by Cylin Busby
The men climbed up, and I was quick on the ladder rungs behind them. As soon as my paws reached the deck, I could tell there had been a change—not only in the temperament of the sailors, but in the whole of the ship and how she sailed. The Melissa Rae was not moving, the sails hung limp and heavy on their masts, and the air that surrounded us was thick and wet.
“ ’Tis the doldrums,” Sean murmured, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“You will not speak unless spoken to!” Archer yelled down at him from the quarterdeck. The other sailors had no work to do in this still phase of wind, so they sat, sweating and rumpled with sour faces, lined up along the gunwale at the starboard side of the ship, watching to see how Archer handled the situation.
Archer grasped his hands behind his back, jutting his round belly out. I noted he did this often, as if he had once seen a true captain pace on deck in this manner. It was not convincing. “This ship can have only one captain, and that is I. If you choose to obey me, you will return to your former rank—Sean, you will assume first mate and Chippy second. However, if you men choose to defy me, you will not only lose rank, but also be confined to the hold for the remainder of our journey.”
“Mr. Archer, what if the captain comes to his wits?” young Bobby asked.
Archer’s face reddened, and I watched as small drops of sweat seemed to bubble to the surface of his skin. He took the steps down from the quarterdeck and moved swiftly to the young man. We all watched as he slapped him, openhanded, across the cheek. “You will address me as Captain Archer!” he hollered.
The boy cowered and stepped back. I’d never heard tell of Captain Natick striking a man, and I doubted the sailors had either, from the looks on their faces. “You will all, to a one, address me as Captain Archer!”
“And if we will not?” Sean asked quickly.
“I will…” Archer brought his hand to his forehead, furiously wiping away perspiration. “I will put you and your lot out in the longboat.”
“You cannot,” Chippy scoffed gruffly. The other sailors began to talk, turning one to another.
“He’s gone right mad, ’asn’t he?” Smyth could be heard to say.
“Silence! It is maritime law, and I as the captain will do it. You men will respect me; I will not have insubordination.”
“I would like an audience with Captain Natick, as is my right. I signed articles to serve under him, not you, Mister Archer.” Sean spoke bravely. He brushed past Archer, barely giving the man a sidelong glance as he headed to the quarterdeck and the captain’s door.
As soon as his hand was on the knob, I was by his heels, wanting desperately to see my captain and how he fared. The room was dark, windows blacked by heavy shades, and an odor of rot hung in the air. I saw Sean recoil reflexively before moving forward in the dim light.
“Captain?” he whispered to the form on the daybed. There was no response.
I moved to a place beside the great man but was unwilling to leap up for further inspection lest I wake him from a restorative sleep. But Sean reached down and took his hand in his, then felt at the captain’s neck for a moment before moving the back of his hand across his forehead. Sean’s face was grim, his mouth set in a line beneath his thick mustache. He leaned down, putting his ear to the captain’s mouth, listening for a sound of life.
He stood after a moment and looked down at the great man before he stepped back into the sunlight of the deck. I followed him but lingered in the doorway of the captain’s cabin, eager to hear what he would report to the sailors.
“All hope is not lost,” Sean said quietly, to himself. Then he spoke loudly, addressing his mates: “There is still time to save the captain’s life, if we turn now. But every moment is crucial.”
Archer came around the captain’s quarters just then, and I could see he was holding his pistol. He waved the black gun about over his head, “Dougherty, and you, the tall one”—he motioned to Smyth—“ready the longboat for these mutineers!”
The sailors sat as if stunned by the antics of the short, fat man on the quarterdeck, waving a big gun. “Obey my orders, or you will join them!” Archer yelled. With that Dougherty and Smyth leapt to their feet and untied the longboat that sat, overturned, in the middle of the deck. After the loss of the jolly boats during the storm, this was the only boat left aboard. When it was flipped upright, I could see rows of wooden benches inside, and several oars tucked in. The men moved the boat over to the gunwale and lashed both stern and bow with sailor’s knots. They lifted it to hang, just over the side of the Melissa Rae, above the water.
