“Thank you,” Marco told Hearst. “I would have done something stupid if you hadn’t chased him away.” He felt intense anger at the ill-mannered officer who had spoken so thoughtlessly.
Just then the captain returned to the deck, and sought out the Prince. “We’ve been badly damaged, beyond repair. We’re going to have to abandon the ship immediately. If you and your party can start moving your belongings, we’ll move into this Corsair ship we still have available,” he said.
Marco looked at Hearst. “Can you arrange a party to carry their goods over to the Corsair ship,” he asked the sergeant.
“Yes sir, I’ll do so immediately,” Hearst answered. He gave a significant look to several of the men around him, and they all departed, leaving Marco momentarily alone on the bench.
The rapid procession of events striking the ship he was on was unbelievable. From Corsair attack to sea monster visitation to tensions among the survivors to having to abandon ship, the stress had mounted, and he felt his bone-weariness overwhelming him. He’d not slept soundly in days, and now the next crisis was underway. He wondered if he would have survived the ongoing debacle if he had still been under Iasco’s spell. His awakening of his personality had both allowed him to respond more powerfully to the crises that rained down, as well as prevented him from falling in love with the princess, as he might have been otherwise inclined to do.
“Can we help you?” a pair of the other Docleatean soldiers approached him.
“I left my pack in the cabin down below that the monster bashed open. Could you fetch it for me?” he asked, and gratefully watched the men run the errand for him as the sun set over the western waters. Marco reflectively took a sip of water from his finger, then spit it on his injured foot. And then he leaned back and closed his eyes, and fell asleep.
Chapter 11
When Marco awoke, he found himself swaying in a hammock that was one of dozens hung below deck on the Corsair ship. The other hammocks were empty, and Marco could see streaks of sunlight shining in through cracks between wooden planks in the hull and the deck above. He saw his knapsack tied to the foot of the hammock, and his boots were on the floor next to him, courtesy of the men who had fetched his knapsack for him, and presumably carried him over to the new ship.
He sat up unsteadily as the hammock swayed, then he examined his injured foot. It was healing nicely, and rapidly, thanks to Diotima’s waters. His shoulder felt better, and his thigh as well. And he’d had a long night’s sleep that had let his body overall rest and recover from the series of traumatic events of the past couple of days.
He slipped his feet into his boots and stamped them securely into place, then he stood, and began walking through the ship. He sought two things; the way to the top deck, and the way to some food – he felt famished, and realized that he had never stopped to eat a meal the day before.
A bright set of steep stairs led up to the deck, and numerous people were present.
“Marco!” Captain Fyld greeted him first, and Marco walked over to where the captain stood along the railing. Marco saw that the captain, and nearly everyone else, was watching the sinking of their original ship, as the waves of the sea lapped against its sides just a few inches below the top deck.
“It’s something to see, isn’t it?” Fyld commented. “So how do you feel?” he asked.
“Good,” Marco told the officer, “and hungry,” he added.
“There’s some food downstairs in the galley. Let me take you there,” Fyld offered, and the two of them left the spectacle of the sinking ship to go below decks in search of food.
“This is a different layout than we had before,” Fyld told Marco. “There are only three cabins, one for the prince, one for the princess and duchess, and one for the ship’s officers. The Count and the Colonel are very dissatisfied, but they have no one to support them,” he explained as they arrived at the galley. Fyld took a seat at a table, and waited there while Marco accepted a generous plate of food from the cook and came to sit next to him.
“So what happens now?” Marco asked, as he started to greedily eat his meal.
“We’ll get underway at any moment, and start sailing south, looking for the shore. The navigator was killed in the battle, so we don’t really know where we are or where to go from here. Once we find the shore, we’ll apparently start sailing along it until we find some cities or landmarks, and then head to Tripool,” the officer told Marco. “We probably still have a week at sea.”
Marco considered the information. It sounded reasonable. “That’s if we have no more battles with Corsairs or sea monsters?” he asked with a grin.
