Crimson

by Warren Fahy

  “Let her loose, Mister Mate!” Nil motioned.

  The bald sailor, standing coiled on the deck before the bridge with his hands clasped behind his broad back and feet planted wide, wheeled like a spring unwinding at Nil’s command.

  “Unfurl ’em and take ’em down, get ’em out, get ’em trimmed, get her off and running, boys, go, go, go, GO! Get her up, up, UP!”

  The men of the second watch leaped over the cordage against the dawning heavens. The Monkey Sailor, Jootle, scampered aloft to check the lines, ready to scream and point if the rigging failed. Sailors spread out on the mainyard and pulled off the wide brass rings securing its sail, sliding them down the stay lines.

  As the sails fell, Nil yelled, “Cut us loose, Mister Sowernut!”

  Sowernut swung down a flashing sword that cut through the thick cable fixed to the stern cleat, and the Sea Mare lunged free, nearly tossing him over the transom.

  Lince shouted, “Drop the clews, mains’l and lateen, ya rummy dodgers! Get a grip and let ’em go, and welcome aboard, Mister Sowernut, now git yer ass to the lateen line and fill your hands. Hold on, now!”

  A great square sail and a triangular sail filled taut as sun and wind smote them like lightning and thunder. They heard the throngs cheer along the shining jetty, hailed them as the crew waved their hats from the rigging and the crow’s nest. And as they hauled out Nil ordered the long green banner of Ameulis raised over both masts, and the silk standards were hoisted, snaking into the sky, another cheer rose from the shore.

  “Hard aport, Lince,” Nil called as he spun the wheel.

  “Heave ’em to, starboard, mates,” Lince barked. “Go-go-GO!”

  The Sea Mare’s massive sails shifted on their yards as she yawed east, cutting toward the Lightstone Jetty. And as she picked up speed she left a narrower wake behind them.

  Lince patted his chest. “The sea smells sweet as a watermelon!”

  Karlok and Nil grinned as they rode the Sea Mare.

  “A song,” cried young Lanning from aloft.

  “Let’s have a song to start the voyage!” Lince agreed.

  At Nil’s nod, Karlok raised his hand and led them in a favorite chantey:

  Oh, with sun so warm

  And merciful rain

  And a breeze on a summer day,

  It brings us a storm

  And then hurricanes

  That blow us all away!

  It pulls us fast

  And lights the way

  And guides us by the stars,

  The sky, avast,

  Will dark the day

  And knock us on our arse!

  For sure as it pulls us over the blue

  And gives us a reason to grin

  It shoves us a blow so we’re heavin’ ho

  Right into the muck again, O….!

  The canticle repeated as they passed the seafront where the gathered Gwylorians sang back in rounds echoing from the shore.

  Nil spun the wheel, conning her starboard, and pulled her parallel to the jetty, for he had a notion that Lelinair might be waiting at the last possible place to bid him farewell.

  The people who had crowded onto the Lightstone Jetty cheered as the Sea Mare picked up speed, passing the other ships whose decks were crowded with well-wishers. Some crewmen were lucky enough to spot their mates among them, but Nil saw no sign of her.

  As the Sea Mare cantered past the jetty, Senthellzia grabbed hold under the port ladder against the galley. Launching from her shoulder, her falcon Harm snatched one of the seabirds flocking round the rigging. The Sarkish ship’s surgeon, Bruthru Zee, admired the men’s skill as they trimmed the sails.

  An escort of ships and boats followed them far out, not wishing to lose sight of the windjammer whose proud mare’s head cantered over the blue hills. Captain Skylar on the Green Ghost kept up the longest, and the famous ship bore down with her single great sail straining. It was only because of the drag of the spikes pointing down from the Sea Mare’s keel, Nil knew, that she did not outrun the Green Ghost. But Nil had another weapon in his arsenal and decided to take the Green Ghost’s challenge. “Set the jibs, Lince!”

  Lince, on the main deck below where he would relay the Captain’s orders for the duration of the voyage, bellowed, “Set the jibs, ya dockwallopers, and grab on tight!”

  Two men from watches one and two spun the capstan on the foredeck. The flying jibs reeled up over the bowsprit and filled like slings, and the crew had to catch their footing as the vessel lunged off the crest of a swell as if taking flight.

