“You couldn’t refit the Fleece?” He ran a hand over the worn railing.
“It would cost us twice what a new vessel would cost, and in the end we’d still have an old boat.” She was silent for several moments. “So, tell me, would you ship with me on a new vessel?”
He reached out and took her arm in a strong grip. “It would be my honor, to ship with you Dolores, wherever you might sail and the strange tides take us.”
The Captain sniffed, and wiped at her eyes. “Damn it! I swore that no man would ever make me cry again—and look at that. I hope you’re satisfied.” She was trying and failing to sound gruff.
“Actually, I am.” Hedric gave her a quick wink. “The engines will be ready to answer the helm almost immediately, Captain. I’ll clean up as soon as we are underway.”
“Please do.” Dolores wrinkled her nose, and then laughed. “Get out of here, you scoundrel.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Several days later Hedric stood at the port railing, watching the riverbank slide by, a scant half mile away. Each mile they moved downriver was one more mile away from the Blight, and life seemed to be returning to the river. Great birds with wingspans over ten feet floated on the warm updrafts along the river, while in the water fish wanted to be caught, throwing themselves madly on anything that resembled a hook. Hedric saw one sailor tie a bit of red yarn on his hook before he cast it over the side, attached to a long bamboo pole. The moment the embellished hook touched the water it was taken by a great fish the size of Hedric’s leg. In one swift jerk, the fish snapped the bamboo pole in half, and took it with the line and the hook into the watery depths. The man walked off, to the laughter of his shipmates, and Hedric never saw him fish again.
The further south they went, the hotter it became, and soon the engine room turned into a stifling oven. Installing a curved ventilator on the deck over the engine helped, as did rotating the men on duty during the day, but working on the engines was becoming an agony.
They were a month out of New Atlanta when they hit the log. The jarring crash threw Hedric out of bed, and in the hallway he could hear men shouting. Instead of heading topside, he turned and headed for the engine room. Gene Waters, the night watch, was rubbing a large bruise on the side of his face.
“You all right?” Hedric’s hands and eyes were already checking his engine for damage.
“Yeah.” Waters replied. “As soon as I got up I disengaged the transmission. Don’t seem to be no damage to the side-wheels.”
Hedric began checking his gauges, one of which showed a pronounced list to port. “Help me uncover this, Waters.” He began pulling at a heavy canvas covered shape. There was an oily haze in the air that smelled of hot engine. Hedric could taste it on his tongue.
The other sailor began to fold the tarp back. “What the hells is this contraption?”
“This is a bilge pump. You use it in an emergency to keep the boat afloat.”
“Never heard o such a thing.”
“It’s a good thing I have.” He handed Waters the end of a heavy hose. “This connection goes here.” He pointed. “And THAT connection goes there. Hurry, man, the boat is sinking! Can’t you feel it?” Already the boat felt lower in the water, and rolled more sluggishly. As soon as the hoses were connected, Hedric moved the transmission lever all the way down to the bottom, past the normal gear settings. The engine slowed for a second, and then the pump began to whine, quietly at first, and then cranking up into an ear splitting scream. The hoses stiffened under the pressure, and the young chief engineer could hear the surge of water in the lines. “Take care of this!” He shouted over the din. “I’ve got to see the Captain. If there’s a problem, disengage the transmission, but remember, it’s the only thing keeping us afloat right now.”
Waters gave him a wave, and replaced his fingers in his ears.
The foredeck was absolute bedlam. The front hatch cover had been removed, while seamen stripped to the waist crawled into the darkened hold to check and repair the damage.
He touched the Captain’s arm. “Is there anything I can do?”
Dolores turned, and gave him a wan grin. “You saved the ship. What more do you want to do?”
He could smell fear in the air, sharp and bitter. “What did we hit?”
“Submerged log, I suppose. Lookout didn’t see a thing but some ripples. John Tilbet is pretty upset. He was at the wheel when it happened. So, tell me, can we get any speed at all, while the pumps are running?”
Hedric thought about it. “I think I can give you slow speed, Captain. Anything faster and I risk the pump and engine both. Neither are new.”