Fyld smiled back. “Come back up topside when you’re done here,” he instructed Marco, then left him alone in the empty room.
Marco ate contentedly. The food was nothing special, but it was filling after his long, unintended fast. When he finished, he climbed back up to the top deck, and saw that the sails were raised, propelling the Corsair ship forward through the water. There was active hammering and banging, the product of a work crew that was repairing the hole Marco had blasted in the side of the ship during the initial battle with the Corsairs.
The ship sailed peacefully that day and the next. Marco and the other soldiers on board helped the depleted crew of sailors to keep the ship on a steady course southward. Colonel Varsen and Count Argen kept to themselves, away from everyone else, but so did the prince, who kept himself isolated in his cabin, and Princess Ellersbine and Duchess Rhen, who also largely stayed in their cabin too, not speaking to others expect for polite small talk when Rhen came out for their meals.
“Why has the princess been so distant?” Marco asked Captain Fyld at sunset after not seeing her during his first day on the Corsair ship.
“While you were unconscious, we had a funeral for Gielle. Argen made a public scene about her having been in your cabin, and it was your fault she was killed,” Fyld reluctantly told him. “But Rhen was mad, and she blurted out that all three of the women were in your cabin together when the monster attacked.
“Argen was outraged, as you might imagine. And the princess was mortified. So she has kept away from everyone,” he explained.
“And the truth is, no one thinks poorly of her – or you – for the circumstances. No one except Argen, that is,” the captain’s report finished, and his voice wound down. They stood together at the railing and watched the sky turn red, then purple, then black, after the sun disappeared from view.
Two days later, as the ship was sailing briskly at mid-morning, driven by a strong breeze, one of the prisoners in the crow’s nest was acting as lookout, watching for signs of other ships.
“There’s an island ahead,” he announced loudly.
Why is the water so choppy up in front of us?” he called down to the deck a moment later.
Marco observed two of the sailors exchange alarmed looks, then one of them went scrambling madly up the mast, grabbing and lunging with a speed Marco hadn’t seen anyone previously achieve while on the ship.
“Turn starboard! Turn starboard! Reef dead ahead!” the sailor called down, shouting at the top of his lungs.
Marco turned his head to see the captain madly swinging the wheel around and around as fast as he could, wishfully hoping to avert disaster, while the ship slowly responded by swinging to the left, but not turning quickly enough to suit the lookout.
“We’re going to strike the reef! Everyone hold on to something!” the man shouted. Marco seized hold of the mast, and watched as all the other men on the deck also grabbed hold of railings and cables and equipment, then waited dramatically for almost five seconds, before the ship struck the reef, and chaos erupted.
The vessel immediately came to a full stop, and unsecured items went barreling forward down the length of the deck. Men who held on to insecure anchors went tumbling forward. Marco felt the mast he held tremble and vibrate, as a tremendous cracking sound whipped through the air, and the wooden structure of the mast began to tumble for
ward as it broke above his head. A cloud of sails fell to the deck, dropping bolts of ropes and cables and yard arms, covering all the men and material who were beneath it.
Marco was knocked to the deck by the weight of the canvas that fell on him. He pulled his sword loose, then sliced the sail open, and stood up, battered but not hurt. There were moving lumps beneath the canvas at various locations around the deck, and Marco trod over the uneven sail cloth to reach the other trapped men, slicing the canvas to set them all free.
“Prepare the lifeboats,” he heard one of the ship’s officers shout as he finished his efforts. “We’ll have to abandon ship!”
“The hull is badly damaged, beyond our ability to repair,” the officer was telling Sergeant Hearst. “Get your people ready for an orderly evacuation. We’ll take the lifeboats in to the island that’s beyond the reef.”
“I’ll go check on the prince and the princess,” Marco told Hearst, who nodded. Marco went scrambling over the deck and down to the lower deck, where he pounded on the door of the cabin that Ellersbine and Rhen shared.
