“Evette!” Murdoch called. “I hear you’ve kept the men on edge and ready for action. That’s well and good. This fair wind might not hold out much longer. I haven’t seen a lady take such control of a group of men since the nuns of my boarding school days. Rancorous old shrews, the lot of ’em. But, if I hadn’t had all their discipline, I might’ve ended up doing an honest man’s work—bah ha! Pop-Pop!” His infectious laughter drew everyone around him.
“Shrew!” shouted Yancy, snapping his fingers. “That should be Evette’s nickname!”
“I’m down,” Murdoch replied, “provided Miss Caskmore accepts, that is.”
Evette clanked mugs with Yancy. “With honor!”
“Ah, Jensen!” Murdoch turned his way. “Some nice dancing with my daughter out there. A fine display for this lot to sink their chops into, don’t you think? Parade her around much longer, and I might have to get worried.”
Jensen felt suddenly wary of those around him. “She’s a terrific dancer, sir. Always has been. But point taken, sir. I’ll be mindful of the crew.”
“Oh, stop being such an animal,” Starlina snapped.
Murdoch gave Jensen a hard nudge and leaned toward Starlina. “Relax, my dear. I’m merely joshing with the boy.” He turned to Jensen. “We can’t expect her to be used to the way we jab at each other, can we?”
“Ah…right, Captain,” Jensen replied. Perhaps it was the ale, but Murdoch seemed a bit chummier than Jensen was accustomed to.
“Say, Jensen, I was thinking,” Murdoch said, “how about we give you a little break from nighttime helms duty, just for a couple nights.”
Jensen blinked in surprise. “Thank you, sir. Whatever pleases you, of course.”
“Right, right,” Murdoch said. “Beep! Over here!”
Kasper joined them.
“Let’s get Jensen here off the helm the next two nights. I’m also thinking, keep the crow’s nest clear.”
Kasper frowned. “Sir, we need to keep a weathered eye for Vartu.”
Murdoch waved him off. “Once Fump starts chasing butterflies on deck, you’ll know we’re close to land. Right… no one in the crow’s nest. Just hang Jensen here from it up-side-down so I can hear him scream like a scalded-ass monkey! Ah hahahaha!”
Jensen was stunned, his eyes wide with concern.
Kasper flashed a glare at Jensen and walked off, leaving Murdoch to his mirthful chuckles.
The captain gave Jensen another nudge. “No hard feelings, Jensen. Might as well get used to a bit of subterfuge.”
Starlina shook her head hopelessly. Murdoch took off toward his cabin, clapping backs and bellowing wisecracks all the way.
CHAPTER 7
NEW BEARINGS
7/29/3203
While Captain Murdoch may have been joking about Jensen being hung upside-down, he was in fact dead serious about assigning Jensen a post high up in the crow’s nest. As most of the crew turned in for the night, Kasper shoved a monocular into his hand, and he was made to climb the rigging, all the way up to the crow’s nest at some sixty-five feet into the air.
Every pitch and rock and heel gave him the sense that he was teetering from the edge of a cliff. The wind was completely unforgiving. For the first time ever, Jensen felt the onset of seasickness and nearly kecked up the prior day’s bean soup.
It became easily the longest and most terrifying night of Jensen’s young life.
Very little actual watching happened during the overnight hours. As dawn’s light crept over the eastern horizon, however, his courage started to awaken. He stood up taller, held himself better against the wind, and began to relish the bird’s-eye view.
Once over the fright, he realized how perfectly majestic the view was. He could see everything happening on the deck below him, more and more little figures scurrying to and fro as crewmen awoke. All around, for nearly ten miles in every direction, he saw blue skies, puffy clouds, and cerulean waters.
Except that something in the northeast caused him to double back. He spied a dark, distant figure on the water. It could only be one thing: another ship.
He grabbed the spyglass monocular, fumbling as he tried to extend it. He nearly lost it over the edge but managed to catch it just before it fell.
Looking again, he found the ship. It had very dark timbers—dark gray, perhaps, very nearly black—with two masts poking into the air. He saw no banner. If it was from Tuscawny, it was likely a vessel under private commission.
