by J P Nelson
Impressed, Sark remarked, “Lieutenant, these are better than our own charts.”
Albri and J’Hene just looked at each other.
Redding pointed out the course, “We followed him this far … an-n-nd … lost him here briefly. Then found him again here … lost him once more here … found him the final time here. We would have had him, but for a storm followed by heavy fog …” He looked to the commodore and added, “Sir, I have not seen these southern islands on any map,” glancing to Liam, then Albri he concluded, “but I believe his destination was somewhere down around here …”
There was a period of quiet, then Jann Raul remarked with a nod of self-affirmation, “I know where he is going.”
As if on cue, everyone looked at him at the same moment.
“No, I really do.”
Pointing down, south and west of Robinto to a small mark on the map he added, “Presittorn Isle.”
Albri answered, “Jann Raul, no one we know has been there in years. It is uninhabited.” He glanced around, “There is said to be an archway allowing entrance to a cove on the inside, but that is a myth. The last ship known to even venture that way, sailed around the entire island looking for that archway, and it was not there. The coast was all sheer cliff, all the way around.”
Albri squinted one eye, but Liam looked directly at Jann Raul, then a sly grin came across Old Uncle’s face as Albri declared in a firm tone, “As I said … no one we know has been there in years …”
“Pop? That is not exactly true.”
Of a sudden, J’Hene’s face registered understanding.
J’Hene demanded, “Jann-Raul-JHA’LEY! What possessed you to wander to that wretched place? The water is comparable to the Primrose Gauntlet east of Yat’mir …”
“It … seemed a good idea at the time, mom. And the water does not become angry until sailing to the south.”
She slapped a hand to the table …
Then the commodore interjected in what clearly was a family argument, “Ahem … with all due respect, please. We have an issue at hand, here.” With all his attention directed at Jann Raul he asked, “Please explain yourself.”
“Well sir, I wanted to see if that archway might be underwater, as if the island were sinking and---”
“That, Mister Jha’Ley, is not what I meant.” Calmly, patiently, but in a tone of one who commands many, Sark made his point, “You were going to suggest an idea, an idea which may assist the apprehension of an enemy of Vedoa, in whose navy you may gain commission.”
Again, all was quiet and Jann Raul felt a surreal air overcome him. A trickle of cold sweat ran down his back and his brow became damp. Of a sudden, he wondered if anyone else had noticed how hot the room had become.
Directly across and leaning over the table was First Officer, Lieutenant Redding. Just beside him to the left was Commodore Sark. Pop was to the right of the lieutenant. Mom stood beside pop. Commander Bachi of the Cortain and his sailing master, G’Tabb had stepped closer to the table. Behind them all, smoking his pipe, was Old Uncle looking proud. All were waiting …
Old Uncle gave Jann Raul a resolute nod and a wink of the eye.
“Sir, based on the information and course you have outlined, I believe Mitchell is navigating off of a hunch and a hope based on a map drawn by Captain James John. I have seen a copy of this map and it was drawn about one hundred ten years ago, the premise is it led to a treasure on Presittorn Isle.
“This map is false, but you would not know it unless you had been to the island. The map indicates the archway and passage into a large area lush with vegetation and fruit trees, a beautiful beach and what have you.
“None of that is there---”
The commodore interrupted, “And you know this, how?”
“I found the opening, sir, and it leads to a large, rocky area with no signs of vegetation, dirt, or anything. Just a home for sea life.”
Redding asked, “You say you found the opening?”
“Yes sir, but it was something more than …” he thought for a moment, trying to calculate in his mind, “… I would say one hundred ten to twenty fathoms below.”
Redding’s eyebrows went up in amazement. Mom’s eyes went wide. Pop’s mouth opened as if about to say something, then paused and studied his son as if seeing him for the first time. The commander showed a look of disbelief. Old Uncle was smiling.
Sark was not interested in diving depths, regardless of how remarkable the claim, he had something else on his mind, “Where did you see this map?”
