“Oh my,” he said. He sighed. “Damn. We have to hang him, and fast.” He glanced at Brian. “This is your fault, Brian, you selected the crew.”
Brian gaped at him, nodding in slow agreement, guilt pushing him down in his chair.
There was a knock at the door. At the Captain’s call it opened and the Bosun came in, with a small girl called Jane in tow.
“Thought you’d like to hear what Jane has to say,” said the Bosun.
With some difficulty, in deep awe at talking to the Captain, Jane stuttered out her story. It seemed she had been subjected to Kane’s attentions for the last week, after he inveigled her to his lair while still in port. She was in terror at having to tell it, as Kane had threatened her should she say a word. She kept saying she was only talking now because he had been caught, and please don’t let him know she had talked. What would his punishment be? The poor girl was shaking.
The Captain sighed, grabbed his hat and headed for the door. “Come on, let’s get this distasteful business over with.” They followed him.
Pat still stood beside Kane, bristling with anger; the soldiers were up and surrounding the Bosun’s mates holding him, Sergeant Russell also holding an arm. The Spakka were there, very unsure. Nobody had explained to them that Kane had tried to rape their mistress, but they sensed something seriously amiss and were questioning Hal, whose shrugs showed his own ignorance. Kane was looking even more worse for wear than before, the soldiers having exacted more retribution despite the ‘swains protection. The entire crew was there, not a man looking friendly towards Kane.
The Captain strode to the rail and looked down on them in the darkness, faces looming out of the gloom below him. He could see the blood pooling around Kane’s head. The man was barely conscious.
“I’ve looked into the matter, it is open and shut. Kane is another of those damn mercenary murderers. Not only did he try to kill Sara, but rape as well, and but for her quick thinking might have succeeded. Not only that, but it was a practised assault, not just aimed at Sara. For we have found another girl who has been subjected to his attentions and she has testified against him.”
He looked around at the crew. Every face he could see hard and angry. His eyes dropped to Pat, who was standing scowling at the front, leaning forward listening.
“Hang him.” The Captain nodded.
Pat yanked Kane up and Little dropped the noose over his head, a noose without a big knot, and Little took care to fit it snugly behind his head, not his ear. They bundled him to the side of the ship and pushed him over without ceremony. Kane swung down, one hand grabbing for the rope while the broken one dangled and his feet trailed in the sea, desperately walking on the water as he woke up.
Little grunted and spat dismissively. “Betcha 5 sovs he lasts less than 5 minutes,” he said to Strachan casually.
“No bet,” said Corporal Strachan. “The way the, uh, Sara bit him, he won’t have the strength.”
A wail went up from behind him. A young sailor knelt on the deck crying and shouting incoherently. The Bosun walked up to him and grabbed him with satisfaction.
“Well, Hughie, thought it might be you. Another rapist here, Captain,” she called over her shoulder with great satisfaction.
“No! No!” The kid cried out in terror, his trousers soaking wet. “I never! I didn’t know what it was for. I thought it was just a den, like. I helped him make it and went there to sleep a few times, never took anyone there. I wouldn’t hurt a girl. Please! Please believe me.”
The Captain looked at him. “Bosun, chain him in the hold. We’ll discuss him in the morning.”
Howls of fury rent the air as the Spakka prised an explanation out of a shell shocked Hal.
Pat looked over the rail bleakly. Kane still twitched. One of the Spakka, Esbech, supported by his mates, hung down the side and carefully broke every bone he could reach with the back of his axe. Pat felt empty, no satisfaction in this death and he mourned for Sara, not sure what had happened and not knowing what to do. He wondered at his own feeling and started when somebody took his arm.
“Pat, she needs you now.” It was Suzanne. “She’s in my cabin. I won’t use it tonight. You stay with her till morning. Don’t talk a word about what happened. Just comfort her.” She looked into his eyes as she walked him towards the companionway.
“Oh, damn, you’re a bloody kid in some ways and a man in others. You don’t have a clue what to do, do you?”
Pat looked at her.