Little did I know then that this small craft would be my home on the waves for the next eleven days.
The next events occurred so swiftly and violently that I hesitate to report them for fear of my honesty being questioned. But this is exactly as it transpired, and I can only explain the actions of the men aboard the Melissa Rae on that day as sea madness, or the doldrums taking full effect. I can testify that they were all good men, those who I knew well enough to pass judgment on, forced into a precarious position with no reliable leadership, and I assume they managed as best they could. Still, their decisions on that day would become their undoing, and their superstitions would come to truths.
Archer, waving his gun, forced Sean and Chippy to the bulwark railing of the ship and held them there.
“Not the boy,” Sean said as Archer forced him over the edge of the Melissa Rae and into the longboat. “Don’t put him out; he’s practically still a child.”
Archer looked back over his shoulder at the boy Sean referred to, Bobby Doyle: his young face, his blond hair held back in a braid. He was a handsome lad, and I regret sorely what happened to him.
Archer seemed not to hear him. “You lot, get off!” He shoved with his left hand, pushing Chippy and Sean into the longboat. “The boy can stay—but your captain joins you. If you want so much to return to Liverpool with him, you shall have your wish—but not with the Melissa Rae.” As Bobby took his place among the other sailors, Archer turned and motioned to Dougherty. “Go gather Natick and put him aboard,” he ordered. “And where is that measly little cook?”
“Here, sir.” Moses stepped up, seemingly from nowhere. He had disappeared for a moment, but now was back on deck. I didn’t have time to speculate about where he had gone, but it would be apparent soon.
“Get on with it!” Archer waved the gun at him, motioning to the longboat. Moses willingly climbed in, tucking his greatcoat about him. It did seem odd that the man was wearing a large coat in such warm, humid weather, but no one had a mind to question him.
Dougherty came out from the captain’s quarters, behind where I now stood, and I watched as he stepped carefully from the quarterdeck, cradling the captain in his arms. The great man was pale and his skin waxy under the hot, hazy sun; his eyes did not open. Dougherty’s face betrayed no emotion as he gently lifted the captain and laid him in the bottom of the longboat, between the other men.
“Lower away!” Archer yelled, and Dougherty and Smyth both took up the ropes. I stood frozen outside the captain’s quarters for a moment, as if the shock of the situation had paralyzed my very paws. And then I leapt down to the main deck and, without thought, raced at Archer, climbing up his trouser leg as if he were a wooden mast, digging my claws in deep. I am not proud to admit that I dug and scratched like a wild animal.
I had not known that a man with a gun—especially a madman—is a dangerous thing, and learned all at once when a loud shot rang out so close to my ears that I could hardly make a sound for a moment or two. Then a hand roughly wrenched me from my hold, tearing out one of my claws to the quick in the process, and I was thrown with force upon the deck, the air pushed from my lungs.
“You miserable beast!” Archer yelled. Before I could scrabble away, he reached for me and lifted me by my neck, holding so tight I could not breathe and saw bright stars sprinkling through my vision. He held me up over the side of the ship, and in my delirious state I saw the longboa
t meet the water, with a small splash and the four men aboard, and the ropes being drawn back up to the ship.
“Men, have you forgotten a precious piece of cargo?” Archer called down to them. He waved me back and forth as if I were a piece of meat held over a lion’s mouth. I almost blacked out completely as his fingers closed around my throat, but I managed to reach down with a back paw and bring my claws against his cheek, scrambling for a hold. It must have done the trick, for he gave a shout while the hand holding me jerked out and I was dropped, without much fanfare, over the side of the ship.
I wish I could report that I landed safely in the arms of my comrades in the longboat or, better, that I landed on all fours. But that is one myth I must dispel, as I did not land with any grace at all, and instead went face-first into the drink with my hindquarters following me at such an angle that I was completely flipped round. I heard the splash as I hit the water, then nothingness as the cold of the sea wrapped around me, seeping deep into my fur and biting at my skin. It was suddenly quiet as I’d never heard, and I opened my eyes beneath the surface in darkness, unsure even as to what way was up. I pedaled furiously with my paws, trying for any hold, and reached air, gasping and spewing seawater.