“It was inside a sealed tube in a sunken wreck I found. I believe the crew was looking for that treasure.” Glancing around the room, Jann Raul added, “I saw another copy last year in a shop over to Sherrils Island.” He could not resist a grin, “The vendor tried to sell it to me.”
Sark was after something more, “What does this do for us?”
“Sir, if Mitchell has set course for Presittorn Isle, as I believe he has, and if your timetable is accurate, which I believe it is, if we leave right now I can get you there before he does.”
Commander Bachi said to the commodore, “But sir, this story is outrageous. Furthermore, our vessels and Marines are at Sherrils Island. We would need---”
Sark held up his hand to the commander as he watched Jann Raul, “You have something more, Mister Jha’Ley?”
Now … let’s pause the tale for a moment … right here I need to make an interjection. Every country likes to think well of their fighting forces. But among those who know, especially educated scribes, when you see the word marine in all small letters, it could be a reference to any of the varied types of marine in the world. The word marine always indicates a connection of one kind or another to the water, often military, but not always.
When you see the word Marine with the first letter capitalized, it is always a direct reference to the Vedoan Marines, or in one later instance an offshoot of the Vedoan Marines, which are considered the elite of the elite of marines in Orucean World History. It is even pronounced differently … always with a bit of emphasis on the M.
Only one other military class is treated with the same respect, the Gahjurahnge, called Ranger by the modern world, of the Dsh’Tharr and Itahro Elves. Like Marines, there are rangers, which are not common anyway, and then there are Rangers. Even among similar groups, Rangers and Marines are regarded as classes of their own.
… just so you know.
“Yes sir, I can get you there quicker in the Sangora.” Quickly he added, “Captain Mitchell is a pirate, correct? He likes to mutilate, correct? He knows your vessels, mine is large enough to handle several of us without challenge and if we lay correctly, he will see us a prize, a morsel out in the middle of nowhere.”
The commander asked with apparent misgiving, “And what will we do for weapons?”
“Sir, I know these waters. I know where the reefs are that rest just beneath the waves. I will lead him to chase, sir, I will lead him to dash his vessel upon the rocks. He and his heinous crew can be judged by the sea.”
Jann Raul’s gaze burned deep into the commander’s eyes as he added, “The sea life within Presittorn? It is dominated by a species we call Scorpion Ray. As soon as they realize there is easy meat in their territory, they will become your best weapon.”
The commodore remarked, “Dashing her hull among the reefs may not be so simple a task. The Luscious is an experimental ship specifically designed to explore the northern waters. Her hull is reinforced and tempered to withstand impact with sea ice.”
Albri was intrigued, “Really?”
“That is the intent, and I suspect her toughness made her capture an act of premeditation on Mitchell’s part. We estimate he is running with a total crew of fifteen to sixteen, all of them seasoned of sea and sword.” To Jann Raul he said, “Catch them, we may, but it would do well to expect direct combat.
“To recapture the ship is preferred, and to take Mitchell alive is best.” To Jann Raul he quickly asked, “How soon
can your vessel be ready to cast off?”
With a long direct look at the commander, Jann Raul replied, “She is ready now, sir. I was preparing a jaunt just as you arrived to dock.”
Sark was well known for quick thinking and working on the fly. He took no time to dally and relied on his instincts. Handing a pouch to G’Tabb he instructed, “Quickly, acquire some missile and range weapons. We are back on the chase.
“Mister Jha’Ley, we have four more men. Can your vessel accommodate?”
“Yes sir, it will be a bit of a squeeze, but it can be done.”
“Then let us be on our way.”
Old Uncle was curious and asked, “Why be ye in diah straihts to take the scodger, wou’t not be best ta leave ‘im tuh sea?”
With great show of respect Sark answered, “I am not here under direct orders, my dear captain. I am here on my own accord. Word of Mitchell’s attack came to me from the discovering captain. I sent word to Her Majesty as we brushed by Port Oliver.”
He hesitated a moment before continuing, it became clear he was holding in a mixture of emotions, “The slain captain is the favored nephew to the queen, and my protégé. The Luscious was his first ship’s command.
