by Cylin Busby
I moved to stand next to my own captain’s leg, and I took in the other crew lined before me: healthy and tan, clean and well dressed all. What an appearance we must have been in contrast! Chippy with his makeshift eye covering. Moses, a small man to start with and now made even smaller by the towering strong men of the other crew, his head bald while they all had thick braids and looked many years his junior. Our captain, with his cane of island wood and severe limp from his injury, a broken man with no ship to his name. And rounding out our crew, myself: a yellow-and-white runt, with four white paws, in the presence of an enormous cat with huge black paws and the name of Leo Bear! We were castaways indeed—castoffs was more like it, unwanted and broken, one and all.
“Let’s show your men to quarters, where they can wash and have hot food to eat,” Captain Goldney finally said, his hand on Captain Natick’s shoulder again. “After a spell, we can meet in my rooms to set your story into the log, if you feel ready to do so.”
“Indeed, your kindness is most welcome, and I cannot adequately express our gratitude,” Captain Natick answered. The men turned and moved to the captain’s quarters, with the sailors leading Chippy and Moses toward the galley. I had been forgotten again, left to stand on the deck with only the massive ball of fur called Leo Bear staring at me. I felt his cold green eyes rove over my form as he paced around me slowly, this way and that, as I stood stock-still. He seemed done with his evaluation, and moved to walk away, but then, quickly, he crouched low, leaning in to hiss in my face. But I did not falter, standing my ground as the larger cat towered over me. Seeing I would not flinch, the bear cat lost interest, turned, and with a swish of his puffy tail followed his captain into the warmly lit quarters.
When I knew he was safely gone, I let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps I had passed a test of bravery and the giant cat would leave me be. I leapt up to the quarterdeck and higher still, to have a look into the windows where my captain sat with this Goldney fellow. The room was washed in a yellow light from beautiful lanterns—unlike those aboard the Melissa Rae, these had colored glass that cast a warm glow. The captain’s furnishings were equally fine, with red velvet chairs and a silky daybed lining one wall.
Captain Natick was offered a cup of tea from a silver tray in a white china cup, and took it greedily into his rough and dirty hands. I watched as he drank it eagerly, his hands shaking as he told his story—our story—to Captain Goldney, who wrote each word down with an ink pen into a leather-bound journal.
After hiding from Leo Bear for a good portion of the evening, I found my way to the forecastle and, by scent, to my mates Chippy and Moses, where they slept in hammocks among the other sailors. I leapt up to Moses and curled in beside his chest, making myself small. When his hand found my back, I purred loudly. “There, there,” Moses whispered. “You’re safe aboard, little man.”
I peered around in the dark to see if the giant cat had followed me, but he seemed the type to sleep in his captain’s quarters or maybe in my favorite spot—beneath the stove in the galley. Or perhaps, if he was the ratter his captain claimed he was, he spent his nights patrolling the hold. I cared not what he did, as long as he did it far from me. I curled in tighter against Moses, listening to his soft snore, and pledged to not leave the side of my mates until we reached home again, as I suspected Leo Bear was aching to get me alone and make mincemeat of me.
In the dawn, I was awake and on deck by four bells on the morning watch, as the sun rose over the ship. I followed Moses and Chippy into the galley, my first glance at the room. I’d not had any food for almost a day—having been forgotten the night before—and hoped that today there would be something in a bowl for me. As we entered the galley, the sailors of the Bristol stood and cheered for the men, saying, “Ho! Welcome aboard!” Sailors never clapped on a vessel, as it might anger the god of thunder, Thor, but they would happily bang metal cups with silverware and make all manner of noise otherwise when the occasion arose. It was nice to feel that we belonged, but lodgings were tight and chairs were hard to come by. Two able-bodied men stood and gave way to my mates, and I leapt onto Moses’s lap at the first opportunity.
“Our Leo can’t be too fond of him,” one of the sailors laughed, pointing at me.
Another chimed in, “He’s the size of some of our rats, he is! Is he a regular cat, or some special breed?”
