by Lyz Russo
~
“Looks like you were right,” Marsden said casually from the doorway. The gypsy looked up from the fish he was gutting for lunch. He was alone in the galley. Doc had called Paean away.
“My friend, I’m always right. What about, this time, specifically?”
“Look outside.”
Federi glanced through the porthole.
Oh yes, he was aware of the darkening outside, the erratic gusts blowing in. He’d have to close the portholes soon, though he himself loved the wind. But you never knew when Captain decided to submerge. And while he enjoyed diving…
Shawn had quizzed him about those portholes. Why they were manual in this day and age. Well, Captain used technology but that didn’t mean he was in love with it! And every electronic system occasionally had a glitch; an open porthole under water meant the end of the Solar Wind. Some things should certainly not be left to electronics! But an electronic checking system was in place, as a back-up.
“It’s a big one,” Marsden added. “Captain is ordering all the crew on deck, so we can fly her.”
“Ha,” said Federi. “Time for lunch first?”
“No, sorry.”
With a sigh, Federi got up, wrapped the fish in silver paper and stuck it in one of the drawers in the freezer. He washed his hands and moved aimlessly over to the coffee machine.
“Not for me, thanks,” Marsden forestalled him. Federi drew up his eyebrows, puzzled.
“Right!” He closed and bolted both portholes. “Captain wants us on deck. Jon, I hope you’re not part of the flying team today?”
“No, he’s forbidden me,” replied the First Mate with a grin. “Bummer. Feels stupid, being weak! I was really looking forward to teaching Donegal and Schatz the ropes.”
“Going to miss your sour expressions when I sing,” Federi grinned back.
“I’ll be there,” replied Marsden. “Only in a supervisory capacity.”
“Oh, good!”
Drunk coastal guards were tottering across the deck as the ship rolled. Federi cursed quietly. He shouldn’t have dosed them with more rum, earlier. Marsden curtly ordered the Cubans below deck, and the two men worked together to set up handhold lines and tense them, and release the staysail so it could furl away. The sails flapped loudly in the turbulences like oversized albatross wings. Federi peered up into them and back down to where the Silver Bullet was moored.
“That’s a bad idea,” he said, pointing.
“Captain’s already thought of it,” Marsden pacified. “See there.”
Old Sherman and Paean were boarding the Silver Bullet. Federi frowned. It was wrong! Paean was supposed to keep close, so he could protect her…
“Why them?”
“Who else?” asked Marsden, putting on a fluorescent survival rainskin. “Captain decided that I’m not healed enough. If I were, I’d be flying instead. Sherman has more years of bridge experience than the rest of us put together!”
“There’s that,” said Federi. Still it struck him as a bad idea. You ignored a hunch at your peril! “Sherman was born with the millennium,” he said moodily. “If something happens to him, medically?”
“See Paean?” asked Marsden.
It didn’t help. A vision of her red hair turned to blood…
“There’s of course one thing,” said Marsden thoughtfully. “If she’s the agent, I only hope Sherman will cope. Can’t say I feel too easy about this.”
Federi scowled. Aw Jon, he thought angrily, shut up for once!
Paean and Old Sherman climbed over onto the Silver Bullet, and Rhine Gold cast off the heavy lines mooring them to the Solar Wind’s cleats, and released and stowed the buffers. Immediately the Silver Bullet was swept to one side by the wash of the Solar Wind, and left astern. The sea was choppy. White crests rode the waves, which had turned grey-green with the clouds piling up.
Sherman and Paean looked around on the vessel. It wasn’t a very large ship. Thirty-footer, designed as though it had been adapted from a fishing boat. The insides were frugal, everything in Unicate-grey. Compounding came in any colour one wanted it to; a very versatile material. Of all those potential colours, the Unicate found steel-grey the most appropriate for their military! Probably to boost their morale, thought Paean. She couldn’t imagine why Ronan had ever considered the navy for a career!
At least the Silver Bullet was clean and not leaky. Well maintained, as a Unicate ship should be. Paean assumed that Rodriguez made more liberal use of the shower on his own ship than on the Solar Wind.
“Funny name, actually, the Silver Bullet,” she said.
“Och, aye,” agreed Sherman. “Shows you it wasn’t Rodriguez who named her but the Unicate shipyard. He’d have picked something Spanish, now wouldn’t he? But coastal guards tend to get names like that. The Executioner. The Sword of Justice. Excalibur. The Long Arm.”
Paean laughed. “The Long-finger?”
They returned to the bridge. Sherman’s hands played over the console.
“Easy,” he stated. And then he turned and nailed the redhead with a sharp glare. “Paean Donegal, now you tell me where you got your subversive education.”
She blinked. What had she done to upset her old countryman?
“Mrs Flanagan,” she said. “You’d love her, Sherman. Next time we’re in Dublin I’ll introduce you.”
Shawn climbed into the Crow’s Nest.
“Hey, Federi!” he called from up there, activating his wrist-com. “See there! That’s so weird!”
Federi glanced up, and over to where the youngest Donegal was pointing. Something was wrong with the shape and colour of the sea. He climbed up into the rigging and was only halfway when the Solar Wind lifted onto a crest and he got a clear view. Waves breaking in the middle of the ocean! Ay!! There was a huge submerged reef, and they were heading towards it!