“It was my intent to not only recover the vessel and bring an end to a scourge of the sea, but to bring Mitchell to justice at my queen’s pleasure. I fear returning with neither will bring judgment harshly upon me.”
J’Hene suddenly said, “Albri?! What are you doing?”
Removing a crossed pair of dao-swords from the wall he said, “Our son is venturing the Winds of Torsham, and I shall be beside him.”
A gruff voice added, “An’ I, me lads!” Old Uncle was already at the door making way to his own cart. He paused and turned for a quick remark, “Thar be weepons ta me villa …”
Albri called to the spry and quick moving Liam, “I should expect no less!” Tossing one dao-sword to his son, he asked, “One hundred twenty fathoms?”
Jann Raul deftly caught the curved blade and replied with a smile, “Yes, pop, one hundred twenty fathoms, if not more.”
With a curt nod of his head, Commodore Sark’s voice was profound, “Mister Jha’Ley, we are following you.”
With a quick turn out the door, Jann Raul led the way to the Sangora. Beside him was his father with Old Uncle directly behind.
Chapter 7
“WINDS OF TORSHAM” … the phrase is traced to the dreaded Torsham’s Vault. Along with the V’Pohra Tanzhi, Primrose Gauntlet and Sh’Tynn’s Laver, the Vault is regarded as one of the most deadly places of the sea. Located northwest of the Kohntia Mountains and in the midst of the Meinkutt Sea, torrents of wind said to cut worse than the water rages there. An active volcano beneath the surface is said to keep the water from freezing, preventing the frozen Torsham’s Isle from ever expanding. Many vessels have been lost trying to access the huge seal, walrus and nosell populations which thrive there.
When folk use the phrase, Winds of Torsham, it is usually a reference to an extreme condition, most often for the worst. Torsham’s Vault, of itself, is associated with near certain death, but also a place of locked away hidden treasure.
Although confident in his son’s skills in and on the water, Albri was certain Jann Raul was not appreciating the magnitude of danger immanent in dealing with a skilled pirate, let alone one such as Captain Mitchell, as well as navigating those treacherous waters. And if Scorpion Rays were involved …
Albri inhaled, held it, and exhaled deeply; this could go all kinds of bad in a powerful way. Also, the father knew of Sark and held nothing but respect for the man. But this was his son, and he was not sure of the commodore’s willingness to sacrifice a lad to take the pirate’s head for a prize. Maybe, maybe not, but Albri had seen it done, more than once.
Jann Raul was excited, and he took the horse's reins of the wagon and snapped them into a canter as they travelled quickly for town. Albri was pleased to hear the commander make discussion with his fellows. This would be the ideal time to barrage the lad with questions and observe his skill, not only at the academic level, but under intense pressure as well. Haste was the action, but even so it would require many hours to intercept their quarry, should they be successful to any measure.
As soon as they made the docks, Albri suggested to G’Tabb, “You might do to acquire such mantles as an island sailor would wear.” When the sailing master glanced to the commodore inquiringly, Albri added, “We want to appear as fishermen, not officers in uniform he will recognize.”
Sark nodded his agreement and G’Tabb hurried on his way, even as Redding made his way to collect their crewmen.
Jann Raul did not notice, but Albri did, Sark and Bachi hesitated not and lent immediate hand to final preparations for casting off. The officers said no words, but it was clear in their demeanor they held a high regard for the Sangora’s overall state of being. The commander, who at first seemed dubious of the lad, appeared to be changing his mind by the moment.
A cart with crossbows and gear pulled up as a vendor and G’Tabb jumped down. Almost at same instant came the lieutenant and crew.
The commodore said in easy earshot of his men, “Mister Jha’Ley, three mates and a sailor for your discretion.”
Then Old Uncle’s cart circled around the corner. Some townsfolk were taking notice and were beginning to gather.
