of Jamaica. Rike was convinced the captain’s route would be so, for he held a grand wealth of knowledge upon seafaring.
‘Twas sure to be one hell of a journey ahead, still, Captain Rike was without worry. He lived for events such as these. The last known position of the Martona was said to be amongst the Leeward Islands, closest to the Gulf of Venezuela, we would be set to track her for many a moon. Fortunately for the crew, Rike was a close friend of the wench that ran the tavern upon Stoley’s rest. He attained a plentiful supply of goods, primarily sustaining foods and a vast hoard of mead and rum that would keep us merry and in good company during the long journey ahead.
Once aboard Roselyn, whilst waiting upon our crew, Rike briefed me upon the voyage so I was able to command the other men:
“Should winds be stayin’ as they are and seas be calm it shall be a fine and short venture, lad. The Grand Martona be headed north, then west so we’ll be travelling at a western bearin’ to get ahead, you shall inform Samuels ‘bout this. Should be takin’ us ‘bout thirty three moons to reach our destination, with any luck lad we’ll be crushin’ ‘er under the shadow o’ night. That, or me judgin’ be failin’ me in mi old age and we’ll miss ‘er all together.” The captain nodded at me and turned to sit so as to suggest I was dismissed, at which point I took my leave to inform the crew of the captain’s plans.
The seas were rough as we left port from New Venezuela, ‘twas nothing to fear however, for Roselyn was a fine maiden at taking the coarse waters. The fresh sea breeze and smell of salt water was a fine change to the air of Stoley’s, and as we sailed away under the moonlight, as Rike said we would, I stared up into the cloudless sky. The stars burned bright above. I often fathomed over them as a child, wondering if there could be something up there, something beyond our imagination. I recall Sollertis once saying to me:
“If there ever was something up there watching us boy, it left long ago.”
The distance between Stoley’s rest and our destination was somewhere within the region of one hundred and twenty leagues north bearing slightly west, though I too recall Sollertis once explaining to me that the distance of a league was subject to a nation. My own calculation comes from Captain Rike’s own, who often said he travelled in ‘British leagues’. I know not either of another measurement of long distance, so let us merely say, ‘twas a vast way to sail.
The moment we left port I had two deckhands, Jonas and Peterson, take it in turns up the primary mast’s crow’s nest to be sure we had our wits about us. There was never any telling in these waters whether a ship was hostile or neutral.
Onboard the vessel herself ‘twas a regular site: Achilles, the captain’s immense dog, which looked more like a monstrous beast than any domesticated pet I ever saw, stood at his chamber waiting endlessly on his presence before he would come to life. ‘Twas as if he was a stone statue when not in the company of his master. Various men, of whom it would take far too long to name in succession, patrolled the boat’s gangways resting above her one hundred and fifty foot hull ensuring everything was to an expected standard. The ship’s woodwork glistened a beautiful light brown on sunny days, ‘twas kept in fine condition by Rike who frequently ordered her to be scrubbed and cleaned. Each time we docked he would have new clean sails fitted to keep the ship looking truly magnificent. Roselyn was his pride and joy, she was everything to him.
Every man was dressed in black or brown breeches, the deckhands and cannoneers wore shirts and waistcoats though during the long summer days many preferred to work bare chest. Ranking crew mates aboard ship donned great coats and carried a swashbuckler at their hilt. Captain Rike and Damien Rones in particular were scarcely seen without their great coats resting upon their backs. Patrols were taken in turns and though the crew worked together in astounding unison, the rare quarrel that did break out tended to be rapidly quelled by those that caused it through fear of drawing the attention of Rones.
I myself, on breaks from patrol duty often stood on the top deck nearby Sollertis who could always be found sat at his chessboard, defeating man after man in quick progression at the game.
I have never been a large admirer of it, yet when watching Sollertis ‘twas quite intriguing to see how he remained steps ahead of his opponents at all times. ‘Twas always too an amusement to watch Davey play against the man, for he was eager in whatever he did, yet had never once to my knowledge defeated him. When Davey lost he could not help but demand they played again, I once witnessed him lose ten times in succession before his frustration boiled over and he hurled the board and the table which it rested upon overboard into the ocean. How Sollertis cursed him that day, yelling at him to jump overboard after the pieces, I believe half the crew was in hysterics at the sight. I do miss these times of travel at sea, many a memory does amuse me.