“I’ll take what I can get. Get us moving, lad. I’ll get us into a small bay and we’ll see what the damage is. Memphis should only be three or four more days down river. We can refit there.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
Morning saw the Golden Fleece limping into a small calm tree lined bay, a scant six feet of free water below their keel. The Captain rang FINISHED WITH ENGINES, and let the momentum carry the Fleece’s bow up unto the sandy beach.
The ship had barely stopped moving when Hedric vaulted over the rail and onto the beach. As luck would have it, he was the first to arrive at the damaged section of the hull, and a flicker of white wedged into the broken hull planks caught his eye. Quickly, before the rest of the sailors and carpenters arrived, he jerked the embedded object out of the plank. Glancing at it once, he stuck it in a pocket, with trembling hands. Letting himself get washed away by the press of bodies, he slowly made his way back to the deck. Captain Isenhart was looking over the port railing when he approached. She took in his pale face immediately.
“What is it, Hedric?” Her voice was low, and without a word, he handed her the three inch long razor sharp tooth he had pried out of the broken hull.
“We didn’t hit a log, Captain.”
She ran her thumb over the sharp edge, her face was now as pale as his. “Did you tell anyone else?”
“No, Dolores. I got there and removed the tooth before anyone else arrived. Just barely. Our secret is safe.”
“Thank you, Hedric. Do you have any guess as to what we’re dealing with?”
“No idea in the world.” He looked at the tooth warily. “Are there usually critters around here with teeth that big?”
The Captain sighed. “None that would attack a two hundred foot steamship. What began as a warm lazy southern run has suddenly turned deadly.” She forced a smile. “At least your quick action with the pumps saved the cargo. We can still have a profitable run before we head back.”
“So, you’ve decided to head back to New Boston after this stop?”
“Things are getting too dangerous. I don’t want to risk my crew. They’re all I have.”
“You’re wrong, Dolores.” He said quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the pounding hammers. “You have a family. You have Alexandra and you have me.” Captain Isenhart turned away to hide her tears. “Thank you, Hedric.” He touched her arm lightly, and was gone.
The next morning, after they worked the Fleece out of the sand, they continued their journey south. Just after lunch the chief engineer was finally able to disengage the pumps, and set the engines FULL AHEAD.
A double watch at night and slower speed made life in the Fleece tedious, but the crew didn’t complain, and a wave of relief swept rapidly around the boat when the city of Memphis finally came into view four days later. Huddled on the east side of the river, there were fewer fishing boats here, and the ones that passed by the Golden Fleece were manned with grim faced sailors who neither waved nor smiled. All seemed to be armed with long spears of a sort Hedric had never seen, with a thick heavy handle attached to a hardened ceramic shaft that ended in wickedly barbed hook.
“They’re called harpoons, lad.” Joshua Tilbet had come up on him while he was absorbed in the fishing boats. “It’s said that a well thrown harpoon can pierce the hardest o them critters shells. So they say.”
> “So, tell me Mister Tilbet.” Hedric tried to appear casual. “Do we have any harpoons aboard, ourselves?”
The big cargomaster laughed ruefully. “No, lad. Harpoons are expensive. We have just enough money fer our cargo and supplies.”
It didn’t take Hedric more than a second of thought. “Go to the Captain, Mister Tilbet, and ask her for ALL of my saved pay. Use it to buy harpoons, as many as you can get. Get a local fisherman to teach our men how to use them.”
Tilbet stared at Hedric like he’d grown a second head. “All your pay? Are you mad, boy? Ye been on this boat a year an o alf now. THAT’s a tidy sum.”
“Then you should be able to buy several harpoons. Look at those fishermen out there, Mister Tilbet.” He pointed to two more fishing boats, sailing by with grim faced fishermen clutching harpoons whose barbed heads glinted in the afternoon sun. “Do you think they had a lot of spare cash to spend on harpoons? Yet, they have them. Get the bloody harpoons, Tilbet!” Hedric turned away abruptly, angry at himself for losing his temper, and angry at Tilbet for being so cash oriented.
The engine room telegraph rang ALL STOP, and then a moment later, FINISHED WITH ENGINES. Hedric disengaged the transmission, and began bleeding steam out of the boiler, in preparation for a shutdown that filled the small room with a dense cloud a fog and a sibilant hiss.
