Esther's Innocence

by Benjamin Boswell

  Suddenly, men started shouting down from the lookout post on top of the main mast. The captain looked up at them to see which direction they were looking, then turned aft. Esther squinted and could just make out a shape off in the distance. After a few minutes, the wisps of fog surrounding the shape receded, revealing a many sailed airship. Esther’s heart began to race. She recognized the ships architecture! It was one of her Kingdom’s warships, and a fairly large one at that. Thoughts of survival and rescue burst into her mind, but she quickly reigned in her thoughts. Yes, it was a good sign that an Ardmorran warship was closing with them, but the Madrausans still outnumbered them. Still, it felt good to be hopeful again.

  The captain began shouting orders to his men as alarm bells rang and flags were run up, signaling to the other ships in the small flotilla. Esther looked about, noticing the location of the other ships. The other Madrausan warship stood a hundred meters off to the starboard side. The three transports were ahead of the warships, the two smaller ones flanking the large one. Esther felt a slight shift and the ship began to rise. Looking at the other ships, she noticed that they each rose at varying speeds as well.

  The captain noticed her standing there. “Why are you not moving!” he roared, “I want that propeller fixed now!”

  Esther flinched. She turned, stumbling over to where Mukesh stood. He looked her up and down, then gestured for her to follow him. He led her down the stairs and through a door beneath the quarterdeck. A narrow hall led back to what Esther assumed was the Captain’s cabin. There were doors on both sides of the hallway. The smells coming from the door on the left hinted that it was the galley. Through a door on the right, she could see bunks and a couple of hammocks—presumably where the senior officers slept. Mukesh opened a small closet door set into the wall on the right. “There are some tools in here,” he said. He closed the closet door and pushed her back the way they had come. She stepped out onto the main deck and he led her over to an opening in the deck where a stairway led below. The stairway was so steep it might as well have been a ladder.

  Esther froze when she reached the bottom of the stairway. Despite being an open deck with no bulkheads, the space seemed tight and cramped. Spaced throughout the deck, where the propeller shafts came in through the sides of the ship, sat rows of filthy, shirtless men turning oar shafts with chains around their ankles. Towards the aft end of the deck, the benches were turned lengthwise and the oar shafts came into the ship from the aft wall, angled slightly in towards the centerline of the ship. These must be the chain gangs the Captain had mentioned, thought Esther, wrinkling her nose. Three men sat at each of the shafts along the length of the ship, and five on each of the aft shafts—forty men in all. The smell of unwashed bodies, pitch, and dung assaulted her senses making her eyes water. I’ll be lucky if I don’t get some sort of infection and die, she thought. When she looked in the rowers faces—the hopelessly empty look in their eyes caused Esther’s soul to sink in despair. The suffering that she had seen in the course of just a few hours made her want to curl up cease to exist. She couldn’t do that however. The spirit never ceases. All she could do is fight the evil as best she could.

  Mukesh turned back and looked at her, a look of impatience crossing his face. Esther shook herself mentally and stepped forward, following him towards the bow of the ship. Barrels of water and sacks of goods occupied the space between each rowing area along the wall, piled against pitch-blackened, thick round columns extended from floor to ceiling. These must be the bunkers that held the Saug gas in warships. The bunkers were fastened to the floor and ceiling with thick bolts.

  Esther had read that there were thin cloth lined bladders in spaces between the main deck and first deck of each ship which were also used to fill with Saug gas. They passed around the main mast, and Esther noticed the powder magazine locked up tight in the center of the ship. In the bow of the ship, the foremost propeller shaft rowing station squeezed the men manning it onto a shorter bench due to the tapered design of the ship’s bow. A short half stair led down between the rowing stations on either side to a small storage area. Tools, replacement boards, sails, rope, and items of all kinds had been tightly packed into this area.

  “If you don’t find what you need,” said Mukesh, “ask me and I’ll show you, but don’t waste my time with trivial questions, understood?”

  “Yes sir,” Esther replied. He turned and walked away. She didn’t want to ask that man anything.