“Ladies, your highness, we have to abandon ship. Gather your belongings and go up on deck,” he called loudly through the door.
“Marco? Is that you? Come in; we need help,” he heard one of the voices call.
The door was wedged closed and Marco had to shove at it with his shoulder, landing a heavy blow that forced the door to fly inward. It revealed a chaotic sight; Ellersbine was on the floor, a heavy trunk atop her legs, while Rhen was struggling to try to move the piece of luggage. The princess was conscious, but pale and biting her lip.
“Here, let me help,” Marco said as he strode into the room. He stepped into place above the princess. “You get behind me and pull her free when I lift the trunk,” Marco instructed Rhen, who quickly nodded acquiescence and moved around him.
Marco heaved at the trunk, and felt it rise slowly, as he grunted and strained.
“She’s coming!” Rhen spoke triumphantly, while Ellersbine moaned with pain.
“That’s it; she’s free. You can set it down,” Rhen told Marco.
“Does it hurt?” Marco asked as he lowered the trunk to the cabin floor.
“I was on the bunk when the ship stopped, and I fell to the floor, then the trunk tumbled on top of me,” Ellersbine said through clenched teeth.
“Which leg?” Marco asked.
“What’s happening?” Rhen asked at the same time.
“My left leg,” Ellersbine answered.
“You can’t do that!” Rhen protested in astonishment as Marco knelt and cavalierly lifted Ellersbine’s skirt to take a look at the injured limb.
“The ship hit a reef. We’re sinking. We all have to abandon ship and get in lifeboats,” Marco explained, ignoring Rhen’s protests as he examined the princess’s leg.
“Does it hurt here?” he asked, his fingers gently pressing near her ankle.
“No, higher,” Ellersbine replied.
“Here?” he asked, seeing the scraped skin that stretched up her shin to her knee. “How about your knee?” he allowed his fingers to slide higher up her limb.
“Yes, there too,” the girl nearly cried.
“Rhen, go get a pair of men to help carry her to the deck,” he quickly ordered the duchess, then watched her leave.
“Don’t ask anything; this will help you heal,” Marco said quickly, before he started sucking water from his finger, and dribbling it on her wound.
“What are you doing?” the princess asked in astonishment. “How are you doing it?”
“There’s no time to explain, and you wouldn’t believe anyway. Just don’t tell anyone,” Marco told her, as he hastily repeated his treatment.
“Here, drink this,” he darted forward, and pressed his finger into her mouth.
Her eyes were wide open as her lips closed around his finger, and he felt her suck on the digit, then she stopped and coughed violently.
“Don’t ask; just drink. It will help you heal,” Marco said. “Trust me, my friend,” he said in a gentle voice, and wrapped his right hand around hers to squeeze it reassuringly.
Ellersbine sipped more of the water, until Marco heard the sound of feet approaching. He hastily pulled his finger from her mouth, pushed her skirts back down towards her feet, and stood up as he released his grip on her hand.
Rhen returned with three men, who held a stretcher. Marco assisted them as they lifted the princess onto the stretcher and he watched two of the men carry her away, then let Rhen pick out the essential items that the two women would take with them, while the third soldier waited to carry them up to the deck. Marco slipped into the passageway and pounded on the prince’s door.
“Your majesty!” Marco called loudly, twice. “You need to arise, your majesty,” he called.
There was no answer. Marco waited until the soldier carried the women’s goods away, then he tried to shoulder the door open, but without any luck.
“I’m sure he’s in there,” Rhen told him. “He hasn’t come out in two days. The last time he talked to the princess he was very depressed over the loss of the battle in Athens, and then the loss of the ship. He said he was a failure. Ellersbine is very worried about him,” the duchess told Marco.
Her story added to Marco’s alarm over the unopened door. He placed his right hand on the lever and angled his body momentarily to shield it from Rhen, then used the power of his hand to make the door unlock.
It opened easily, and the scene it revealed shocked Marco into an audible gasp, which drew Rhen over to also gasp, and then start to cry.
