Blood Captain

by Justin Somper

  You never approved of me being a pirate but I was so gung ho, I ignored your concerns. But as usual, you were right. I think I have a talent for burying my head in the sand, for only seeing what’s here now. Whereas you, it’s like you get the bigger picture. You see further along the road. And I reckon you saw what would happen to me — where this road was leading — long before I did.

  Well, in a way you have your wish. I’m leaving THE DIABLO now and I’m not coming back. I’m no pirate.

  What am I? Right now, I only have one answer to that question and it’s not an answer I can face, certainly not one I dare share with you.

  I’m going away — I don’t know where or for how long. There’s a lot of ocean out there and I’m sure it’s easy to find a patch of it in which to hide.

  I hope you are doing well — better than me, anyhow. I feel in my heart that you are. Maybe you chose a better path. Again, I couldn’t see beyond my nose. But you’ve always seen more than me.

  Like I said at the beginning, I don’t know why I wrote you this letter. It’s not like I can send it to you.

  Think of me kindly. Take care of yourself!

  Your brother,

  Connor x

  Connor picked up the second letter. He folded it in three, then placed it in its envelope and addressed it to Grace. He took the two letters, swung his knapsack over his shoulder and began heading up to the main deck. It was quiet up there. Everyone was getting ready for the night of celebrations ahead. The Diablo had moored alongside The Typhon at a small harbor. The safety boats had been lowered into the water.

  Connor walked quietly across the deck. Molucco’s cabin was shut tight. He slipped the envelope under the captain’s door then walked as quickly as possible across the deck. Still unseen, he began descending the ladder down to the pontoon below.

  It was as if the safety boat was waiting for him to steal it. He really should have apologized for this in his letter. Too late now! Captain Wrathe might already be stumbling through his cabin and picking up the envelope. Connor jumped into the small boat and began unfastening the moorings. Then, he slipped out of the harbor and began his getaway.

  Tears were streaming down his eyes as he turned back and saw the twin hulks of the pirate ships. One of them had felt like his home. But that had been a delusion. It had all been one giant delusion.

  As he headed out into the open ocean, he had one final task to do. He took the letter addressed to Grace in his hands. Then he ripped through the envelope. He tore it again and again, until its tiny pieces were like confetti, showering over the side of the boat and into the waters below. He watched as his truncated words blurred in front of him, unsure if the seawater was loosening the ink or if it was just the tears in his eyes.

  Grace was walking along the corridor when it hit her. She closed her eyes and reached out for the wall, steadying herself against it. Her head was filled with a torrent of water. She closed her eyes, hoping to focus more clearly on the image. It worked.

  Now she could see that the water was not as rough as it had seemed at first. Not a raging torrent but merely the ocean.

  She could see scraps of something moving within it. Paper. Then she saw the marks on the paper and thought she understood.

  I have to bring them together, she thought. It’s some kind of test. Perhaps Mosh Zu had sent it to her. Her eyes tightly closed, she began scanning the waters for the scraps of paper. As she found each one, she pulled it into the center of her mind’s eye. After a while, she was unable to find any further pieces. That must be it, she thought. Time to assemble the jigsaw!

  This was harder than she thought. The motion of the water was not violent but it was strong. Just as she got one scrap of paper into place, the tide threatened to drag another one away. No! She wouldn’t let it. She knew it was taking all her energy but she was determined. As she brought two pieces of the paper together, she recognized the handwriting. Now, with a terrible jolt, she understood. This was not a test. This was the real thing.

  Her head ached with the effort. It was so tempting to open her eyes and relieve the pain for an instant but she knew that if she did that, the vision might be lost to her for ever. She was almost there. The jigsaw of paper scraps had just about been assembled. Now, she simply had to hold them there as she read the letter.

  Dear Grace

  Just seeing her name written in her brother’s distinctive handwriting moved her. He hardly ever wrote letters. She knew this was serious. She read on.

  As she read the deep feelings encapsulated in the letter, it became harder and harder to maintain the vision, to keep all the pieces together. But she couldn’t give up now. This was too important.

