woman around in a dance jig.

  The rest of the group stared at each other with raised eyebrows over the acute change in Diego’s demeanor. The men began to smile, and Heinrich held up his tankard in a show of a toast, and the others followed suit. “We drink to not only a warrior, but also to one that can change color as quickly as a chameleon.” The group drank with gusto, drowning the memory of the repugnant story, at least for that night.

  Misery had no hope of surviving long with someone of Diego’s personality.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CARIBBEAN BOUND

  The roaring gusts of winds that constantly had blown the last few days suddenly abated. One moment the See Wolf was swiftly being carried southward; the next moment she lay dead in the water. It was as if the ship hit smack dab int
o a wall. The wall was not one of bricks that would have shattered the ship to pieces. It was not a wall of physical obstruction. Absolute calm had set in as if the wind had been seized by an invisible hand and whisked away. Encountering this abrupt stall produced a queasy feeling in the bellies of the crewmembers for they had never experienced this phenomenon before.

  Becalmed, the See Wolf bobbed gently in the water under a shimmering sun and a sky devoid of clouds. The air seemed so thick the men thought they were doomed to suffocate. Not only was there a lack of drivable wind, but the air was horribly hot and balmy; even more so than in Savannah.

  Fatefully, they had entered an equatorial trough where the hot air currents are raised high into the atmosphere, leaving the water surface as a motionless behemoth due to the prevailing winds being suppressed by a low-pressure zone. The nautical term coined by sailors was the doldrums or the equatorial calms – and for good reason. The scientific reason behind this natural phenomenon was not known, nor could be explained, but was a reality that blighted the best of sailors. Many a ship would be besieged for days on end waiting for the trade-winds to fill their sails, all the while drifting at the mercy of Mother Nature. If the schooner were small enough to be paddled along by oars from her own deck it would do so, but not this colossal vessel. If desperation settled in, they did have a method to move the ship along. However, that particular process was not only slow but a daunting physical task, which required many men. It meant lowering all eight rowboats filled with sailors manning oars. It had been done before, but making headway was slower than a handicapped turtle. If it meant doing so to survive, every live squid onboard including the officers would grit their teeth and attempt it.

  Other captains told Heinrich he would likely encounter the doldrums but was still dumbfounded when the ship succumbed to it. There were not enough breezes to even ruffle the sails; they drooped lethargically. Being adrift without wind was more than a strange feeling. No one liked the condition of being a sitting target if their present proximity held an opposing ship bent on plundering. Heinrich, Otto, and Günter gathered at the helm discussing the situation.

  “Let’s be patient, Heinrich.” Günter said to reassure his young captain, “The winds will start up again in time. We are at the mercy of the gods.”

  Heinrich grunted and his brow furrowed in frustration. “What are you, some Norseman, who looks to Odin for favor? I do not think we have much choice in the matter, do we? Very odd though, don’t you think?” he asked no one in particular. At least that’s how the other men took it and didn’t reply. “It’s like the air was sucked away by witchcraft.”

  Otto and Günter chuckled at Heinrich’s imagination. Heinrich stared at the horizon as if he was searching for the hidden wind and hoping to spot it.

  “Maybe some enormous leviathan of the deep sucked the wind into its lungs and is playing tricks on us,” said Günter.

  Right on cue, Otto added, “And after the beast has run out of lung power, he will let out the air in a gigantic draft and blow the ship across the water at rip-roaring speed.”

  “These two are having too much fun considering the situation we’re in,” Heinrich thought. The placidness perturbed him. He also disliked the feeling of being a sitting duck without any sort of mobility.

  He didn’t want to continue this nonsense and said, “Well, I am going below. It makes no sense waiting for the beast to show itself. Let me know what the ocean creature has to say when it contacts you. If it tells you we will be in limbo for a prolonged time; we will lower boats and begin paddling.”

  “And I thought you were a good Protestant,” Otto flung at Heinrich.

  “What does my religious conviction have to do with this? Are you suggesting that I am cursed for something I did?”

  Otto laughed heartily at his friend’s bewilderment and looked for Günter to support his jesting remark, but all he got back was a blank stare. Otto realized his joke went over the heads of both men. “Must I explain every jest I make around here? It is most disconcerting. A perfectly good joke wasted on the likes of you.”

  While Günter and Heinrich looked at each other and smirked, Otto fumed. Presently, he composed himself and said, “You mentioned the word ‘limbo,’ which originated from the Catholic Church’s belief in a person’s soul being in a state of … of what? What am I trying to say?” “He waved his arms around as if it would help their understanding.

  “I don’t rightly know. You tell us,” said Günter. “You’re the infernal bookworm. You and Doc Strobel should room in the same cabin so both of you can amuse each other all day long.”

