Winds of Fury

by Peter Duysings

  “Well, men, we’s best be gettin’ ah move on an’ do as da first officer tol’ us,” Kessler cynically slurred.

  The next instant, he leaped at Otto with cat-like quickness, his right fist coming forward with the same fluid motion and landed squarely into … Otto’s big left hand. While Otto held on to the fist in a vise-like grip, he twisted the hand counter-clockwise pulling the man in closer, and drove an explosive fist into the fellow’s face, shattering Kessler’s nose. The sickening impact was heard across the deck.

  Otto let go, and the man hit the deck; reeling from the pain and groaning loudly. Then the others rushed at Otto with a vengeance. He was not ready for the surge as two of them smashed into him; one leading with a shoulder, which dug into his chest, the other’s head impacting his belly. The crash knocked him off balance, but by bracing his right leg, he was able to stay on his feet and grab the head cruncher by the hair.

  Simultaneously, Fritz had flung his lanky but sinewy body at the other two men as they rushed in. He caught the one on his right with a stinging elbow shot to the jaw that leveled the sailor. Before he could respond to the other one, Fritz was slammed with a roundhouse punch to the jaw that stunned him and he took another fist to the sternum. “The ruffian could definitely punch!” his mind screamed as his body recoiled in pain. Fortunately, Fritz had the presence of mind to lower his shoulder and drive it into the man’s middle, knocking him back a few feet, which provided the boatswain a brief reprieve.

  Otto pulled hard on the sailor’s hair and at the same time brought up his knee that caught the drunkard solidly in the face; he fell backward onto the deck and was out cold. Another one had plucked a wooden belaying pin from a nearby rack and swung it at Otto’s head. Otto had just enough time to put up his left forearm; he took the blow on his thick muscles but winced from the wicked pain it caused. He stumbled back a few feet holding his injured forearm with his good hand. The man again brought up the pin, at the same time Otto lowered his head and drove his body forward, catching the man in the solar plexus, and knocking the air out of him. The swing was already in a downward motion but had lost most of its intensity; however, it hit Otto on the back and the belaying pin dropped to the deck as the sailor lost his grip.

  After having knocked his foe back, Fritz followed in and drove a fist into the man’s mouth, breaking several rotten teeth and smashing his lips. The punch knocked the sailor into an open hatch, and he tumbled down the stairs.

  Fritz pivoted to the side just as the other ruffian swung a fist at him, which he arm-blocked, knocking it aside, and came right back with a haymaker of a punch that caught the man squarely in the kisser, and brought him to his knees. Fritz quickly followed with a kick to the side of the head, and the man lay sprawled on the deck, out for the night.

  That put three of the miscreants out of the fight. Both Otto’s and Fritz’s chests were heaving heavily as they tried to catch their breaths when the sailor that Otto had knocked back came at him again but this time his hand held a dagger. The blade came in straight for his chest. It made contact before Otto could step away; fortunately, only a small puncture wound resulted, but he felt the sharp sting and braced for the next lunge. “That was too darn close!” his mind screamed.

  In the meantime, Fritz had swung around bringing himself behind the man with the weapon; now the thug was sandwiched between them. The miscreant spun around to face him, at which time Otto stepped in and kicked the thug in the lower back, catching a kidney. The sailor groaned and tried to spin back to face Otto. The move was all that Fritz needed to grab the man in a bear hug, locking his arms to the sides. Otto immediately stepped in, grabbed the assailant’s wrist, and slammed a fist into the man’s forearm. The crushing impact not only forced the dagger to fall from the hand but also broke bone; the sickening snap heard loud in the night. The sailor howled in pain, a portion of the splintered bone stuck through the skin. Realizing the man was finished, Fritz let him go; and the sailor collapsed, screaming. Well, so much for everyone who was sound asleep on board.

  Otto snuck a quick peek to the afterdeck. Heinrich, the dark figure, was still watching the scene from his perch. Otto had asked his friend to let him handle the issue and not get involved; after all, he was the first officer, and by Jupiter, all the men of this ship better get that through their thick skulls. Heinrich kept his word, but Otto knew that was taking a hell of a lot of willpower for Heinrich to stay out of the rumble.