“He’s just small—a runt,” Chippy grumbled, chewing on a hardtack biscuit that the cook offered him. I could tell he was not too happy to be put in a position to defend me. I couldn’t help but wonder if Chippy might like me better if I were the size of Leo Bear.
“He’s still a kit,” Moses added, patting my back. “And his journey has not been an easy one, to be sure.”
“Aye, tell us how you came to find yourselves in that longboat,” a young sailor said, and Moses launched into a short version of our tale, starting with the storm that hit the Melissa Rae and ending with our escape through the breakers of the island. I knew that by forenoon watch our story would be all over the ship, passed from sailor to sailor, with embellishments along the way, no doubt. I puffed up with pride when Moses mentioned my parts of the story—how I had warned of bad weather and the captain had turned the boat about, finding the Bristol in the end.
The group of sailors left to work their shift, leaving just my mates and myself in the galley along with the cook, who was called Colin. He was as round as Moses was thin, with a bushy head of blond hair that would not stay in a braid. When he tied on his smock over his clothes, his belly looked so high and round, I wondered if he was hiding a whole barrel beneath the cloth. “How would you care for a bit of grub, little one?” Colin offered me a piece of dried meat and a bowl of salty broth, which I quickly pounced upon.
“For one so small, he has a certain appetite!” Colin laughed, watching me. I noticed that Moses was already at work clearing the table and setting up washing, as he had done aboard the Melissa Rae. “That’s my duty, sir; you can rest,” Colin said, motioning for him to sit.
“As glad as I am to find myself back in a fine galley, it is my pleasure,” Moses explained, and the Bristol cook nodded his understanding. Together the men washed and dried the cookware at the counter while I finished my meal. While they worked, they spoke of ways to make supplies last on a long journey, and how to put together a decent meal for the sailors. It was quickly decided that Moses’s expertise would come in handy as we neared port and ran lower and lower on supplies. He and Colin would take on cooking together, and were happy to do so.
While I was distracted chewing on my salt pork, Chippy left the galley and went up on deck. I found him at the foremast, inspecting some issue with the stays. As I watched, he explained a repair to the young sailors gathered round him, then asked for tools to be brought.
While Chippy made repairs above, and Moses set to work below, both captains came on deck to take the air, walking in stride. Captain Goldney looked even more splendid in the light of day than he had the evening before, in a trim navy suit and shined shoes. Though Captain Natick leaned heavily on his cane and his limp was quite pronounced, it was clear that he had made an effort with his appearance as well, his trousers brushed clean, his tattered jacket over a fresh shirt—perhaps borrowed from Goldney.
Captain Goldney inspected the work of his sailors with a critical eye. Though the deck looked shipshape to me, nothing seemed to meet his expectations. “Whose work is this?” he yelled, checking the paint on the jolly boat and seeing some brushstrokes along the side. When he found the young sailor responsible, he handled him roughly by the arm and ordered him to “do over what you could not do right, and stay on deck through the next watch.”
The boy kept his eyes down as he accepted his hazing, saying only, “Aye, Captain.”
They took no notice of me as I sat beside Chippy while he went about his work, though Captain Natick stopped to inquire as to how he’d slept and if he was faring well. “I am well, Cap; good to be aboard again,” Chippy answered.
/> “It is indeed,” Captain Natick agreed. He seemed aloof and distant, not as he had been these past weeks. It took me but a moment to realize the change and why it had come about: The captain of any ship was above his men; they were not his mates, not his friends or comrades. They worked for him, and he was the master. All of that had altered when we were set to sea in the longboat, our misfortune being a great equalizer. Then we were one and the same, battling the elements on the sea and land. But now we were back aboard a sailing ship, and Captain Goldney obviously ran his crew tightly. Captain Natick had to fall in line with him, no matter what had transpired aboard our longboat—our roles from the Melissa Rae were resumed, as if they had never been broken.
