by J P Nelson
Jha’Ley paused and looked around the room. He thought to himself, ‘Am I really this interesting, or are they just being polite.’
He ran the pointer up and down the Hoshael Trace several times as he continued, “On land and by sea, there are many alcoves, valleys, fjords, lagoons, small fertile areas, even communities … but no one, I say no one, has ever made it to the other side. At least, not to return.”
He smacked the map with the broad side of the pointer, making a loud popping sound to embellish his point, “WE … on the other hand, are going to find a break. WE … are going to find a way through. Maybe not this time. Maybe not this ship. But it WILL be done.”
Of them all, Captain S’Getti was the one most acknowledged for his cold logic and soundness of judgment. Fifteen years Jha’Ley’s senior, it was a known fact he had passed promotion to commodore more than once. There were those who believed he would be admiral by now. His reasons for decline were never revealed, but he was happy as a captain; wise and much respected.
Jha’Ley noticed each man at the table, passing glances to S’Getti. Obviously they wanted to read his reaction. Not all at once, mind you, but it was there. Jha’Ley did not mind, he welcomed it. He took a long drink of his tea.
Talk of sailing around the world was a thing of fantasy. Several land folk were spreading ideas the world was flat, largely because of the Hoshael Boundary. A book had recently been written to that effect by an Eayahn priest named T’Kiemmer.
T’Kiemmer called it, “The Search for Tyr N’Aill.” He scoffed at the notion of Orucean being round. The book profoundly described all claims to the contrary to be stuff of myth and legend. Any and all lands said to lie west of the Hoshaels were labeled Tyr N’Aill, after an ancient fable attributed to elves.
T’Kiemmer went so far as to suggest declaration of Orucean being round was an affront to Eayah. The Eayahn religion depicted him to be level and balanced in all ways.
Detractors and non-supporters of the religion argued this to be a two-dimensional contrast. It was also brought out that, according to the Eayahn Church Covenant, all affronts to Eayah could and should be addressed with death by fire. The consensus being the church leaders were preparing for a world conquest through religion.
As to the world being flat, no true seaman would suspect such, the horizon itself prove roundness of the world.
S’Getti sat in his chair, taking it all in, in fact, he had heard all this before, many times. If he noticed the men looking at him, he gave no sign. Jha’Ley would be disappointed if he hadn’t, S’Getti was an observant man.
Toagun Sealer was sitting his chair with arms crossed; he was taking it all in, too. Was the commodore insane? These ideas went against what many people were now taking to believe. But a queen, the most powerful woman in the world, forget being a woman, one of the three or four most powerful people in the world had granted his charter. Even now the two ships were speeding into the unknown.
A hand went up; it was S’Getti’s sailing master. Jha’Ley acknowledged the man, “Yes, Mister Hoppur?”
“Meanin’ all respect, sir, but what you got to go on but talk? It sounds good, an’ I’m all for it, but …” he rolled his hand over on the table as if to say, “There it is, that is the question.”
Jha’Ley looked to the map on the tripod. It was beautifully drawn, but its east-to-west range went from the Hoshael border to V’Pohra Tanzhi’s edge. He wondered, ‘Is this the time to show the Kelshinua Map, or not?’
He mused the thought to himself and replied to Hoppur, “A good question, sir.” Walking to his desk, he gingerly touched the tube holding the precious maps, put there on a just-in-case hunch.
“As you know, gentlemen,” he took the tube and saw the look of surprise on S’Getti’s face. He had shown these maps to his friend, “but, I have my own resources. These have not been reviewed and approved by the Vedoan navy, and therefore not official, but they are objects of personal ownership and I will reveal them as such.”
Many seats jostled as several of the men adjusted for better view. Word of Jha’Ley’s maps was in the air, and good maps were like gold unto themselves. Now they would get to actually see these cartographs.
He carefully unrolled the main sheet and secured it to the tripod.
“This is the map used by Captain Greybeard, drawn for his vessel the Kelshinua, and used to travel to locations on no map used today upon the water.” He stopped and let the men ogle the drawing.