  All of a sudden, from the gangway, seaman Schneider yelled out a loud warning and pointed. A tall figure was facing the sailor that immerged from the hatch he had fallen into after Fritz decked him. The scoundrel wielded a ship’s boarding ax; a large ax blade on one side and a sharp pointed spike on the other, on top of a two-foot wooden handle. The tool was for cutting lines and removing broken timber. Otto couldn’t help think what catastrophic damage that device could do to him and Fritz.

  The tall man in the shadows cautiously maneuvered as he confronted the armed ruffian. “Confronting him with what?” Otto wondered. “And who is this seaman who has come to our aid?”

  Otto and Fritz quickly stepped away from the menacing weapon. It was then that Otto recognized who this tall fellow was. It was able seaman, Reiner Mannheim. He had been working on flayed lines at the bow of the ship when the ruckus started. Mannheim was armed … armed with a two-foot-long wooden rod, much like the ax handle, but shorter, thinner and without the deadly metal portion that could cause real carnage. Otto surmised the armed sailor was startled by the sudden appearance of Mannheim.

  Everyone witnessing the standoff between the two men was bewildered by Mannheim’s choice of the wooden rod as his weapon. The man planted himself between the thug and the two ship’s officers. His feet were spread apart, with the rod pointing straight ahead in his outstretched arm; a swordsman’s stance. The ruffian snarled his contempt through the broken teeth suffered by Fritz’s fist.

  A low moan emitted from onlookers as they prepared to watch the villainous thug with the ax chop the defenseless man to bits. “Was Mannheim devoid of all reason?” Sailors cringed, while some heads turned aside not wanting to see the bloody result.

  The drunkard gripped the wooden handle with both hands, brought the weapon up over his head, and charged at Mannheim. The axe began its deadly stroke downward. A crashing thud erupted, but nothing like the sound of an ax impacting a human body, instead impacting wood. Those that watched with dread saw the deft footwork of Mannheim as he had gracefully stepped back just out of reach of the weapon’s swooping arc. The ax harmlessly pierced the wooden deck. Instantly, Mannheim skillfully leaped at the man and drove the end of his rod sharply into the man’s neck. He did it with such speed that if anyone had blinked; they would have missed the strike. Next, he stuck the point into his antagonist’s face. The sailor shrieked out in pain as the rod bent his head sideways, but somehow, he still held on to his weapon and with a hefty pull dislodged it from the planking. Mannheim stepped away allowing the injured man to set up once again. “Why didn’t he continue to pursue his assailant? Why didn’t he finish him off when he had the advantage?” wondered the confused onlookers. Groans of dismay permeated across the deck. Mannheim looked to be well-skilled in the art of combat, and his movements had shown the cleverness of a competent swordsman. “Then why did he allow the ruffian the chance to recover?”

  Sailors awakened from their sleep by the loud ruckus came pouring onto the deck, wondering what the commotion was all about. Upon seeing the two sailors in combat, and four other men splayed across the main deck, they made their way closer for a better view.

  Otto once again looked to where Heinrich was perched and unbelievably he was still in the same spot. This was not at all like him. In the flickering lantern light, Otto saw the fascinated expression upon the captain’s face or was it just his imagination? But he unmistakably caught a glimpse of a pistol in the captain’s hand.

  “You’s ah dead man, Mannheim!” barked out the ax-wielding sailor through b
roken teeth. “Ya shoulda stayed outta da fight. Now ya’ll pay plenty fur it.”

  “Just want to make sure you play fair and square, Ziegler. You were always a cheat and a poor loser. You do not fight fairly,” Mannheim admonished. “I never could tolerate you and your scumbag mates. If you have half a brain, you will drop the weapon,” Mannheim stated as he took his fencing posture. “It is over; you have lost.”

  “Why ya piece ah dog shit! Ya’re da one dat’s history!” Ziegler yelled. Mannheim heard him out, knowing that men made more mistakes while enraged. He had experienced it plenty of times in the duels he’d fought.

