Ahab's Daughter

by Ron Vitale

  “I do. And no matter what we see tomorrow, we must be prepared even if it’s the devil child itself that transforms in the room with us. We must be ready, and I needed to come apologize to you for how I’ve treated you.” The words hung heavy on him. “You’re like the…” The words caught in his throat and he turned away.

  Nathan put his hand out to his friend. “I will help you tomorrow night, and we’ll be ready. Nothing will get by me.”

  Zeke nodded and shook Nathan’s hand firm and true. “Good. I know that. Thank you.” He wiped a speck of dust from his eye and headed toward their quarters. “We’ll be ready as we can be. I just pray that whatever happens the two of us will be enough to stop it.”

  ***

  I opened my eyes to see the sun had moved. The ringing in my ear had lessened, and the cannon fire had stopped. An eerie silence had descended over the ship. I lay on my back trying to discover what the metallic taste could be in my mouth.

  “Morgan, are you hurt?” Zooming in from above, Ishmael’s face came in close, appearing to hover above me.

  “What happened?” I sat up and the world started spinning, so I closed my eyes to try to stop the motion. Leaning over, I coughed into my hand and braced myself with my other hand. All around me I could smell the acrid scent of gunpowder that drifted in the air.

  Far-off at the other end of the boat, I heard a gunshot. Its lonely sound cut through the air and dispelled any sense of calm that I had thought were around us. Ishmael glanced back over his shoulder toward the noise and bent low behind a barrel. “A cannonball cut through the deck, and you were thrown from the explosion. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I checked my legs, feet, arms, and hands but saw no sign of trauma. I stuck my tongue out at Ishmael and said, “I taste blood.” My words came out slurred, and I put my finger on my tongue to see some blood there.

  Ishmael took my chin in his hands and examined me. “You have a small cut on your tongue. Looks like you bit into it when you fell hard to the deck.” Another gunshot, closer to us this time, startled me.

  “Where’s Clarence?” I tried to see beyond the barrel but thought better of it.

  “I lost him in the fighting. I think he’s in the bow of the ship.” Ishmael covered me with his body at the sound of nearby rifles being fired. “We should get below and hide. It’ll give us some time to think and come up with a plan. Do you think you can walk with some help, or do you need me to carry you?”

  Ishmael peeked around the barrel, taking in the scene at the ship’s bow.

  I went to get up, lost my balance, and fell back down again. “I’m going to need your help.” I reached out my hand to him, and Ishmael pulled me to my feet.

  I rested my weight on him and fought off a wave of nausea, but I did not lose consciousness. My vision did go blank for a few moments, but I took a deep breath, held it, and then slowly exhaled. Ishmael half-dragged me toward the ship’s stern. “Let’s go below and get to safety.” We arrived at the ladder, and he climbed down first into the bowels of the ship.

  Another gunshot, this one originating from the Jeroboam, hit a barrel, and water poured out from the entry point. I knew I did not have much time before I became a target, so I swung my feet into the opening beside me and started to climb down. Ishmael had waited for me, and he helped guide me to the berth deck. Once back on my feet, we ran into other members of the crew arming themselves. They carried rifles slung on their backs and pushed past us to climb up the ladder to join the fighting up on deck.

  “I need to sit down.” I leaned against a wall, slumping down to the ground, and put my head between my knees and took another deep breath.

  A gunshot directly above startled me. I tried to stand but could not do so. All I wanted to do was to fall back into my bed at home, wake, and hear the sound of the birds chirping in the tree outside my window. The sun would be strong this time of day, but a breeze would flow through my room, and I imagined seeing a hummingbird zipping around the feeder that hung on the tree. There were days that I would just sit there and watch the tiny bird feed and be amazed at its tremendous speed.

  As if I flew myself, I rose up off the deck and my head fell back against Ishmael’s chest. He carried me to a cabin and placed me in a hammock. “Stay here and do not try to move. I’m going to get a pistol and will be right back.”

  “Wait!” I said, but he had already left the room, leaving me to the swaying of the ship, the sound of more gunfire above, and my increasing fears. I tried to concentrate on a small wooden cross left out on the trunk of one of my fellow crew, but I could not. The hammock swayed, and I put my one foot down on the ground to stop it from doing so, and the wave of unease in my stomach subsided.

