by Cylin Busby
Not an eel, but a snake! One of the terrible reptiles from below! How had it escaped from the golden cage? I stepped back carefully, gingerly, on delicate paws. The snake lifted its head slowly, so slowly, and locked eyes with me, moving forward, advancing on me.
I saw a movement from the corner of my eye as I backed around the captain’s quarters—Leo Bear. He stood, cleaning his paw, and glanced at me, with a bored expression that betrayed everything. That was when I knew: The snake had not escaped. He had brought it up, and put it next to me as I slept. The villain!
The hissing in front of me turned my head back to the creature. It slid along the wooden deck, advancing with a smooth, slippery movement to match my reverse steps. I stopped and faced him, in full view of Leo Bear. When the snake hissed again, I hissed back, crouching low. I continued to edge my way along the quarterdeck until I was out of planks—I would tumble backward onto the deck if I took one more step. There was nothing to do now but face the snake—or turn and run. One glance at Leo Bear decided my fate. I would not allow him the pleasure of seeing me turn tail and scurry to my mates. Not this time.
I tilted my head down, looking at the place where the snake’s head seemed to meet its body. This was where I would usually bite and shake a rat or mouse to bring it to an end. But the snake did not have a clean line—his head and body seemed as one. Where to bite? Where to sink my teeth and claws in? And his skin was rough and scaled—so thick. How would I get hold and injure him at all?
I stepped back, instinctively, and felt my paw slide off the quarterdeck. I dug in my claws and inched forward, just enough to keep myself on sure footing. It occurred to me that I was in the position that the Gray One had been in, forced into a corner, as it were, with no way of escape. On one side of me a venomous snake, on the other the fat ship’s cat, watching with glee. I had to fight, whether I wanted to or not.
Suddenly the snake lunged at me without warning, turning its head sideways and snapping at my throat. I pulled back just in time to avoid its bite, and the snake recoiled, hissing. Now was my chance, my only chance. I remembered my fateful error the first time I jumped on a rat: leaving his jaws to snap. I would not make that mistake again with this dangerous creature.
I felt my haunches twitch, and then, all in one motion, I had my jaws locked at the base of its hissing head. I landed on the deck with the snake firmly in my bite, flipping it over to expose a long white belly. It twisted, oh how it twisted! Like a living coil of rope, its entire body seemed to roll over in my mouth, so I bit down harder, my paws holding it steady. I pulled back with my teeth, tugging and shaking, but the animal was rubbery, and bent with my shake instead of breaking. I would have to do more.
Reluctantly, I braced my paws on either side of my mouth and tore a bite out of the snake. It fought harder now, but I dug in my claws and went in for a second bite. The snake twitched as my teeth at last hit bone, and I held tight until I felt the bones begin to snap one by one.
I released my jaws and watched as the snake’s limp, heavy body slid to the wooden planks. I poked the creature with my paw and felt its cold weight. Such a majestic animal, so quick and agile, now lifeless and heavy, like a wet rope. I heard another hissing beside me and spun around, afraid that I would find yet another snake to battle. But it was only Leo Bear, witness to the whole event, crouched low and angry. Did I have to now fight him as well? I was certain he had put the snake there for me to find—perhaps to bite me in my sleep! He had expected me to run away, as I had when he showed me the snakes in the hold. But I didn’t. I fought. And I won. And now Leo Bear was furious. He growled, then turned, puffed up his tail, and marched away, down to the main deck, without a backward glance.
The lanterns were lit in the captain’s quarters now, and I could see that the two men were still inside, consulting maps and reading books. I knew not what to do, so I picked up my kill and dragged it over to the door of the cabin. The body was heavy, unlike a rat that could be carried by its scruff. I dragged the whole length of it over to the cabin and scratched at the door to gain entry.
After a moment, the door opened and a yellow light spilled out over me. I blinked, and looked up into the face of Captain Goldney. “A visitor,” he laughed. “Not the one I expected, though.” He turned to Captain Natick. “I believe he’s here for you. Come in, cat, you’re welcome.”