Directing their attention to the lines west of the Hoshael’s and east of the Tanzhi, “There is almost half of a world out there we have not set foot upon, or sailed. According to this, there are places where men may have reached the other side, but stopped just short for one reason or another.”
He paused and held the pointer cross-ways of his body with both hands, “Not unlike the fellow last year who tried to swim the Mangler Channel, and stopped to climb into the canoe because he couldn’t see the other side due to fog … THIRTY-ONE FEET, from completion.”
One man muttered, “According to this, Ba-Azor could be a whole ‘nother continent, a mini-continent, to be sure, but shiking more than a big island.”
Another man added, “Yeah, mate, it’s at least the same size as Ton’Sui, south of Rok’Shutai.”
Yet another man offered, “And this point, to the far west, is further south than Ton’Sui’s Cape Cho Rae.”
Lieutenant Mantel, S’Getti’s first officer, asked, “Sir, may I ask?”
Jha’Ley nodded.
“Sir, what is this?” He pointed to an outline within the blackness representing V’Pohra Tanzhi.
“That is Zh’Norr, fabled land of darkness, undead, vampires …”
“And this cartographer suggests it to actually exist?”
“Captain Greybeard was there, and he brought this back with him.” He pulled his watch out to show, then opened it. “Actually …” he added, “… I should say my uncle, Captain Liam, of whom you all know of, brought it while sailing with Greybeard into Zh’Norr.”
There was murmuring about the table as Dessi sat back and rubbed his chin. Seedle clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, nodding in appreciation. He had wondered where the commodore got that watch. Nothing like it could be found anywhere, and it was unfailingly accurate.
Jha’Ley looked to S’Getti, who in turn passed him an, “I do not know,” expression.
‘At least,’ Jha’Ley thought, ‘he gave me his confidence in prior discussion.’ He kept his gaze upon his friend, as if inquiring continued support. S’Getti made comprehension and gave a subtle nod with an ever-so-slight wink.
Good.
Suddenly S’Getti asked, to Jha’Ley’s surprise, “Commodore, is this beautifully drawn map all you have?” It caught him momentarily off guard, but then he realized … it is the question which would be on everyone else’s mind. Would any of them have dared to ask?
The words could easily be construed as a challenge, and no one wanted to challenge Jann Raul Jha’Ley. Mantel’s inquiry had been probative, but polite. Captain S’Getti’s question hit the subject on the head. More importantly, it let the rest of the men off the hook.
Jha’Ley had developed a solid reputation, but he knew how quickly the tide may change, especially concerning a subject which many had declared lunacy. He needed his men beside him.
Smiling his famous smile, he replied, “No, captain, it is not.”
Chapter 26
AROUND THE TABLE sat eighteen men in tight space; the first officer, lieutenants, sailing master, chief quartermaster, bosun, senior petty officer, and lead Marine of both ships as well as Captain S’Getti and Toagun Sealer. All were waiting to hear what Commodore Jann Raul Jha’Ley had to support his idea. This idea of which, technically, could lead to the challenge of his sanity and relief of command, according to regulation … unless …
From an inside pocket of his uniform jacket, Jha’Ley pulled a sheaf of papers which he lay upon the table center. “Here, gentleme
n, are my orders from Her Majesty, Queen Morella. Please note the Royal Seal. I give permission to any of you, here at this time, at this moment, to give inspection.
“You will find seven articles of commission clearly defined. The seventh article outlines an attempt to find possible means to continue west, at my discretion, with the information I have gathered, including such as might be within my personal possession.”
This was an action which just wasn’t done. Senior officers simply did not consent to subordinates reading their orders. Jha’Ley turned his back and poured himself tea. His keen hearing detected not one soul reaching for the sheaf of papers.
He heard fingers lightly drumming the table, it had to be Chako, his newly promoted bosun. It was not an act of rudeness, Chako fidgeted that way. He was a good man; courageous and steady. He and Chako went back a ways. Jha’Ley remembered shooting the flume with him in the Sangora. If he could just hold his temper …
Turning back to the men, Jha’Ley noticed the papers had not been touched. They were all looking at him, waiting. He thought to himself, ‘Just being right about something is not enough, there is something about being respected … and trusted. Yes, to be trusted.’ To Jha’Ley, trust bore more value than gold and diamonds.
