Esther's Innocence

by Benjamin Boswell

  Her eyes locked onto the large knife belted around the Madrausan’s waist. Without thinking, Esther leapt to her feet, ran up behind the man, and quickly pulled the knife out of his belt. She slammed it into his back with all of her strength just as he was about to bring his sword down on the Captain. She didn’t know if the wound was fatal or not, but she didn’t wait to find out. Pulling the knife out, she quickly flipped it in her hand so that she was gripping it with the knife pointed down and dropped to the ground, swiping the blade across the back of both his ankles—the man wore no shoes—using all of the force that she had.

  The man shouted with pain and fell to the ground next to Esther. Esther quickly brought the knife down on his chest in a backhanded motion, right where his heart should be and his screams cut off abruptly. That, she knew, would be fatal.

  Captain Karlsson—clearly surprised—nodded to her in thanks and turned back towards the combat. Esther glanced around, looking for other threats, ready to jump up and continue—or flee as the situation warranted, but the immediate danger had passed. The carronades must have finished reloading because they fired again, sweeping the deck of the Madrausan ship. The tide of the battle was turning and the Ardmorrans were pushing the enemy back.

  Esther sat motionless for a moment, adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She hadn’t even thought about what she was doing when she had done it. She had seen that Captain Karlsson was in danger and had simply acted. She looked over at the dead man and stared at the knife sticking out of his chest, her hand still on its hilt, her knuckles white with how hard she was gripping it. She slowly let go and sat up, looked down at her hands. She started to shake, just a little at first, and then more violently as the adrenaline faded. Her vision grew blurry. She could hardly breathe! This time, she couldn’t hold it down and she fell forward onto her hands vomiting violently. It splattered against the deck of the ship, soiling her clothing as it mixed with the dead man’s blood.

  This was worse than when she had shot and killed a man. It was more personal and felt infinitely uglier. She chided herself as she thought it. Killing was ugly no matter how it was done. However, this time, it felt much worse. After a brief moment, the shaking calmed and she started to recover. It didn’t take as long as it had the first time she’d killed someone. Somehow, she felt saddened by that. Death should never be something she got used to.

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her shaking hand and stood, slowly. She may not want to get used to it, but she was positive that she was going to see much more of it before this was over. Obviously these men were not going to leave her family or her people alone. She had no desire to study death, to kill men, to soil her soul with blood. Physics, mathematics, art, and science were infinitely more worthy pursuits. But since evil men had brought this fight to her and would not leave her alone, then she would learn and do what she had to in order to fight them. She would play her part to defend those she cared about.

  With that thought in her mind, she knelt down beside the man and carefully wrapped her hand around the hilt of the knife. It was her knife now. She pulled it out of the dead man’s chest with a jerk and wiped the blade clean on his pants. She would need something to hold the knife. She turned back to the man and unbuckled his belt. She pulled it around her waist. It was going to be way too big to buckle, so she tied a simple square knot and left the ends hanging down. She placed the knife in its scabbard and looked around. The remaining Madrausan’s were surrendering. The Nautilus’ crew was moving about, securing the prisoners, and carrying the wounded below. Captain Karlsson was talking with his First Officer, Mr. Gerard, about cutting loose from the Madrausan ship and making arrangements to pursue the transport ships. The battle was over—for now, she thought.

  CHAPTER 10

  Rigger

  I wasn’t going to sit around doing nothing. Asking how I could help seemed like a good idea. I knew I was being a little deceptive by whom I approached to ask, but I don’t think it was the wrong thing to do—then again, don’t all liars justify it to themselves?

  After the battle, the Madrausan warship was too damaged to take as a prize and Captain Karlsson had scuttled it, sending it speedily down into the waves of the ocean. Afterwards, it had taken most of the night for the Nautilus to catch up to, and capture the Madrausan transports. Esther had gotten something to eat and had slept when and where she could, but the thrill of the pursuit and the short battle that followed had left her and most of the crew tired and dirty. Now mid-morning, the Nautilus and the three transport ships were headed back towards Ardmorr, the slave cages on the transports now filled with Madrausan prisoners.