  Ziegler again reared back with the ax over his head and charged. He swung the weapon in a roundhouse stroke, Mannheim’s incredible speed allowed him to step inside the arc of the swing, and deftly jabbed the point of his rod into Ziegler’s head. The ax was brought downward, fully committed, but without any real force. Following up with a short series of lightning-fast jabs to the man’s torso, Mannheim then poked the rod into the assailant’s nose. The man winced from the impact and clumsily staggered backward.

  The sailors on the jammed-packed deck howled with glee. However, Mannheim didn’t put the finishing touches on the man; the sailors frowned and shook their heads, completely baffled at Mannheim’s decision to allow Ziegler once again to compose himself.

  Heinrich could not believe what was happening either. It was enough of a show watching Otto and Fritz thrash the belligerent sailors. Now this graceful and clever sailor was giving a marvelous performance. Mannheim looked like a splendid knight of yesteryear, chin pointed straightforward in a fanciful pose, with the weapon at the ready and wielded it with great skill. He sensed that the sailor was so confident in his abilities that he was toying with his antagonist. As far as Heinrich was concerned all bets were off the axman winning this fight.

  “This doesn’t have to continue,” Mannheim flatly stated. “It is entirely your choice. Just drop the ax and walk away.”

  But the hooligan shook his head side-to-side. Whether it was foolish pride or total stupidity, he was not willing to drop his weapon. Mannheim reset his sword stance and made no move toward his antagonist giving the man the opportunity to put a stop to this farce.

  Ziegler wavered back and forth on rubbery legs, breathing heavily from exhaustion. It was a wonder he was able to keep his balance. He had been pummeled and battered and had sustained a myriad of injuries, not the least being a broken nose. Red blotches were visible on his white shirt where the end of the wooden rod had made contact. The anger raging through his veins was probably all that held his body up. He readied himself for the next charge.

  Mannheim patiently waited, he had decided that this was the last attack; no more quarter was going to be offered. The crowd stood mesmerized and held their breath in anticipation of what would happen next.

  Ziegler growled from deep within his chest and then made his move; the ax held high. Mannheim stood his ground, and at the last moment, as the ax came down, the master swordsman effortlessly leaped aside. Again, he accurately assessed the arc of the swing, and the ax barely missed. The blade went into the deck with a massive crunch. Suddenly, the spry Mannheim reversed his direction and countered, stepping in with a supple movement and drove the end of the rod hard into Ziegler’s sternum. The man howled in agony. Mannheim dazzled the sailors with fluid footwork and strikes as he next plunged the rod into the man’s belly, to the upper inner thigh, then flicked upwards to the forehead bringing the head up and then deep into the man’s throat. The throat strike sharply brought the man’s head downward, while his body froze. The ax dropped to the deck, and he dropped to his knees. He briefly emitted gurgling sounds, and a few seconds later he fell over on his side and lay dead still. Everyone around him thought he had lost consciousness; the sense completely knocked out of him, if indeed he had any, to begin with. The sailors stood in awe of the masterful swordsman’s performance. Mannheim tossed the rod to the deck and stood over his victim. He turned toward Otto and Fritz.

  “Sorry for interfering, but it seemed the thing to do.”

  “You certainly are handy to have around, Mannheim,” Otto quipped. “Your timing couldn’t have been better.”

  Sailors inched in for a closer look at the five beaten sailors.

  “You men over there pick up this garbage and take it off the ship at once,” Otto thundered. Doc Strobel appeared, made straight for Ziegler, and began checking the man over. A swarm of sailors responded and commenced to carrying the other four hooligans down the gangplank where they were roughly tossed to the pier. They were all glad to be rid of that bunch.

  Heinrich came to the main deck and faced Mannheim. “Where did you learn such skills?”

  “From Herr Hermann Mannheim, captain. My father was a superb master swordsman. “You certainly thrashed him good,” Fritz commented.

  “I want to see you in my cabin, Reiner,” Heinrich stated.

  “Jawohl, captain. I will be there promptly.”

  “Dieser Mann ist tot! – “This man is dead!”

  The sudden pronouncement of those dreadful words shut everyone up. They looked to the source – Doc Strobel. On the doctor’s face were both expressions of astonishment and shock. Without hesitation, Otto’s booming voice barked out with authority.

  “Alright, men,” Otto announced, “I am afraid this is the end of the festivities tonight. Now be off with you.”