  Esther stood there for several minutes, deep in thought. She could feel the ship shifting beneath her feet as it rose higher into the air under the captain’s orders. He must want to stay above his pursuer, she thought. The ship rose unevenly, however, creating the shifting she was feeling as the front end would rise, and then the backend. Esther wondered if that were normal for any ship, or if it was just slovenly handling. She suspected the latter. The Ardmorran ship that was now pursuing them had been a long way off. She wondered how long it would take it to overtake them—if it could at all.

  Esther sighed and grabbed a harness. Well, time for thinking is over, she thought. She strapped it on, then grabbed a hammer. She hoped she wasn’t going to have to craft the cogs for the propeller wheel herself—that would take a very long time indeed. She searched around the storage area. While rummaging through the supplies, she found a small notebook, a stoppered ink bottle, and a pen. Thinking that it might be a good idea to record her observations, she took the items and kept searching for the wooden cogs. She sighed in relief as she found a crate full of extra cogs in two different sizes.

  She examined the larger cogs and surmised that because the aft propellers were larger, they must have larger wheels, and thus need larger cogs. She didn’t need those ones at the moment. Esther also found a couple of small cloth bags, so she took two of them and dumped a supply of the smaller cogs into one, and put the notebook, pen, and ink into the other, tying them to her harness belt. She was also going to need a chisel and remembered seeing one in the small closet that Mukesh had showed her, so she headed topside, intending to go back to the closet under the quarterdeck.

  As she stepped out onto the main deck, she took a deep breath of fresh air. It was a welcome relief after the oppressive atmosphere she had endured below. As she made her way aft, she noticed a line of men standing in front of a large pot sitting on top of a wooden crate, just outside the door leading under the quarterdeck.

  A fat, greasy man stood behind the pot, slopping what looked like porridge into their bowls. A young boy—perhaps eight years old—was running bowls of porridge up to the officers on the quarterdeck. Esther’s stomach grumbled. The food did not look appetizing, but she was getting hungry—and very thirsty. A barrel of water sat next to the pot of porridge and men were ladling water from it into wooden cups. Another wooden crate of bowls and cups lay on the ground next to the cask.

  Esther walked over, grabbed a cup from the crate, and waited until the man in front of her was done filling his cup. She took the ladle and filled her own cup, stepping to the side before placing it to her lips and taking a drink. The taste was so foul she almost gagged. She looked around. The others were drinking it readily enough, so she forced herself to finish her cup before placing it on the ground next to the crate. She grabbed a bowl—which didn’t look very clean—and stood in line for the porridge. She wiped it out with her hand while she waited.

  When she reached the front of the line, the fat man plopped a ladleful of porridge into her bowl. Esther walked over and sat down with her back to the ship’s railing, setting her hammer beside her, and wolfed down the porridge. It didn’t taste much better than the water had, but at least it was filling.

  After she finished, she washed her bowl out and placed it back in the crate. Now that her hunger and thirst had been somewhat satisfied, she realized that she really needed to relieve herself. She hadn’t seen a toilet since coming aboard. She stood against the railing and observed the crew for several minutes. One crewman—a tall well-muscled fello
w—walked over to where the railing had been cut lower for a cannon port, pulled his pants down, and peed over the side of the ship.

  Under normal circumstances, Esther would have been horribly embarrassed at seeing his nakedness, but the callousness that she’d witnessed over the last twenty four hours had desensitized her, creating an emotional barrier. Looking towards the bow of the ship, Esther could see two men sitting over the bow sprit with their drawers pulled down, relieving themselves as well. She wasn’t going to be able to simply pee over the edge or squat in plain view of the crew. She’d have to think of something else. She shook her head in disgust. She knew from her studies that Ardmorran ships had toilets and collected waste in a bunker which they dumped once they were over the sea or safely on the ground. In that way, they tried to avoid dumping it on people on the ground.