  Esther looked around the deck. It was decidedly empty. The ship’s manning was down to critical levels as it had taken every able bodied person available to crew the three captured transports. Mr. Gerard and most of the other Senior Officers had been dispatched to man the other ships and everyone remaining aboard was going to suffer from lack of sleep until they could reach Port Meijer. Captain Karlsson and the few remaining officers had their hands full seeing to the needs of getting the small squadron of ships underway and had forgotten about her for the moment. A young-looking junior officer whom she hadn’t previously met stood a few feet away, giving orders to the airmen nearby. Not wanting to just sit around doing nothing, and finding the workings of a warship fascinating, Esther decided to try and approach the young officer and see if she could convince him to let her help out. Closing her fist tightly to help give her confidence, she walked up to him.

  “Sir,” she said, “if you please, I don’t currently have any duties to attend to, how can I help?”

  He shouted an order to a crewman, then turned to her with an irritated expression. “Have you ever worked in the rigging before?”

  “No, sir.”

  He sighed, “Well do you think you can get up there and handle yourself without falling? We’re severely short-handed and even a cabin boy might be useful right now.”

  Obviously, he didn’t know who Esther was, which was just fine with her. There were quite a few on-board that most likely didn’t know anything about her as they had been asleep when she’d arrived, and the attack had begun shortly thereafter.

  “I can handle myself,” she stated confidently, “I just need someone to show me what to do and I’ll do it.”

  “Good,” he said, turning away from her, “Get up there and report to the Bosun.”

  “Yessir,” she said, and headed over to climb into the rigging. Esther grabbed one of the shrouds and swung herself up onto the ratlines—the horizontal ropes on the shrouds that airmen climb up—and started climbing the ratlines up into the rigging. Looking down caused her breath to catch in her throat momentarily. Thank heavens she wasn’t afraid of heights.

  Although she had no idea who the Bosun was, he wasn’t hard to find. She figured the one yelling at everyone else up there must be him. He was a short man with bulging arm muscles. “Come on you jack skulls!” he yelled, “Get movin! We need these sails set now!”

  There were only a few men scurrying about, working the rigging. His eyes turned to stare at her as she climbed up to the same level he was on.

  “The officer below sent me up to lend a hand,” said Esther, feeling a bit intimidated by the stern looking man. “He said you could show me what to do.”

  The Bosun continued to stare at her a moment, then turned his head and spat with a curse. “He doesn’t know who you are, does he?”

  Esther shrugged and shook her head. “Does it matter?” she asked.

  “If it doesn’t to you, then it doesn’t to me,” he said. “If you’re willing to work, then I’ll put you to work. We don’t have harnesses, so if you fall up here, you’re dead—so don’t fall. If you change your mind and want to climb down, go ahead. Otherwise, step onto that rope under the yard arm on the other side of the mainmast, like I am. Walk to the end and start untying the gaskets—those are the ties that hold the stowed sail to the yard arm. After you’re done
with that, come back and I’ll show you more.”

  “Yessir,” said Esther, stepping out onto the rope without hesitation, and moving quickly down the yardarm. It seemed odd to her—the fear and anxiety she had felt standing on a stanchion of the Madrausan ship was non-existent here as she sidled her way down the yardarm.

  The Bosun called after her, “Be careful! The Captain’ll have my hide if your kill’t, even if it is your own damn fault! And don’t call me ‘Sir’! The name’s Joel. Call me that, or Bosun.”

  Esther nodded, but her mind was already set on the task of untying the gasket.

  - - -

  Captain Karlsson walked into the small room at the bow of lower deck where Dr. Geoffrey Scott was completing surgery on a crewman’s left arm. Wooden shrapnel had penetrated the arm in several places during the recent combat. Fortunately, Dr. Scott believed the arm could be saved. Dr. Scott may be young, but his modern medical knowledge and skills—along with a natural talent and aptitude—had saved many a crewman this day.