To prevent a chance that my script should be cut far shorter than I wish it to be, let me state that the journey from Stoley’s rest to our destination went as effortlessly as we could have wished for. Although the seas were somewhat rough to begin with, they smoothed out as the wind blew strongly North West. ‘Twas most certainly a well constructed plan by the captain. Summer time in the Caribbean seldom brought rough seas with it, and it seemed we had been blessed with a largely successful voyage across the great blue. I say largely, for upon the final day of the journey a deep, strange grey covered the skies above. ‘Twas most bizarre for it came on quicker than any change of weather I can ever recall occurring, almost as if it was meant to be, as if some ill fate was luring us to its call. Still, at the time it seemed a blessing in disguise, as you will soon learn.
As the hour grew late on the last day of sail, the air seemed to turn from a fine summer humidity into a chilling static. ‘Twas as if the winds fell dead, as if something was watching us from the depths of the ocean. Not moments after the moon was visible in the sky, and the burning sun began to fail under the horizon, a most strange fog began to develop, first, very lightly, upon the ocean’s surface. A few of the crew mates that had noticed this began to panic at the sight of the peculiarity.
“Sailor! There be somethin’ foul ‘pon the oceans, sir! This quest be cursed! Where be the cap’n? We must turn back!” The erratic behaviour was quickly quelled by an agitated Sollertis who sat at an apparently intense game of chess.
“It is merely a result of the sudden drop in temperature generating the mist, it is too much to explain to you at this moment but just relax yourself! It is nothing to fear...” He mumbled something to himself in his own language after yelling at Marven Pollus, who still appeared stricken by the sight of the fog.
“Just be back to your post, Pollus, shall be clear soon I have no doubt.” In an attempt to assure the man of Sollertis’ words I spoke calmly to him, however I am a man of suspicions myself, and I could not help but become slightly alerted by his erratic behaviour. I made haste to inform the captain. As I approached further shouts were heard calling out across the vessel.
“Sailor, sir! Mists be stirrin’ ‘pon the seas, they be raisin’ at a strange rate, sir!” Jonas yelled from the crow’s nest.
“They be risin’ quick, sir!” Another voice yelled from starboard. Sollertis slammed a fist upon his table and looked at me.
“There is nothing strange about a rising mist from the sea’s surface! Tell these morons to calm themselves down.” At this moment Captain Rike came out of his quarters disturbed by his shouting crew.
“Sailor, what be occurin’, lad?”
“There be some mists risin’ ‘pon the sea’s surface, sir, Sollertis insists ‘tis but an act of nature yet it be spookin’ the crew.”
“Sollertis,” he spoke to his old friend, “should the mists be risin’ will it be possible to track our target? What we can’t see we can’t be attackin’.” Of all the small disturbances that had triggered Sollertis’ anger, this direct interruption of his game did not cause him upset. He rose from his seat and walked over to myself and Rike.
“Send boats, no more than a few
. Allow them each take a light and a small bell, keep them a set distance apart, any visuals of encroaching vessels generate signals with the said lights, or if the fog is too thick a small jingle creating a chain to send a message back to Roselyn.” The captain, apparently pleased with Sollertis’ answer took a step forward and padded him on the shoulder.
“Sailor, come night fall make it ‘appen. For now, gather up the crew, i’ll be needin’ a chat with ‘em all to be sure they’ll be calm come time. Gather ‘em upon the upper deck, lad, whilst I be feedin’ Achilles.”
“Aye, capt’n.” As I turned to do my duty I heard Sollertis make a remark to the captain.
“Which deckhand will you feed to the beast today, Rike?” ‘Twas a rare occasion to hear the laughter of our captain, yet it was a deep, warming laughter, one that always made me reminisce upon the few chances I had to see my grandfather when I was but a child.
“Any he chooses.” Rike replied, patting Achilles upon his broad head, who stood by his master taking deep powerful breaths. Passing crewmates looked on with half fearful, half amused faces, as if they did not truly know whether the captain’s words were but a joke.
I went quickly about gathering our fifty three
Entry 8: 1670 Page 2