I realized, too, what this meant for me. I was a ship’s cat—and just as Chippy showed his abundant skills at woodworking, and Moses his in the galley, to earn their keep, I should show mine. I stepped away from Chippy while he continued his task and moved to the front of the ship, out the bow to the cathead. There I took in the sea below me as it rushed by. Chip was right, it was good to be aboard again. Though this ship and crew were different from the Melissa Rae, just having sails above and sea beneath made me at home, made me feel myself again.
I closed my eyes and took in my senses, trying to feel the approaching weather. After a moment or two nothing came to me—no sick lurch in my stomach, no shiver up my paws. We had fine sailing weather, and if my sense was right, it would continue for days steady on.
I opened my eyes again and had the shock of my life, almost tumbling overboard, when I saw that Leo Bear had come up alongside me, silently. The large cat stood close by, watching me intently through squinted eyes. Perhaps he was wondering at what I was doing. From what I had overheard he was strictly a ratter, and did not possess my skills for reading the sky and waves. Being raised as I was, by my gifted mother, I had assumed all sea cats could predict the weather for their mates, and give fair warning. But I now realized that while Leo Bear was large and strong, he had not been born on a ship, as I had. He was probably intended to be a cat for laps, with his long, luxurious fur and handsome looks, and not meant for the waves. I wondered why his captain had brought him on board at all, other than to catch rats (which any cat can do). Before I could ponder it much longer, Leo turned, swished his fluffy tail at me, and walked away. He went only a few paces before he stopped and turned, as if watching to see if I had followed. He waited, glaring, until I left my post and fell tentatively into step behind him.
The big tabby led me, as I somehow knew he would, to the hatch of the hold. Though I did not shiver at the thought of the weather, I did now, looking down into the dark dampness of below. Did the large cat mean to lead me to his lair? Leo Bear went down first, fast and easy. I followed behind him, getting a feel for the wooden ladder that led down into the underbelly of the ship.
The hold here was much like that of the Melissa Rae, packed from wall to wall with crates and parcels. But one sniff told me this was not gunpowder and rolled cloth she was holding. The ship had been to Spain and parts of northern Africa, and she carried back to England a cargo from there—delicious-smelling teas and spices, finely woven rugs, and ivory. Leo Bear disappeared into the darkness in front of me as I sniffed at crates and boxes filled with scents that had never crossed my nose before.
There was one smell in the hold that was pungent, and overwhelmed everything else—a scent of cold, of wet. It reminded me, a bit, of a fast-moving, eel-like creature I had encountered on the island. This, Moses had told me, was a snake, a very dangerous critter, and I should steer clear of it. Though it had looked like not much more than an eel on land, I’d obeyed his warnings.
I looked up to see Leo Bear perched by a strange dome-shaped package; I did not recognize what it was. He sat atop a wooden crate, next to a cage of close-set golden bars. The cage itself was a thing of beauty, so fine were the bars, and set so near each other that they sparkled in the dim light of the hold like rays from the sun.
I leapt up to get a closer look and was startled to see things moving inside, sliding about—like slippery tails or eels, only these were thinner, sleeker, and not under the waves. Snakes! Unlike the one small snake I had seen on the island, these were huge, and a whole horrid pile of the things, writhing about, I could not even count how many.
Leo Bear looked at the cage proudly, then batted at the bars with his paws. The movement seemed to motivate the creatures inside, and they slid close to us, mouths open, hissing. I leapt back in fear, but Leo stayed on, pawing at the cage, perhaps knowing that the snakes could not reach him. They lunged but hit the gold bars from inside—hissing and spitting all the while.
How horrible they were! I spun on my paws and raced back to the ladder and up to the light of the warm deck, away from the darkness and the creatures below. I had no desire to see them again. It did not seem as though Leo Bear needed any help with ratting, so I decided to keep to above deck for the remainder of the journey—I had seen enough of the Bristol’s hold to give me nightmares.
The next few days aboard the Bristol passed without incident, as I stayed within reach of my mates every moment, and as far from Leo Bear as I could manage. Chippy worked with the Bristol crew and proved himself as the skilled carpenter we all knew he was. As this ship had no carpenter of her own, Chippy made repairs that were wanting, and fixed the makeshift work that other sailors had done along the way. There seemed to be no competition there; the Bristol sailors respected his work and did not criticize.