  Think of me kindly

  She was almost at the bottom of the letter and the pain in her head was searing. It was compounded by her growing sense of dread at what he’d written.

  At last, she gave in to the pain in her head and allowed the pieces of the letter to scatter once more. They raced away on the tide, leaving her mind filled only with water. The noise of it was growing louder and louder, the water darker and darker. She felt like she was drowning.

  She realized that this must be what was happening to Connor. She had been sent the letter and now she was being given this vision into what he was experiencing. But she had no clue where he was. There was nothing she could do to help him!

  The vision of the water gradually diminished. Suddenly everything was quiet. Perfectly quiet and pitch black. The end.

  Grace opened her mouth and screamed.

  “No!”

  41

  THE BOAT ON THE WATER

  “How are you feeling now?” Mosh Zu asked as Grace stepped into the meditation room.

  “Calmer,” she said. “I’m sorry about before. I lost control.”

  Mosh Zu shook his head. “You have a very close connection to Connor. When he suffers, you suffer. That’s part of what makes you so powerful as a healer. But we need to work with you more so that you can use the power to help him — and others — rather than being consumed by it.”

  She was a little puzzled by his words. He beckoned her to come and sit with him.

  “Think of it in this way. We know that Connor has some kind of emotional burden. It’s like a very heavy weight he’s carrying. Now think of a heavy object he might conceivably try to lift. Tell me. What are your thoughts?”

  Grace searched around the room for ideas. “A table?” she said with a shrug.

  “Very good!” Mosh Zu nodded. “Let us imagine that Connor is struggling to carry a table. He’s strong, we know that. But it’s not a regular table. It’s made from very heavy wood. Maybe even heavier than that. Made of stone. Of course, he is going to struggle with it.”

  Grace nodded.

  “Well,” said Mosh Zu. “You want to help him, don’t you?”

  Grace nodded once more.

  “So, tell me, what’s the best way to help him carry the table?”

  “By taking one end of it,” she said instinctively.

  “Exactly! By sharing the load. Not by taking the table out of his hands altogether and transferring the burden entirely to yourself.” Mosh Zu’s eyes were bright. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, of course. That makes perfect sense.”

  “It’s one of the most important things we must learn as healers,” Mosh Zu said. “We cannot carry everyone else’s burdens for them. At times, it can be tempting to try, but it makes us ineffective. When we start to swim in other people’s emotions, there’s always the danger we may drown in them.”

  “So what can we do to help Connor?” Grace asked.

  “Oh, there is much,” Mosh Zu said. He stood up and padded across the room toward a high counter. He turned and came back bearing a wide, shallow bowl made from beaten copper. He set it down on the floor between them. As he did so, Grace saw that it was filled with water. Next, Mosh Zu removed a small bottle from his pocket and emptied it into the bowl.

  “Squid ink,”
he said, as he dipped his fingers into the bowl and lightly mixed the ink into the rest of the liquid. “We want the surface of the water to be as dark and reflective as possible for this,” he explained.

  Grace was intrigued.

  “And now,” Mosh Zu said, drying his hands, “I need your help. We need to ensure that these candles are reflected in the water. Can you help me to move them?”

  Together, they walked back and forth across the room, adjusting the positions of the tall candlesticks until the flame of each candle was indeed reflected in the dark pool of water. Looking down, Grace’s eyes were tricked for a moment into thinking that she was looking into a bowl of fire.

  “And now,” said Mosh Zu. “We sit.” He settled himself close to the bowl and gestured to Grace. “You sit here,” he said. “But make sure you cannot see your own reflection in the water.”

  She sat down and nodded.

  “All right, then,” he said. “And now we turn our eyes to the surface of the water and we begin to take deep breaths. In and out. In and out. In and . . .” As he continued to speak, his voice soft and rhythmic, Grace felt her breathing grow deeper and deeper. She knew she was entering a state of profound relaxation. In itself, it felt good, but she knew that there was more to this. This was only the beginning of one of Mosh Zu’s journeys.