  Heinrich snickered at Günter’s remark, and Otto interpreted this as yet another insult was thrown his way.

  “You stop that racket right now, Heinrich,” Otto yelled out, “or by god, I will have that … that hideous leviathan of the deep come and grab you by the scruff of your neck and take you down with it!”

  Not only did Heinrich continue laughing, but old Günter and Ebert at the wheel joined in, which further upset Otto who felt besieged. It took a minute for the three to get their merriment under control, after which Otto continued.

  “Look you lanyards, limbo is the Catholic theological belief of a person’s soul stuck within an uncertain state; being barred from heavenly glory because of not being baptized. That’s all I intended to convey.”

  “Well, why didn’t you just say that in the first place,” said Heinrich.

  “You never gave me the chance to finish before you made a mockery of it all,” he stated defensively.

  “You have a way of making something simple into something hilarious,” Günter said rebuking his friend.

  “Sometimes you two make it extremely difficult for a person to explain anything without being ridiculed.”

  “Otto, you mustn’t take things so seriously and get all flustered about it,” Günter commented.

  “Bah, you don’t know how hard it is for someone to discuss a simple matter without it turning into mockery,” Otto barked back with annoyance. “Never mind, I should reserve my salient information to those who appreciate it. Maybe your idea about me conversing with Doc Strobel is good advice.”

  “Now please don’t take this so personal,” Heinrich commented. “Sometimes the things you say are just too profound for us common people. Don’t be so cross about our reaction. It’s just that maybe these doldrums have dulled your sensibility somewhat. Don’t get so serious with people who enjoy being jovial once in a while.”

  Otto simply grunted and thought that at times the two of them acted like school girls at play.

  “Now if you don’t mind, I was on my way to check out how the others are coping with this predicament.” He strode away from the three with Günter still trying to control the last of his giggles.

  As Heinrich made his way down the ladder to the main deck, he decided to see how the primary weapon’s storeroom looked after his carpenters finished the modifications and to check on the new weapons they had purchased in Savannah. When he arrived, he found several of the ship’s leaders inside conferring over how best to apply armory procedures.

  The carpenters had readily found the materials they needed to finish rebuilding both armories. They also had ample time to inspect the vessel for cracks and stress. As expected, the ship came through with a clean bill of health.

  “How are you today, captain?” greeted Conrad as he saw Drope.

  “As light as a feather but having no air to lift me aloft in these windless conditions. How are things going here?”

  “Just finished the inventory here and it will do just fine,” Reiner stated. “We now have enough to arm everyone onboard plus extra weapons in reserve. Our munitions stock is plentiful to the point Conrad and Manfred can continue live fire drills. Over the next few days, the boarding teams will practice arming from both this weapon bay and the one at the bow.”

  “We have split up the entire stock for both armories as best we could estimate the need would be as multiple
units maneuvered per the attack plans,” added Conrad.

  Conrad and Reiner explained the armory layout and pointed out specific details. After they had finished, together they went to check out the newly altered armory room in the forward housing at the bow. His carpenters, Martin Bauer, and Johann Keller were busy applying finishing touches to some racks. He was impressed how Reiner and Diego had worked with Martin to place the weapons in such a way that the boarding teams could access them without blocking the efforts of the cannon crews to get to their powder and shot stores. The well-thought-out setup eliminated congestion as long as the men moved about as trained. The plan to place weapons at the ready in prepared locations near the bulwarks when an attack was imminent, would further eliminate congestion at the armories. And it allowed combat units to be armed and ready at their staging areas in rapid order.

  Diego stated as he showed Heinrich around, “The boarding units still need much coordination and practice to rush from wherever they may be aboard ship to arm themselves with the weapons hung at the bulwark railings. We are working on the most logical method to do so, and we will show you the result soon.”

  “Each boarding unit member will also wear the leather upper protective wear that are being made. And by the way, are quite effective as we have put the first ones through some trials. Outfitted with this protection can additionally build the men’s confidence,” Manfred explained.

  Diego further stated, “As you have said, capitán, we must be well protected, we cannot afford to trade lives in an attack. This way the men will have a better ability to repel an opponent’s weapons with a higher rate of success.”

  “But to make enough of these will take several days,” Manfred added. “We will not have enough of them ready before we find ourselves in the Caribbean.”

  “Excellent work, men. I am very impressed with your resourcefulness. And you are right, Herr Mannheim; we will have to seek a place and drop anchor so we can finish these tasks. That includes the leather work and rehearsing our defensive measures. Perhaps we should have stayed in Savannah longer. It is my rush to get to the Caribbean that has us not fully prepared.”