The dream seemed familiar but she couldn’t place why. A tree stood in silhouette against a pale, gray sky. As the dream unfolded, the stark outline blurred and took on a pale green light. As she watched, new leaves unfolded and filled in the gaps between the branches until the whole tree stood revealed in the fullness of summer foliage, lush and green against a gray sky.
“Why is the sky gray?” she asked her dream.
The gray sky turned dark and the lush green turned charcoal against the backdrop of night.
Night seemed to last for a very long time in her dream, without even the face of the All-Father to brighten the scene.
As the night faded to rosy dawn, she remembered the tree, knew its shape. Something was missing. Something was wrong.
She woke in the morning light streaming through the porthole and a cheerful ding-ding from the ship’s bell.
“Where’s the owl?” she muttered.
“Wozzat, mum?” Rebecca’s sleep muzzied voice came from across the compartment.
“Nothin’, my dear. Just mumblin’.”
“Mmm.”
She lay there for a moment, remembering the tree from another dream. The same tree, she was certain, but that tree had been in the fall. It had bled leaves and the leaves had fallen to fertilize a new season’s growth but only after lying fallow under a blanket of snow. There had been a small bird near the bole of the tree, a tiny owl. The owl had called to her from her dream. Because of that dream, she’d decided to stay in Ravenwood for the winter. There had been blood aplenty and some of it her own.
She snorted at herself. “Lazin’ about tryin’ to make sense o’ dreams and portents,” she muttered. “You used to have more sense than that, old woman.”
“If you’re gonna keep mumblin’, mum, could you either mumble louder so’s I can hear or mumble on deck so’s I can’t?”
Tanyth gave a small laugh. “Sorry, my dear. One minute.”
With a heave, she threw herself out of the bunk and started pulling on warm clothes.
When Tanyth stepped into the deckhouse, Cook greeted her with a full mug of fresh tea and a huge grin. “Good morning, mum. Slept well, did ya?”
“Tolerable, Cook. Quite tolerable.”
He beamed. “Excellent. I’ve decided to have an egg bake this morning, mum. It should be ready in time for breakfast, but I haven’t decided what to do about lunch or dinner. Anything you’d care to suggest?”
Tanyth cocked her head to the side and gave Cook a hard stare. “You feelin’ all right this mornin’, Cook?”
“Never better,” he said without losing the grin.
She sipped the tea and eyed him over the rim of the mug. “Well, somethin’s got you giddy as a schoolgirl this morning, Cook. What is it?”
“Me, mum?” he said. “Why, I’m always the sole of cheerfulness and light in the morning.”
She shook her head and chuckled. “You’re usually pretty chipper, I’ll grant you that, but you’ve got something that’s tickling your whiskers this mornin’. Out with it.”
“Oh, well, I heard some news this morning that perhaps has me a bit more cheerful than usual, mum.”
“And that would be...?”
“Just at sunrise this morning, the mainmast lookout spotted land, mum.”
“Land?” she stopped to think. “But we’re not supposed to be at North Haven for another—what? Four days? Five?”
He nodded his head in a series of fast, vertical jerks so quick she feared he might dislodge his nose in the process. “If that’s the right headland, mum, we’ll be in port by noon tomorrow. That’s a full three or four days early.”
Tanyth took another sip and muttered, “Well, it wasn’t an error.”
“What’s that, mum?”
“Oh, nothin’. The captain and Mr. Groves were chatting about some navigational thing or other. They were afraid we had some faulty charts or somethin’.”
“Well, faulty or not, mum. We’re almost there.”
“That’s wonderful news, Cook, but why are you so excited?”
“My family lives there, mum. I haven’t seen ’em all winter. I ’spect me ma and me da will be glad to have me home and I can finally get a meal that I don’t have to cook or clean up after!”
She laughed at his ebullience. “I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you. How long with the ship stay in port?”
“Depends on the conditions, mum. Usually it doesn’t take long to get the ship unloaded and then reloaded with new cargoes. Couple of days to unload. Maybe a week to load ’er up again, depending on how much is waiting to go and what it is.”