I turned to pick up the snake and heard a gasp. “My man, come quick! Your cat has caught…a snake?”
Captain Natick limped to Goldney’s side as fast as his crutch would carry him, looking down at me. “Jacob, what is this you’ve found? And how have you managed it?”
Goldney took a lantern down from the mantel and held it over my kill. “It’s from the hold—these creatures are highly venomous, deadly, even. We’re bringing them to a zoologist in London for his studies. Is your animal injured?”
My captain leaned to pick me up and inspected me roughly, turning me about and looking for marks. “He is not. Is the creature truly dead?”
Captain Goldney kicked the snake with his boot and it rolled, lifeless, exposing a white belly. “It is indeed. I’ll send the sailors down to inspect the cage in the hold—if one has escaped, there may be more!”
Once orders were given, Captain Goldney put his hand to my back and petted me gently. “And here you said he was not much of a ratter. He’s only caught a snake, and a venomous one at that!” I purred my happiness at being admired by two great men, and as I did, I happened to catch a sight I could not have planned for better: a flash of fur by the window, where Leo Bear had surely been watching. His plan to embarrass—or wound—me had backfired terribly. In this hour, I was the hero of the Bristol, and he was all but forgotten.
I will, perhaps, never know how the clever Leo Bear managed to get that small snake from the cage without letting any others out. I guess that when there is a will—a strong will—there is a way, and Leo Bear was certainly a cat with a will of iron! From the talk I heard in the galley that night, the sailors checked the hold and found all the reptiles accounted for, save the one I had killed, so they had no explanation, either.
I was roundly lauded and celebrated the next day and night with a large bowl of fish-head soup from Colin and many strokes from the crew, including my own mates. Even Chippy pulled me into his lap and scratched me roughly behind the ears, saying, “You are your mum’s boy at that, aren’t you, Tibbs?” This compliment from our saltiest crew member was perhaps the best of all.
Leo Bear made himself scarce, and I did not see even a whisper of his tail for at least two days. This left me with plenty of time to enjoy the galley, as I used to on the Melissa Rae, warming myself by the stove and listening to my mates tell their yarns. There was always a bit of jerky dropped on the floor to chew on as well, which helped to keep my stomach full, and naps aplenty.
My days in the galley, basking in my own pride, were not all sunshine and smooth sailing, though, as I began to gather that trouble might once again await Captain Natick and my mates as soon as the Bristol reached port. When Chippy and Moses were out of earshot, the sailors talked of serious things: maritime laws, mutiny, and what happens to a captain who leaves his ship, or is forced off.
“There’s no shipping company I know that will let it stand,” one sailor told Colin. “Natick will be lucky if he’s not thrown in the gallows when we reach land.”
“He’d best hope that that vessel made good time, and is docked again in Liverpool or heavy with cargo on her way back,” another young sailor of the Bristol chimed in. “Or it will be his head.”
I tried to curl back into my nap beneath the stove, but the talk about Captain Natick bothered me and caused my stomach to ache. These sailors did not know what had occurred aboard the Melissa Rae, how Archer had treated us all, how truly insane he was. But I began to worry that others also wouldn’t understand, and that somehow it would be perceived that Captain Natick and his men had done something wrong. Though I had looked forward to returning to dock at Liverpo
ol, I now began to dread it. What fate awaited us there?
The next morn was gray and overcast, and I greeted it with my usual visit to the deck. There I heard a sailor at the top of the mainmast shout down, “Land ho!” We were but one day out from England and docking in Liverpool. I stood at the bow and looked out over the dark gray sea with a feeling of overwhelming sadness. We had left port so many months ago with my mother on board, and myself just a kitten. I was returning to land a different cat altogether, and alone.
Leo Bear chose just that moment to appear by my side. But instead of looking me over with a sneer and a hiss, he stood his distance and regarded me with something else—was it fear, or respect? Slowly he approached, humbled, his tail down. He paused a few paces from me, waiting for a sign. I searched my heart and found that I did not wish ill will between us, here at the end of our journey, and somehow I forgave him. I could not help but see things from his side. What if it had been the reverse, with the Melissa Rae rescuing a group of sailors who came aboard with their own captain’s cat? How would I have felt to see Captain Natick, his hand on the back of Mr. Leo Bear, admiring him, upon the ship that I called my own? I, too, might have stung with jealously. I do not think I would have taken such a measure as releasing a venomous snake to test my foe, but still, I did understand his motives and now his regret.
