The Finger of God: a Thalassia novel

by Patrick McClafferty

  ~~~

  Shuddering, he opened his eyes and looked around. Something stank. He sniffed and looked down. It was him. He was still lying on the three cushions, but now they were covered with filth and worse. He didn’t remember taking off his pants, and his smallclothes were covered with the results of days of diarrhea. On a thin branch of a tree above his head, Hedric watched a small bird hop daintily from branch to branch, finally stopping at a wide upturned leaf. There it drank its fill before taking wing. The boy’s eyes widened as he stumbled to the leafy cup. In his haste and unsteadiness, he bumped the leaf and spilled the little remaining water, but he knew where to find it now. Within an hour he’d found six leaves, each yielding up a full cup of fresh water. The last cup he’d used to wash the stench from his body as best he could. Four days later, the remains of his clothes rinsed in the river, body rinsed clean in fresh water with a stomach full of berries and beetles, Hedric Schwendau, once prince of his people, now headed into the forest nearly naked, like the basest pauper.

  Three days of walking later, feet sore and desperately hungry, he found the fruit tree. Like a wild animal, he stopped at the edge of a small clearing and stared at it. The round fruits were a bright orange, and Hedric could feel the saliva building in his mouth. Something THAT beautiful couldn’t be bad for him, he reasoned. He circled the field slowly, watching for predators. He’d seen their tracks in the soft soil.

  He focused on a particularly shiny, lushly ripe piece of fruit hanging from a low branch. He reached a hand out for it. A small four legged gray blur burst out of the bushes, scampered up the tree, out on the limb and nipped his hand—hard enough to draw a spot of blood, but not hard enough to cause serious damage. Hedric jerked his hand away. The small beast was standing in front of the fruit, back arched, tail straight, and it was hissing, staring at him with intelligent green eyes.

  When Hedric tried to reach around the animal to get to the fruit, the thing scooted to intercept him, and bit him again. After the fourth attempt, and the fourth bite, Hedric gave up and backed off.

  “Why are you doing this?” he mumbled aloud. He’d been talking to himself for days now. “Are you trying to tell me that this fruit is bad for me?” His stomach chose that moment to let out a loud squeak, and he rubbed his empty belly sadly. “I guess I’ll have to wait then.”

  The animal eyed him with a tilted head, then jumped down from the branch and headed for the woods. It stopped after a few feet and looked back, clearly meaning for Hedric to follow.

  “Oh why not!” The boy threw his hands in the air. “I’m crazy anyway.” Satisfied that he was following, the beast led Hedric deeper into the woods, finally stopping in front of a tall, heavily leafed bush. The animal reached a paw up, and pushed aside a low branch. The bush was loaded with heavy purple fruit. Hedric pushed the branch further. “Well, I’ll be.” He plucked a ripe fruit and bit into it, savoring the tart sweet taste. Purple juice dripped down his chin but he didn’t care. “I’d never have found this if it weren’t for you.” He said, addressing the animal. “Thank you, and for saving my life too.”

  Three days later the striped gray animal was still with him. Hedric pulled down the wide cupped leaves and provided them both with fresh water; the beast provided the food. Hedric was sitting with his back to a tree watching the clouds flow far above the treetops, when a rustle in the grass caught his attention. The small creature crouched in the grass by his side, and was very still. The tip of its long tail just barely twitched.

  The tops of grassy leaves trembled as something moved toward them. From the stories he’d heard, Hedric knew that it was a snake as soon as it raised its flatish, triangular head, and regarded him with dead black eyes. There was a dull rattle of dry brown scales, and the boy could smell his own rank fear. The triangular head shot forward, but the little animal was faster, blocking the strike with its own furry body.

  “No!” Hedric cried as the small furred animal fell, twitching. The boy snatched up the heavy stick he always carried now, and brought it down with a whistling crack on the snake’s back. He could hear the viper’s bones break, and the long creature with diamond shaped patterns on its body was suddenly thrashing in the grass, a menace no longer. Hedric dropped his stick and picked up the small body, cradling it more gently than anything in his life. “No…” He whispered, tears running hot down his cheeks. The small animal twitched, and then bit him on the thumb. Hedric sat frozen, unable to move. A heartbeat went by, ten heartbeats. The small body in his arms sighed once, and went limp. Hedric could see a smudge of his own blood on the side of the animal’s slender muzzle. He was about to set the body on the ground by his side when the voice spoke to him.

  The boy froze in shock. He had heard stories about this from his mother, Uncle Padraig and Uncle Gorku, but he’d thought that they were just that, stories. He quickly re-evaluated what he’d heard and discarded so long ago.

  As he replied in his mind, he could tell that the presence that had moved into his bloodstream was evaluating its new home.

  The voice was like his mother’s only deeper, and somehow calmer, and much more formal.

  < I’ve known about your kind my whole life. So did my mother and father, for that matter.>

 

  Hedric interrupted.

