“Are you here?” Paul Delacroix asked
softly.
Derek and Nick glanced at each
other. “Should we answer?” Derek
murmured.
“We need to tell him about the victims
in the hold,” Nick replied.
“We could be sending him into the
lions’ den.”
“And this ship is gonna sink tomorrow,
no matter what we do,” Nick pointed out, his face fierce. “Those people, the ones left, they’re alive
today. They need food an’ water. Unless we tell him, they won’t get
anything.”
“They may not get anything anyway,”
Derek countered.
Nick looked across at Paul. “He’s already disobeyed one order, Derek,
for the benefit of the crew. He seems
okay with his choice.”
Paul did indeed look at peace. He was wet and disheveled but his expression
was one of calm. His eyes were
tranquil.
“I have left the pencil and some paper
on the desk,” he said. “If you are
here, please, respond to me.”
“If you don’t tell him, I will,” Nick
said.
Derek walked to the desk and reached for
the pencil. At that moment, there was a
crisp knock on the door. Derek froze.
“Who is it?” Paul inquired.
“It’s me, Nate Tucker,” said the First
Mate’s gruff voice. “Are you alone?”
I don’t know, Paul thought. Maybe I am, maybe not.
“Yes,” he replied. “Come in.”
Nate opened the door and crossed the
threshold. His sharp gaze went to the
desk and saw the paper and pencil.
“What is it, Mr Mate?” Paul asked.
“I wanted to thank you, sir, for
ordering the change in our course.
We’re heading north now. Should
make it to Monterey after all.”
“So we must pray.”
Nate nodded. “We’ve lost twenty two men in the storm. I’ve made a list so the widows an’ orphans
can be notified.” He put the list on the
desk.
“I’ll pray for their souls, and see the
Captain gets their names.”
Nate hesitated. The change in course .. he wasn’t sure but
maybe it was a sign that the First Officer had recovered. Until he knew for certain, Nate couldn’t
trust him.
“Are your ghosts still on board?” he
asked bluntly. “I saw their boat. Did they leave?”
“I don’t know,” Paul answered. “I haven’t seen them recently and there have
been no messages left for me.” He
hesitated and then the most brilliant smile broke over his face. “Nate, a wonderful thing happened to me.”
“Oh ..?” Nate frowned suspiciously.
“I was carrying a heavy burden of
conscience. I had disobeyed a direct
order from the Captain and I knew in my heart it was right but my head damned
me. I prayed to God for a sign that I
had done the right thing .. and He sent me an angel.”
“She’s no angel,” Nick muttered.
“An angel,” Nate echoed. First
ghosts, now an angel. The man was
clearly getting worse, not better.
“What did this angel look like?”
“She was dark of hair, beautiful of
countenance, so .. still yet so resolute.
She smiled at me, Nate. She
nodded her head. Do you not see? I had prayed for a sign from God, asking if
I had done the right thing, and she nodded her head at me.”
“She was just being polite to a
stranger,” Nick commented. “Don’t read
anything into it.”
“And what did she do then?” Nate asked
carefully. Women on board ships .. bad
luck. Everyone knew it. It couldn’t have been a male angel, no. It had to be female.
“She drifted down thru the deck.”
“Uh huh.”
“Nate .. I have been filled with such
peace since I saw that holy vision.”
Nick hunched his shoulders. “You got her on a good day.”
Nate backed toward the door. “Mr Farnham says we should be steering east
north east for the Bay just before dawn tomorrow.”
“Too soon,” Nick muttered. “An’ right on schedule.”
“Thank you, Mr Mate. You’re dismissed.”
His expression relieved, Nate escaped.
Derek picked up the pencil. ‘We’re here. We can’t leave yet,’ he wrote.
“Should I tell him about Peri?”
“Nah.
What difference would it make?
It’d only make him feel bad again.”
“Should I tell him to delay changing
course?”
“The ship has to sink at Lopez
Point. Otherwise, the future will
change,” Nick responded.
“I’m pleased you’re still with me,”
Paul said. “You are .. keeping
well? The storm has not affected you?”
‘We’re fine. Paul, the situation in the hold is very bad. Over half of them are dead. The others are starving and have no water. You must get some supplies to them.’
Paul read this and frowned. “I don’t know if I can do that. The Captain has ordered no one may go down
to the lower deck without written permission from him. As for opening any of the hatches to the
hold … ” He shook his head.
‘We’ll do it,’ Derek wrote. ‘Create a diversion so we can get
below. Those people are alive and
suffering terribly. We must do
something to help them.’
“You think that’s wise?” Nick queried.
“It’s all right for him to go because he’ll probably die
tomorrow anyway? Is that what you are
saying?” Derek demanded.