With ease belying his age, Captain Liam jumped down from his seat and whistled to a boy standing by watching and tossed him a coin, “Give ‘em oats an’ a rub, we’ll be back shohtly …” Then a curt nod of his head to the sailor to come over to the cart’s tailgate, “We may be a’need of these,” as he hefted one of three specially built crossbows in his left hand.
Moving quickly with a basket hilt cutlass and matching short sword on his belt, Liam then grabbed a long bundle with his right hand, “They be hah’poons. Aye, they may be of good use this ven’tua.”
Albri was shaking his head, “I think you may be enjoying yourself, Old Uncle.”
Commodore Sark was pleased, “Let us be under way.”
Jann Raul was not used to such, but he hesitated only a moment. Doling assignments and taking the wheel, the Sangora set out to sea.
If evidence of Jann Raul’s understanding of seamanship was required by the officers, they received it plenty-fold at the offset. From their position, they needed to sail about Claver’s Horn and through several reef clusters before bearing south-by-southwest toward Presittorn Isle.
It is not uncommon for young lieutenants to gain a bit of ego when learning to command. These officers enjoyed Jann Raul’s casual and relaxed manner in directing his small crew, yet he did so with authority and the confidence of knowing his vessel well. He understood her every nuance and response to handling.
More than once the young skipper made evasive actions where nothing seemed apparent. He made clear before the question could be asked he was skirting sharp rock formations unseen on the surface.
At one point, Jann Raul instructed one of the crewmen to extend an oar low and outward to the starboard-side. Within moments the paddle struck solid in the murky water, all were impressed.
Once in open water the sailing master asked, “The Sangora is a fine vessel with clean lines and swift for her size, but the Luscious is easily thrice her size at ninety-six feet long of deck, and a third again as fast. How is it you say we shall intercept her, when she has all of the advantages? Is not the sea the sea? Or is there something more of which you have yet to speak?”
“Sir, I have the advantage of knowledge. Something of which my mother and father speak highly of. For that one who has all the facts, has more than that one with greater strength but far less knowledge.”
With a grin born of curiosity G’Tabb replied, “Oh?”
“Yes sir,” Jann Raul replied with a grin of his own and a point of his finger, “there is the flume.”
All persons, including Old Uncle, stared at the pilot with varying facial expressions and asked with one voice,
“The flume?”
Incredulous, the commander asked, “A flume in the ocean?”
Almost at the same time Albri asked, “What flume?!”
Several turned to look at the surprised Albri, then to Jann Raul, who answered, “Should the wind hold, in about thirteen hours our current heading will join a jet-stream I found almost a year ago …”
The son became aware of a glaring look from his father.
Pointing south of their course he continued, “It comes up at an angle from what I think may be a fissure way down below, and follows a somewhat southwesterly path for I do not know how far.”
Glancing to Albri and shrugging his shoulders, he said, “I’m sorry, pop. You are focusing on other things and I wanted more to tell you before I told you.”
Going back to finish his answer, “This here is the easy part, so I recommend you sirs get some rest. When we shoot the flume …”
The sailing master remarked, “Shoot the flume?!”
“Yes sir, we are going to jump right into it.”
Questioning and concerned looks went all about the deck, except Old Uncle, he was looking pleased.
“What I call the flume is a rushing stream of fresh water on the surface maybe … oh … two hundred feet wide. Where it begins it shoots up, like a geyser, but where we shall enter it rolls the waves out to the side so the flume is a bit lower than sea level.
“It is not smooth by a long shot. I have not tried it with sail, but just manning the wheel is a serious chore. The current is steady in her course, but it agitates all the way around, not unlike intense river rapids. There is a jet of air moving with the flume …” looking from man to man he continued, “… but I am thinking with you folk manning the sails our speed could reach maybe thirty knots.”
Sark was taking it all in with deliberating interest, Bachi and Redding passed each other apprehensive glances, but G’Tabb leaned forward with a growing excitement.
“It is as if there are hundreds of angry currents, each fighting the other. I will be focused exclusively on finding one of them to ride. Keeping the bow true and rudder secure will be like wrestling an angry squid. From time to time I will need to alter current and the changes will be rather abrupt.”