The prince was dead, and had been dead for some time, judging from his gray face. He hung in a noose that was tied to the ceiling of the cabin, a victim of his own suicide.
Marco roughly pushed Rhen back into her own cabin as he slammed the prince’s cabin door shut. “Don’t tell anyone about this,” his words tumbled out in a rush. “Do you understand?” he asked the duchess as he gripped her shoulders in his hands.
“Don’t tell anyone. I’ll cut him down and we’ll tell everyone he died in the crash. The princess doesn’t need to know, Count Argen doesn’t need to know. No one but you and me will know this; it will be our secret, agreed?” he asked.
“It,” Rhen began hesitantly, “Yes, absolutely. We can’t tell the others,” she agreed. “It would break her heart.”
“Is there anything we need to take from his cabin, for her sake?” Marco asked, as he released her shoulders and turned back into the hallway.
He pushed the cabin door open and stood on the bunk to cut the rope with his sword, then followed the body down to the floor and cut the noose away from the rigid neck.
“Here, this is his signet ring,” Rhen held his hand. “’Ellersbine must have it,” she said.
Marco pulled on the ring with no luck at moving it from the swollen flesh. The ship gave a sudden shudder, then settled into a tilted position, sending the inhabitants of the cabin tumbling. Marco sucked water from his finger, then dribbled it on the finger, providing enough lubrication to make the piece of jewelry squirt free from the dead man and fly across the cabin, to come to rest in a corner.
Rhen scrambled across Marco to pick it up then rose to her feet. “Here it is. We can go now.”
She looked at the dead prince. “Should we bring his body?”
Marco looked down at the dark bruises around his neck and the gray skin of his face. If anyone with sense examined the body, they’d realize he hadn’t just died in the accident.
“No, we can leave him here,” Marco answered. The ship shuddered again, and the sounds of its demise were unmistakable, as timbers cracked and the sounds of waves washing through the open hull became clearer.
“Come along – we better hurry,” Marco told the duchess, and he held out his hand to help pull her along as he left the cabin and ran down the passageway. Then came to a sudden stop.
The stairs to the upper deck had collapsed. The two of them would have to find another way ou
t of the ship’s hold. They turned and went the other direction, back past Rhen’s cabin, and to the alternative set of steps. The broken off mast had crashed down on top of the stairs, making passage that way impractical as well.
“What should we do?” Rhen asked, looking at Marco.
He shook his head momentarily, then spoke. “We can go down a level to try to get over to the other side of the ship, and then we can see if the stairs over there are open,” he told her. They circled around the blocked stairs and climbed down the steep steps that led to the lower deck. It was dimmer in the cramped space, but frighteningly noisier too, as the sounds of the sea washing into the ship were closer, a more imminent threat to the remains of the ship.
“Come this way,” Marco called as he stumbled over debris in the passageway and pulled Rhen behind him.
“Holy mother help us!” he swore when he reached the end of the passage and found that it too was blocked.
The ship shuddered dramatically, and Rhen pushed herself against Marco to stabilize herself before she fell. The floor of their passageway broke open, and Marco could see sunlit water down on the lower holds of the ship.
“Marco, what are we going to do?” she cried.
“Can you swim?” he asked her, holding her tightly against himself.
“What?” she asked in confusion, looking up at him.
“Can you swim? In the water?” he repeated.
“No, I never learned how,” she answered.
The ship settled further into the water, and the light reflecting upward from the open hull below them grew brighter, as the vessel continued to be pounded by waves and to fall apart.
“Take off your gown,” Marco told her, releasing her and sitting down to take his boots off.
“Marco! What are you going to do?” she cried, backing away from him.
Marco pulled his shirt off. “We’re going to have to go out through the water. We’ll have to swim. If you can’t swim, I’ll have to carry you. Your gown is going to be heavy and a drag on our escape,” he explained, looking up at her.
The Southern Trail (Book 4) Page 10