“Rachel
said – ”
“I don’t care what Rachel said,” Derek cut in. “If we are immune, we are in no danger. If we are not immune, tomorrow we can receive treatment. And, if we cannot get back to our own time
and our own lives, tomorrow we are
going to die. Where is the risk of
catching this disease?”
Nick nodded heavily. “Okay.”
‘You have a choice, Paul,’ Derek wrote
quickly. ‘You can either tell the
Captain and attempt to get his permission, or you can help us by creating a
diversion. You are the First
Officer. Choose!’
*****
The storm winds were driving the Santa
Theresa north. Most of her sail was
down – only the top shrouds were still up and they were reefed and straining
against the sheets. With more depth
under her keel, she wasn’t pitching so much.
Her progress was more a long roll as she rode the surging waves. Nate Tucker knew this walk – three long
strides then five short ones as the deck moved under his feet. He could walk this in his sleep. He could hear the creaking as the Santa Theresa
came up and then the plunging roar of the waves crashing over the bow as she
headed down again. He walked along the
main deck, avoiding all eye contact. He
didn’t want to talk to anyone.
Ghosts. Now an angel. A
woman. Bad luck. Another omen of imminent doom and disaster.
Paul Delacroix’s mind had definitely
snapped.
The poor sap believes it! He is seeing visions, I don’t doubt it, but
they’re the product of an insane mind.
No .. more likely .. they’ve
done it to him. They’ve broken
him. A good, fine officer like him,
driven to insanity by the promptings of evil spirits here to doom us all! And we are so close now to home. By tomorrow night .. this cursed voyage will
be over. We’ll be safely on land. Paul can get the help he needs. And this ship can be broken for firewood.
He halted rather abruptly and rocked
with the motion of the ship. I can’t
tell anyone about this. Not Jonas –
what could he do? Not Mr Farnham – we
need him to get us home. Not the
Captain, not Ol’ Iron Britches – he’d have me flogged, denounced,
humiliated. I’d never be able to work
again. My name would be anathema all
along the western coast.
There’s only me. Only I know what’s really going on. And that means .. I have to put it right ..
on my own. God help me, I don’t know if
I can …
*****
“What kind of a diversion?” Paul
ventured hesitantly.
Derek glanced at Nick. “Change the guard,” Nick suggested with a
slight shrug. “There’ll be a time when
the hatch is left unattended. We don’t
need very long.”
Derek wrote it down and they waited
while Paul considered. “If I do this,”
he began, “and I understand why you must go down there .. how will you get
back? I cannot order the guard to
change again. It would be seen as
suspicious and rightly so.”
“He has a point,” Derek agreed.
“We stay down there,” Nick said. “But he has to promise that, tomorrow, he
opens the hatch so we can get out before the ship goes under. When he does it, I don’t care, but he has to
make sure we’re not trapped.”
Derek nodded. “At least we’ll be able to eat as much as we
want.”
“Always a bright side,” Nick grinned
tightly.
Derek turned back to the paper. ‘Leave us down there but on one
condition. Tomorrow, when the ship is
either abandoned or when it starts to sink, you must ensure we can get out.’
Paul swallowed. “But we will reach Monterey. We have altered our course and we are making
progress toward our home port.”
‘Nothing has changed,’ Derek wrote.
Paul’s face went white as he
whispered, “We still sink.” He paced
away, dealing with the terrible realization, then looked back over his
shoulder. “I give you my word, you will
not be left down there. Be ready to
make your move. And, I beg you, once
you are below, be quiet. Your mission
of mercy must be a silent one or I cannot answer for the consequences.”
He opened the door and went out,
leaving it open behind him. Derek put
down the pencil and hurriedly followed after the First Officer. Nick brought up the rear.
Paul Delacroix’s hopes for the future
had been dealt a savage blow but he was a man who put his faith in God and
believed with all his soul. Jesus had
said that an act of kindness was worth more in Heaven than chests of gold. What he had done in ordering the change in
course had been an act of kindness for the ship and her crew. Now he had to help ease the suffering of the
passengers.
He approached Jonas but something
about the young sailor’s demeanor wasn’t right. He was too tense, too jumpy.
Paul nodded at him and walked on down the line. He walked past Harry and Jim Bones, then
halted near Frank.
“How long have been you been at this
post?” he asked.
“Too long, sir. I’m asleep on my feet,” Frank replied.
Paul nodded. “Then go aloft, find a replacement, explain the duties, then get
to your rest. Tell Jim Bones, Harry and
Jonas as you pass along the deck.”
“But, sir – ”
“If you’re quick, man, I won’t have to
stand guard myself for very long now, will I?”
“No, sir.”
“Give me your rifle.”
Frank handed it over and Paul took up
position. Frank ran for it before the
First Officer could change his mind.
