Grigory's Gadget

by E. A. Hennessy

  “Seems as good a time as any,” he said.

  Zoya took the ale and drank it, pleasantly surprised by the taste.

  “What did I tell you?” Pavel said with a smile. “We always get the finest ale!”

  After breakfast, the crew of the Ocean's Legend got right to work. Zoya could tell at a glance which pirates' jobs required them to be outside. Before bundling up in their coats, gloves, and hats, they had downed an extra cup or two of ale. And they all wore frowns.

  “Alright,” Pavel said as the dishes were cleaned up. “Zoya, you're needed in the boiler room below. Anya, Lilia, Demyan, and Nikolai will start cleaning the saloon and galley.”

  “Works for me,” Demyan replied. “Glad to stay inside.” Zoya noted that Demyan was swaying back and forth. She wondered if it was because of the waves, the ale, or both.

  “You can follow me, Zoya,” Tonia said, appearing next to Pavel.

  “You all seem very excited about having a new engineer on board,” Zoya remarked as she followed Tonia below deck. “I'm a little afraid of what I'm about to find.”

  “Well we haven't exploded yet,” Tonia replied with a smirk. Zoya forced a laughed and nodded.

  “I have some of my own supplies,” Zoya said. She stopped in front of the room where she and her friends had slept. “Goggles, gloves, a few tools.”

  “Excellent,” Tonia replied. “Go get them.”

  Zoya opened up one of her suitcases and grabbed her grandmother's gadget. She folded a shirt over it and buried it under the blanket on her hammock. Then she dug out her tools and goggles.

  “It'll be nice having a real engineer on board,” Tonia said as Zoya rejoined her in the hall. Zoya put on her gloves and hung her goggles around her neck.

  “Wait,” Zoya said. “Are you saying you don't have a real engineer now?”

  “Afraid not,” Tonia said, leading Zoya around a corner and down another hall. “I've worked with boilers often enough, but was never formally trained. Like I said, we haven't blown up yet, but that might just be luck.”

  “I don't know if the Captain told you,” Zoya said, fidgeting with the tools in her hand. “But I'm not—”

  “Licensed, yes, yes,” Tonia interrupted with a wave of her hand. “You're on a pirate ship, kid. We don't care about papers. We care about what you can do.”

  Zoya nodded. The two women continued below deck, down another flight of stairs, before coming to the boiler room. The air was filled with the roar of the furnaces and the whir of pulsing pistons, as well as significant amounts of smoke and soot. Lev and Samuil shoveled coal into the furnace. The heat was almost unbearable.

  “I don't think it should be this smoky in here,” Zoya said, coughing. “Maybe we could start with that?”

  “Works for me,” Tonia replied.

  Lilia, Anya, Nikolai, and Demyan collected the plates, cups, and silverware from around the saloon, stacking them all in a small sink at the front of the long narrow galley.

  “What do we clean them with?” Lilia asked. The sink had a drain, but no faucet. Pavel gestured to a bottle of clear liquid sitting nearby.

  “That liquor there,” he said. “It's strong stuff, but tastes like kraken ink. So, we use it to clean.” Lilia grabbed the bottle. She poured the alcohol over the dishes and began to scrub.

  “There are more bottles in here,” Pavel said, opening a small closet. “Seems everyone up north stocks it on their ships. I suppose if you can get past the taste, it warms you up pretty well.” He handed a bottle to Nikolai and one to Anya, along with a few rags.

  “It is made from kraken ink,” Anya said. “I recognize it.”

  “Well that explains the taste,” Pavel replied.

  “It is vile,” Anya said, “but it does seem that everyone in Morozhia drinks it.” She and Nikolai wet their rags with the liquor and began cleaning the tables.

  “You don’t look well, Demyan,” Pavel said. Demyan leaned against a table, his eyes glossy and skin pale. He didn't reply.

  “If you're going to get sick, go outside,” Anya told him, backing away. Her advice came too late. Demyan stumbled away from the table, dropped to his knees, and retched on the floor. Anya groaned, clutching her stomach as she turned away.

  “It's alright,” Pavel assured Demyan. “Bundle yourself up and get some air.” Demyan nodded and headed below deck to grab his coat.