“Hedric.” The voice said from the doorway. “May I have a word with you?”
The young chief engineer looked up. “As you wish, Captain.” He turned to his young assistant. “Shut the boiler down, and clean up a bit. Tomorrow we’ll check that pump out, and make sure it didn’t take any damage.”
Doander grinned. “Whatever you say, Chief.”
Dolores gave him a level look. “Joshua Tilbet was a little upset with you. He said you wanted to spend your entire pay on harpoons. Is that true?”
Hedric shrugged. “I guess so. I get the feeling that we may need them before this trip is over.”
“But your pay…”
“All the pay in the world won’t help if I’m dead, and besides, the actual money doesn’t mean so much anymore.” He held out his hand and muttered silently to Medin. There was a soft flicker, and a fat golden coin was sitting in the palm of his hand. He picked it up between his thumb and forefinger and studied the face engraved there. “My grandfather Hedric Schwendau. He looks like a man who might have had difficulty smiling.” With a grin he dropped the coin into Captain Isenhart’s hand. “Toward the new boat.” He wiped his hands on his greasy coveralls. “I think I’ll clean up and see some of the city. Is Alexandra free?”
“She just finished with her shift. You can catch her if you hurry. You two be careful.” She added thoughtfully. “Memphis has some rough areas. It’s still considered a frontier city, by some.”
“We’ll be careful, Dolores.”
Chapter 12
It was dinnertime, and although only half the crew was still aboard, Captain Isenhart was filling the rest in on the day’s activities. “It looks as though we’ll be here the better part of a week, getting the Fleece raised out of the water and the hull repaired. If your sections have outside work like painting or scraping to do, get it done now. The current plan is to load a cargo and head back north as soon as we’re done. That is all for now.” There were dark circles under the Captain’s eyes, and Hedric thought she looked deadly tired.
Memphis lived up to its reputation as a slightly uncultured frontier city, with carriages and horses pounding along streets that were as often dirt as cobblestone. The air was filled with the scents of exotic southern cooking, strangely perfumed plants and of course the ever present dust. Rising out of that dust loomed stately white buildings with massive front columns, while everywhere drooping trees shaded walkways from the blazing sun, and elegantly gowned women carried colored parasols on bare shoulders the color of café au lait. The buzz of hummingbirds was almost constant, as the small birds flitted from one bright bloom to another in a sort of drunken ecstasy.
Lexi and Hedric found Doctor Welter in a fashionable inn, deep in the town. Sitting under a large striped awning shading a half dozen small tables, he was sipping a large tall drink. He waved the two over as soon as he saw them. His deep brown eyes were only slightly glazed.
“Welcome to Memphis.” He declared grandly, waving his drink. “The home of my birth.”
“You were born around here?” Hedric asked curiously, holding Lexi’s chair as she sat.
“My father owned a small farm ten miles from here; about two hundred acres or so.” The doctor sighed and took a long drink. “The farm is abandoned now. Too many field hands disappeared, and some of the family too. The rest of the family took ship for New Orleans; about two weeks sail south of here. The ship disappeared, and they were never seen again.” He tilted his glass once again, and stared in some disappointment at the empty bottom. “That was a month ago, or so my sister said. She and her husband are leaving for New Boston tomorrow.” He waved another drink from a passing serving girl, took a long swallow and continued. “Look at the eyes of the people, Hedric. They’re frightened. Something is moving in the night, and it terrifies them.”
“But we heard that the plague is contained.” Lexi blurted out, leaning on the table. “All the work we did, all the pain…”
“It isn’t the plague, my dear. It’s something else.”
“Oh no.” Her voice fell.
Hedric looked up. “Oh no.” He echoed, but for an entirely different reason. In front of the building stood a large black covered landau carriage with screened windows. The drivers, black uniformed and appearing bored, perched high on the front seat. Two tall women dressed in white robes stepped from the carriage, and headed up the walkway toward them. Hedric felt the hackles rise on the back of his neck. He gave Lexi a kick in the ankle to get her attention, and stood. “Good afternoon, ladies. How may we be of service?” Doctor Welter just goggled at the women.
“You are wanted, Hedric and Alexandra.” The two women looked down on the doctor, their looks unreadable. “The doctor too.”