Paul stepped to one side of the hatch, blocking the view of it with his
body. He watched Jim Bones leave his
post with Frank, and then Harry.
“Do it now,” Paul said, “before they
reach Jonas.”
He felt the hatch lift behind him and,
a few second later, lower again. He
still watched the rest of the main deck, gloomy at the best of times and darker
than ever in the storm, but his eyes were accustomed and he saw the brief
argument take place and the gestures back to where he stood. And he saw the look of stark suspicion flare
across Jonas’s face.
What does he think? What does he suspect about me? I have done nothing wrong …
The three sailors dragged Jonas away
but Jonas continued to stare at Paul for as long as he could.
*****
Nick popped the lock to the storeroom
door and went in to find some lanterns.
Once he had one alight, Derek switched off the failing flashlight and
started heaving a sack of biscuits out onto the lower deck. Nick lit more lanterns and placed them on
hooks in the ceiling. They swayed with
the rolling of the barkentine, sending the deep shadows dancing. While Derek labored moving the supplies,
Nick labored shifting sandbags. He
wasn’t particularly bothered now about the threat of disease. As Derek had so eloquently pointed out to
him, it didn’t matter, not today. He
either wouldn’t catch it or he would.
If he did, he would either receive modern treatment or he’d drown.
Derek rolled a barrel along the deck
then straightened, breathing heavily.
“We could drop the sacks down to them, but this … ” He shook his head. “One of us must go down there.”
Nick slipped off his shirt and tied
the sleeves around his head, using it as a makeshift mask.
“I’ll go,” he said, his voice muffled.
“Ready?” Derek asked.
Nick nodded and heaved on the
hatch. Both men turned their faces
away, hands clamped to mouth and nose as the stench rose in a choking tide.
Soft moans floated up in the
aftermath. Nick took a deep breath of
clean air then hurried down the steps.
Derek handed him a lantern.
“Who’s there ..?” croaked a voice.
Nick held up the lantern and felt his
stomach clench as he stared down the length of the hold. He looked at Hell on Earth. People either lay on soaked and soiled
blankets or wandered in a fevered daze.
“Derek, are there any blankets in the
store?”
“Bolts of cloth,” Derek replied.
“It’ll do. Go fetch ’em.”
Derek handed down the first sack and
Nick lowered it to the floor. He
carried it a few feet and opened it, digging in his hand and showing the
contents. Then he went back to the
hatch. Derek passed down a bolt of
cloth and Nick took that to the middle of the hold.
This went on for some time. A barrel of water was awkwardly grappled
into the hold and broached. Nick put a
metal cup beside it. More sacks of
biscuits and dried beef strips followed.
More cloth for bedding, for dressings.
More candles for the lanterns.
Then it was done. Nick paused to watch them shamble toward all
this unexpected bounty. He saw them
weep as they slaked a ferocious thirst and begin to sate a ravening hunger.
“Nick .. come on. We’ve done all we can,” Derek called softly.
With a heavy heart, Nick climbed back
up the steps and lowered the hatch. Derek
bent to the first sandbag but Nick put a hand on his arm.
“They’ll need help to get outta there
tomorrow. Leave the hatch alone. It’ll make it easier for us.”
“Get them out ..?” Derek queried.
Nick swallowed. “I’m not leaving them down there to
die. They can take their chances in one
of the boats, just like everyone else.”
*****
John Marriott picked up his pen and
dipped it in the inkwell, then he began to update the ship’s log.
‘October 3, 1901,’ he wrote. ‘We have changed course again to a northerly
heading, again without my specific permission.
In the circumstances, with the storm continuing to beat on us for the
fourth day in succession and showing no signs of abatement, I can give my
unspoken endorsement of the First Officer’s actions. It must be recorded that we are making easier progress toward
Monterey, if not faster progress. The
Santa Theresa is expending vast amounts of energy in riding the waves but we
are not traveling forward at any great speed.
Only the top shrouds are still aloft.
Any more sail would sheer the masts.
Mr Delacroix has to be commended for his selfless action, taken on his
own initiative and for the best interests of the ship, her officers and her
crew.’
He blotted the entry and returned the
log to the drawer. Then he removed his
journal and began to update that.
‘I have not seen the two ‘ghosts’ for
several days now and I wonder if they are still on board. Paul Delacroix has certainly more at peace
with himself so maybe they have stopped using his cabin as their own.
‘I
must soon make the decision on whether we are to abandon the Santa
Theresa or to stay with her to the end.