  Delaying her need to relieve herself for the moment, Esther turned aft and strode past the fat man to the door that led under the quarterdeck. She walked down the short, narrow hall and opened the closet Mukesh had showed her earlier that held some additional tools. She rummaged through it until she found a chisel, closed the closet door again, and headed back out onto the main deck. She paused a moment, anxiety building in the pit of her stomach. She was going to need to ask the captain to take the propeller offline in order to make the repairs—she was not looking forward to doing that.

  She clamped down on her anxiety and climbed the steep stairway onto the quarterdeck. The captain was at the stern of the ship, looking off into the distance. She walked over to him—approaching from the side to appear as harmless as possible—and stood there, waiting.

  He glanced at her, but did not acknowledge her presence. Instead, he called to one of his officer’s and pointing out at the Ardmorran ship pursuing them. They talked back and forth in Madrausan. Esther didn’t understand any of it. In school, they were all taught Hadiqan as a second language to their own common Northern tongue, but no one ever thought Madrausan would be very useful. Her mother was fluent in Hadiqan, given her heritage, and had made sure that Esther could speak it fluently as well, with no trace of an accent. Esther didn’t understand why her mother had pushed her so hard—she hadn’t pushed any of the rest of her kids to learn to speak it as fluently. She had even taught Esther Kamakuran, though Esther couldn’t speak it fluently. Esther thought that may have been further evidence that perhaps Esther’s father originated from that far off-nation.

  Esther looked back at the pursuing ship. It appeared to be a little closer, but was still some distance off—and lower now as well. The small flotilla of Madrausan ships had gained altitude notably.

  A sudden chill sent shivers up Esther’s spine. She didn’t know if it was due to the colder temperature, or just a mental shiver at the thought of how high they were and still climbing. A curious thought floated to the surface of her mind. Why wasn’t the Ardmorran ship climbing to stay at the same level as the squadron of Madrausan ships? Unable to think of a reason, she shook her head and filed the thought away for the moment.

  While she waited for the captain to finish his conversation and—hopefully—acknowledge her presence, she looked around the quarterdeck again. She was intensely curious at finally being aboard a warship. She wished she could just wander about, examining everything, but she doubted the captain would be pleased if he caught her engaged in such activities and not working on repairing the propeller housing.

  The captain turned around and shouted an order to a crewman. The man turned a small wheel on a boxlike structure next to the main pilot wheel and a hiss of gas came from a short pipe sticking out the top. At another shout from the captain, the man turned the wheel back and the hissing stopped. The captain looked back over the aft rail at the pursuing ship and then finally turned to her. “Aren’t you supposed to be repairing my propeller housing?” he said gruffly.

  “Yes sir,” said Esther, “if it pleases the captain, I need to have the men turning the propeller shaft stop while I repair it.”

  He grunted and said, “I figured you might. Very well, I’ll have Mukesh pass on the order, but you better be quick about it! We’re at war and I need that propeller working again. As you can see,” he said, pointing towards the pursuing Ardmorran ship, “your friends are following us and even though we could turn and take them out at any time of our choosing, I don’t wish to do that and loose good men when I don’t have to. So if you don’t get it repaired or if we end up needing to turn and fight, you’ll be the first one I toss overboard, do you understand me?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Good.”

  Esther’s curiosity got the better of her and she couldn’t help but ask, “Captain, why isn’t the Ardmorran ship climbing to maintain the same altitude as your ships?”

  He looked at her, surprised which quickly turned into a sneer. “Because, boy,” he said, “Our transport ships are slow, but our warships are fast. We could weave back and forth, peppering them with our cannon fire while they tried to close with us. They would only be able to respond with their bow cannons. By staying beneath or above us, they can avoid that cannon fire. On our current heading, the winds are more favorable below us for use of their sails. So they’ll stay at a lower altitude until they catch up, hoping that we’ll turn back to fight them, which we won’t. However, when they do catch up, and if they force me into action, I want to have elevation on my side. There is nothing your friends can do and they know it!” The captain’s face suddenly turned angry. “Now get out of my sight and get that propeller fixed!” he bellowed.