  There was an embarrassed pause.

 

  Hedric felt a wrench as he thought of the people who loved him, and how badly he’d behaved toward them.

  He asked, to cover his own embarrassment, his own shame.

  There was a light laugh.

 

  Dawn said, somewhat dryly.

  The boy retorted with some anger.

  Dawn’s voice was speculative.

 

 

 

 
 

  There was a note of regret and loss in Dawn’s voice, and Hedric felt badly that the cat had died to save a clumsy spoiled human boy. The other voice whispered softly.

  Some days later they heard the mournful echo of a steam whistle through the woods. Hedric thought that it was a monster at first, but Dawn recognized the sound immediately.

  There was a reluctant note in the boy’s thoughts.

 

  Hedric sighed. He shuffled his feet in the dirt, looked at the ruin of his shoes.

  There was a note of command in Dawn’s thought. He ran.

  Hedric had never seen anything like it before. Two hundred and eighteen feet long and thirty three feet wide, the boat had a large mast forward, a much smaller mast in the rear. Between the two a tall funne
l squatted, belching thick black smoke. What was the most amazing thing to the boy, however, were the two huge paddle wheels, one on each side of the hull, blades digging into the soupy water, driving the craft forward. He could see men jostling about the deck in apparent confusion as the boat prepared to get under way.

 

  The boy skidded to a halt on the muddy river bank and started to wave his arms, shouting, “Hello, the boat!” He called at the top of his lungs. Heads on the deck turned in his direction. “Don’t leave me!” Hands were pointing now, people running.

  “Can ye swim out te us, lad?” A man’s voice called faintly.

  “Ah.” Hedric hesitated.

  Dawn told him sternly.

  He replied without thinking as he jumped. The water was just as cold, oily and as smelly as he remembered, but his lean body cut through it like a knife, with swift sure strokes of his arms. He thought, as the distance to the boat dwindled.

  There was laughter in her thoughts.

 

  She commented in way of an answer. The boat was almost within reach, and his arm and leg muscles were beginning to burn. Dawn said solemnly.

 

  Hands lifted him out of the water, dripping, and set him on the deck where he lay coughing. The deck quivered under him, and the great side-wheels began to turn again, biting into the slimy water. A gust of smoke blew across him, and he blinked his stinging eyes.

  “Yell soon enough get used te that.” A rough voice said as hands drew him to his feet. “Are ye well?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve been marooned here for weeks living on berries. Thank the gods you found me.”

  The big man looking down on him frowned. He tugged his high-collared black coat a little straighter. “There be only one god here, youngling. We don’t take to that heathen nonsense. Now, what be your name?”

  Hedric thought quickly and decided that he really didn’t like this man much. “Tad Swimming, your excellency. That’s what I’m called.” He heard a brief laugh in the back of his mind.

  “Swimming eh?” The heavy brows furrowed some more. “Well, ye certainly can swim, an that’s a fact.” He gestured to two sailors. “Mancon and Saxe. Take him to the stern, hose him off and make sure he uses soap. Get him some clean clothes.” He grimaced at what Hedric was wearing. “Throw those overboard. There’s a small bunk under the main stairwell. He can sleep there. After he’s seen that, ye can take him down to the engines.” The man’s grin turned nasty. “He can work with Chief Engineer McFarlain.” The grin never reached his dark eyes.

  “Can I get something to eat? I’ve…”

  “No, swimmer boy. God has given us enough fer two meals a day. Ye eat tonight, with the rest o us.”

  “But…”

  “You want I should throw ye back?”

  Hedric bit his tongue until he tasted the copper of his blood. “No, sir.”

  “Git te work, then.” The man’s chest seemed to swell. “I’m Zebediah Gralt, the first mate of this ship. You can call me Mister Gralt. Welcome aboard the Golden Fleece, finest steamship in all Pangea.”

  Chapter 2

  David Saxe, a sullen taciturn sailor with a livid purple scar that ran across his right cheek, led Hedric down a narrow companionway to the steaming, clanking engine room. Smoky haze burned his eyes, and the rancid oily smell in the air made his empty stomach clench painfully. A shape, roughly the same dimensions as a stove, was bent over the wheezing engine, while a smaller shape, no more recognizable than the first, stood by with a small can of oil in one hand, and a tool in the other. The boy squinted in the dim light. The second shape held a screwdriver in the other hand. He’d asked his Uncle Padraig about one back on the Daedalus.

  “This is yer new assistant.” Saxe said gruffly, pushing Hedric into the room. Two heads turned.

  “Scrawny, ain’t he?” The bigger shape muttered in a female voice. “What’s cher name, boy?”

  Hedric’s temper flared for a moment. “I’m not used to being called boy.” He said in his best imperious voice.

  Dawn murmured from somewhere in the depths of his mind.