  “We’ve got a mop and a brush,” Pavel told Anya and Nikolai. “I'll let you decide who uses which to clean that up.”

  “I’m already cleaning dishes,” Lilia said. She refused to look at the mess on the floor, the thought of it making her own stomach churn. She heard Anya and Nikolai sigh.

  “You can have the mop,” Nikolai said. “I’ll take the brush.”

  “Are you sure?” Anya asked. “Who knew you were such a gentleman.” Lilia chuckled. Sighing, Anya and Nikolai went to work.

  “May I ask a question?” Anya asked Pavel, trying to keep her mind off the half-digested food she was pushing with the mop.

  “Of course,” Pavel replied.

  “What are pirates doing this far north?”

  “Curiosity,” Pavel said. “The Olen Sea is much warmer and has much more gold to be sure. But all the pirates know that. There're so many pirates in that area now, it's a wonder merchant ships dare to sail. It's not a question of if they will be attacked by pirates, but how many pirates will attack them at once. For a pirate, there's too much competition.”

  Lilia stopped scrubbing dishes suddenly and glanced around. She heard a scratchy, fizzing noise.

  “What's that sound?”

  Everyone fell silent and listened.

  “Ah, the telegraph,” Pavel replied, pointing to a small speaker on the wall in the corner of the room. “The signal comes in and out, depending on where we are.”

  “A telegraph?” Nikolai asked. “In the middle of the ocean?”

  “It’s wireless,” Pavel replied. “Don’t you have wireless telegraphs in Morozhia yet? Don’t ask me how they work, but they’re pretty common nowadays.”

  As Lilia listened to the sound she began to discern short and long beeps.

  Nikolai spoke up, trying to translate the code. “Five-hundred something this morning, something about Starzapad, to meet the force of the Queen's mighty ships.” He paused and squinted. “It’s going by too fast, I can’t catch it all. Oh wait, Morozhia still denies accusations of abducting the princess? It’s far from the only tension between Starzapad and Morozhia.”

  “You picked a hell of a time to satisfy your curiosity,” Anya told Pavel. “I'm guessing it’s easier to fight another pirate ship than a fleet of warships.”

  “Don't worry too much about that,” Pavel said. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a small brass pendant. It was too small for any of the friends to make out its shape.

  Pavel brought the pendant briefly to his lips and whispered something under his breath.

  “Vestnik will steer us clear of their ships, I'm certain.” He walked to the other side of the saloon, scrubbing another table with kraken ink liquor. Lilia leaned toward Nikolai and Anya.

  “Who's Vestnik?” she whispered. Her friends shrugged and continued cleaning.

  “Maybe it's like a Skarbnik,” Nikolai said.

  “Aren’t those the rock fairies you read about?” Lilia asked. “They don’t actually exist.”

  “True,” Nikolai replied. “I guess it wouldn't make sense for him to invoke one of those.”

  “Is he praying to someone?” Anya asked. “I've never met someone with religion before.”

  “Me neither,” Lilia said. She resumed scrubbing the dishes. “It must be nice, believing someone out there will help you…”

  “That's probably why religion wasn't allowed in Morozhia,” Anya said. “Our government probably believes thoughts like that are dangerous.”

  “I'd support anything Morozhia thinks is dangerous,” Nikolai said. “Dangerous to them, that is.”

  “Me t
oo,” Lilia replied. She smiled. “It's sort of liberating to say that out loud.”

  Demyan wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck after pulling on his coat. He could feel the ship swaying in the choppy waves and struggled to keep his balance. His stomach felt heavy, like there was a stone in his gut. It churned with every rock of the ship. After pulling up his hood, he took a deep breath and headed back above deck.

  “You alright?” Nikolai called as Demyan cut through the saloon. Demyan didn't reply, heading straight for the door and out onto the deck.

  Icy wind slapped him in the face as soon as he emerged, nearly knocking him off balance. The sails snapped loudly above, though most were pulled up and secured. The paddle wheels rolled steadily, churning the already choppy water below.

  Only a few pirates were on the deck, securing the remaining sails and fastening anything on the deck that may blow away in the wind. Demyan walked toward the bow of the ship. Its figurehead, a woman clad in elaborate armor carved out of wood, bobbed up and down and around with respect to the horizon. Demyan's stomach churned again. He stared straight down at the dark ocean below and focused on his breathing.