“You go in there and put your arms around her and hold her. When she stops crying, take your clothes off and get into bed with her. Hold her gently, kiss her and do whatever she wants. Clear?”
For the first time Pat looked scared, really scared, his eyes wide, his anger gone as if never present. A little boy was looking back at Suzanne.
“Dammit, Pat, she needs you, a man, to give her love right now, she doesn’t need another girl. She needs a man who cares for her to hold her and love her. You care for her don’t you?
He nodded, mutely. They arrived at the door, she opened it and pushed him in with a smile, calling Katie out and sending her off. Russell long gone to assist the hanging.
Pat stood flat footed inside the door, looking at Sara who sat up at the end of the bunk, her back against the wall. Her eyes were huge, luminous and uncertain.
“Is it over?”
He nodded, and shuffled over to the bunk. She started to shrink away from him and he looked stricken and went to his knees.
“Oh Sara! Are you OK? Sweetie, you look so...” he stopped, thinking on his feet, “so pretty. How do you feel?” Feeling he was doing something very wrong he leant forward and put his arms around her. Sara burst into tears and hugged him. As her tears subsided, he wondered at Suzanne’s prescience, forgetting everything as she kissed him with fierce passion. Gently he took her clothes off while she removed his and he slid into the bed.
Sara felt his hands on her and shivered deliciously. She had been feeling defiled, dirty, and was terrified nobody would want her now. Her friend Pat wanted her and she felt her heart swell and almost burst with love for him. She took her tongue out of his mouth, pushed his head up and guided it down towards her left breast, needing to feel his lips taking away the earlier stain. She gasped as he went down and started to suck, contentment rushing through her as the feeling of his weight crushing her and the rising warmth of his manhood. She spread her thighs for him, feeling a rush of pleasure coming up into the very core of her being. She felt his head part her flesh, and a flashback overwhelmed her, the smell of Kane in her nose, and the tearing agony came searing back. She screamed and pushed Pat away; he floundered and fell off the bed while she curled into a ball and sobbed.
Pat didn’t know anything about girls, but he knew how to handle a hurt wild animal. He slipped back into the bed and curled himself around her, holding her and making small soothing sounds.
Suzanne, outside the door, heard the soft sounds and smiled in total misunderstanding. Her Princess was fine and getting the best cure. Now she felt like some exercise herself. She recalled Lieutenant Mactravis had a cabin to himself, and swayed off, humming a happy tune.
Storms
N
ils was a wonder in the yards. He took ten days to recover fully from the battle with the Spakka, having dislocated both his shoulders and broken his nose when he reached the deck. Then he began to show off his skills. He could run along the top of the spars, disdaining the cord below each one which most sailors used to walk along while holding the spar. Within days Pat was copying him, and of course the first thing he did was slip and fall. He landed on the mainsail, fortunately with a big belly, and slid down to the edge just above the deck. He turned as he slid, and caught the rope along the bottom, nearly jerking his arms from their sockets as he swung for a moment then dropped lightly to the deck. Moments later Nils landed beside him, having copied him and learnt from his previous experience.
“That was fun! Let’s do it again.”
That was the last time they used the rope ladder to come down, though Captain Larroche nearly had a heart attack when he saw them, and tried to ban it without success. It took them a while to work out how to use the technique in different winds so they were able to brake properly and not replicate Nils’ crash into the deck.
The rest of the crew spent time in the rigging too. Changing sails was too big a job for four, it required a whole watch of twenty hands when the wind changed but it was still just the four of them who set the topsails, though the two blond Uightlanders were getting there. Most of the work was done by ropes and pulleys at which the Spakka excelled.
Pat was taking a section of four on a starboard yard, a good sixty feet above the sea, while Nils had the larboard. Linda was on the end, over confident in her abilities and determined to try spar walking. They were all leaning over the yard, standing on the cord beneath, pulling up the canvas, packing it down and tying it up with the cords that ran down the sails for that purpose. Linda over-reached for another length and her foot slipped off the cord as she pulled back. Her hands were trying to grab the canvas and they scrabbled desperately for a grip as she went backwards. One hand caught the foot cord as she fell. There was an agonising pain in her shoulder as it dislocated under her weight and slipped through her fingers. Her head bounced off a ratline and her body rotated as she fell down to land in the sea, flat on her back, about ten yards from the ship.