  “That’s good, Grace,” he said. “Keep your eyes gently shut. Your vision should not be too fixed, too intent. Keep it on the water but allow it to blur.” She adjusted her vision. “And now, simply relax and we shall see what we shall see.”

  All sense of time was lost to her. She had no sense of how long they had been sitting there, eyes gently focused on the water. But suddenly, she was no longer looking at a dark surface reflecting flames. Instead, she was gazing on a dark sea and at a small boat tossing and turning on it. She must have smiled, because Mosh Zu said, “Yes, I see it, too. Now, keep your eyes relaxed and we’ll take a closer look.”

  As he spoke, the image of the boat came closer and closer to them. It was like a camera lens zooming in. Now, they could see that the boat had one sole passenger.

  “Connor!” Grace whispered. “You’re safe!” She felt relief flood through her body.

  “Yes,” Mosh Zu said. “We’ve found him.”

  “What do we do now?” Grace asked. “Just watch him?”

  “For now, yes,” said Mosh Zu. “Keep breathing, keep the focus of your eyes soft.”

  She obeyed his instructions and felt the image of Connor grow crystal clear. She could see his face and it was as easy to read as a book. He looked tired and troubled. His forehead was etched with worry lines and there were dark circles under his eyes. He didn’t look as though he had slept in many nights. His eyes were empty, distant.

  “He looks in great pain, doesn’t he?” Mosh Zu said.

  “Yes.” Grace nodded, but then steadied her head once more. “But where is he? Is he really on this boat?”

  “Oh, yes,” Mosh Zu said.

  “But why has he left The Diablo? What’s happened?”

  “Sssh,” said Mosh Zu. “These are not the questions we must ask if we want to help him. Let’s look, instead, more closely at his pain.”

  “All right,” she conceded. “But how?”

  “I’m going to dip my hand very gently into the water. And I want you to do the same. Very gently, though. Try to disturb the surface as little as possible.”

  Grace watched as Mosh Zu eased his hand into the water. He made hardly a ripple on the dark surface. Carefully, she extended her own hand and did the same. It was harder than it looked. There were a couple of bubbles. She hesitated.

  “It’s all right, Grace, you’re doing fine. And you’re nearly there.”

  Spurred on by his words, she plunged her hand a little lower into the water.

  As she did so, she felt a jolt of sensations.

  “That’s excellent, Grace. The most important thing now is to remain as still as possible. Keep breathing, but try not to move even a muscle. Be as strong as stone but let the sensations wash over you, as if you are a rock in the centre of the ocean.”

  And truly it felt like a wave of emotions was being unleashed on her.

  “Can you feel them, Grace?”

  “Yes,” she said, focusing intently on keeping as still as possible, as the rogue emotions crashed over her.

  “Tell me what you are feeling,” Mosh Zu said.

  “I feel angry, betrayed, disillusioned.”

  “Yes,” he said, a note of excitement in his voice. “Yes, Grace. What else?”

  “I’m drained, so tired and . . . no, wait! I feel guilty. That’s bigger than the others. I’ve done something terrible and I feel so guilty.”

  “This is really excellent,” said Mosh Zu.

  She was grateful for his praise but this was overshadowed by a deeper concern. “Are those the feelings Connor has?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “You read them perfectly!”

  Reading them was one thing, but Grace had something else on her mind. “But I want to help him,” she said. “How can I do that?”

  “We’re getting there,” Mosh Zu said. “Now, I’m going to remove my hand to give you more room. Keep your hand under the water. Okay?”

  Grace nodded.

  “Now, I want you to take your hand and place it under the boat. Very gently. Place it under Connor’s boat as if you want to pick it up and carry it out of the water. Be careful, though. Imagine it’s a slippery bar of soap that you’re lifting out of the bathtub. You must do it as gently as you can. It won’t be easy.”

  She moved her hand into position.

  “All right? Lift the boat out of the water.”