  Outside the room, I listened to the commotion of the crew running past the door. I heard shouting in a language I did not understand and cursed my weak body. I needed to get up and help. If I were found here alone, I could be shot, and my mother would never know what had happened to me. I would become lost at sea like my father, and my family’s legacy would drift into obscurity, leaving my mother in a deep and lasting grief.

  The door opened again, and Ishmael rushed inside and shut the door. He brandished a pistol in his hand and had another tucked in a band around his waist.

  “Here, take a sip, but go slow.” He passed me a canteen that hung on the wall.

  I obeyed and the lukewarm water went down my throat, soothing me. “I need some time to rest. I’ll not be much help as I am.” I smacked my thigh with my hand and shook my head.

  “It’s not your fault. You fell hard and are lucky that the cannonball didn’t slice through you. A few more feet and you would not be alive now.” He took the canteen from me and hung it back on the wall. “I’m just thankful that you’re alive.”

  A pistol firing outside the door startled us both. Without another thought, he handed me the pistol tucked in the band around his waist. I accepted the weapon and hid it at my side. The door flung open, and Clarence stood there with his gun aimed at Ishmael. “There, finally, I found you both.”

  Ishmael held his gun up toward the room’s ceiling, showing that he had surrendered. “I submit. I do not want to see any more bloodshed.” He positioned himself in front of me, acting as a shield, and I cursed myself hoping that the room would stop spinning.

  Clarence clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth and waved his pistol at Ishmael. “Now the tables have turned, and I’m not the one left out in the cold.” Behind him, I could hear additional gunshots as the fighting spread through the rest of the ship. We had been boarded by more men from the Jeroboam.

  “There is no need for anyone else to get hurt. We are willing to give you what you want.” Ishmael stayed calm and kept still.

  “Good, I would rather not have to kill or torture either of you. I just want you to tell me where the true location to the island of nightmares is. He smiled at us and with his free hand ran his hand through his greasy hair. “Give me that and I’m on my way. I’ll even put in a good word for both of you with the crew of the Jeroboam.”

  “They’re not going to stop until all of us are dead or imprisoned,” I said to Clearance.

  Ishmael turned around and gave me a look that would stop death himself. His brow furrowed and he shook his head in dissent. He didn’t have to use any words to express what he meant. It was clear he wanted me to remain quiet.

  “If you don’t give me what I want, then I’ll make sure you suffer slowly.” Clearance put the emphasis on the last word and sneered. “Well, Ishmael? Are you going to help me or not?” He raised the pistol, pointing it at Ishmael’s heart. “Hurry though, my patience runs thin.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you where to find the island. Enough!” Ishmael faced him bravely and shifted his body slightly to the left. I now would have a clear shot at Clearance if I could only shoot straight.

  “Wait!” I aimed the pistol at Clarence, and he turned to see it aimed at him.

  “Well, looks like we have a bit
of an issue here.” He did not waver and kept his gun trained on Ishmael.

  “Tell me why my map didn’t work for him.” I addressed Ishmael and had to know.

  Clarence clucked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “You didn’t know. It’s been him all along.”

  Ishmael kept his hands in the air and replied, “The island has moved.”

  “What?” I fought off a dizzy spell from the cannonball explosion, and for a few seconds my vision faded, but I stayed conscious. “How is that possible?”

  Clarence nodded. “Looks like we both want to know the same thing.”

  “When I was on the island after the Pequod sank, I learned things there that I’d rather forget. I saw things that should not have been seen.” He spoke low above the din of fighting happening outside in the hall. “I swam off that island as fast as I could, and it vanished before my eyes. And everything I saw scarred me forever.”

  He lowered his head, and I blurted, “Your tattoo!”

  Clarence used the tip of his pistol to pull open Ishmael’s shirt. “You had the map inked onto your chest. Ingenious!”

  Ishmael ripped open his shirt and thrust his chest forward. “No, I didn’t. But the island, it did this to me.”