  “How many casualties?” Karlsson asked.

  Dr. Scott nodded to his assistant, Thomas, who stepped over to another table where a writing tablet lay. He picked it up, and read the numbers. “In total, fifty-seven sir. Twenty one killed, twenty-seven with grave injuries, and the rest with lesser wounds that will be able to report for restricted duties sooner. There are many others with minor cuts and injuries that aren’t limiting their abilities.”

  “Thank you, Thomas. A tough day then…as we knew it would be,” said the Captain.

  “Yes,” said Dr. Scott, wearily, “A very tough day. I expect to lose probably half of those gravely wounded unless we can get them better medical attention than we have aboard ship.”

  “I understand,” said Captain Karlsson, “we’re making all the speed we can, but those transports are slow, and we can’t leave them unprotected.” Dr. Scott simply nodded. The Captain looked around briefly, “Have you seen Miss Kelley? I haven’t seen her since the battle ended. I thought she was probably down here helping you and Thomas.”

  The Doctor looked up briefly and shook his head, “No, I haven’t seen her since late last night.”

  “Hmm, curious,” said Karlsson, “Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Do you need any more help?”

  “No, sir. Hutchins and Malcolm are tending to the other wounded. This is the last surgery I need to perform.”

  Captain Karlsson nodded, then stepped out of the room and headed up the companionway onto the main deck.

  “Has anyone seen Esther?” he asked as he stepped up onto the quarterdeck.

  “Esther?” said a young officer who’d been standing watch earlier. “There’s a woman on board?”

  “Yes, Mr. Mitchell,” the Captain chuckled, “I know you were off-watch when all of this excitement started, but I thought you’d have caught up with the scuttlebutt by now. Mr. Graham, why don’t you fill Mr. Mitchell in on what got all of this excitement started.” Mr. Graham, his Sailing Master, was one of the few remaining Senior Officers onboard the Nautilus.

  “Yes, sir,” said Graham, then, in a more humorous tone, “While you were sleeping, Mr. Mitchell, a young star plummeted from the heavens and landed in our sails.”

  Several crewmen nearby started to laugh and Karlsson shook his head with a smile, but Mr. Graham didn’t let their mirth ruin his story.

  “This young star was disguised under layers of grime and dirt,” he continued, “so that none could see what she truly was. On her way from the heavens, this star hit one of the Madrausan warships, destroying its propellers before alighting aboard the Nautilus, allowing us to overtake and destroy the Madrausan ship. The Captain merely wants to know where this star has gone.”

  Mitchell—now totally confused by the sailing master’s narrative—simply stood there, nonplussed.

  “I think what Mr. Graham meant to say,” Captain Karlsson said dryly, “Is that through highly irregular means, a young woman came to be aboard our ship after sabotaging the Madrausan’s propellers. This young woman was dressed like a cabin boy whose whereabouts since last night appear to be a mystery.”

  “I know ‘ere she is, suh,” said the crewman manning the ship’s wheel. A light seemed to go on in Mitchell’s mind and his face started to turn a startling shade of red.

  Captain Karlsson turned to the crewman and raised an eyebrow.

  “Mistuh’ Mitchell sent ‘er up into the riggin’,” said the crewman, a good natured smile crossing his face.

  Karlsson turned back to Mitchell, raising and eyebrow, “You sent her up into the rigging?”

  “Uh…sir, I…uh…I didn’t know…” stammered Mitchell, “He…I mean, she…she came up to me asking how she could help…I had no idea.”

  “She came up to you and volunteered?” said Captain Karlsson.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Karlsson smiled, then nodded. “It’s alright, Mr. Mitchell,” he said, “You had no way of knowing or expecting anything otherwise, and—being relatively new to the ship—you had no idea she was anything other than what she appeared to be. Although embarrassment may come from any action we take, you have shown nothing but competence as far as I’m aware. You did the right thing.” Captain Karlsson held out his hand and Mr. Mitchell—looking much relieved—shook it firmly.