  Grace brought her hand up and was stunned as the image of Connor in his boat rose out of the water’s depths, changing from two dimensions into three as it was cradled in her palm like a living toy.

  “Keep raising your hand out of the water,” Mosh Zu instructed.

  She kept raising her hand.

  “All right, that’s perfect. Now hold it there.”

  Grace marvelled at what she was seeing. Connor was sitting before her eyes. He was tiny but he was clearly Connor.

  “Now ask him what he wants,” Mosh Zu said. “Ask him how you can help him. You don’t need to say the words out loud. Just look into his eyes and ask the question.”

  Once more, she followed Mosh Zu’s lead. What do you want, Connor? she asked. How can I help you?

  He did not give her a clear answer. She couldn’t hear his voice. But something compelled her to the sword he was holding.

  “What does he say?” Mosh Zu asked.

  “It’s not clear,” she said.

  “No, it might not be. Keep listening. Keep feeling the answer.”

  She waited. “It’s something to do with the sword,” she said.

  Mosh Zu waited. “If it still isn’t clear, then ask him. Ask him, ‘Connor, how can I help you with the sword?’”

  Once more, she gazed into Connor’s eyes. She asked the question.

  The answer came to her like a charge of electricity.

  “He wants to let it go,” she said. “He wants to let it go but something is holding him back. It’s as if it’s glued to his hands.”

  “All right,” Mosh Zu said. “Then take your other hand and, very gently, try to loosen the sword. Don’t pull it away entirely. Just loosen it for him.”

  Very, very carefully, Grace raised her other hand. She brought her thumb and forefinger to the tiny sword and pulled it gently toward her.

  “That’s probably enough,” Mosh Zu said. “Wait and he’ll tell you.”

  “Yes,” she said. The moment she had moved the sword, she had felt a shiver within herself, then a sense of tension easing. Did this feeling emanate from Connor?

  “You’re doing so well, Grace,” said Mosh Zu. “Now, you can lower your hand again and return the boat and Connor to the water. When the boat is safely in the water, you can bring your hand
away again.”

  Grace lowered her hand as carefully as she had raised it. She returned Connor and his boat to the waters within the bowl. As they dipped below the surface they turned from three dimensions to two once more.

  “Now, take your hand from the water,” Mosh Zu instructed. “And sit still and watch what happens.”

  Out on the dark ocean, Connor felt a sudden inrush of energy. He didn’t know where it had come from. He had been so tired, his thoughts circling around and around on themselves like wild dogs. But now, suddenly, he had a sense of purpose. He knew exactly what he had to do.

  He walked to the side of the boat, holding his sword high in the air. Then he let out a wail that seemed to come deep from inside his very soul, and as the sound broke out across the ocean, he threw the sword out of his hands. He watched it fly through the dark sky, then pierce the water’s surface and slip into the void below.

  Looking down at his empty hand, he sighed. Throwing away the sword didn’t take away the terrible deed he had performed with it. But he felt lighter — as though he had thrown away more than the sword alone. For the first time since the killing, he realized there might be an onward journey.

  “He threw away the sword!” Grace said excitedly.

  “Yes,” Mosh Zu said, nodding. “You enabled him to do that. I don’t think he could have done it without you. Not at this point.”

  “That’s amazing!” Grace said.

  Mosh Zu smiled. “You’re a healer, Grace. And there are many ways to heal. But you did good! Really good!”

  He began to sit up, reaching out for the bowl of water.

  “Wait!” she said. “Can’t we watch him just a little longer?”

  “Best not,” Mosh Zu said. “For now, we should let him make his own journey. Remember what I told you before about the table?”

  Grace nodded. She understood. Nevertheless, she felt a sudden sense of loss as Mosh Zu lifted the copper bowl and took it to the sink to empty it. As she heard the mixture of water and ink swirl away down the drain, she couldn’t help but think of her brother, on the small boat, out there all alone on the dark, dark sea.

  Where are you? She couldn’t help but ask. What made you leave The Diablo? What is it that you feel so terribly guilty about?