“Captain!” Federi hooked his elbow around one of the stays and activated his wrist-com. “Captain! There’s a reef! Veer to starboard! Repeat, veer to starboard! There’s a reef off port, we’re driving straight at it!”
He heard the Captain swear juicily in Hungarian. The Solar Wind turned, heeling heavily to starboard before the sails sheeted out to accommodate the move from close-hauled to a reach. The mast described an arc, and Shawn slipped. He caught onto the rim of the Crow’s Nest. Federi moved up the rest of the rigging with the lightning-fast reflex of a wall-lizard. He grabbed onto the boy and the Crow’s Nest and levered himself into the structure, pulling Shawn down to the floor of the box.
“Lifeline!” he snapped. “Donegal, never ever climb up here without a lifeline!”
Shawn looked rattled for once.
“Yes, Federi. Sorry.”
“Never forget it again! Understood? Or I’ll forbid you to come up here!”
Shawn nodded, contrite. Federi grabbed one of the several lifelines that were installed permanently up here, and clipped it around Shawn’s middle. “Life vest,” he snapped, and pulled a thin orange piece of cloth out of one of his pockets. He handed it to Shawn, who opened it and looked at it.
“Put it on!”
Shawn pulled the filmy vestment over his head and stuck his arms into the sleeves. It covered him like a rain skin, with a hood over his head and everything. It was too big. “Life vest?” he asked, puzzled, stuffing it in past the lifeline around his middle, so he could pull it down to its full length. It came down to his knees, with a stretch. This was a dress!
“Life vest,” insisted Federi. “Stop stretching it, Shawn! It will get as big as you make it! If you do go overboard, its inside combines chemically with saltwater to create a kind of floating board. It won’t get in your way, don’t worry. And it lights up.”
“Explodes?” asked Shawn, amused.
“Cut it,” snapped Federi. Oy! The entertainer was not into fun right now, was he!
“Thanks.” Shawn peered dow
n at the deck and saw how the other sailors were also putting on similar garments.
“Look after it,” warned Federi.
“Okay.”
“Right,” growled Federi. “Next!” He activated his wrist-com again. “Captain, what’s with the reef? Why were we heading towards it?”
“The radar is gone,” came the reply. “Federi, Shawn Donegal, stay up there. I need you both as lookouts.”
“Yes, Captain.” The radar was gone? How -?
Rodriguez approached the bridge. Federi saw him exchange words with the Captain. The Cuban didn’t look too happy about his ship being navigated by someone else. Well, too bad, Rodriguez, thought Federi. You mess with pirates at your peril! He watched as Marsden and Rushka completed the task of tensioning handhold lines and how Rhine Gold helped them secure the main and foresail. He became aware of Shawn Donegal staring at him intently, holding something out to him.
“Lifeline for you too, Federi,” the twelve-year-old said.
“Oh!” There was no getting out of it. The gypsy detested being tied up. He gingerly took the line from Shawn and fastened it around himself. “Thanks.”
“And a life vest?”
“You’re wearing mine,” said Federi. “Keep it on, anna bottle! Federi can swim!”
In any case he shouldn’t be watching the procedures aboard. He was up here to look out for danger from the sea! He hung onto the mast as the rigging swung. Changing tack to get back on course now that they were past the reef. Wet spray shot up all the way from the prow wave and showered them. The Solar Wind dipped steeply into a trough. These were big waves. But then, a storm caused big waves. Federi hadn’t lied. He hated these tropical squalls.
Down on the deck another sailor was clinging on for dear life. Ailyss had pocketed her novel and was holding the rail with both hands now, trying to deal with the roller-coaster of the rough seas. She had conquered most of her seasickness over the past weeks; but she hoped that her stomach was steady enough by now to hold up through another storm.
It was fascinating being amongst them all for a change. Her decision to stay in plain sight had been a good one. In the first place, that terrifying gypsy couldn’t creep up on her unobserved and break her neck from behind, as he had done to many on that Rebellion Schooner. Secondly she was learning a lot about the way the ship and crew operated. But it had its drawbacks too. She was actually beginning to like some of them. That was not part of the plan.
Marsden placed his hand on her shoulder.
“Feeling up to this storm?” he enquired.
“So far so good, sir!”
“Great. You take that position over there, between Rhine Gold and Ronan.”
“Thank you, sir!”
She fought her way across the lurching deck, clinging onto the handhold lines, and took her position between the two indicated. Ronan Donegal, her compatriot, who was at heart not a pirate and had been shocked at his predicament; and Reinhold Schatz, who was straight and honest and intended to jump ship at Hawaii anyway. No, she didn’t mind being placed between these two. They could be relied on, to an extent.
She almost liked Marsden. He was a likeable fellow. But even so, the feeling niggled that there was more to the First Mate than met the eye. He’d not be First Mate on a pirate ship otherwise!
“Rhine Gold,” instructed Marsden, “take the speedbar sheet. When the kite rises, wait for Rushka’s instructions. Remember that Captain’s orders overrule Rushka’s.”
“Yes, sir!”
On the other side of the deck, Captain Rodriguez had positioned himself in the spot opposite Ailyss, picking up the starboard brake sheet and looking pensively at it.
“Rodriguez,” challenged Marsden, turning to the coast guard captain. “Are you with us? Ready for some sports?”
“You guys are locos,” commented Rodriguez with a grin. “I like it!”