  The tattoo on Ishmael’s chest animated, and the waves appeared to move with a dotted line stretched out across the ocean, changing direction to land on the island’s current position. I blinked fast and tried to clear my head of the hallucination.

  “There is something unholy there that cannot be contained. Please, you have to stop this mad quest to find the island and just give up on it.”

  Clarence shook his head. “I’ll never do that. I have to go. It’s the only place where I can find a cure for my daughter’s sickness. She’s ill and I’ve heard the rumors. I’ve talked to the few who have made it back to tell.”

  Ishmael shook his head. “You don’t understand. It’s not like that.”

  “If there’s even just a tiniest of chances that I can find a cure for my Anna, then I have to try. As a father, I might not have been always there for her, but I will give my life to see her live.”

  Ishmael weighed Clarence’s words and nodded. “Okay, I understand. But if you won’t listen to my warning, then at least let us work together. If you want to save your daughter, then we need to work as one to get to the island before anyone else does and it moves again. If you kill us, the map won’t work anymore. I swear to you on all the souls of the Pequod that I will help you get to the island so that you can save your daughter.”

  He offered his hand to Clarence and waited. Unsure what to do, Clarence paused a moment but then lowered his gun and shook Ishmael’s hand. When he put his pistol down, I acted and fired mine. The sound deafened me for a moment, and instead of ringing in just my one ear, my hearing faded for a few minutes and then slowly came back. I placed my other foot on the deck to steady myself and rose up out of the hammock.

  “Stop, please!” Clearance fell back into the wall and slid to the floor.

  Ishmael turned toward me and took the gun out of my hand. “No more! I’ve sworn to help him and we made our bond. There’s no more fighting.”

  But I did not fear him or Clarence. “He had threatened us with violence and would have given us over to the mob outside. He is only a coward and did not wish to kill us himself.” Clarence sat on the ground and blood, crimson and bright, covered his hands, and then he glanced up at me.

  He wore his incrimination on his face like a brand. “You shot me.” He held up his bloodied hand to me.

  I flung myself off the hammock and ran at him. Losing my balance, I tripped into the closest hammock, and Ishmael pushed me easily to the side. He rushed to Clarence’s side, checking his wound.

  Outside I heard a scuffle in the hall and another gunshot. Across our tiny room, Clearance’s pistol had skirted across the floor, lodged next to a trunk. I pushed myself off the hammock and used my momentum to throw myself toward the weapon. Anyone who watched me would have laughed at my ineptitude as I wobbled over and hit the ground hard.

  Ishmael had ripped a piece of a shirt and tied it around Clarence’s arm. “Stay calm. The bullet only grazed you. You’ll be fine.”

  I wrapped my hand around the gun’s handle and pulled myself up off the floor. “Move away from him.” I aimed the gun at Clarence’s chest. “My hand is not steady, and I do not wish to harm you.”

  Ishmael stopped binding up Clarence’s wound and faced me. “Come, help me.” He then turned to finish bandaging up Clarence.

  “They’re coming. We need to protect ourselves.” He ignored me, and Clarence leaned back against the wall to the small cabin. A dried rose attached to the nearest hammock, probably a token of a sailor’s love, swayed back and forth. I heard the fighting coming closer, and the smell of gunpowder filled the room. We only had moments before we would be found. “They’re coming. We need to barricade this room.”

  Having completed his binding, Ishmael stood up and faced me. “We will be captured and become prisoners ourselves. The ship is taken. If we kill Clarence, then I expect they’ll do the same to us.” He put his hand out to me. “A gun will not save us today, but words might.”

  He made sense, and Clarence eyed me fiercely. “Both of you do what I say. I have an idea.”

  I wondered if he lied, but the crew of the Jeroboam would take more than the map from us if we did not work together. Clarence pointed at Ishmael’s chest. “Cover up and follow my lead.” He did not wait for either of us to reply and said, “You both must trust me if you want to live. If I succeed in saving your lives, then you owe me. I must have the werewhale oil to save my daughter.”

  Ishmael buttoned his shirt and stood back enough from the door just as two sailors with rifles burst into the room. Clarence took command immediately. “These two are with me. I’m bringing them to see the first mate. They agreed to cooperate.”