“So you’ll have time for a nice visit before you have to turn around again.”
“Aye, mum, and when we get back to Kleesport, we’ll probably all have a little extra something in profits. This first cargo of the season always pays best.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all planned.”
“Well, no plan ever goes the way you hope, but that’s not a good reason not to try to make things work out in your favor, is it, mum.”
She shook her head. “No, Cook, it’s not. And speakin’ of workin’ out in my favor, did you by any chance make me some oatmeal this mornin’ or will I have to wait for the egg bake to come out of the oven.”
He chuckled. “Well, mum, I know how partial you are to your oatmeal in the morning so I made you a special batch with a bit of apple and honey. You ready for it now?”
Her stomach growled loud enough for Cook to hear over the crackling of the fire in the stove and the slapping of the hull against the waves.
“I’ll take that as a yes, mum.”
She had plenty of time to finish before the crew showed up for their meal. The word had spread and everybody was in a cheerful mood.
As Tanyth finished the washing up, she asked, “Who’ll you get to do this for you on the way back, Cook?”
He pulled a comically long face. “Unless somebody gets into trouble with the bosun, I’ll be doing the washing up myself on the way back.”
“Aw. I’m sorry to hear that.”
Cook gave her a cheeky grin. “It’s ok, mum. Having a little extra to do helps pass the time. I’m sure it won’t be as entertaining has having you here to help out, but I’m used to it. Shouldn’t be too bad.”
When Tanyth finished, she left the deckhouse and instead of heading back to her cabin, she went forward along the rail and made her way up onto the forecastle. She pulled the knit cap from the pocket of her coat and pulled it down to protect her ears from the wind. She closed her eyes and turned her face to feel the warmth of the sun and didn’t mind the icy gusts blowing in off the water and chilling her even through the sturdy wool. She looked up at the taut triangles of sail gleaming whitely against the deep azure sky and recognized another of her dreams. The feeling of the ship rising and falling and the buffeting of the wind made her feel as if she were flying. Her heart beat fast and she felt a bit dizzy. She looked to the north once more and, under a flock of puffy, white clouds, saw the smudge of land on the horizon.
A voice behind her said, “Mum? You shouldn’t be on deck in this cold, mum. Mum?”
She turned to find Scooter looking concerned.
“Mum, please come down from here. At least you wore your hat. You’re gonna catch your death up here, mum.”
“Yes,” she said, barely able to focus enough to form words. “Of course. I...I don’t know what I was thinking.” She took his offered hand and let him help her down to the main deck, even leaning on him all the way to the companionway.
“Are you all right, mum?” Scooter looked very concerned.
“Yes, dear boy. I think I’m fine. Just the excitement.”
“All right, mum. If you say so.”
“Thank you, Scooter, I can make it from here.” She stepped carefully down to the companionway and looked back at him. “Sorry, I don’t have any of Cook’s sweets to give you.”
He grinned. “’At’s all right, mum. I get so many, I
keep a few handy.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the familiar paper-wrapped sweets. “You want one, mum?”
She laughed and shook her head. “No, thank you, Scooter.”
“Take care, mum,” he said and closed the companionway door, cutting off the wind from outside and leaving Tanyth standing there in the dim light.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to think, trying to make sense of the vision. She made her way into her cabin, closed the door, and crawled up into her bunk. “The last time, I almost died,” she muttered. She closed her eyes against the terror.
She willed herself to take deep slow breaths and in moments she fell into sleep again.
For once she did not dream.
Chapter Twenty-Eight:
Landfall
The town of North Haven didn’t exactly fill Tanyth with enthusiasm. The slanting afternoon sun did nothing to brighten up a weather beaten collection of buildings.
“It always looks a little rough in the spring, mum.” Cook stood on deck beside Tanyth as the ship picked its way into the harbor. “The weather takes a toll, but you wait. By Solstice, the winter’ll be a memory. All the flowers will be blossoming. Everything will be beautiful.”