  Unsettled by the captain’s sudden anger, Esther turned and half ran back to the stairs and down onto the main deck. She slowed her pace once she was out of the captain’s immediate vicinity. She wondered at his anger. Perhaps he was more nervous about the pursuing Ardmorran ship than he wanted to admit.

  Letting out a long breath, she walked forward along the deck until she came to the railing above the stanchion with the damaged propeller housing. She looked over the side of the ship briefly, then bent down and picked up the safety rope. She wasn’t familiar with the knots the crewmen used, but she did recall when Suraj had tied the knot around his safety harness and what it looked like. Using her memory, she tried recreating the knot and after several tries, had something that looked similar and seemed to hold. With that done, she carefully climbed over the railing and down onto the stanchion.

  Looking down, she could see the ocean below. It seemed like a very long way down and her heart beat a little faster. Even though the height was somewhat terrifying, she felt more at ease here on the stanchion than she had on deck. Probably because there weren’t any prying eyes about. And with no cannon port above her, she could feel fairly comfortable that some crewman wasn’t going to relieve himself on her either. That thought made her giggle, which broke the dam holding back her emotions and they boiled to the surface. She put a hand to her lips to stifle her laughter when it threatened to turn manic and tears welled up in her eyes. Ok, she thought, breathe. Calm yourself. Get control. She knew it was important for her to keep feeling in order for her to remain a good, caring person, but she couldn’t let the emotions control her. Let’s just focus on the task at hand—but then of course her bladder interrupted that focus and reminded her that it had been quite a long time since she had relieved herself. Ok, this was about as private as it was going to get. She loosened her harness, squatted down over the edge of the stanchion and pulled her trousers down. After she finished, her disgust rose even further when she realized she didn’t have anything to wipe with. Luckily, it was only urine, but she still felt gross. Next time, she vowed, I’m going to bring some cloth from the supply area.

  As she stood and pulled up her trousers, the bag with the journal bumped against her hand. I’m not going to get much privacy, so I’d better use it while I have it. She sat back down and leaned her back against the side of the ship, taking out the journal, pen, and little bottle of ink. She carefully unstopped the ink and placed it gently on the stanchio
n next to her. She dipped the pen in the ink, touching its tip against the inside of the rim to keep the ink flow smooth, and quickly wrote down her thoughts and feelings as she summarized what had happened since just before the raid on Tewksbury. It was annoying to have to blow on each page to get it to dry before she could continue writing, but she was grateful that she at least had something to record her thoughts with. She didn’t let herself write as long as she would have liked—it was just too dangerous—but she at least got her initial impressions down.

  Finished, she stoppered the ink and put her writing supplies back in the small bag. Feeling much better now, she stood, tightened her harness, and took a step down the stanchion.

  CHAPTER 8

  A Thought

  Well I had to do something, didn’t I?

  The mid-morning sun finally broke through the last vestiges of cloud cover and fog, its welcoming heat warming Esther’s back as she leaned out over the open propeller housing. She was holding the chisel with her teeth, one hand supporting her against the edge of the propeller housing to keep from painfully squishing her breasts, and the other hammering a wooden dowel into place. The wooden dowels were used as cogs on the large gear wheel. The last cog dowel had been easy. The old one had come out easily enough and the new one fit quite well. This dowel was a nightmare because the hole it was supposed to fit into had become too large, and the cog dowel would not sit solidly. She had been forced to use shims to get it to fit. She didn’t expect it to last, but it should hold out until they made it to Port where it could be properly repaired.

  After talking with the captain, several things had come together and she had started to develop an idea. If she could put some preparations into place while she was repairing the propeller, the right circumstance for escape might present itself and these repairs wouldn’t matter.

  Esther sighed around the chisel clasped between her teeth. This was very tedious work, she decided, pushing herself up into a squatting position and taking the chisel out of her mouth. In order for her to put her preparations into place, she was going to have to replace the dowels on each one of the twelve propeller housing gear wheels. Well, maybe not all of them, she thought, some of the cogs on the other propellers are probably fine, so I should only have to do about half—maybe less. She sighed again. Half was still going to take a long time.