Ulysses Farnham is a gifted navigator and a keen student of the weather
but he lacks a certain something as yet in his ability to judge speed. We are presently going up and down a great
deal but the distance we are covering is not excessive. When he has been at sea a little longer and
has amassed more experience in other vessels and under the command of others,
Mr Farnham will be able to feel it in his bones, as do I. He will order the helm to turn east north
east at some point early tomorrow, and we will not have sailed far enough
north. It means we will miss Monterey
Bay and run into the cliffs at Lopez Point .. or break up before then. If I knew officially of our course, I could
order him to wait – but I will not.
This ship will sink tomorrow. I
can do nothing to alter that fact. I
may not get another chance to update this journal so I pray God have mercy on
us and bless us all.
‘John Charles Marriott, Ship’s
Captain, October 3.’
*****
“What are you doing out here?” Nate
demanded softly.
Jonas hunched miserably into his
jacket. “I was ordered to leave my
post, Mr Mate. Ordered to find a
replacement and go to my sleep. Jim
Cook is there.”
Nate blinked. “Who ordered it?”
“Mr Delacroix,” Jonas resentfully
replied.
“Just you?”
“All of us. And I’m glad! I’m tired, Mr Mate. I couldn’t refuse to obey, could I? He would’ve thought it odd.”
Nate cursed viciously and Jonas
flinched back. “What’s his game
..? Why would he order it? Did you see him?”
“He walked right by me. Right to the end of the line. He stopped to speak to Frank and then he
took that position until he was relieved by Frank’s replacement. I watched him as the others dragged me
away. He just stood there, holding
Frank’s rifle.”
“Standing by the hatch … ”
“Yes, sir.”
“He didn’t try to get down below?”
“No, sir.”
“He’s plotting something. Well, I can’t go against his orders, not
openly. You go to your sleep, lad. Enjoy it.
Tomorrow at dawn, you relieve Jim Cook and you watch our Mr Delacroix
just like you did before. You remember
the Captain’s order, all right? You do remember the Captain’s order, don’t
you?”
Jonas was so tired, he didn’t but he
was also tired of being used as a pawn.
“Yes, sir,” he lied.
“That’s good. I’ll speak with you again in the morning.”
Jonas nodded. “Yes, Mr Mate,” he muttered.
Nate smiled – or, at least, his lips
drew back from his teeth. “Tomorrow night,
we’ll be safe back in Monterey, getting drunk and raising hell along the
waterfront. Not long to wait now, lad,
and it’ll all be over.”
One way or another …
*****
“Do you think Alex will figure it
out?” Nick inquired softly.
Derek turned over and the lumpy straw
mattress rustled. “Why wouldn’t she?”
“I didn’t get to finish telling
Aquila.”
“She’ll figure it out, Nick. They knew we’d changed course, and they sent
Aquila to come find us. Between them,
they’ll figure out what will happen.
After all, it is simply a matter of drawing straight lines and they know
where we will end up.” Derek hoisted
himself onto one elbow. “Do you think
they will risk coming after us?”
Nick shook his head. “I hope not. The Shamrock’s a good boat but it isn’t ocean going. It’s a coastal craft. If I were in their place, I’d make a
straight run for Lopez Point an’ wait for us there.”
He shifted position. He thought he might have gotten used to
sleeping on the deck by now but this deck seemed harder and rougher, even with
the thin blanket Derek had donated.
“You got an idea how we’re gonna get off an’ get back to our time?”
“None. We’re still not sure how we managed to get here in the first
place which makes getting back a little problematical.”
“The ship hit us.”
“And we went with it, yes. The Shamrock is patently undamaged so it is
safe to assume that, when it hit us, it was a phantom. A manifestation. Things are different now.
We are on board. Some spectral
energy was left on the Shamrock to balance the scales. Hitting the Shamrock again may cause severe
damage and it could sink along with the Santa Theresa. They will have discussed many possible
options, Nick, taken them to as logical a conclusion as they can. One option could be for them to hit us. Ram us.”
Nick frowned. “Why the hell would they do that?”
“If the ship hitting the launch took
us away, maybe the launch ramming the ship will reverse the effect,” Derek
explained with a brief shrug.
“Yeah, but, if we’re more real – ”
“Exactly. The same outcome will be achieved. The Shamrock will be severely damaged and could sink. I think this is why Alex has not attempted it,
although, tomorrow,” he added, “when all bets are off and our time has run out
… ” Derek shrugged again. “Desperate people will take desperate
action.”
He paused for a long moment, then, in
a quiet voice, asked, “Are you afraid of dying?”
Nick hesitated. “Not really. Not now I know what it’s gonna be like. Peri’s taken me to see our house. Nice place. But that’s ..
after, y’know? Actually dying .. I’m
not sure. When I was in the Teams, it
never fazed me. I’d go out in a blaze
of glory, serving my country. I always
prayed I wouldn’t but the possibility was always there. I just accepted it. Then I came to the Legacy an’ .. nothing
really changed,” Nick admitted with a wry grin. “I’d be serving a cause but the rest was the same. I just hoped .. it’d be quick. Pow!