“Shorry, ladies.” Doctor Welter slurred, lurching to his feet. “I’m afraid I won’t be mush use to you, or anyone else for a while.”
The first woman almost smiled. “We’ll take care of that. Your Captain is waiting in the coach, so if you would all come along?”
With Lexi on one side, and Hedric on the other, they just managed to manhandle the drunken doctor into the waiting landau. The Captain took one look at him and rolled her eyes.
“Don’t judge him too harshly, Captain,” Alexandra said curtly, shooting a quick glance at the priestesses. “He just found out that most of his family was lost taking ship to New Orleans a month ago.”
Captain Isenhart’s eyes were wide. “I didn’t know.”
“We have far to go and much to do.” The second priestess said softly as she closed the door behind her. “The first thing to do is straighten up the doctor.” Her smile was grim as she reached out one slim finger, and touched the slumped doctor’s forehead. Welter jerked back, eyes wide, sweat standing out on every inch of his skin, mouth open in a silent scream. The woman held the finger there for an eternal minute. “There!” She said at last. “That should do it.”
The doctor sucked in a great lungful of air. “Gods!” He gasped. “Don’t ever do that to me again.” He shuddered, and looked around the coach with bloodshot eyes. “And exactly why are we here?”
“Selene and Rhiannon wish to see you all. We were sent to fetch you.”
“You say that like you would say fetch a loaf of bread or a pound of liver.”
“That is essentially correct.” The woman in white commented dryly.
Doctor Isaiah Welter looked from one white-robed woman to the other, and shut his eyes, holding his head in his hands. “I feel terrible.”
The trip took as long as it took. The people in the coach had no way to measure time, but all at once Hedric knew for certain that they had arrived. The coach door ope
ned, and the driver looked in. “We av arrived.” His accent was strange.
Outside, he knew immediately where they were. To his right, down a long grassy hill was the dark serene lake Medin had created deep within his surface. On the nearer shore, several dozen people were swimming, and further out he could see the sail of a small boat.
Both Captain Isenhart and the doctor were staring openmouthed. Lexi was smiling. “Welcome to Medin, everyone.” Hedric felt a smile creep across his own face. It felt like coming home. “Hello, Medin. Are Selene and Rhiannon waiting for us in the conference room?” he said into the thin air.
“Yes, they are, Hedric.” The mellow baritone replied. “Shall I transport you? They are somewhat anxious, I gather.”
Hedric sighed. “Although I’d love to make them wait, I suppose we should be prompt. Please transport us, my friend.”
The conference room was as sterile and white as the last time they had visited, and Hedric and Lexi took the two nearest seats. The goddesses were already seated.
“We have a problem.” Selene began without preamble. “We already know that you plan on loading cargo after you’ve completed your repairs, and heading back to New Boston. Load your cargo if you wish, but you will go to New Orleans first, before you head north.”
The doctor’s head whipped up. “A trip south could destroy us. My family died just a month ago, on a trip to New Orleans. Are you insane?”
“We are not crazy, Doctor. The Golden Fleece will proceed to New Orleans. There it will pick up nine passengers. They will accompany you on your voyage north. Their assistance and the information they carry is vital to the welfare of your whole continent.”
“So.” Dolores Isenhart said slowly. “Can you tell us what dangers we will face on the way to New Orleans, or how we can prepare ourselves?”
“We are not allowed.” Rhiannon said flatly. “The only thing we can say is that if you do not go, all will be lost.”
While the Captain and the doctor looked torn with indecision, Hedric leaned back in his chair, smiling. “What’s it worth to you?” The goddesses blinked. “What are you willing to pay us to do this high-risk job?” There was a sharp edge to Hedric’s voice. Selene glared at him, and held out a small leather pouch. It clinked suggestively. Hedric didn’t move. “Don’t be cheap with us now, Goddess. It’s our lives, and our ship that are on the line, not yours.” The purse bulged. Hedric frowned. It bulged some more and he smiled, reaching out a hand. “That’s more like it. Thank you.” He slid the pouch to the Captain. “Will this be enough, Captain Isenhart?”
The Finger of God: a Thalassia novel Page 19