  Without a word, Ishmael and I filed out of the room flanked with the two sailors. I stepped over my fallen crew members on my way up to the main deck and wondered. I still didn’t trust Clarence, but for the moment, he was the only one who could keep us alive.

  Chapter 6

  Nathan tried to relax but could not. The ship tossed lightly up and down, rocking in a natural flow over the ocean, and he knew not what time it was, but he expected the moon would rise within the hour. He had learned much about how to use the stars and planets to navigate as well as how the moon rose fifty minutes later each night since being on the sea.

  He glanced over at Zeke’s hammock, and it was empty. He kept watch in the halls right outside the cabin and would come inside at a moment’s notice. Beyond Zeke’s hammock, Josep slept. The strong Italian resembled a babe in his hammock—mouth open and a snore that rose in its volume until it reached a crescendo and then faltered into a quiet whispering.

  Beyond Josep, and closest to the door, Pahukumaa slept peacefully. He lay on his side with his back facing Nathan. Shifting in his hammock to try to settle himself in a more comfortable position, Nathan could smell the exotic incense one of his crewmates had lit before the lamps were turned off. The smell wafted through the cabins and hung heavy in the air. The room, nearly pitch-black in darkness, had only a bit of light coming in from the brilliant starlight from the port windows, and down the end of the hall, a lamp near the latrine shed a tiny bit of light into their quarters.

  Pahukumaa coughed hard in his sleep. The noise startled Nathan, and his heart pounded fast. Coughing another time, Pahukumaa sat up in his hammock, but from Nathan’s angle, he could not tell if he were still sleeping or now awake. Pahukumaa coughed a third time and walked out of their room, heading down toward the latrine at the end of the hall.

  Without a sound, Nathan placed both his feet down on the deck and climbed out of his hammock. The sound of the latrine’s door creaking signaled that Pahukumaa had entered the bathroom. Nathan slunk into the hall and hung back, waiting for his crewmate to finish his nightly business. He had hope
d to run into Zeke but did not. From the sound in the latrine, he could hear the stream of urine hitting the water in the bucket there. Taking the moment to peek outside a port window, he could see the brilliant stars, but no moon had yet risen. When Pahukumaa finished, he exited the latrine, scratched the back of his head, and then yawned. He gave Nathan a nod as he passed by him and went back to his hammock to go back to sleep. His mannerisms appeared normal for the middle of the night.

  Nathan went into the latrine and searched around but found nothing unusual there. He took the time to go to the bathroom, trying to block out the acrid smell in the small enclosed space. Once finished, he quickly headed back to his quarters and prepared himself for the long night ahead. But when he entered the cabin, he found that Pahukumaa had not returned. Josep still snored loudly—loud enough to wake the dead. Glancing at the other end of the room, Nathan confirmed Pahukumaa wasn’t in the room.

  Cursing quietly under his breath, Nathan spun around and rushed off toward the other end of the hall past the latrine. He did not know how Pahukumaa could have moved so quickly as he had not spent too much time in the bathroom. There was no other way for Pahukumaa to have gone except the opposite way toward the ladder that led to the upper deck. Reaching the ladder, he climbed up and onto the deck. He took a moment to take in the beauty of the stars overhead. Clear, without any heat distortion or even a wisp of a cloud, thousands of stars could be seen overhead, making the Milky Way easy to see spilling across the sky. The zodiacal light stretched up from the horizon up high into the sky, and the immensity of all the stars amazed him in their brilliance. The tiny lights lit up the deck, and toward the direction of the bow, someone moving distracted him. Several members of the crew would be up on duty to ensure the ship sailed straight and true. Hopefully, he could find Zeke soon, and they could work together to find Pahukumaa.

  The sound of a broom handle hitting the deck startled him, and he squinted in the dark, searching for the person who had made the noise, but he could see nothing. In the east, the glow of the moon below the horizon could be seen, but it had not risen yet. It would soon, and maybe Pahukumaa needed to be out in the open to transform and become the beast Nathan had seen nearly a month ago. He walked slow and deliberate toward the bow of the ship, careful not to trip on anything in the dark.