  As the Green Ghost was left behind, Captain Skylar at last reined his stallion and had to throw his favorite hat to the wind to concede the race. Nil gave him a last wave. “Start the watch games, Lince! Let’s put her through her paces.”

  “Right!” Lince gripped hands behind his back and planted his feet a little starboard of the bridge so he could see the men minding the lateen. As if waiting for his cue, Lince’s cat swaggered out of his cabin and hopped down the ladder. Striped black with a rusty hull, everyone called the tail-less cat “the Creature.” It was covered with white scars from a life of ratting. The bow-legged cat sat six feet behind Lince’s right leg sneered at the crew. “We’re gonna do some line pullin’,” Lince hollered, “So we can find out who the sailors are and who the mudsuckers are. First watch: take the port sheet; second watch, starboard; third watch, lateen. NOW by Golly’s god-awful gut-whiskers not the next day after tomorrow, you puke-gargling scallywags! You! I caught that dirty look, Mister Bultin!”

  The Creature licked its fist behind Lince.

  Lince tapped the tattooed eye on top of his head and pointed at Rawley. “I’ll be watchin’ you, Mister. You’ve got idle hands, not bein’ on a watch as you carpenters aren’t! So why don’t you teach the cook and the Lady Senthellzia how to mind the jibs, Mister Wahdoo-Aye-Doo? It’s just a windlass and all you have to do is crank it one way or t’other and I’ll tell ya which and when. Now get to it, you three, you heard me! I see you, Pickle, lurkin’ in yer galley, and we’ll taste yer breakfast soon enough. In the meantime—”

  “Spare the cook!” Nil ordered from the bridge.

  Lince stomped his foot like a Polwairn. “Then Bombo will get his pork barrel on deck fer a jib drill!”

  Nil chuckled.

  Bombo, the portly cook’s assistant, trotted out from the aftercastle none-too-thrilled.

  “All right, everybody’s getting in on the act today, including the monkey, Mister Feferl. How’s the rigging?”

  “Jootle’s calm,” Feferl reported. “The rigging’s sound.”

  “We won’t rest until we’re clicking like a clock. Rawley, git your hollow leg to that windlass and commence teachin’!”

  The wily carpenter stood defiantly with his red beard, balding head, gold tooth and wooden leg. “Mister Neery-Atten, I don’t know the first thing about pulling a jib.”

  “That’s a lie but I’ve a better place for ya, Mister Tricky-Fella. I’ve heard of yer mischief aboard ship, sir, don’t you doubt it. Take a place on the second watch, and no delay, leg or no!”

  Rawley was stung and remembered the advice he was given to always take Lince’s first option.

  “We’ll have no dockwollopers on this ship! Ed, show those clodhoppers the ropes at the jib, eh?”

  “Aye, sir!” said bucktoothed Ed, who came recommended from Bik Bohtum’s Barnacle. Ed could handle the double-windlass that set the flying jibs with ease since Bik had installed the same sails on the Oyster.

  Senthellzia sent her falcon Harm up to the crow’s nest and then rolled up her sleeves, eager to start her midshipman’s training. The tall, strong-armed woman tied her red hair back in a ponytail and wound it under her cap. For his part, Bombo waddled miserably up the ladderway behind her to the fo’c’sle.

  Rawley muttered to the men of watch two, “I’m not touching that line.” The carpenter had built a handle on his wooden right leg that had a spring-loaded knee. He hooked his hand in
the handle to lock the knee and leaned his weight on it. “I’m the bloody ship’s carpenter, not a deck hand. Lince is crazy putting me on a watch.”

  “You were just assigned to my watch, Mister,” said Lanning. “And you will grab that line, plant that stump, and give your dainty little palms a good blistering. Is that understood?”

  “Lanning, my dear lad, I can do better than that.” The carpenter winked. “Hey, Bultin, I meant to tell you earlier, but with all the hurrahs and such… See that big clown laughing over there on the first watch?” The redheaded carpenter pointed out Tintil, who stood a good head taller and about a yard wider than his mates. “Do you have any idea what he’s been saying about you?”

  Bultin grunted. “Tintil not a clown! What he say?”

  “He says yer a bungle-fish, soft as a toad and couldn’t lift a spoon without rippin’ yer gut-strings. And he says your brain’s the size of a pea. Now, my only question is, how do you suppose he knows all of that? Are you two friends?”

