The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock

by Timothy L. Cerepaka

  “Is that right?” said Malock, looking with more interest at Kinker's work. “You know, we threw that trawl together without knowing a thing about making trawls.”

  Kinker glanced at the mangled mess of slimy wet ropes in his hands and grimaced. “Yes, I can tell.”

  “But I must ask you to leave it here,” said Malock. “Our tour of the ship is not yet complete, after all. When it is, then you can come back here and play with the trawl to your heart's content.”

  Kinker reluctantly dropped the trawl to his feet and followed Malock across the stern back to the center of the ship. He couldn't help but glance over his shoulder, however, at the fishing crew, who were now lugging the trawl back into the sea. None of them looked happy about it, making Kinker wonder if he had left a bad first impression.

  Considering I am going to be working with them for the next several weeks or months or however long it will take for us to reach World's End, that's not good, Kinker thought. At least they don't know about what I did on Destan. Then they really wouldn't like me.

  Malock led Kinker across the deck of the Iron Wind, occasionally pointing out something or introducing him to another member of the crew. Kinker tried his best to pay attention, to learn as much as he could, but it was difficult because his mind kept returning to that bundle of ropes and netting that they called, with sincerity, a trawl.

  When they reached the bow, Malock pointed at the bowsprit and said, “That's the bowsprit, which I'm sure you already know. Take a good look at it.”

  Kinker walked as close to it as he could get. He at first thought that the bowsprit was a simple one, a long wood pole sticking out in the front of the ship, but the more he looked, the more he noticed that it actually was in the shape of a woman. From his current position it was impossible to see the woman's front, but he could tell that she had long, cascading hair, holding her arms above her head in a point.

  “Our figurehead is a statue of Kano, naturally enough,” said Malock, though he didn't sound very proud of it. “Or at least, an artist's representation of Kano and it's a very inaccurate one at that. It makes her look like a mermaid when I know for a fact that she resembles a woman made of water. All I can figure is that the artist must have never seen Kano before.”

  Kinker was about to say that most people probably hadn't seen Kano before when two loud, arguing voices floated on the wind from the center of the ship.

  “Watch where you're going,” one of the voices, which sounded human, snapped.

  “You first, sinker,” said another, colored with the distinctive gurgle of an aquarian. “Besides, I was just cleaning the deck, as I am supposed to. Are you lazing off again?”

  “I was just heading below deck to grab some extra rope,” said the human. “If anything, I think you're the lazy one around here. Look at how slowly you're scrubbing the deck. It's ridiculous. A human could do it faster.”

  “Then why don't you do it?” said the aquarian.

  Malock immediately wheeled around and made his way back to the deck without saying anything. Kinker hurried after him, trying to keep up with the younger man's long, quick strides.

  The source of the commotion soon became obvious. Two sailors were arguing with each other, one human and one aquarian, as Kinker had suspected. The human was a burly man with pale skin, his fists as big as rocks, who wore only a jacket without a shirt. The aquarian had an octopus-like head and was holding a scrubber in his hand, although it took Kinker a moment to realize that the aquarian was holding the scrubber using the suction cups on its fingers and palm without actually gripping it like a human would.

  Both of the sailors looked close to blows. The human sailor was red in the face and was holding his fists up in a way that suggested he knew how to use them, while the aquarian sailor held his scrubber like a knife. A handful of other sailors had stopped to watch the argument, but immediately went back to work as soon as Malock approached.

  Kinker didn't blame them. Malock walked with heavy feet, his every step echoing loudly off the floorboards of the deck. He stood straight and tall and somehow seemed larger than he was. He gave off such an aura of anger and authority that Kinker felt compelled to trail a few feet behind him, rather than walk beside him, even though he knew that the Captain was not angry with him.

  The two arguing sailors either didn't see their Captain approaching or didn't care. The human was now cussing so hard that even Kinker, who was not above swearing himself, felt embarrassed. The aquarian kept switching between a language he didn't understand (perhaps the aquarian tongue) and Divina, the language of the gods used by humans and aquarians to communicate. Nonetheless, the aquarian's meaning was clear even to Kinker.

  Malock didn't wait for them to stop. He just walked up between them, saying, “All right, break it up, break it up you two,” and shoved them apart. He almost slipped, however, because the deck beneath his feet was wet from the aquarian's scrubbing, but he caught himself quickly and looked at the two sailors with anger.

  “All right,” said Malock, folding his arms. “What happened?”

  “This ...” the aquarian seemed to struggle to come up with a less-than-nasty word to describe his fellow sailor. “This human almost tripped over me while I was scrubbing the deck. I'm almost certain he did it on purpose.”

  “Captain, that's a damned lie from the mouth of a damned fish,” said the human, folding his arms across his chest. “He tried to trip me up. I was minding my own business, making my way to the hold, when he got in my way and tripped me. Fell flat on my face and almost broke my nose.”

  “I didn't do that,” said the aquarian. “As I said, you should have seen where you were walking, you ...” he glanced at Malock as he spoke, “... uh, you human.”

  He said that as if that was the worst insult he could think of, although Kinker knew there were worse.