I bowed my head and moved my tail gently, sending a sign to Leo Bear that he was forgiven, that all was well. He quickly and gleefully accepted, joining me. He stood beside me, taking in my pose and trying on the same stance. He looked out over the sea between us and Liverpool, perhaps trying to see what I saw. But I knew that while Leo had many gifts, he could not learn the ways of forecasting. I had been born with a special skill, passed on to me by my mother, and there was no way of teaching it.
Even with my triumph over Leo Bear complete, my melancholy mood hung about me like a wet sail. A storm was coming, I could feel it in my paws, but I also knew we would be well docked before it struck. After standing with Leo on the deck for a bit, I found my way to the galley and showed Moses and Colin the sign of weather approaching by scratching my paw across the wooden planks. Moses recognized it at once and went to tell the captain.
Though I knew I had done well by my mates to predict the weather, this was not a surprise storm—surely Captain Goldney knew the clouds well enough by now to see that rain was on the way. My special skills gave me no satisfaction; I was so worried for the captain and what might await him on shore. A different type of storm altogether.
The day passed in the usual way, but with the sailors now readying the ship for our arrival back at Liverpool. The mood on board was jubilant, the young men who served Captain Goldney happy to have home in their sights, the thoughts of their loved ones waiting for them on land. Moses and Chippy were also brightened, though a bit cautious—Moses to see his wife, and Chippy to see his, and his extended seafaring family as well.
We spent one more night aboard the Bristol, the men in the galley up late singing and celebrating. Moses and Colin outdid themselves with biscuits and aged cheese, a sweetened duff, and dried meats—the rest of the stores on board put forth in a giant feast. They scraped the barrels and left only enough for breakfast. By midday next, we would be home.
I sat along the stove and noticed that Leo Bear slunk in to sit near me. The week before, I would have skittered out of the galley, my tail between my legs, at the mere sight of him. But not now. I had earned my right to be here with the sailors. I stayed my ground and resumed giving myself a bath, then joined Leo Bear, curling in for a warm nap, my back to his. This proximity was not lost on the sailors, as one called out, “Look at these two mates, thick as thieves!” I looked up to see Moses smiling down at us, happy that the two ship cats were finally friends.
I watched the sailors celebrate and felt a bit hollow inside—they played a game with cards and rolled dice and passed around a brown bottle. Even Chippy and Moses got into the act. It had been a long journey, with plenty of peril along the way. But as this was my first time out to sea, I knew nothing else, and I didn’t feel like celebrating, not quite yet, not until I knew Captain Natick would be welcomed back on land. The thought of seeing Melissa again, though—her warm smiling face and blond curls—thrilled me. I wondered if she would be pleased with my growth, and what a changed creature I was! But even the joy of that reunion was tainted with sadness: I did not look forward to seeing her face when she learned the news that my mother was not with us. Oh, how sad she would be—my mother had been with Captain Natick since before Melissa’s birth.
It seemed there was no escape from my dark mood. Every bright thing I could think of came with another side, too. I tried, instead, to think of all I had accomplished, how much I had grown, and how proud Mother would be of me, as I drifted off to sleep, my last night aboard the Bristol.
As the sun broke over the deck the next morning, land was visible to all on board—not just the lookout with the glass up in the nest of the mainmast. The sailors who were not on duty spent their time in quarters packing up their belongings. I watched, inspecting each interesting item, as Chippy carefully put the tools he had been using away in a wooden box. He had no belongings at all, save for the clothes on his back and a new eye patch that Moses had sewn for him during our time on the Bristol.