Gone. I guess I still feel the
same way. When the moment comes … ” He fell silent, looking his mortality in the
face. It could be less than twenty four
hours away. “What about you?”
“No, I am not scared. I know I have lived my life as best I can,
and I have fought the battles I have, as you say, for a cause. Having visited the other side now on
numerous occasions, the knowledge that I will continue much as I have only
reassures me. I will have time to
devote to interests outside the Legacy, and to learn new things. I think what troubles me the most is not the
act of dying, it is the act of leaving.
Of not being able to say goodbye, to tell others the things I should
have told them when I had the opportunity.
But even that is not so terrible.
I know I will get that chance, albeit after the fact and not before.”
“You think you’ll go for another big
house?” Nick wondered.
Derek’s eyebrows rose. “I had not considered that. I suppose I should. It is always best to go into these things as
prepared as you can be.”
“Maybe you’ve got a little time yet,”
Nick replied. “We don’t know for a fact
that we are gonna die tomorrow.”
“True,” Derek conceded. “And we don’t know for a fact that we
won’t.” He lay back. The mattress rustled. “Get some sleep, Nick,” Derek went on. “Whatever happens tomorrow, we should face
it rested and ready.”
“Aye, skipper.”
Derek closed his eyes. He drifted into sleep, thinking about what
type of property he’d like for his life after death.
*****
Down below, it was impossible to gauge
the hour except by looking at a timepiece. Up above, it wasn’t much easier.
The thick cloud obscured the sky and blocked the sun. The temperature had plummeted. The waves were a ten to fifteen feet swell,
whipped into froth by the wind which was gusting at seventy miles an hour. Thunder still rumbled at a distance. Rain was almost constant.
On the main deck, nowhere was
dry. The floor had puddles. No one had any dry clothes left. Men shivered and grumbled about the lack of
hot food, but they grumbled quietly in the way men do when they know nothing
can be done to improve the situation.
Nate Tucker walked among them, keeping
up morale, telling them that, tomorrow nightfall, they’d all be safe in
Monterey. It was just one more night
and one more day to endure. And they
could do that, couldn’t they? Put their
hearts and their backs into the work and the time would fly past. They said they could, and Nate Tucker went
on to the next quietly grumbling knot of men.
Yet, in his head, he grumbled just as
much. His subject wasn’t the storm and the
privations of this voyage. It was the
cargo and Paul Delacroix and the evil spirits infesting the Santa Theresa like
the rats in the bilge. Somehow, between
now and tomorrow – not such a long time – he had to think of a way to get rid
of all the unclean influences. The
Devil had put his mark on the ship.
Nate Tucker had designated himself as the one man clean-up crew.
He went to his cabin and sat down at
his desk. He didn’t use it as a desk,
to him it was more a worktable. He used
it now as something solid for his elbows as he propped his chin in both hands
and started to think about his options.
“At the beginning, Nate,” he
cautioned. “Where did it start ..? Down below.
They came from the white boat and they were down below. Jonas and I saw them. Or saw where they walked. Then Mr Delacroix made contact with
them. I was with him when it happened. They followed us up here and poisoned Mr
Delacroix’s mind.” Nate wasn’t a bad
man; he could be charitable about officers and Paul was one of the best with
whom he’d ever served. “He may not be
aware of it, but he’s been in cahoots with them ever since … So why did he order the guard to change?”
On the surface, it was an act of
kindness. Those men had been guarding
the hatches for days, twenty hours a day.
From four in the morning to midnight.
They needed to rest. Admittedly,
they weren’t as physically tired as the rest of the crew who were battling to
keep the Santa Theresa on an even keel.
The job wasn’t arduous – no one wanted to go below. And it was only another twenty four hours
until they reached port. So why had he
ordered a change of guard now ..?
Nate slowly nodded. “They’ve gone back down there,” he breathed,
thinking aloud, reasoning it thru.
“Getting ready to do their evil work on the morrow. They’re safe enough – no one’s going to want
to go down after them. They can’t.
Captain’s orders. So .. how can
I stop them? What must I do ..?”
Nate Tucker closed his eyes and
thought of his choices. There wasn’t
one good idea amongst them.
*****
Paul
Delacroix made an inspection tour of the upper deck prior to calling it a
day. His pocket watch said it was only
a little after six in the evening but it felt more like nine or ten. It was growing darker with a false twilight
and it was cold. The wind made him
stagger as he walked the slick timbers of the deck and it drove the bitter rain
into his face, down his neck, thru his coat.
Ulysses
Farnham was by the helm. He was soaked
as well, pinched with the cold, but determined to remain out here no matter how
bad it got.