  “All I see is an aquarian playing the victim card,” said the human sailor. “For the one hundredth time. Sometimes I wonder if you aquarians ever take responsibility for your actions.”

  The aquarian made an odd shrill sound that Kinker realized was a laugh. “How rich. The human is asking the aquarian to take responsibility for his actions. The irony is so thick that I'm surprised you can still see me.”

  Before the human could respond, Malock held up a hand and said, “Enough arguing. I don't know or care who started it. There shall be no fighting among the crew on this ship while I am Captain. Banika?”

  Almost as if by magic, Banika appeared at Malock's side. Her sudden appearance made Kinker jumped. She didn't comment on that. Instead, she stood at attention as usual, her arms at her sides and her face blank.

  “I want you to take these two below deck and lash them,” said Malock. “Ten times each. That should be enough to teach them not to fight, but not enough to cripple them or make them unable to work.”

  The two sailors' expressions changed from anger to fear in one instant.

  “Sir, Captain, please,” said the human, putting his hands together as if in prayer. “I just realized that I actually did trip over him. It was an honest mistake on my part and I don't care if he tried to do it. Honest.”

  “No, no, I'm the one who should be apologizing here,” said the aquarian, his words becoming harder to understand through the fear clouding his accent. “I really should have paid more attention to where I was scrubbing. I've learned my lesson.”

  Malock shook his head. “As Captain, I have every right to discipline you for your failure to get along. Follow Banika down into the hold. Now.”

  Banika was already on her way to the hatch and the two sailors followed her without question. It was clear that they didn't want to, but they evidently did not dare question their Captain's orders.

  Malock watched them disappear under the hatch and then he turned to Kinker and said, “Kinker, I'm sorry you had to see that. Occasionally fights break out and I have to break them up and punish the two fighters.”

  “But they weren't even exchanging blow
s,” said Kinker. “Ten lashes each seems like a harsh punishment to me.”

  “I see you don't understand, despite your age,” said Malock. “Very well. I suppose, since you've never been the captain of a ship before, you don't understand the necessity of swift and painful punishment.”

  “Perhaps I do not,” said Kinker, “but still—”

  Malock took a step closer to Kinker and leaned in closer. “You may not have noticed yet, having only been on the ship for less than a week and having spent much of that time in one room, but everyone here is on edge. Losing the rest of the fleet, plus hundreds of sailors, has harmed my crew in myriad ways, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I've been doing everything in my power to prevent a mutiny and maintain order, but it's been very difficult, mostly due to the distrust that the human sailors and aquarian sailors have for each other.”

  “Ah,” said Kinker. “I was wondering about that. Why do you have a mixed race ship? Seems to me like that's asking for trouble. Why not just humans?”

  Malock looked offended. “Because aquarians are some of the best sailors around. They have an instinctive understanding of currents and weather conditions at sea. And I know that you came from a small backwards island in the middle of nowhere and you probably have never actually met any real aquarians, but come on, Kinker. That's just offensive.”

  Kinker tilted his head. “How often do fights break out between the human sailors and aquarian sailors?”

  “Ever since we lost the fleet, about once a week,” said Malock. “Even though I make sure to punish both participants, someone always says or does something that angers or offends someone of another species, and they get into a fight. The rest of the crew hasn't been much help because they like to stand by and watch, sometimes even goading the fighters into being more violent.”

  “How many of the fights are started by humans and how many by aquarians?” asked Kinker.

  “That's none of your business,” said Malock. “Why does it matter?”

  Kinker shrugged. “I just know that aquarians are by nature much more aggressive than humans. Maybe what you need to do is minimize the contact between sailors of different species.”

  “Aquarians aren't any more aggressive than humans,” Malock said. “And anyway, there is no way to minimize contact. The Iron Wind may be a large ship, but she isn't that big. What I am trying to do is promote unity among the sailors, not separate them by species.”

  “Then perhaps you shouldn't have hired both human and aquarian sailors,” Kinker said. “I have heard that the aquarians are less respectful of the gods than we humans are. Perhaps that's another source of conflict.”

  Malock looked like he was about to explode with anger and when he next spoke, it was in a forced calm voice. “Kinker, because you're new here, I'm not going to punish you for your extremely bigoted, wrongheaded opinions. I'm just going to give you a warning, if I catch you fighting an aquarian or saying something intentionally offensive I will punish you same as anyone else. Do you understand?”

  “Perfectly,” said Kinker. “I don't see why you're so offended, by the way. You're not an aquarian.”

  “And you don't know anything about actual aquarians,” Malock said. “So why don't you keep your mouth shut on this issue until you've actually interacted with real aquarians? Maybe have your preconceived biases challenged?”

  Kinker sighed. “All right, I'm sorry for being offensive. Can we continue the tour now?”

  Malock turned away from him and said, “No. You're going back to the stern. I'll have someone else show you the rest of the ship later. Right now, I've got better things to do than listen to your ignorant opinions.”

  With that, Malock stomped off, leaving Kinker standing alone and slightly confused, near the mainmast. He didn't call Malock back, however, because frankly he was starting to dislike the Captain, primarily for his attitude toward his elders.