  “How are you holding up, pal?” Nikolai asked as he approached several minutes later. He was bundled up so that only his eyes were visible.

  “Fine,” Demyan replied. “Seasick.”

  “Pavel says it will pass,” Nikolai told him. “He's a nice guy. Not the kind of pirate we've read about in books.”

  “Mm,” Demyan muttered. “That's good.” Nikolai watched his friend for a moment, wrinkling his brow. Then he turned away.

  “Oh no,” Nikolai said, looking off to the south. Near the horizon, he glimpsed masts and smokestacks. The low, orange sun reflected off the metal ships.

  “No need to worry ourselves over warships,” Captain Sokoll declared, approaching and clapping a hand on Nikolai's shoulder. “We'll lower that Jolly Roger, and raise one of the other flags we've got in stock.” He grinned and winked.

  “Other flags?” Nikolai asked.

  “Yes,” Captain Sokoll replied. “I think Chereplazh's colors should do. That country never gets involved in these conflicts.” The captain smiled, then shivered. “Best get back inside,” he said. “No sense being out in this weather if you don't have to.”

  Nikolai looked at Demyan, waiting. Demyan nodded and walked toward the stern, holding on to the railing of the ship for balance. The waves appeared small from up on the main deck. Demyan wondered how awfully the ship would rock in a storm.

  “Having a rough time?” Alexi emerged from the saloon, looking at Demyan with disdain.

  “He's just a little seasick,” Nikolai said. “It'll pass.”

  “Not everyone is cut out for this life,” Alexi told Demyan, ignoring Nikolai. “Maybe we should have left you on that passenger ship.”

  “Yes, maybe you should have,” Demyan replied. His eyes were still fixed on the waves below.

  Nikolai ushered Demyan back inside, glaring at Alexi.

  “What's wrong with you?” he asked the pirate.

  “We didn't bring you on this ship to babysit you,” Alexi said. He glanced around the deck then turned back to Nikolai. “Just get to work.”

  Before Nikolai could respond, Alexi climbed the stairs to pilot house, disappearing inside.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Zoya stepped out of the boiler room, coughing as she lifted her goggles. She’d spent most of the day making adjustments to the ship's engine, maintaining the water levels, and changing the speed at which Lev and Samuil added coal to the furnace. Once conditions in the boilers seemed to stabilize, Tonia gave Zoya leave to take a break.

  “It'll be dinner time soon,” Lev told Zoya. “Clean yourself up, unless you like the taste of soot.” Zoya nodded, then headed to her cabin.

  Demyan was asleep in his hammock when she entered. Zoya leaned down and kissed him lightly on his forehead, frowning when she realized she'd left a lip-shaped soot smudge on his skin. She turned one of her gloves inside-out, and used the clean fabric to wipe it off.

  “What are you doing?” Demyan asked groggily as he opened his eyes.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” Zoya replied. “Are you feeling alright?”

  “Just seasick,” Demyan said. Zoya glanced around at the windowless room.

  “It'll probably just get worse in here,” she said. “Maybe there's a window you could sit by. In the saloon, probably?”

  “I'd rather not,” Demyan replied. “I'm out of the way here.” His voice was slow and sad.

  “You won't be in anyone's way in the saloon,” Zoya insisted, rubbing Demyan's shoulder. “It's almost dinner time anyway.” Demyan didn't reply, but rolled over to face the wall.

  “Alright,” Zoya conceded. “I'm going to clean myself up. Then I'm coming back here, and we're both going up to the saloon. I'll sling you over my shoulder in your hammock if I have to.” She smiled and laughed, but Demyan still gave no reply.

  The ship had two small bathrooms: one near the bow and one near the stern. Zoya headed to the one that was aft, looking herself over in its tiny, rusted mirror. She grabbed a rag soaked in liquor and began to scrub her face. The spirit made her skin tingle and stung her nose. After using the rag to wipe the soot smudges from her fingers, Zoya headed back to her cabin.

  Demyan was standing when she returned, his face pale.

  “Do you need help?” Zoya asked, noting how weak Demyan looked.

  “No,” he replied. “I can get myself upstairs.” He stumbled out of the cabin, taking his time as he climbed the steps up to the saloon.