  The big man’s face, with his crooked teeth, looked confused already, but now his cheeks flushed as he beetled his brow. “Tintil say that?”

  Lanning approved. “Grab hold, Bultin! Ya ain’t gonna let Tintil’s watch best us now?”

  “After he be calling you a toad?” Prince Rollum contributed.

  Bultin nearly pulverized the line in his hands, grinding his jaws like millstones.

  “HEAVE THE MAIN YARD PORT!” Lince shouted.

  Karlok beat a stick on the bridge rail.

  Tintil’s team pulled first. The first watch, led by Tintil as the others pretended to help, reeled in the port sheet.

  “Eleven beats, sir!” Karlok announced.

  The Sea Mare tacked southwest.

  “Hey, Bultin—see that big idiot abaft?” Rawley whispered in Bultin’s wide ear, directly behind Bultin on the hauling line. He pointed out an enormous man on the sterncastle who might even be larger than Bultin. The giant had a baby’s face, however, with the tiniest eyes, ears and nose.

  “Bat?” Bultin hollered. “He’s not an idiot!”

  “I was afraid of that. Because he said you got big eating dumplings and yer weaker than a chicken under all that blubber.” Rawley poked Bultin’s tunic.

  “It’s a mighty shame if he beats us now,” Lanning said. “’Kind of drive it home.”

  Bultin bulged and sweated like a boiler about to blow, and the others got a nervous grip on the line behind him.

  “Mainsail: starboard!” Lince growled. “Lateen: starboard!”

  Bultin ripped loose, knocking the others on their backsides as he sucked the line out of the sky and wrenched the main starboard in… eight beats!

  At the lateen, there was chaos since the third watch had been in the midst of changing their line order. Bat finally flung everyone aside and dove at the line, smashing his head on the aft rail. Moaning, the huge sailor pulled the lateen sheet through the smoking halyard and the sail shifted. The Sea Mare leveled, tacking port, and despite their rocky start Karlok tallied a respectable ten raps.

  The members of the second watch hooted at the others as they flocked around Bultin, who scoffed boldly at Bat and Tintil.

  “First watch, man the lateen! Third watch, port sheet! Second watch, stand by!” The Creature yawned and stretched behind Lince, watching the men run to and fro with cold eyes, gripping its long claws on the deck.

  “Bultin,” whispered Rawley. “Tintil said you admitted your mom is half donkey when you were drunk. Is she?”

  “Oh, Tintil!” Bultin bellowed.

  Rollum said, “In wine is shining truth.”

  “Mainyard: starboard!”

  The third watch would have to beat Bultin’s eight, but Bat still swooned from his collision with the aft rail, his hands grasping his head like a nutcracker. His fellows desperately gave him the line, but Bat shoved them away. In vain, they pulled the sheet themselves, and their final count was a miserable 21.

  For a ripe moment the third watch was pummeled with ridicule.

  Lince cut it short. “Lateen: starboard!”

  This time, Tintil braced himself and pulled the lateen yard over in a formidable five beats, and they trimmed the sail in three more.

  Over boos and whistles Lince shouted, “First watch, starboard sheet; second watch, lateen; third watch, stand by!”

  The first and second watches traded places. Still steaming, Bultin took the line and his mates held it behind him, ready to get out of the way.

  “Lateen: aport!”

  Bultin gave a dangerous heave, but the yard did not budge. He pulled again. This time the lateen yard bowed slightly, but it wouldn’t move.

  “Check the line!” Lanning yelled.

  Rawley eagerly dropped the line and ran to the halyard. “They’ve cinched it with a slip-knot!” He unraveled the knot with a tug, and all the force Bultin had exerted was released. The yard swung in four beats and they quickly trimmed the sail. But the final count was a dismal eleven.

  “This means war,” Lanning grumbled. He glared at the men of the first watch, who squirmed with glee.

  Karlok tallied up the scores. “Watches one and two are tied!”

  “First and second watches, port and starboard,” barked Lince. “Third watch, go to the poop deck and learn some seamanship.”

  “Lanning,” Rawley hissed.

  “What?” snapped Lanning, still disgusted by watch one’s dirty trick. Since it was technically their responsibility to inspect the line before a pull, it couldn’t be reported without dire consequences for them, as well, something the men of the first watch had counted on.

  “We can retaliate,” Rawley said.

