'Oh, stop fussing!' said Cornelius. 'So he's got a bit of a headache. I'm sure he'll survive. Ah, that must be the Sea Witch!'
Sure enough, the ship was moored at the jetty and her crew were busy preparing her for sea, swarming up rope ladders and edging out along yardarms to unfurl the great canvas sails. Sebastian and Cornelius were able to study the ship in detail, noting that she gave the impression of a once-proud vessel that had seen better days. Here and there she had been roughly repaired, and Sebastian noticed that the carved figurehead of a strange, witchlike woman that hung from the prow had suffered an accident at some point: her nose had been sliced off and one cheek flattened. But he would have been the first to admit that he knew nothing about ships, and Cornelius, when pressed, had to confess that he was no great expert either.
'The only ships I've been on were troop-carriers,' he said. 'Great slow hulks with massive holds for carrying hundreds of men. This one looks a sleeker, faster kind of beast in my estimation.'
'Oh, she's fast, all right,' said a gruff voice, and they turned to see Lemuel shuffling down the gangplank. 'Don't be fooled by the few bumps and scratches we've suffered. There's not a faster ship in Ramalat.'
Cornelius smiled. 'I'm glad to hear it,' he said.
'So, have you bonny lads been to sea before?' asked Lem slyly.
'I've done some sailing,' said Cornelius. 'But as for my friends here . . .'
Lemuel looked at Sebastian. 'Oh, so you've yet to get your sea legs?'
'Sea legs?' echoed Sebastian. 'What exactly are—?'
'You'll discover soon enough,' Lem assured him. 'When you get out on that deck and it starts going up and down, up and down, up and down—'
'Do you have to say things like that?' groaned Max. 'I'm feeling a tad sensitive this morning.'
Lem grinned. 'I shouldn't worry,' he said. 'You'll be all right, great big rough lad like you.' He glanced at Sebastian. 'It's the more sensitive ones that usually have a problem.' He glanced up at the sound of boots on wood. 'Ah, here comes the captain!' he said.
And indeed, Jenna was approaching, striding along the quayside, a wide grin on her face as though she couldn't wait to be off. Sebastian watched her and had to admit grudgingly to himself that she was a fine-looking young woman. Not a patch on Leonora, of course, but still . . .
'Good morning!' she said as she approached. 'Mr Darke. Mr Drummel. I trust both of you had a restful night.' She looked cautiously at Max. 'And . . . you . . .' She looked thoughtful for a minute, then took Sebastian's arm and led him a short distance away from the others. 'Do you really think it's wise to bring the buffalope with us? I mean, wouldn't he be more comfortable staying in a stable until we return? I don't wish to seem awkward, but it's hardly the right place for a beast of burden, is it? He isn't going to like the motion of the sea one little bit.'
Sebastian frowned. He was going to have to disappoint her in this matter. 'To tell you the absolute truth, Captain Swift . . . er, Jenna . . . I'm afraid he simply wouldn't stand for it. You see, when I left home, my mother instructed him to look after me and he's stuck to that order ever since. I'm afraid he's as stubborn as a . . . well, as a buffalope.'
Jenna looked slightly irritated at this news. 'So you're telling me that the beast is some kind of . . . nursemaid to you?'
'Yes . . . er, no! No, it's not like that at all! But you see, he's more than just a buffalope. He's my . . . well, I suppose he's my friend.'
'I see.' Jenna seemed dismayed by this news. But after a few moments she shrugged her shoulders. 'Oh, well, you're the customer, you call the tune.' She gestured to a couple of men up on the deck, who were operating a simple hoist with a heavy counterweight that they were using to lift provisions onto the ship. 'Get the buffalope strapped up and swung aboard,' she yelled.
The men looked at her incredulously. 'On the deck?' one of them shouted down to her.
She shook her head. 'In the hold,' she shouted back. 'I'm not having him trotting around pooping all over my ship!'
'Not even on the poop deck?' murmured Cornelius slyly, but she either didn't hear the comment or chose to ignore it. Max, of course, was offended by her remark.
'I'll have you know I'm perfectly able to control my bodily functions,' he said. 'Anyone would think you were talking about some common animal.'