“Man over board!” Taufik shouted and Jim immediately hurled the safety barrel over the side towards her; it landed mere feet from her, its ropes trailing near her. She didn’t move.
“Keep bloody working.” Nils shouted. “We can’t help her till the sails are furled.”
The topsailsmen had all stopped and watched Linda fall; some like Pat had already started to react. Pat was up onto the yard about to jump, as was Sara.
“Pat! Sara! If you bloody jump I’ll skin you alive. Get back to work, fast. It does more good to furl the bloody sails.” Nils was really angry now, the first time they had seen it. Reluctantly, they went back to work, the sails furling faster than ever before. As they worked, they saw the little jolly boat being dropped astern, half a dozen sailors spilling into it, and rowing after her.
By the time they had all the topsails furled, the jolly boat was far behind. Taufik had swung the ship round and was painfully tacking back towards it. The crew could feel the different motion of the ship, and those that had just got used to the steady downwind motion found the different, choppier motion hard to bear.
By the time the topsailsmen could drop to the deck, the jolly boat was on its way back. They lined the rail and watched as the boat was hauled up. Dan’s face was bleak as he stepped out of it, holding Linda’s body in his arms. He wouldn’t let anybody take it from him and the tears were streaming down his face.
The body was light because there wasn’t much of it.
Pat felt Sara gripping his arm and heard sobs from amongst the crew.
The Bosun silently laid a length of canvas on the deck and gestured to Dan who gently laid the remains on it. Huge gashes were in the trunk of the body, only one arm and the stump of one leg were left. The Bosun rapidly wrapped it up and started to stitch the canvas into a closed tube. The dwarven blacksmith silently put a chunk of metal near where the feet should have been.
Captain Larroche held a funeral service immediately, and then Pat went off to talk to Bart the fisherman about sharks. After that Pat and Grey Fox, the half Elf, practiced archery at the back of the ship along with the crossbowmen.
They killed a lot of sharks.
Shark hunting caused them to develop a new fishing technique, with a cleverly barbed arrow, made by the smiths after long debate and copious draughts of dwarven ale. A length of fine chain attached to the head. They spent three days working out how to coil the chain so that the arrow was not deflected too much, and how to compensate for it. Bart was fascinated by this and created a teaser for them, a length of twine with a knot at the end to which he whipped several feathers from the chickens and some bits of silk and wire.
He would let this out some way behind the ship, until fish, usually tuna, started to strike at it. He would then retrieve it rapidly, with the fish chasing it, till it was in range and the archers would harvest the bounty. To attract sharks, they simply used one of the tuna.
Taufik was pleased with this addition to their diet, as he kept warning of a sickness that could afflict deep sea sailors, and insisted that everyone should drink his Yellow Remedy at least once a week. This was a disgusting mixture of citrus juices, grasses and herbs which he said was invented by a people far to the East. Apparently these people were the source of much of his sailing lore including the compass. He sniffed disdainfully at the Harrheinian compasses, bemoaning the loss of his own fine instrument.
All the officers were required to record the course and speed, thus calculating the distance travelled, at all times. Sara worked under Brian as well as being on the topsails watch. She tried to share what she learnt with Pat in the evening, but he wasn’t much interested. Brought up in the wilds, he had an instinctive feeling of place that allowed him to navigate in his own way. Not that it was much use at sea. Walters would draw a chart based on the data, though Captain Larroche continued to keep his rutter, a sea diary that was a Captain’s lifeline and enabled him to copy routes. Walters and Taufik would argue for hours as to exactly where they were, as Walters was worried about sea currents which would distort the dead reckoning they were using and Taufik was frankly disbelieving at the idea of a current in the middle of nowhere.