  The backhand came from out of the blue, as far as Hedric could see. The back of the ham sized hand caught him just under the jaw and lifted him off his feet, slamming him against the engine room wall. Everything went dark for a moment.

  “Didn’t kill the little bugger, did ye?” There was a grim laughter in Saxe’s faint voice.

  “Naw.” The woman replied, unconcerned. “Ye can toss little boys around a good bit, b’fer they die. Look at Doander there.” She gestured to the silent shape behind her. “I hit him plenty, and he’s still alive.”

  “Yeah, but he ain’t said a word in the last year. I think you broke him some.”

  “So I like my quiet.” She shouted over the clatter of the engine. “You, dog!” Doander looked up. “Throw a bucket of water on his majesty there, and put him to work cleaning the floors. I likes a clean engine room.” She spat on the floor. “A clean engine room is a happy engine room, they say.” The big squat form turned away, cackling.

  The mute boy filled a wooden pail from a barrel in the corner, but stopped when Hedric sat up. He stared at Hedric with stricken eyes, and then studied the pail he carried.

  Hedric wiped the tears out of his eyes, met the gaze, and whispered, “You have to throw the water on me because she said to, don’t you?” The boy nodded, and Hedric gritted his teeth. “Then do it. No sense in both of us getting in trouble.” He could see the relief cross the other boy’s face. “I’m ready.”

  The water was lukewarm, and Hedric found that he really didn’t mind the second bath, especially after so long in the mud. “Brrrrrr.” He shivered out loud, totally for effect. “That was cold.” He winked at Doander, and saw the boy smile, before he turned away.

  “Too bad ye gots is new clothes all wet, Bet.” Saxe looked bored.

  “Eel work em dry, Davie.” She stood glaring down on Hedric. “Yell mop the floor now, an when yer done I’ll start teachin’ ye the workings of the engine. Me apprentice here should do that job, but since he’s broken.” The engineer grinned at Saxe. “I’ll jest have te do it meself.” The chief engineer turned her dark-eyed glare on Hedric, as a grinning Saxe left the steamy room. “I am Chief Engineer Bethany McFarlain. My friends call me Bet. You may call me ‘Chief Engineer.’ I don’t care who you are or where you came from. I will call you boy. You will reply to that name or I will beat you till my dog here.” She gave Doander a condescending pat on the head. “Looks smart next to you. Or until you die. Have I made meself clear?”

  “Yes, Chief Engineer.” Hedric mumbled through clenched teeth.

  “Good. I changed me mind. You can mop the floor later. Right now you come over here while I try and pound a few facts into that thick head of yers. This here be a very ancient design for an engine. They says it’s thousands of years old, but I’ve me doubts.” She rested her hand lovingly on the machine, and Hedric noted that everything was made from either ceramic or wood. “They calls it a walking beam engine.” She began touching parts. “This here is the walking beam, these things here be the connecting rods, the main displacement chamber, the piston and piston rods…” As she talked, Hedric found himself drawn to the intricacies and simple beauty of the design. “We had us special gears made.” She pointed to a set of heavy ceramic gears, the largest fully three feet in diameter, and the smallest just a few inches. “With these we can engage or disengage the side-wheels from the drive, and adjust the speed o’ the paddles. Since it moves power from the engine to the side-wheels, we calls it the transmission.”r />
  As she leaned over the whirring gears, Hedric noted that the edge of her ragged coat came dangerously close to the gears on several occasions. When he shot the other boy a quick glance, he saw that Doander was watching the scene with the intent eyes of a hawk. He was mute, not stupid.

  Chief Engineer McFarlain straightened, stretching her back, and missed the look of disappointment that crossed Doander’s face. “That be enough fer today, boy.” She reached a callused hand into a shadowed spot behind a pipe, and removed a bottle, deftly unscrewed the top, and took a long drink before she resealed it and put it away. “More lessons tomorrer.” She was slurring her words slightly. “Mops the floor, boyo, and do a good job. Dog, yer make sure.” She let out a nasty little laugh. “A dog and his boy.” Still cackling to herself, the engineer left the hot noisy room.

  Doander reached into a corner and removed two old, well-worn mops, and refilled the water bucket. Hedric grinned. “If we both work we both get out of here sooner, right?” Doander nodded solemnly. “Do they just leave the engine at night?” Hedric was putting his back to the first real manual labor he’d ever done. Doander shook his head, and pointed to a chalkboard on the wall, where there was a crude calendar and a list of names. Hedric nodded his understanding, wiping a trickle of sweat from his face. McFarlain had been right. His sodden clothes were almost dry. “Other shifts come on after us, right?” The other boy nodded.

  Hedric grumbled in his mind.

  Dawn sounded dubious.

  When Hedric reached out his hand, Doander backed away, fearfully. “It’s all right.” Hedric reached out. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He rested his hand lightly on Doander’s bare arm and felt the boy flinch.