Jensen suddenly had a very bad feeling about whose ship that might be.
It can’t be, he thought, squinting through the monocular.
“Captain!” he called.
He couldn’t see Murdoch. Most likely he was in his cabin.
“Captain!” he called again.
A short time later Kasper arrived at the mast. “What is it?”
“A ship, sir!”
Kasper looked uncertain. He walked over to the railing and scanned the distance for good measure. “Come on down here with the spyglass! Meet me on the forecastle.”
The climb down was about as unsettling as the climb up, perhaps even worse. When going up, he didn’t have to look down, and at night he couldn’t as well discern his height. In the daylight it was far more terrifying.
By the time he reached the main deck and made his way to the forecastle, both Kasper and Captain Murdoch were waiting for him.
“Ah, Jensen—good morning!” greeted Murdoch. “Did you see something out there?”
“Yes, sir,” Jensen replied. “I’d say nearly forty degrees to starboard—about four points northeast.”
Murdoch and Kasper exchanged a look.
“Hand me the bring-’em-closer,” said Murdoch, reaching for the monocular. Jensen handed it over and watched as the captain checked for himself. A very light sea fog drifted over the water, which Jensen hoped would not make a fool out of him.
Long moments passed as Murdoch scouted the horizon. Finally he lowered the spyglass, retracted it, and stowed it in his pocket.
“Did you see anything, Captain?” asked Kasper.
Murdoch gave a slight nod. “Keen eye, Jensen. Well spotted. It’s another ship, alright. Beep, how far are we from Vartu?”
“Probably about two days, by my estimate. That’s if this wind holds out.”
Murdoch groaned. He aimed himself toward midship. “Dippy, repooorrrt!”
A few minutes later Dippy joined them. “Yes, Captain?”
“We’ve lost the luxury of lollygagging. Our detour is at an end. Set our bearing for Gukhan.” He approached the taffrail and gazed into the east. “The race is on, gentlemen. Out there, with an ever-so-slight advantage, is the ship of old Puffypants, the Iron Mermaiden.”
“Seadread?” Dippy asked.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Jensen muttered.
Murdoch gestured toward the elaborate wooden weaponry at the farthest aft railing. “Have our ballista at the ready, and bolts on standby for the crossbows. Better have the pitch and torches on hand, as well. Things could get dicey if we end up in close quarters.”
“Aye, sir,” Dippy said. “I’ll get Rosh and Yancy on it straight away.”
“I’ll adjust our bearing,” Kasper said, walking off.
Seadread and Murdoch were rivals in the sense that they frequently traded places for top rank in the guild. Jensen had never seen them compete for the exact same prize at the same time. He wondered, with a gulp of angst, how the situation might escalate if they met face to face, crew to crew.
“Captain,” said Jensen, “shall I keep the watchman’s post?”
“No. You get some rest. Your job might be the hardest of all.” He looked upon Jensen with a grave expression. “You must try to persuade my daughter to forgive us both.”
The distant, hazy form of Seadread’s ship remained in the eastern horizon, its position changing very little. Zale watched it often, his eye glaring through the spyglass.
“Looks like Vidimir got to Seadread after
all,” Dippy said quietly.
“That’s of no real surprise,” Zale replied.
“Do you think they’ve noticed us?”
“Of course they have.” He retracted his spyglass. “What’s more bothersome is that he was probably the first to notice our proximity.” He took a moment to feel the breeze. “This wind won’t hold our pace for long…but he’ll face the same. Once we start stalling, deploy the log-line and take note of our speed. For Eloh’s love, don’t drag us. Signal Evette to have rowers stationed and sweeps at the ready. If we get to three knots, raise the sail, plunge the oars, and pull with all we’ve got. That might be our best chance to gain on him.”
“Sure thing, Captain.”
Zale made for his cabin, trying to sort out all the possible maneuvers they might have to pull if they should find themselves going head to head against Seadread and his men. Captain Rummy had a marginally larger crew for his slightly loftier ship. With two masts and more sails, Rummy could gain the advantage in full wind. The Queenie’s hull, however, was broad above the water and sharper below, tapering all the way to aft, a design of Zale’s own order that made the ship rather heavy but fast despite it. Zale had also budgeted extra crew for proper rowing ranks, something Rummy was not known to do. Now he could only hope it would pay off.