  The sun was low in the sky, casting bright oranges and reds across the choppy ocean. It cast a warm hue through the saloon. Lilia, Anya, and Nikolai were helping Pavel to prepare dinner. They smiled as Zoya and Demyan entered.

  “Feeling any better, Demyan?” Pavel asked as he stirred.

  “Not really,” Demyan admitted.

  “Here,” Zoya said, leading Demyan to a chair by a window. “Watch the horizon. It'll help.”

  “You're a mess, Zoya,” Anya said, observing the soot stains covering Zoya's clothes.

  “Yes,” Zoya said. “It is what it is. What have you done all day?”

  “Cleaned,” Lilia replied. “And now I’m cooking.”

  “Followed by more cleaning, I'm sure,” Nikolai said. “And then bed.”

  “Not as exciting as stories you've read,” Pavel said. “Life at sea can be pretty mundane sometimes.”

  “Fine by me,” Lilia muttered.

  “That doesn't look mundane,” Zoya said, pointing out a starboard window. White sails and shining metal reflected the light of the setting sun along the horizon. “Are those warships?”

  Captain Sokoll walked in then, followed by Alexi, Fyodr, and Samuil.

  “Aye, those are warships,” the captain confirmed. “But nothing for us to worry about.” Zoya glanced at her friends. Nikolai shrugged.

  “The stew smells as good as ever.” The captain bellowed to Pavel, “How are your new helpers?”

  “Best sous chefs I've ever had,” Pavel replied, smiling.

  “When they're not vomiting,” Alexi said to Fyodr and Samuil. The men laughed.

  “Now, now,” the captain said, “a little seasickness is normal.”

  “They tell me they're from Lodninsk,” Pavel added. “Tiny landlocked town, it's a wonder they aren't all seasick.” Across the room, Demyan groaned.

  The rest of the crew began to trickle in, pouring themselves cups of boiled water for tea. Some pirates still wore heavy jackets. Zoya assumed they were the unlucky souls who worked outside. Regardless of the number of layers the pirates wore, the entire crew was shivering.

  “You're not really used to the cold at all, are you?” Anya wondered aloud.

  “There's cold, and then there's cold,” Fyodr grumbled.

  As the pirates huddled over their cups of tea, Zoya poured a cup for herself and Demyan. She sat across from him and plac
ed their cups on the table.

  “You're probably dehydrated if you've been getting sick,” Zoya said, nudging his cup of tea toward him. Demyan didn't touch it, but looked up.

  “I know how to take care of myself,” he said, glaring. “Stop trying to play doctor; you're an engineer. And you're not even that, technically.”

  Zoya stared at Demyan with her mouth agape. Demyan's never talked like that, to me or anyone else. She leaned back in her chair and looked out of the window.

  “I was just trying to help,” she said at last. Then she stood and crossed the room to join their friends.

  “We're not looking for a mother on this ship,” Alexi told Zoya as she passed him.

  “I would hope not,” Zoya replied. “Last thing I need is a bunch of grown men with mother issues.” She turned away, hoping she hadn't sounded too abrasive. You're supposed to keep your head down, remember? To her relief, Alexi just scoffed and returned to conversation with Fyodr and Samuil.

  “He's just being a curmudgeon,” Anya told Zoya, nodding toward Demyan.

  Nikolai leaned in and whispered, “And thinks he's making himself look weak. Most everyone has been really nice to us, but we need to remember we're on a pirate ship.”

  “I know,” Zoya said, staring down at the table. She sighed.

  The pirates ate their dinner in near silence, aside from the slurping and chomping as they scarfed down their food. Partway through the meal, Demyan returned below deck. He can take care of himself, Zoya thought. He has to take care of himself.

  Toward the end of the meal, the Captain raised a toast once more to the new crewmates. Some pirates switched from tea to ale, while others tried spiking their tea with liquor. Zoya watched as their faces puckered in disgust after taking a sip of the rancid combination. But they downed the drink all the same. Pavel laughed, shouting something about kraken ink.

  After the toast, Alexi grabbed his coat and headed outside, alone.

  “What a brute that guy is,” Nikolai grumbled as Alexi left. His friends followed his gaze as he stood. Lilia grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back into his seat.