“How
goes it?” Paul asked.
“Very
well, considering,” the navigator responded.
“I
hear we’ll be turning before dawn.”
The
younger man nodded confidently. “A
straight run into the Bay. Dry land in
time for supper.”
Paul
hesitated. “You’re sure about that?”
Ulysses
Farnham looked hurt. “I know my job,
sir.”
“And
you are very good at it, Mr Farnham. I
do not mean to impugn your abilities. I
just ... With this storm and all, no
stars, no land … Are you sure we have
voyaged far enough north? If we turn
too soon – ”
“I
am sure, Mr Delacroix,” the navigator cut in.
“I can see the chart in my mind.
I know .. not exactly, it’s true, but I know where we are upon that
chart.”
“And
this storm?”
His
eyes lit. “I have been gathering facts,
sir. A storm of this intensity for so
long .. it’s rare.”
“How
soon before it ends?” Paul inquired.
“It came from the west. You’d
imagine, wouldn’t you, that, by now, we would see a sliver of clear sky on the
horizon. Something to give us a little
hope of respite.”
Ulysses
Farnham shrugged apologetically.
“Nature, to a degree, is predictable.
And, to a greater degree, unpredictable. I cannot answer you, sir, because I’ve never experienced anything
like this before.”
Paul
nodded slowly. “Have you experienced
any storms before, Mr Farnham?”
“Of
course, sir,” the other man replied a little stiffly.
“I
ask only because .. did they share any traits?
Beside wind, rain, rough seas, I mean.
Did they all begin the same way?
Or end the same way? I must
confess, I have never paid all that much attention to them. I have only been dismayed at the start and
thankful at the conclusion.”
“Ah,
I understand. No, sir, they all began
in different ways, although they did all give a warning in that the sky began
to fill with cloud. Some started with
heavy rain, others with increasing wind, others still with lightning. They ended differently too. Some would .. fade. The rain decreased as did the wind. Others ended swiftly.”
“No
common traits at all?” Paul wondered.
“Not
in every instance but .. in a few, the storm got worse before the end. Often it would catch us by surprise. We believed it was starting to pass over
and, without warning, it returned more fiercely than before. Almost .. like a final snarl of rage.”
Paul
glanced at him. “Can we expect that on
this occasion?”
The
navigator shrugged again. “I don’t
know, sir.”
“Just
in case, before the light fails completely, would you recommend taking down the
top shrouds?”
“I
don’t believe it’s necessary, sir, but, if it makes you sleep easier, I have no
objections. We have the current, after
all. We have mass. The wind will drive us.”
Paul
considered. “For my own peace of mind
.. we should do it. In case there is a
.. final snarl of rage.”
“Very
well, sir,” Ulysses Farnham complied in a cheerful voice. “I’ll give the order.”
Paul
nodded and returned to the main deck and its damp, gloomy atmosphere. He walked round this deck as well,
reassuring the crew, but his heart wasn’t really in it. How could he reassure them when he knew the
Santa Theresa was going to sink? It was
a fact which couldn’t be forgotten, ignored, or dismissed. It sat squarely in his future, in all their
futures, like a mountain blocking a road.
He
went to his cabin, shivering, and removed his coat. At some point, he had to get to one of the hatches and open
it. He’d given his word. In the confusion, maybe, would be the best
time …
“Mr
Delacroix!”
Paul
sighed and reached for his coat again, then abandoned the action. Surely, the Captain would understand just
this once ..?
He
knocked on the stateroom door and entered, then on the Captain’s cabin door.
“Come
in, man!”
Bracing
himself, Paul obeyed. John Marriott’s
gaze swept over him from head to foot, and he nodded briskly.
“Your
report, Mr Delacroix,” the Captain requested.
“Yes,
sir. I have been speaking with Mr
Farnham and, as a result of that conversation, I have ordered the top shrouds
be lowered. It is being done now, sir.”
“Your
reasoning?”
“While
Mr Farnham has no experience of a storm such as this, he told me that, on other
occasions, as a precursor to its end, the storm increased in ferocity,
sir. He described it as a final snarl
of rage. After four days of this, sir,
I would not dismiss it as entirely improbable that we will suffer something
similar. Therefore, I gave the
order. I would rather have the masts emptied
of sail while the conditions are at least tolerable than risk sending the men
aloft should the conditions suddenly worsen, sir.”
“Sound
thinking,” the Captain rumbled. “Well
done. Now, Mr Delacroix, are the boats
ready?”
“Yes,
sir,” Paul blinked.
“When,
in your opinion, would it be the best time to tell the crew to abandon ship?”
Paul
swallowed. “Sir ..?”
“Come,
man! We both know the Santa Theresa is
doomed. Tomorrow, at some time, she’s
going to the bottom.”