“Tibbs, Tibbs!” I heard my name being called, and suddenly a platform appeared beneath me, lifting me, water sploshing off around me. I immediately took to shivering and shaking as the oar that I clung to was pulled into the longboat. I looked up to see a large hand close over me and was shocked to find myself curled into the protective arms of Chippy. He had not been my biggest fan aboard, but he had just saved me from certain drowning without a second thought. In that moment he earned my loyalty.
A cheer and a roar went up from the ship, and I looked up to see all the sailors lined against the gunwale, watching, arms raised in triumph. It took me a moment to realize that they were cheering for me, and for Chippy for saving me, and the chill from the sea left me momentarily, replaced by a warm feeling in my chest. I saw then that Archer had one hand on his pistol but the other on his cheek, covering the bloody scratches I had left behind. I’ve not made it a habit to take claws to my fellow sailors, but in some cases I’ve found it is necessary.
Archer held up his gun and turned to the sailors, ordering them back from the railing: “Go then, move on! I’ll haze you! You’ll join them if you aren’t back to your posts!” he was yelling. But the men stood their ground, their faces now solemn as they watched our boat drift in the still water, away from the Melissa Rae.
There was no wind, and it felt as if we would sit looking up at the captain’s great ship forever. But the sea works in mysterious ways, and there was, even in this stillness, a current that pulled us around the stern in a few moments’ time, with the sailors aboard walking the deck slowly to keep us in eyeshot. A few removed hats and held them to their chests, but there were no tears, no calling out. And as she continued to drift away from us in the ocean, I saw the carefully painted letters that spelled Melissa Rae across her stern. The ship became no more than a brown-and-white shape as it floated out of sight.
“Men”—Moses leaned in with a whisper—“I’ve managed a bit of food and drink.” He opened his greatcoat to reveal pockets stuffed with dried meat and hardtack biscuits and, perhaps most important, a large leather pouch of drinking water.
“How did you—” Sean started to ask.
“I slipped away, when the situation took a turn for the worse, and made quick to the galley.”
Sean nodded his approval, and I could tell he respected the man’s fast thinking. “Perhaps we can make do until another vessel passes, if we can stay on this route.”
“He’s right: there should be another by any day—we’ve not seen a ship for ages, and we know the paths they travel,” Chippy added. “Your cleverness may have saved our hides,” he said to Moses.
“And that’s not all, gents.” Moses grinned and reached out to put a hand on my back, but I found that even with the added warmth I could not stop the shivers that wracked my small, damp form. “I left that lot a little something from Jacob here as well.”
Sean looked up at the man curiously. “From Jacob?”
“Aye,” Moses went on, a glint in his eye. “Jacob’s waste pan was in my galley, and I emptied it every day, over the side. But on this day I’d not had a moment—and Jacob here ’ad quite a go of it, didn’t you, mate?” He ran his hand over my wet fur. It was an embarrassing truth—something I’d eaten, perhaps a bit of jerky tossed to me by one of the sailors, had not agreed with my guts. And my visits to the head—as we sailors call the toilet—were unpleasant, to say the least.
“Jacob’s daily is now dumped, quite fully, into the flour bin and stirred in as much as I had time to accomplish. And there was even a bit left over for their drinking barrel.”
Chippy roared with laughter, tipping his head back. He looked to the ship as it slipped out of sight. “Good on you, Moses, and you too, Tibbs,” he said with a smile. Then his eyes looked down at the form of the captain, lying still and in such calm repose that it seemed he wasn’t even breathing, with his arms crossed over his chest.
Sean, though still smiling, also looked down and patted the captain’s shoulder. “That’s a story the man will appreciate, when he wakes.”
“Aye,” Chippy said quietly.
Sean took up an oar, as if suddenly realizing the seriousness of our situation. Chippy took the other oar, and without a word the two men began to row.