The bosun yelled, “Lower tops’ls! Drop bumpers.”
Tanyth looked up and had to look carefully to pick Rebecca’s tanned form out of the rest of the crew swarming the rigging. The sailors furled the last of the tallest sails, leaving only one triangular sail at the bow. They’d lowered and furled the huge mainsails while still some distance from shore.
As the ship sailed neatly toward the stone pier, Tanyth saw crews putting bumpers on the side away from the pier. “Cook? Why bumpers on that side?”
He chuckled. “’Cause that’s the side’ll be next to the pier when we get there.”
She blinked at him. “But we’re almost in!”
“Looks are deceiving, mum.” He jerked his chin at a sailor who stood on the bow with a heavy maul. “Nichols’ll swing that hammer in a minute. Then you’ll see.”
Tanyth felt her brows knit as she tried to figure out what was happening.
“See where that fella’s standing beside the bollard there on the dock, mum? The one wearing the green scarf?”
It took her a moment to find him about halfway down the short pier. “Yeah. What about him?”
“He’ll catch the throwing line, drag in a hawser, and we’ll snug into the pier right about there, if we do it right.”
“There are logs in the water!”
“Camels, mum. Don’t know why they call ’em camels, but that’ll give us some nice wood to scrub up against instead of rock. They’ll take the damage against the stone pier instead of our hull.”
Tanyth heard the captain say something to Mr. Groves who shouted, “Clear away and stand-by to luff the jib.”
Everybody on deck stood stock still, the last of the ship’s forward motion dropping off as water resistance slowed them. Tanyth felt like the ship had all but stopped in the water but noticed that the end of the stone pier kept getting closer.
“Let go port anchor!” Mr. Groves called and the bosun repeated.
Nichols swung his mallet and Tanyth heard a horrendous splash followed by a rumble.
“Luff the jib!”
The men holding a rope at the bow let it go and the one remaining sail started flapping in the breeze even as the ship drifted toward the rocks.
“Snug it up, bosun,” Captain Groves called from the bridge.
“Lash it down, my lovelies, and mind your fingers!” the bosun bawled.
Tanyth looked to Cook who pointed to the anchor line that had paid out along the water next to the ship. “Watch.”
As she watched the line straightened and then grew taut. Nothing seemed to happen for several moments. Tanyth felt like the whole ship held its breath for an instant before the ship slewed about and the angle on the anchor’s thick rope opened up as the momentum of the vessel brought the stern around, swinging the ship on a long, lazy arc.
“Slick as you please,” Cook murmured.
Tanyth turned just in time to see the bosun throw a weighted line to the man in the green scarf. He caught it handily and, using the lighter rope, pulled a heavy mooring line over to the heavy cleat in front of him and dropped the loop deftly over the top of the heavy metal fitting.
“Spring line secured, sir!” the bosun yelled.
“Slack the chains, Mr. Montaigne!”
“Slack the chains,” the bosun yelled and the ship slid backwards, using the last of its momentum and the leverage from the single line on the pier to lever in. Tanyth felt the ship bump the pier and heard a soggy squeak as the heavy rope bumpers mashed against the floating logs.
“Set the for’ard spring line. Secure fore and aft!” the bosun yelled. “Get that jib furled.”
Men jumped and ropes ran everywhere. Tanyth didn’t really understand it all, but the process seemed to work. In less time than she thought possible, the crew had tied the ship to the dock, pulled down all the sails, and awaited further orders.
The captain looked down from the height of the bridge and surveyed the deck and lines from his vantage. “Nicely done, Mr. Montaigne.”
“Thank ya, Cap’n.”
“Double up all lines, gasket sails, and retrieve the kedge, if you would, Bosun,” Captain Groves called.
“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”
Cook turned to Tanyth. “Welcome to North Haven.”
“That’s it?”
“Except for a bit of clean up and clearing away, indeed it is.”
“Now what?”
He shrugged. “The captain and Mr. Jameson will talk to the harbor master and cargo lumpers. They’ll figger out when we’ll unload. We’ll prob’ly start in the morning.”