  The large crowd did not move; they were stunned by Doc Strobel’s pronouncement. Otto shouted louder to clear the deck. “Damn you, move; move along quickly!” The sudden realization that someone had died froze the men, and even Otto’s angry shouting could not get them moving. With the assistance of the other section heads, it took a while before control was restored and the stillness of the night descended once more upon the ship.

  Heinrich, Otto, and Fritz surrounded Doc Strobel and consulted him as to what happened. It didn’t take long for the doctor to explain the cause of Ziegler’s demise. His larynx was shattered and as far as the doctor could tell, until he could do further investigation, was that the man had drowned in his own blood.

  Heinrich asked him to perform a postmortem examination immediately. The wide-eyed Strobel looked at Mannheim, who perceived the doctor was judging him guilty of murder.

  “I assure you, doctor, it was not intentional, but a sad consequence of Ziegler’s violent purpose with the ax.”

  Strobel dropped his gaze back to the dead man and shook his head.

  * * *

  After some time, Otto and Fritz went to join Heinrich in his cabin, where they found Mannheim and him discussing the circumstances leading to the death of Ziegler. Otto and Fritz gathered they had already covered the details of the fight. They both took seats, the four men forming a small circle, intentionally placing themselves in positions to not make it look as though they were squaring off against Reiner, who was respectfully listening to his captain.

  “From where I stood, I saw no intent, but I confess I am in no position to make such a judgment. I am not casting blame for Ziegler’s death. I’m at the mercy of your word as to what happened.”

  “If I may captain,” Otto spoke up. Heinrich looked at his friend and nodded for him to continue.

  “Herr Mannheim is reported to be an outstanding sailor with a sound report amongst the crew. That leads me to believe he is a man of integrity. Despite that Ziegler was a foul scoundrel, and did not deserve death, does not, however, make Reiner a murderer. The death was indeed unfortunate – and not done purposely. In this sensitive matter, we are foolish to think we can sit in judgment. You have already stated that no one would be able to judge him fairly for where does one go to find innocence or guilt in armed combat aboard one’s ship apart from his crew, who witnessed it? Therefore, I recommend that he be judged solely on his word that no fatal harm was meant.”

  All the while Fritz was nodding at what Otto was saying. These two stalwart sailors had worked side-by-side with Heinrich for years. He
trusted these two men explicitly.

  Otto continued, “I am also concerned what port officials would say over this matter. I suggest we keep this affair to ourselves. Being an entity in international waters, as ship’s captain, you have jurisdiction in such matters. You are the sole authority aboard this ship, not the city officials. You have witnessed the crew’s response regarding the fight; none of them have any admiration for this group of ruffians. Believe me; they can be trusted to keep this matter under wraps. Let us sail at first light and once away we can decide on how to dispose of the body.”

  Heinrich looked at Fritz. The boatswain knew what his captain wanted, and he did not hesitate in backing up Otto. “Captain, I concur with Otto. If we do not stand up for Herr Mannheim, we will lose all trust among every crewmember. We can effectually kiss all that we are working for to the winds. I am convinced he acted in the interest of protecting Otto and me. We faced a crazed individual intent on smashing us to pieces with the ax. Mannheim came through for us; he may have saved our lives.”

  It did not go unnoticed that Reiner kept quiet and did not continue to defend himself. He sat composed, but not smug nor defiant as he listened. Heinrich thought the man had an uncommon control of his emotions. The man had exhibited a regal flair on deck when he came to the rescue of the two ship’s officers. Heinrich knew damn well any ordinary sailor would have evidenced profound fear and be sweating profusely under the stress of a violent fight. He found this sailor’s behavior a bit unnerving. Mannheim exhibited a strange calm under the circumstances, while others were assessing his fate. There was something about his character that had him stupefied. There was no doubt that there was much more to this man than he knew.

  Otto and Fritz were looking at their captain, waiting for his decision. Heinrich regarded himself a fair man, but he also knew he was young and had to concede he was out of his league in plenty of instances when it came to difficult situations. But he considered this one was cut and dry. It was in those times he went with his gut feeling. He was also wise enough to surround himself with men such as Otto and Fritz whom he trusted with his life. Their advice went a long way with him.