  “Alright, Mitchell, as soon as she’s finished with her tasks, have Mr. Jefferies see to her needs.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  - - -

  Esther was tired. Although she thought the word ‘tired’ severely understated how she really felt. She had spent most of the day up in the rigging, following the instructions from the other riggers as sails were deployed or trimmed. It had been an enlightening experience—and although the work had been difficult and exhausting, it had been refreshing to be doing something constructive. Now she had been dismissed to get some sleep. Esther climbed down and stepped onto the deck of the Nautilus, looking out at the setting sun. Bone deep weariness seemed to fill every inch of her body—and her soul. Her muscles ached and she looked forward to some much needed sleep. She looked down at her clothes, dirty and stained with blood and her own vomit. She longed to take a bath and change into some clean clothes.

  “Miss Kelley.” Esther heard her name being called and turned towards the voice. It was Captain Karlsson’ steward, Mr. Jefferies. “Miss Kelley,” he said again, walking towards her, “the Captain would like to see you for a moment, if you please?”

  Esther nodded wearily. She was too tired to respond with words. She followed the steward onto the quarterdeck, and then down a companionway. They turned aft and proceeded through a door leading into an anteroom, and then through another door into the main cabin. Captain Karlsson stood there, undoing the buttons on his vest.

  “Ah, Miss Kelley,” he said as she entered, “So glad you could join me. Please have a seat.” He gestured towards a small round table with four chairs. Mr. Jeffries pulled a chair out for Esther to sit in.

  The captain finished removing his vest, then walked over to the table and sat down as well. Mr. Jefferies filled two cups with wine and Captain Karlsson lifted his cup in the air. “To victory,” he toasted. Esther raised her own cup in toast and then sipped at it. “I have to say,” he continued, “you have been quite a surprise since you came aboard. From your rather unorthodox arrival, to the slaying of a man much bigger, and one would have thought, more dangerous than yourself. In addition, you volunteered to help when we were shorthanded and the Bosun tells me that your progress in learning the ways of a rigger has been nothing short of outstanding.” Esther looked down, her cheeks reddening self-consciously. “Not to mention that you single handedly created the opportunity which allowed us to take out two enemy warships and save all of those people in those transports.”

  Captain Karlsson waited a moment, but Esther didn’t know how to respond—so she said nothing.

  “If you’re going to continue performing as admirably as you have thus far, you’re going to need to learn h
ow to accept praise,” admonished the Captain, “It is customary to say ‘thank you’.”

  “Thank you sir,” said Esther, her embarrassment deepening at his light reprimand.

  The Captain smiled at her. “All of these accomplishments would have been difficult for a grown man to perform, let alone a young woman from a small farming community. I’d like you to tell me a little bit more about yourself and exactly how you came to be aboard that Madrausan warship. But first, I’m sure you’d like to get cleaned up and get some rest. Because so many of our crew are detached to the transports, the starboard midshipman’s cabin is empty. I’ll have Mac take you down and get you situated. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  “Yes sir, thank you sir,” said Esther, standing. She paused a moment, then said, “My father and some of my friends might be on one of those transports. Do you have the names of the people onboard?”

  “I apologize, Miss Kelley, I should have thought that you might have family onboard. I’ve ordered that a list of all the passengers aboard the transports be made, and am expecting to receive it by mid-morning tomorrow. As soon as I do, I’ll let you know and then we can get you transferred to whichever transport they are on.”

  “Thank you sir,” said Esther, bowing her head. She turned to the steward and followed him out of the cabin through the anteroom to the main deck outside. The steward led her past the capstan to the companionway in the center of the deck leading below. Once down the companionway, they turned aft towards the officer’s cabins. They entered the first cabin on the starboard side. Bunks lined the walls fore and aft with trunks on shelves against the outside wall.