“How soon can I go ashore?”
The captain’s voice came from behind her. “Soon as you like, mum, but you’re welcome to stay aboard tonight.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“I’ll be dining ashore with my son this evening, mum, if you and Rebecca would care to join us?”
“I’d be honored, Captain.”
“Excellent. We’ll gather on the dock at four bells, then.” He tipped his cap and headed down the companionway into the ship.
Tanyth stood there for a few moments. After so many days of having the deck rise and fall under her, of having to watch every step, the ship felt oddly still.
“Tea, mum?” Cook asked.
She took one last long scan of the dilapidated waterfront and the dark forest looming behind the town. A chill breeze drifted across the harbor bringing the dusky aroma of wood smoke, the tang of fish, and an unmistakable whiff of horse dung. “Love a cup,” she said.
The bright ding of the ship’s bell seemed to echo across the harbor. With the sun nearly down behind the headland, the harbor and surround was all but deserted. The sound of a concertina playing a lively jig wafted uncertainly on the light, evening breeze. Tanyth caught the redolent, green smell of pine and hemlock cutting through the smokey funk of human habitation.
“Good evening, mum. Miss Marong.” Mr. Groves said, stepping onto the deck from the gangway.
“Mr. Groves,” Tanyth said with a nod. “Lovely night.”
“Aye, and it seems almost impossible that there’s a city there tucked among the trees. Later in the season when there are half a dozen vessels in port, it’ll seem a different place, but right now? I could grow to like this place.”
“Half a dozen?” Rebecca took the measure of the stone pier and surrounding harbor. “Large ships like the Call?”
“Larger. Malloy’s Sea Rover is half again longer and several tonnes heavier. Compared to most of the fleet, we’re a jolly boat.”
“Where will they put them all?” the young woman asked, eyes wide in disbelief.
He laughed. “They’ll fit. Sometimes they moor side by side in the height of the season, but some in, some out, once in a while the
y’ll lay at anchor out there and ferry crews ashore in long boats, but with that many vessels, the money flows and nobody asks questions about where to put them.”
The captain opened the companionway and stepped up onto the deck. He smiled and nodded at Tanyth. “Good evening, mum. Ready for a little shore food?”
“I am, Captain, and thank you for inviting me.”
He clapped his son on the shoulder in greeting. “You’re more than welcome, mum. A good meal is the least we can do after all you’ve done for the ship.”
“Indeed, mum,” the younger Groves added. “We’ve had ladies travel with us before, but I think you may be the only one that came without a male escort. And I know you’re the only one that’s been on the opening voyage of the season, mum.”
Captain Groves nodded. “And a good thing you were, too, mum.” He kept his voice low but Tanyth heard a burr of emotion in it. “Or we’d never have arrived.”
She gave a small shrug. “I had a bit of investment in the voyage, myself,” she said. “Seemed the least I could do.”
“And you, miss? Ready to stand on solid land again?”
Rebecca smiled and looked up at the bare spars above her head. “It’s been very nice aboard, Captain.” She gave a small shrug. “But yes.”
Both men grinned and the captain led the way up the gangway and onto the hard surface of the pier. They started toward the town, Rebecca and the first mate leading the way.
Tanyth found herself stumbling every few steps. “What in the world,” she muttered. “Is the dock shaking?”
Captain Groves offered his arm. “No, mum. It’s just you’re used to having the deck move under you, now. Your feet keep expecting the dock to do the same thing.”
She took his arm and his steady hand kept her from making too much of a fool of herself and noticed the younger Groves provided the same service to a blushing Rebecca. To fill the quiet she asked, “Do you know who that package was addressed to?”
The captain nodded, but the younger Mr. Groves answered. “Nobody. A false name according to the harbormaster, mum. I just got back from the office.” He craned his head back to speak over his shoulder. “Stevedores and cargo agents will be on the dock at eight bells in the morning, Captain.”
Zypheria's Call (A Tanyth Fairport Adventure) Page 32