“How
..?” Paul whispered.
“I’ve
seen and spoken with .. your guests.
They have told me what they have told you. Now, Mr Farnham will order a course change tomorrow and it will
be too early. We will strike land at
Lopez Point, not sail into Monterey Bay.
I am not a coldhearted bastard, Mr Delacroix. I want my crew to at least have a chance of surviving the wreck. When should I order them to take to the
boats?”
Paul’s
mouth worked uselessly for a long moment and he slowly sank onto a chair. “You knew?
All this time .. you knew and you never said?”
John
Marriott leaned forward. “I’m the
Captain, Mr Delacroix. I am entitled to
keep secrets.”
“But,
sir, I have gone thru hell!”
“No
less than me,” the Captain remarked quietly.
“Sir,
what about the passengers?” Paul asked.
“If we abandon ship, we cannot leave them behind. Derek and Nick would not sanction it. It is .. murder, pure and simple.”
“Derek
and Nick .. they’re still on board?”
“Yes,
sir. Down below.”
“Why
are they down there, Mr Delacroix?”
“They
said the passengers were starving.
Their supplies had run out.
Derek said they would go down and help them. I let them go there, sir.
Against your direct orders but .. they are not really part of the crew
and they are helping us equally as much.
It’s a mission of mercy, sir.
Over half the passengers are already dead. The others are weak.”
John
Marriott sat back, his brows bristling as he frowned. “Mr Farnham is an excellent navigator but I know this coast. When it seems that no hope is left, I will
give the order to abandon ship. I will
give the crew time to get away before we are too close to land. When they are gone, you and I will rescue
the passengers. Nothing’s guaranteed,
Mr Delacroix,” he warned, pointing a finger.
“The sea may yet claim us all but we will grant them the chance. God would send us to roast in Hell if we did
not.”
“Yes,
sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Very
well. You’re dismissed.”
Paul
hesitated. “Sir .. I disobeyed an
order. Several, in fact.”
John
Marriott shrugged. “That isn’t what it
says in the ship’s log. Initiative ..
is a fine and admirable quality, Mr Delacroix.” He gave a gruff smile.
“Now, go get your sleep. By all
accounts, tomorrow will be a busy day for us.”
*****
Paul Delacroix slept soundly for the
first time in ten days and he woke with a clear head, his thoughts ordered and
his purpose determined. Even when the
ship sank, it would be all right. There
was a plan of action in place and it simply awaited the right moment to be
implemented. He had an ally in the
Captain.
He dressed in his damp clothes,
grimacing in distaste, and went out to check the conditions. He could have waited for the Third Mate
who’d been on the night watch to report to the Second Mate who’d go to Nate
Tucker who’d go to Mr Penn, the Third Officer, who’d go to Ulysses Farnham who
would report to Paul and, any other day, he would have waited for this to
happen. But this day was too
important. Time would be a critical
factor and he couldn’t afford to waste a moment of it.
He climbed the steep steps to the
upper deck and stretched, breathing in the sharp air, tasting the salt on his
tongue, then he stared. Paul wiped the
rain from his eyes and stared again. He
turned a full circle.
“Oh dear Lord, no … ”
Ulysses Farnham was asleep beside the
helm and Paul bent to roughly shake him.
The navigator started awake and scrambled to his feet.
“Apologies, sir,” he muttered.
“Open
your eyes. Tell me what you see!”
The
navigator looked round and his face became even more bloodless. “This isn’t right …”
“It’s
fog!”
“Yes,
I can see that, but .. but it isn’t right.
It shouldn’t be here –”
“It
damn well is here!” Paul
shouted. “Whether it’s right or not
makes not one whit of difference!”
“Sir,
we can still navigate. I have a
compass. I know the chart. We will still get home, fog or no fog.”
Paul
shook his head. “Mr Farnham, I have
confidence in your skills but this is a direct order. You will wait one hour
past your chosen time before you make the course change to east north
east. Do you understand me? One
hour.”
“Yes,
sir.”
Paul
looked to the helmsman. “You heard that
order too.”
“Aye,
sir.”
Paul
turned away from them. It would make no
difference. The Santa Theresa would
still sink. But it might give the crew
a better chance to escape.
*****
Nick
returned to the cabin to find Derek awake and on his feet. Derek was frowning.
“Is
it me, or does everything seem quieter to you?”
Nick
paused to listen. “Yeah. It does.”
“Is
the storm ending, do you think?” Derek asked hopefully.
“Deck’s
still rolling just as much,” the younger man pointed out. “It isn’t exactly quieter. It’s more .. muffled,” Nick went on, his
head tilting. “Sounds like … ”
“Fog,”
Derek realized on a sigh.