Our first night in the longboat was not entirely unpleasant, as the men were still in relatively good spirits, and around sunset the captain seemed to wake for a few moments.
“Am I at sea?” he asked, turning his head as Moses tried to pour a bit of drink into his throat. “Bring me my glass!” he coughed.
“Steady on, Captain, steady on,” Moses murmured, resting the captain’s head on a makeshift pillow of his own greatcoat wrapped around a coil of rope. I stood by his head and tried to knead the fabric into as soft a bedding as possible for the captain, purring at his ear.
The captain’s eyes opened and he looked over at me, then up at the sky. Moses leaned to his ear and explained, in as concise terms as possible, our predicament, and what had become of his good ship, the Melissa Rae.
The captain seemed to take the news well. “Stay on the trade route,” he ordered, looking at Chippy. He reached carefully into the pocket of his trousers and came up with a gold circle attached to a chain. This he handed to Moses, who seemed to know just what to do with it. He pressed a small button on the top and the circle opened, a lid revealing a compass inside.
While I longed to bat the golden chain that dangled from the compass with my paws, I realized that this was not a time for play, and that I needed to focus on the issues at hand. Still, the glitter and shine that the compass threw off in the setting sunlight cast a moving sparkle on the inside of the boat, and I found myself chasing the reflected lights as they moved to and fro. The sailors seemed to take much pleasure in watching me race about the longboat. Moses tilted the golden compass to make the movements frantic, laughing with Chippy and Sean as I raced, my paws never able to catch them, until the sun moved so low as to not catch the metal of the compass any longer.
Moses shared his stores with us—pork and beef jerky and hardtack for the men, a bit of dried meat for me—and fed me water from the palm of his hand, and I curled up beside the captain, keeping my paws near his chest in the night to feel his reassuring breath moving in and out.
When I woke at dawn, Chippy and Sean were busily studying the sky and the information the compass held for them, trying to steer our boat in a direction that would put it in the path of an oncoming ship. Moses had shifted his greatcoat from under the captain, leaving him to rest on just a coil of rope for a pillow. At first, I wondered why he would take the man’s only soft comfort, but I soon realized that Moses was pulling the coat apart and trying to build a makeshift sail of its pieces. Without needle or thread, this proved a taxing chore.<
br />
I arched my back and then stretched, moving from the captain’s side to look overboard. The water was a dark, grayish blue in the dim light from the cloudy sky. I peered deep, trying to see anything within—a creature or even my own reflection. But it was boundless, with a dull surface, not sparkling and white-tipped like on a sunny, windy day. And then, all at once, I had a terrible feeling. I put my paws back down on the bottom of the longboat and looked to the sky, but the feeling did not leave me.
“Hungry, Jacob?” Moses grinned at me, tossing me a bit of dried pork. I eagerly picked up the meat with my teeth and set to gnawing it, hoping that perhaps he was right—the sick feeling in my stomach was just hunger. After eating, there was not much to do—no ship’s hold to patrol for rats, no stove to curl up behind—and so I dozed in the humid heat, my head resting on my paws, and woke again to the sounds of Chippy and Sean fighting quite furiously, not with fists but with words.
“We’ve got to ’ave one man on watch at all times, but that man needs to know how to read a compass!” Chippy growled.
“And how is one to row and steer and keep the compass as well?” Sean asked.
“I’ll have it now.” Chippy grabbed at the golden compass in Sean’s hand, just as Sean yanked his hand back with it, and then a quiet plop was heard as the golden circle hit the water overboard. The two men glared at each other in silence, unable to believe what had just occurred—our only hope of finding our way home, now lost. I leapt to the side and looked over with my paws ready to reach, but the compass was too heavy—it had already sunk below.
“Ah, chaps, that had an engraving from the man’s dead wife,” Moses said softly. We all sat silently, as if in mourning, before Sean and Chippy were at each other again, arguing in the still heat and thick air.
“Mates!” Moses finally yelled. “There are but four men, and one beast, aboard this boat. We must do our best to keep peace.” Chippy and Sean looked at him, scowling.