He entered his cabin and found Starlina standing barefoot in an off-white top and pants that appeared to have been made of sailcloth. The clothes and sandals she’d arrived in were bunched in her arms. Her face exuded pure vexation at his arrival.
“Starlina, what are you doing?” Zale asked.
“You can set your course for hell,” she snapped. “You and Jensen both.”
He groaned. “I take it you’re aware of our new bearings.” He removed his hat and came a few steps closer, trying his best to look apologetic. “I know it’s not what you’d hoped—”
“How can you expect me to remain on this wooden trap this entire voyage? I feel like a prisoner!”
“Try to understand…if we didn’t change course immediately, we’d risk losing the prize altogether. I had no choice.”
“Your choices seem to change on a whim.” She threw up a hand. “I know it’s of no use arguing with you. I’m going to bunk in the hold with Evette.”
“In the hold? Darling, it’s both safer and more comfortable here in my cabin.”
“Don’t darling me! I’ll manage just fine. Mister Willigan is already putting up a hammock for me. Evette loaned me this… outfit…something she made herself. I couldn’t stand wearing the same clothes another minute.”
Zale didn’t dare argue with her. She would already have to stay aboard the ship throughout their voyage. He wasn’t about to dictate where she could or couldn’t rest.
“Fine. Sleep wherever you’re most comfortable. And I’m sorry, Starlina. I’ll make it up to you.”
“You want to make it up?” She breezed past him and took hold of the door handle. “Get me back home!”
She flung herself through the doorway and slammed it behind her.
“Man overboard!”
The call was muffled through Zale’s cabin but nonetheless unmistakable. “This is a great way to start the morning,” he grumbled, grabbing his hat.
Dippy was already bawling orders on the deck. “Throw out a lifebuoy! Haul him aboard!”
Yancy, Jensen, and Evette stood by the rail, watching as the deckhands readied the lifebuoy. Evette scowled with tight lips, while Yancy and Jensen looked rather amused.
Zale looked over the rail. Miles, one of the general deckhands, floundered about in the water. He looked more incensed than desperate. The lifebuoy landed on target, and in short order the man was hoisted back up.
“What happened?” Zale demanded.
Several eyeballs shifted toward Evette.
“Well?!” Zale shouted.
Evette leaned her hip against the rail and swept her hand toward the ocean. “He stumbled overboard.”
“It was more of a cause-and-effect thing,” Yancy added. “He stumbled…because Shrew clobbered him in the face.”
“I hit him middeck!” she shouted. “It was his own stupor that tripped him over the side.”
“It was quite spectacular,” Jensen said from the ropes.
Evette stood tall, rubbing absently at her nails and wearing a self-satisfied smirk.
“Explain yourself!” ordered Zale.
“Insubordination, Captain,” Evette said with inarguable sureness. “He pretended to bump into me by accident and just happened to be ready for a two-handed squeeze in the process.” She gestured at her breasts.
“It’s true, Captain,” Jensen said. “I saw the whole thing. Miles made a very blatant advance.”
Moments later, Miles was brought over the rail, dripping. A nice, red welt had already formed on his left cheek.
“Crew, listen well!” Zale bellowed. “I don’t care that we have two ladies aboard. They are a part of this crew. Any further uncouth advances, and I will personally ensure the offender is keelhauled from bow to stern and back again!”
“Yes, Captain,” droned several of the crew in response.
“Show’s over—back to work!”
As they began to scatter, Zale took note of the still air and their dramatically slowed speed. With this morning’s excitement, he already figured Dippy hadn’t yet run the log-line, but he knew well enough how slow they were going.
He turned to Evette. “Shrew, get those sweeps in the water. Let’s keep our best pace until this wind picks back up.” “Yes, sir!” Evette said. She motioned for Jensen and a few of the deckhands to follow her below.
“I suppose something like that was bound to happen eventually,” Zale groaned. He reached for his spyglass and aimed it northeast. “Puffypants is still out there.”