  Then again, Kinker thought, as he began making his way back to the stern, having nowhere else to go, he probably thinks that his status as royalty gives him the right to treat me however he wants. Very much like how Priestess Deber treated me back home, actually.

  Then he stopped dead and tried not to think about Deber, but just remembering her like that cause a memory to flash in his head. A young boy lying at the altar, as cold as stone ... Deber standing over him, holding a knife in hand, smiling like a madwoman ... the blood, so much blood ...

  Kinker shook his head. He did not want to remember that. He had escaped Destan specifically so he could forget.

  But though he managed to shove that memory out of his head, as he resumed walking back to the stern, it was all he could do to blink back the tears that the memory had invoked.

  ***

  Chapter Four

  The next five days were surprisingly uneventful, despite the southern seas' reputations for sinking any ships that sailed them. After hearing about the dangers of the southern seas for his entire life, Kinker thought they would be attacked by sea monsters daily, yet all they ever saw were the fish they caught in the trawl (which Kinker had failed to improve on in any significant way).

  The weather was beautiful as well; clear skies, a warm sun, and water so blue it looked like paint on a canvas. Legend said that Kano had painted the ocean blue because she wanted it to look like the sky; but true or not, it was a wonderful sight to behold nonetheless.

  A routine became apparent to Kinker. Every day, he and the fishing crew would get up at the crack of dawn and haul in the trawl. They would then spend about an hour going through the morning's catch, tossing out the fish unfit for human and aquarian consumption, keeping those that were, and then tossing the trawl back into the sea.

  After that, they spent another hour or two cleaning the fish. This was probably the easiest part of the job because Kinker had had a lot of experience cleaning fish, but it sometimes took longer than expected because he kept trying to correct the others' methods, which were often clumsy and ineffective. This did not endear him to the others.

  When they'd cleaned all the fish, they would haul the bits of fish to the galley, where the ship's cook, Arisha Frag—an older woman who was probably a few years younger than Kinker—would begin making breakfast. Often Kinker and the other fishermen would help, as Arisha could not make enough meals for a hundred and twenty sailors by herself.

  By this time, the rest of the crew would be up, doing their daily chores and checking on the things they had left the night before. While Malock never came to breakfast, Kinker often saw Banika going around making sure that everyone was doing what they were supposed to do. He never asked her about the punishment she had inflicted on the two fighting sailors from the day before, mostly because when he saw those two sailors himself at breakfast the day after they were punished, they looked as docile as puppies.

  Breakfast was always a noisy, messy affair. Due to the low food supply, each sailor, whether human or aquarian, was only allowed one fish. This was very clearly not enough for the fully-grown men and women who made up the crew, but they all seemed resigned to it, probably because it was the only way to make sure that every sailor got at least something to eat.

  After breakfast, the crew would return to their normal duties. The fishing crew usually took this time to sit around and rest after a long morning of hard work. Often the fishermen began talking about various things, such as how awful the food was (even though they helped prepare it), what the weather was going to be like that day, and whether Malock and Vashnas actually were sleeping together, among other topics. Kinker rarely participated in this conversations, partly because they did not interest him but primarily because the rest of the fishing crew didn't really like him that much.

  The routine was repeated at lunch and dinner time. The fishing crew would haul the trawl out of the water, pick out the good fish and toss away the bad, clean the fish, deliver them to the kitchen, help prepare the food, and then eat with the rest of the crew.

  Then after dinner they'd toss
the trawl back into the sea one last time, make sure it was firmly attached to the bulwarks, and then go to sleep below deck. Kinker always slept well, despite the cramped conditions and lack of proper bedding, because by the end of each day he was always drop-dead exhausted. It was usually a good exhausted, the kind you get after a good day of hard work, which was probably the only reason he managed to sleep through the combined unwashed body odor of four humans and two aquarians sharing a cramped room together in an even smellier ship.

  Because Kinker had direct access to the food supply, he noticed that Malock often got more food—not a whole lot more, but enough that Kinker noticed—than the rest of the crew. Not only that, but the Captain's face was fuller than the faces of his sailors, which were mostly due to a lack of food. Of course, Kinker didn't see Malock very often due to his busy schedule, but every time he saw the young Captain, he was always struck by how well-fed he seemed to be.

  On the fifth day, shortly after lunch, Kinker shared this observation with Jenur Takren, as they and the rest of the fishing crew rested at the stern, near the trawl. Despite her earlier attitude toward him, she was the only member of the fishing crew who didn't actively avoid or exclude Kinker from their conversations; if anything, she seemed to like him (despite her wisecracks) which Kinker was thankful for because he felt very alone on this ship. Having someone who he could talk to, even if that someone was old enough to be his granddaughter, made him feel a lot better.

  “Yeah, I noticed,” said Jenur as she tossed the remains of her fish overside, which was the usual disposal method for the sailors. “He's got his own supply of food in his stateroom. It's been that way for a while.”

  She sounded more than a little bitter, prompting Kinker to say, “So he's keeping a lot of food for himself? Why?”

  Jenur rolled her eyes. “Isn't it obvious? He's the Captain and he's a Prince. He thinks he's the most important, special person ever. Thinks he's chosen by Kano, remember?”