Speaking in a casual tone, he continued, “Just as I collected notes from all available sources prior to mapping the V’Pohra Tanzhi, I have gleaned of those who have been where we are now heading. Their logs were of personal nature, ours will be official.
“Before casting off, I was fortunate to meet and discuss the current status of arctic venturing, or I should say the lack of it, with Captain Braz from Ingleshire of Nahjiua by way of Sterine. Mister Sealer, here, introduced me to him and spoke high of his credibility.
“To Captain Braz’s knowledge, no ship has sailed up that way in over two years. A pair of ships were up there hunting whales when a series of landquakes hit, causing pieces of glacier to fall and violence in the sea. There are other reasons, keeping the Nahjiuese to home, but that is the jist of what he told me of the Meinkutt Sea.
“It is not much to go on from the locals, except that no one is sailing up that way.”
Jha’Ley smiled again. Putting one foot upon a chair, propping his arm on raised knee, he took a sip of tea and said, “Ah-h-h, this is good stuff.” Pausing, he then added, “Besides, in addition to possession of logs written by Captains Greybeard, Ruben, Liam, Severn, and Shizington … we have our own guide.”
He glanced over to Toagun and said, “Mister Sealer is an accomplished navy man, diver, and has hunted these waters for years. He has actually been in the Gulf of Ruben and is an expert in ice.”
Jha’Ley stopped speaking then, and all eyes diverted to the man in the civilian clothes.
Toagun was sitting back from the table, just a bit, and had casually crossed his right leg over the left. He rested his tea mug on right knee and had a few hardtack crackers in his lap. He seemed to like those salty wafers, and had been snacking from them during the presentation.
As Jha’Ley turned to him, he was putting a piece of cracker in his mouth. Everyone could hear him crunch the morsel with pleasure. He did not rush, but did not tarry. As it became clear Jha’Ley left it for him to take the ball, Toagun washed the cracker down and wiped his mouth with the back of his thumb.
Without getting up, he began speaking as if to a group of chums, not officers of a major expedition, “Well fellas … I know you have some of the toughest men and best sailors in the world aboard these two vessels. But where we’re headed,” he touched the side of his head with a forefinger, “it’s going to take a whole different kind of steel.
“From here on, further north … the worse the weather and wind will become.”
Many times, Sailing Master Rufus commented on the erratic weather patterns.
“By the time we get to the mouth of Ruben’s Gulf, it’ll feel like we’re in one perpetual storm.”
S’Getti recorded in his log, “Choppiest water I have ever to experience, without doubt. I cannot set down my cup without spill.”
“The far-reaching ships of the Bay and Nahjiuan Sea generally go out for whales. Those square rigs don’t do well up there, the winds beat them to death.”
Constant shift in the wind kept the crews of both ships on their toes, and thankful they were rigged for tri-sail propulsion, modeled after Captain Greybeard’s Kelshinua.
“If you’ve been having problems with the sun, it’s going to get really rough for you. Up ahead, the sun shines twenty-four-seven this time of year.”
Even as Toagun was speaking, the crews were installing special blackened tarps to cover windows of the berth-deck. They would be pulled over to prevent sunlight during ‘night watches.’ This would assist the crew in getting to sleep … most of them, anyway.
A few men had it rough with insomnia, not the least being Jha’Ley. Toagun, himself, was there when after several sleepless days, the commodore muttered, “Damn that sun …” and slumped against Clyde where the barge was stored on deck. Toagun rushed to catch him, assisted by nearby Telroy got him to his cabin where he slept soundly for two days.
“We’ll most likely encounter whirlpools. There’s a stretch of sea where at any given time one will open up. Ours was a forty-seven-footer with a main sail, two foresails, and a spinnaker. We towed a barge to assist in hauling our catch. But we got caught coming home by one of those pools and had to cut our barge loose.