“Aye, sir,” Dippy said. “I’ve been watching.”
Zale retracted his spyglass. “Stay abreast with Evette about the rowers, and have crewmen on rotation to keep from too much fatigue.”
Dippy returned a lopsided smile. “I’ll keep abreast, sir.”
Zale frowned. “Maybe not the most stellar choice of words. Up to speed, Mister Doyle, so it’s not you I’ll have to throw overboard.”
Dippy walked off, still smiling.
“Hen overboard!”
Zale burst out of his cabin. “What under the rings is happening?” he growled.
“Sorry, Cap,” Yancy said. “Just a bit of morbid humor. One of Jaxon’s chickens went egg-bound and died overnight. We just cast it to sea. Of course, the bigger problem is that we’ve got one less egg-layer and already-stretched rations.”
“Perfect,” Zale said flatly.
Wigglebelly looked crestfallen. “I asked Fulgar to perform last rites on Flappy. It was beautiful, man.”
“Yeah, it was already dead at that point,” Yancy muttered.
“Hey!” deckhand Jonas shouted from the quarterdeck. “A shark just snatched that hen!”
Wigglebelly gasped in horror.
Tate slapped him on the back. “It’s just the food chain, Wigglebelly. Don’t take it too hard. Say, what’s for supper, anyway?”
“Chicken soup, man. My own mother’s recipe, in honor of Flappy.”
Zale walked off. He couldn’t have made this stuff up if he’d tried.
The day droned on with low wind, more rowing, and an increasingly fatigued crew. They simply didn’t have the manpower to run constant shifts on the sweeps. Whenever they could, however, they put two men on some of the oars to help lighten the burden and move the ship faster. With the sail up, any crew normally on the ropes stayed under Evette’s command among the benches. Kasper, Jensen, and Tate kept a regular rotation at the helm.
Later that afternoon, during Kasper’s turn at the helm, Zale noticed Jensen conversing with Tate and Kelvin on the forecastle. Curious what they were up to, he moseyed over in their direction. The young deckhand was showing something off to the others.
“…might look like
rock,” Zale heard Jensen say as he neared, “but if you pull it just so, it stretches. Now, watch this.”
Jensen pulled at a grayish substance until it was almost straw-thin. It was vaguely familiar to Zale, something from a prior haul. He stayed behind Jensen’s field of vision but remained within earshot.
“It seems very brittle, right, being so thin? But hold it firmly in place for a few moments, and it remains steadfast. Not only that, but at about this size and shape, it becomes an amazing cutting tool.” He brandished a rusty old hinge, like something from a sea chest. “Found this in the hold. Tate, if you would. Hold it so it’s fully open, and keep it in place.”
He handed the hinge to Tate, who unbent the hinge and waited. Carefully, Jensen brought the straw-thin substance up to the hinge, moving it back and forth like a saw. Within seconds it broke right through. “You see? It cuts even metal!”
“Bloody blazes!” Tate exclaimed. “That’s amazing!”
Kelvin nodded thoughtfully.
Zale felt hot under the collar. Show’s over, he thought.
“So!” Zale boomed, stepping toward them. “You’ve got resilite, do you? Extremely rare, that. In fact, I believe that was our haul on your first voyage, wasn’t it?”
Jensen reared back. “Oh! Y-yes, sir. That it was.”
“You’re working very hard to get marooned, aren’t you?”
“N-no! Not at all!”
Zale cornered them all toward the prow. “Listen to me, the three of you. Every part of every trip’s bounty is cashed in and belongs in agreed shares to the crew. No exceptions!”
“Yes, of course!” Jensen sputtered.
“Stop sniveling and get out of my sight. We’ll deal with this later.” They scampered away, apparently with better sense than to test his temper any further.
Zale took a deep breath and looked out to the water. A steady fog rolled across the surface, like wispy clouds coming down for a visit. Out of what had become a rather impulsive habit, he took his spyglass and checked the distance, but not for long. With even a light fog there would be no sighting Seadread’s ship.
Yet he sensed something strange in the tides, something which he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
Heroes of Time Legends: Murdoch's Choice Page 11