Moses spent his days in the galley, trading yarns and getting along quite well with the Bristol cook, Colin. They were as two old mates, one lean and one plump, and turned out meals that the sailors talked up and down the ship as excellent and well flavored. Moses seemed happy again, though I never did see him repeat the trick with his tattoos that he had done for us when we were on the longboat. I wanted him to make the mermaid dance and show Leo Bear how delightful my mates were, despite our shabby appearance, but he did not. Perhaps it brought back too many bad memories, best forgotten. When I was sure that Leo was not by the stove, being near Moses in the galley was my favorite spot. I curled up there and rested, listening to the talk of the sailors as they came and went for meals and tea. And Colin usually found a pork rind or fish soup for me, adding, “He’s not much for catching his own, is he?”
Moses shook his head. “He was just learning the ways of a ship’s cat when we were put out…” He trailed off, as if to talk about that day was hard. “He was weaned on fish-head soup and has a taste for it—never did take to vermin.”
“No matter. He’s a handsome cat, and truth be told”—Colin dropped his voice—“I prefer him to the captain’s.”
Moses raised his brows but made no comment as Colin went on. “That ball of fur is not a friendly cat like yours here. And he leaves a wake of hair wherever he goes! I’ve had it in my dish before. This fine young fellow”—he motioned to me—“neat and clean, no muss and no fuss. And no hissing, either.”
When the men filed in for meals, I listened to their talk and learned much about the history of the Bristol and what sort of ship she was. The crew was quite young, having only been out on one or two trips under the captain. The ship herself had been hired from England to the north of Africa, and back again. She had sometimes been used, I heard with shock, to move illegal cargo between the continents as well, going round to America before heading back to England. I noted that Chippy and Moses made no comment when this fact came up; Chippy only quietly ate his grub and kept his eyes on his plate. Perhaps he did not want to judge the men who had taken us in, saved us from the sea.
When I spied Leo entering the galley, I would quickly leap to my feet, move around him in a big circle, and dart up to the deck. If Chippy was not about, I would jump to the quarterdeck to spy in the windows of the captain’s quarters. When they were open, I could see what the two captains were about. On one such afternoon, at about four bells, I found them tinkering with a metal device shaped like a V with m
aps spread all around them.
I listened through the open window as they spoke. “I believe we were off the coast of Spain, perhaps a bit further out than the Azores,” Captain Natick said. He held a magnifying glass over the maps, looking closely at the charts of sea and land.
“How can that be? There are no lands yet discovered west of those, unless…” Captain Goldney held his metal measuring device over the maps and took down some notes. “If you strongly believe that this was your location, I have no answer but to suspect you and your men found new land.”
The captain called for Chippy to enter the quarters, and he did, holding his hat in his hands. He, too, looked over the maps and consulted Captain Goldney’s device, but the men could seem to come to little conclusion. I nestled down next to the window, listening to their conversation and the wind in the sails, dreaming of our island. What if we had discovered a new land? Would my mates recall that it was I, on that night, who’d spied it first? And would I be given the credit for it? The men had told stories before of great discoveries, of lands and oceans named for the men who first found them. An island, perhaps called Tibbs…I curled up and soon found myself dozing, dreaming of how my mother would beam with pride—her son, an explorer of new lands!
I woke to the sound of hissing, my eyes darting open. I expected to see Leo Bear standing over me, as he often did when I was asleep, watching me, studying my every move. But he was not there; I was alone, still next to the window of the captain’s quarters, in the dim light of late afternoon. The weather was fine, and the wind strong in our sails. Perhaps I had imagined the sound, fearful as I was of Leo. I stood to stretch and move from the shady side of the quarterdeck to finish my nap in the sun when I took in a strange sight. An eel was laid before my paws on the deck. At least, I thought it to be an eel. But as I lowered my nose, it lunged at me!