“Perfect. Just what we need,” Nick muttered. “A fast, one way ticket to the bottom.” He dug in his pockets. “Here, breakfast. May as well drown on a full stomach.”
“Nothing
is ever decided until the end, Nick. By
tonight, we could be back home in San Francisco, or at least in a motel room
somewhere, clean, dry, fed, and wondering why the floor is staying so flat and
still.” Derek took the biscuits and
began to eat. “When Paul opens the
hatch, we must be ready to move.”
“I’m
not leaving those people down there, Derek,” Nick warned.
“I
know, but we must secure our means of
escape before we start bringing them out.
If necessary, you will have to act to prevent us being stopped.”
“You
said I wasn’t to hurt these people.”
Derek
paused. “Well .. maybe hurting them is
an acceptable risk. Try not to kill
anyone.”
“Yes,
boss,” Nick agreed with a tight grin.
“I
wonder if we have begun to turn yet.”
Derek looked around in the lantern lit darkness. “It’s impossible to know down here.” He sighed.
“It’s at times like this that I wish I still had the sight. I feel so helpless, trapped like an animal
in a cage.”
Nick
really did try to look for something positive to say to raise his Precept’s
spirits but there wasn’t anything because Nick felt exactly the same way.
*****
Paul
Delacroix knocked briskly on the Captain’s cabin door.
“Enter!”
Paul
almost fell inside, such was his haste.
“Sir.”
“Calm
down, Mr Delacroix,” John Marriott ordered.
“Yes,
sir. Sir, there is fog. Everywhere.”
The
Captain frowned sharply. “And it isn’t
being moved at all by the wind?”
“Oh
yes, sir. It’s moving, but it isn’t
moving away. It’s like .. sailing thru
storm clouds, sir. They billow, swirl,
eddy. There is no gap in it. The sky and the air is all the same color,
and that is only marginally lighter than the sea.”
“Have
we altered our heading yet?”
“No,
sir. I have given Mr Farnham a direct
order to wait one hour past his chosen time.
It will not affect our fate but it may buy us a little time to get the
boats away safely. The fog may lift in
that hour.”
John
Marriott slowly nodded. “It may work to
our advantage. If nothing else, the fog
combined with this storm provides an excuse for us to legitimately abandon
ship. Very well, we’ll – ”
The
Santa Theresa shuddered violently and lurched sideways. There was a terrible cracking noise and
screams. Paul turned to the door and
was on his way out, the Captain following hard on his heels, when the
barkentine listed abruptly to port and a torrent of water began pouring thru
the open hatch to the upper deck.
“What
in God’s name – ?” Paul began and broke into a run.
On
the upper deck, it was bedlam. There
was a tangle of ropes, bodies, and the Santa Theresa wasn’t righting
herself. John Marriott took one look
round to assess the damage.
“Cut
those lines!” he boomed. “Or they’ll
have us over!”
“What
happened?” Paul demanded, grabbing a passing sailor’s sleeve.
“Lightning. Struck the third mast. Cracked it.
Wind took it, it snapped,” the man panted. “Hit the fourth mast and that fell too. Mr Farnham .. got knocked over the side. Helmsman’s dead. God knows how many others got crushed.”
The
ropes were finally hacked thru and the mast fell away. The barkentine surged upright, listed
sharply to starboard then righted herself.
“Take
the wheel!” Paul ordered. “Mr Mate!”
Nate
Tucker, his face bloodied, staggered up.
“Aye, sir.”
“Mr
Farnham’s cabin, on the double. Fetch
up the compass.” “Aye, sir,” Nate obeyed,
his expression unsure as he turned away. “Cut
the lines on this mast too,” Marriott ordered.
“Heave it over the side. Where’s
Mr Penn?”
“Here,
sir!”
“Ready
the boats. We may have to abandon ship
in a hurry.”
“Aye,
sir.”
Marriott
turned to Paul. “Your final snarl of
rage perhaps?”
“So
it seems, sir,” he agreed.
“See
to the injured, Paul. They’ll go in the
first boat.”
“Aye,
Captain.”
Nate
returned with the compass and gave it to Marriott. “What about the dead, sir?”
“Note
their names, say a prayer for them, and give them to the sea.”
“Aye,
sir.”
“Then
rouse as many men as you need to take their place. Helm, steer ten degrees port!”
Nate
went to his gruesome task, his mind filling with black thoughts. Lightning.
Yes. He’d been on the deck and
seen it strike. It wasn’t natural. The evil spirits had conjured it to kill,
maim and hurt, just like they’d conjured the fog to blind, confuse and
muddle. Well, they’d hurt the ship,
maimed good men, killed more. Nate was
sickened and enraged. Someone would pay
for this. Someone would pay
dearly. And he knew exactly where they
were. Like rats, they were trapped
below.
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