  “How?” Lanning asked. “Wait! Don’t tell me.” He closed his eyes.

  Rawley bounced over the deck on his spring-loaded leg, wielding a file as he winked at Lince.

  “Where are you hoppin’ to, Mister?” Lince snapped.

  “Spotted a belaying pin needs attending.”

  “He’s the ship’s carpenter, Lince, back off,” said Karlok.

  Rawley was within his rights if he saw something wrong, and, coincidentally, his inspection took him very close to the first watch.

  Lince looked irked at the loophole as he barked, “Mainsail: starboard!”

  The second watch, or Bultin, hauled the yard at a fair speed, finishing in ten beats.

  Meanwhile, the first watch took notice of the ship’s carpenter, who appeared to be filled with trepidation as he scrutinized the block and tackle the men were about to try—a sight none of them found comforting on an untested ship during sea trials. They glanced uneasily at each other.

  “That will never do,” Rawley grunted, shaking his head. “One good pull and she’ll snap like a bullwhip!”

  The men dropped the line and scrutinized the tackle for the fatal defect.

  “Mainsail port!” Lince yelled.

  But the men of watch one refused to touch the line, for the ship’s carpenter had pronounced the rigging unfit. The beat of Karlok’s stick compelled them, but Rawley’s word was weighty. They knew that when the Captain saw the hazard Rawley detected their turn would not be counted. They would even be given credit for good seamanship, and likely walk away with an extra prize to flaunt over their mates.

  Rawley bent down as the men of watch one depended on him heavily now, and he opened a compartment in his leg and pulled out a wooden mallet. He reached out to the railing and pounded in a loose belaying pin near the chainplates. “That’ll do her!” he said, with a satisfied smile. Then he bounced back across the deck to the men of watch two, his pipe pointed high between his clenched teeth.

  For a moment the mates of watch one gaped uncomprehending after the carpenter. Then Rept moaned and turned to lift the line. In a scrambling surge the other men retrieved it, also, but the ensuing effort was painful to behold. Twenty-three beats passed before they were done, and they turned in rage at Rawley, who whistled as he looked over this and that, tweaking and filing like
the responsible carpenter that he was. They had only to blame themselves. The scoundrel had never specified that the rigging was unfit.

  Rawley winked at Lanning as Lince’s cat crossed his path. Lince appeared next, and the first mate’s three eyes burned the grin off the carpenter’s face.

  “A fine day for sailin’, Mister Neery-Atten,” Rawley said, springing out from under Lince’s glare.

  Rawley zigzagged around the first mate and returned to the men of watch two thankfully as they did the honors of grinding salt into the other watches’ wounds. Bultin was hoisted onto the shoulders of about seven men and, as etiquette allowed, he proceeded to abuse Bat and Tintil with lewd gestures. “Guess those jokers were wrong after all, Bultin!” Rawley said.

  “Yeah, they’re wrong!” Bultin grinned.

  “Lince was watching you like a hawk, Rawley,” Lanning whispered. “And so was his bloody cat. They talk to each other, they say.”

  “I don’t doubt it!”

  Nil rang the bell. “The victor is watch two. They will now possess privileges for the duration of the voyage posted on my cabin door.”

  The other watches endured another wave of gloating.

  “Now then, men, and Lady Tunn,” Nil said from the bridge. “This ship requires both sailors and fighters. Many among you are skilled in the arts of war. Even as the sailors train you in seafare, you must train them in warfare now. Fix a course due south and go to a light watch. Take your morning mess in half shifts, and rotate to the sterncastle for training in archery, fencing and hand-to-hand combat. Send two from each watch to join me on the main deck. These millstones behind the mainmast are to be tied to the nets clewed amidships. In the event we’re attacked by anything, we shall fire the nets with harpoons on the forecastle and then release millstones to weigh down the nets. The catapults astern will launch clay urns of oil that will burst into fire. Four men from each watch will be taught how to launch them. Lince, Karlok and I will show all of you in groups how to work these weapons, and everyone will be assigned a battle station, a secondary battle station, and a third.” Nil turned to look at all of them on the decks then. “We are heading into mystery! And all that is certain is that danger will greet us. Everyone must learn this ship’s defenses so we are ready for any circumstance. Garner, leader of watch three, take the helm, due south. Mister Neery-Atten!”