“We obviously made it with the Vagrant, but our barge got sucked down and it was a sorry sight to see our work go.”
Twice they encountered whirlpools. Once far enough at a distance, but the second occasion the Clarise was nearly taken. For the first time, Sailing Master Rufus was able to appreciate all the lectures from Jha’Ley on his sling-shot maneuver he perfected during his days shooting the flume.
It was Jha’Ley’s uncanny sense of the current that saved them. Even so, the crew worked frantically as the commodore yelled orders and himself took control of the rudder’s wheel.
“Make sure your men wear their protective clothing and face covers. That wind can cut like a knife. It feels dry, but don’t let it fool you. And speaking of wind, it’ll blow you right off the deck. The deck freezing over and all doesn’t help any, at all.”
Lebracio was heaving the lead to check depth when he was caught by such a wind. Only the iron grip of Caroll kept him from being lost. Helmsman Ahtty was at the wheel, however, and according to Chief Yeau, looked down to keep his mug from falling over. In that instant he was blown off balance. Coxswain Ambrose was close enough to catch him and try lending support, but before anyone else could get close, both men were over the rail and into the roiling sea.
“And I know it isn’t easy, but take caution of the sea itself. It gets so it feels like knives are splashing up against you. There are shards of ice in that water. It’ll give you a whole new meaning to choppy waves.”
More than a few men had to take treatment for cuts against exposed portions of their face. Aboard the Clarise, Carpenter’s Mate Krow was pierced through the shoulder by a long, slim sliver of ice. Marine Corporal Ziskey, of the Ubank, pushed a crewman away from a large cresting wave, and took a shard of ice inside the hood of his parka … instantly severing his head from body.
“Once we get into the gulf, we won’t make fast time, but everything will calm down. It’ll get outright beautiful. But it will bear on your mind, too. As pretty as it is, the weight of loneliness can really get to you. It’s hard to explain, but be ready for it.”
Ubert was a quiet man, hard worker, and excelled at his job. His personnel file showed absolutely no disciplinary actions in six years of the Vedoan Navy, several commendations, and when he asked to be part of Jha’Ley’s crew, the commodore had been proud to have him. He had just talked to the fellow about promotion to petty officer.
When Ubert stood to the stern rail next to his friend, Seaman First Class Beck, and took off his parka, it caught Beck by surprise. “I cann
ot do it any more,” he said with tears streaming down his face as he handed the coat to his friend. Before Beck could respond, Ubert leapt over the side. No one was ever able to understand why.
“And then there are the snakes.”
The mention of snakes in the arctic made several of the men at table pass incredulous glances at each other.
Toagun chuckled, “Yeah … ice snakes. You heard me right. I’ve seen them as long as thirty-two, thirty-three feet long. But they’re usually twenty feet, or so. They live mostly on the bottom and we figured the gulf depth to average seventy to eighty fathoms, some places over one hundred. But they sometimes take a notion to rise to the surface.
“We had a third fella working with us, but the first time we hunted the gulf, one of those snakes came up out of the water and got him. Orrin and me didn’t see it until it was too late. The snake was transparent except for the spine, skull, and organs. It was creepy looking. And when it bit our deckhand, he stiffened up instantly. That snake held on and fell back into the water with him.”
Dessi had just stepped to the port gunwale to glance at the Ubank sailing off side, when Seedle hit him abreast with a flying tackle that made both men skid a dozen feet along the deck. Dessi’s right boot was in the mouth of a terrifying, lucid serpentine head revealing its skull, cruel fangs and flickering tongue. Toagun whipped his combachete from the sheath on his back, sliced down to sever the head, and followed the motion with a roll to land next to the two men.
Caroll grabbed Dessi and Seedle both, each man by the neck of their parkas, and lifted them into the air, deposited them next to Clyde, then side-stepped yet another snake while catching the creature in a tight clutch. The serpent was wild in its thrashing, pulling Caroll against the rail with a splintering crunch.
Toagun slipped as he tried to get into position to strike, landing onto the deck. Cries of alarm were all about the Clarise as several of these creatures were attacking at once.