I scurried down to the galley to see what Moses was busy with and found that he and Colin had quite a task before them, clearing the cabinets and storing all the serving plates and dishes. The ship would be at dock for only a fortnight before she put back out, and everything that could be ready was made ready before reaching land. “Goldney will be down to have a look, his second time in the galley this trip out,” Colin explained. It seemed odd to me that the captain of the Bristol almost never set foot in the galley; obviously, he thought he was above it. On the Melissa Rae, Captain Natick was usually served meals in his quarters, but he took tea in the galley every day, checking in with his sailors and his cook.
When Captain Goldney did appear, I hid beneath the stove and listened to his stern inspection of the hold and the galley. First he hazed Colin for a broken tray, saying he would dock his pay if even one piece of silverware was missing. Then the man counted every piece, while Colin and Moses stood aside and watched. He found a knife missing, and a fork with bent tines. “You should lose five quid for that,” Goldney said sternly. “But you will pay for it on the next trip, won’t you?”
Though I knew from talk in the galley that Colin wished not to ship out with the Bristol next, he had signed papers with the captain and was tied to the ship for two more journeys. The captain meant to reduce his pay on the next trip, to make up for the tray and silver, which seemed rather unfair to me. But perhaps it was better to have docked pay than no pay at all—a fate that Moses and Chippy were facing, I feared. No sailor who left his ship midjourney would be paid by the shipping company that had hired him on, that was sure.
When Goldney moved to make his exit, I wanted to stay behind in the galley and console my mates, but something he said changed my mind. “A jolly boat will go ahead to see how they want to handle your lot.” He nodded to Moses. “You’re to stay below until I say you can leave the ship, is that understood?” The way he addressed the sailors was very different from how he spoke when Captain Natick was around.
Moses nodded his understanding, then caught himself and answered, “Yes, Captain.”
I followed quickly in Goldney’s footsteps and found myself on deck as he gave orders to two young sailors. He sent them in the jolly boat on ahead of the Bristol, to reach Liverpool before we would have a chance to dock. “And take this straight to the harbormaster,” he said, pulling a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and handing it to one of the boys. “Either stay ashore or come back directly, as he wishes.”
I noticed that Chippy and Captain Natick were not on deck as the jolly boat was lowered into the water. Once the men were off, Captain Goldney spun and returned to his cabin, grabbing the arm of one
young sailor he found who seemed not to be engaged in much work. “Boy, come along and pack my trunk,” he ordered.
I watched as land grew closer and closer to us. The wind picked up, causing the waves to lap the ship in a frothy mix that changed from a deep navy to a gray-green as we neared the port. We were no longer out on the deep, but coming in over the reefs and sand that lay not too far beneath our ship. I had a looming feeling in my chest, watching the skyline of the port city appear. This was a place of men, and of laws, unlike the world I had been living in. A ship is its own little country, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave it just yet. Much as I had disliked Leo Bear, and much as I was beginning to dislike Captain Goldney, I preferred their company to that of the strangers and strange ways of landlubbers.
There was much maneuvering to be done as we entered the harbor, adjusting the sails and steering the large wheel to bring the ship in at the right angle and anchor her close. From there she would be pulled in by smaller boats and secured to the dock with ropes and anchor. The sailors, to a one, gathered on the deck to wave to land, yelling and hollering for their families who might be there, save for Moses and Colin, who had been ordered to stay below.
Captain Goldney stood nearest to the gangplank with Captain Natick at his side. My captain was hard to read, his face solemn and unsmiling, but I ran to him and wove myself through his legs in a figure eight. I noted with much glee that he did not have his cane, the one Moses had whittled for him on the island, and that he seemed steady on his own two legs. He moved with a limp, to be sure, but he seemed more able and looked more the part of a true captain. I sat beside him and looked out over the city of Liverpool as we were brought in.
“Lower the plank!” Goldney ordered as soon as we neared the huge wooden dock. Sailors leapt to work, securing lines and running up and down the gangplank as soon as it was close enough to dock. When we were tied up fast, Captain Goldney tucked one hand into his jacket front and marched down the gangplank in his shiny black boots, which I was certain his young cabin boy had been busy cleaning for hours the evening before.