'Oh, do pardon me, Mr Buffalope,' said Jenna, giving him a mocking bow. 'I was forgetting myself for a moment.' She gestured to a couple of men on the dockside who were unbuckling a strong leather harness. 'Strap this brute up and get him aboard,' she said.
'Now look here,' began Max. 'I don't think there's any need to use that tone of voice. I was just—'
Before he could get any further, the two men had hurried over and were looping straps around his body.
'Here, go easy!' protested Max. 'That's chafing me!'
One of the men snapped a metal catch into position and gave a thumbs-up to the sailors on the deck.
'Wait just a minute!' said Max. 'I'm not— Aaaaarghhhh!' And his huge body was lifted up off the ground as though it weighed no more than a sack of vegetables. Sebastian raised a hand to shield his eyes as Max went flying across the skyline like some mythological beast. 'This is not a good idea,' he
roared. 'I have a very delicate stomach this morning. I'm not used to— Uuuurp!' There was a sudden belching noise and a great stream of vomit came hurtling down onto the quayside, obliging sailors to scatter out of the way.
Jenna gave a look of disgust. 'If he's like that now, how will he be when we get under sail? Honestly!' She gestured for Sebastian and Cornelius to follow her. 'This way,' she said. She led them up the gangplank. As they climbed, Sebastian caught a glimpse of Max, still vomiting as he was lowered into the hold. From the cavernous interior of the ship, the sound of him being ill took on quite terrifying proportions. It sounded like he was shouting out the names of major cities. Ramalat! Keladon! Jerabim!
'I'll pop down and visit him later,' said Sebastian.
Jenna looked at him and smiled. 'You're devoted to that beast, aren't you?' she observed.
'He's been around for as long as I can remember,' he said. 'Of course I care about him.'
'And tell me, Mr Darke, is it true what they say about you elvish people?' she asked him. 'That you can look at a person for the first time and see everything there is to know about them?'
Sebastian shrugged. 'My father was human,' he said, 'so I suppose I only picked up some of the skills. But I like to think I'm a good judge of character . . .'
Cornelius stifled a snort of laughter and Sebastian glared at him; but Jenna seemed not to have noticed.
'So what did you think when you first saw me?' she asked.
'Er . . .' Sebastian didn't want to admit to her that he hadn't thought of anything when he'd met her; that his head had been so full of images of Leonora that he'd been fairly indifferent to her. 'I thought that you seemed a trustworthy person and a . . . very accomplished sea captain.'
'Really? Well then, I'll know who to ask if I ever need a job reference!'
Jenna laughed and strode across the deck of her ship, her silver-buckled boots clumping on the scrubbed planks. She led them up a short flight of wooden steps to a high deck at the stern of the ship. From here, she took a long slow look around the Sea Witch, checking that everything was to her satisfaction. Then she nodded to Lemuel, who stood at the tiller.
'Take her out, Lem,' she said. 'Head due east until I tell you different.'
'Aye, aye, Captain,' he said. 'Cast off!' he roared.
Eager sailors ran to carry out the orders. The gangplank was pulled up, the hatches swung into position and locked. Muscled arms pulled on ropes and the yardarms swivelled; the sails billowed as they filled with wind. More crewmen ran to cast off the great mooring ropes and winch up the anchor – and the ship began to move, gently at first, but gradually gathering speed. After a short distance she began to rise and fall on the restless waves. Sebastian and Cornelius moved to the port side to wat
ch the quay slipping away from them. Cornelius was obliged to clamber up onto a barrel to get a good view.
'Always a strange time, this,' he observed, resting his elbows on the wooden rail. 'That moment when you move away from land and set off into the great vastness of the sea.'
Sebastian didn't say anything. He was suddenly filled with a terrible sense of apprehension. The dockside was dwindling in size at a surprisingly rapid rate, and after what seemed like only a few moments it had the dimensions of a child's toy. Then he was horribly aware of the way the deck planks were lifting and falling beneath his feet. He kept thinking that his unease would pass after a little while, but as they moved further and further away from land, so the motion grew more pronounced. Down in the hold, he could still hear Max roaring and groaning.
'I . . . I suppose you get used to the . . . the rhythm,' he said quietly.
'Yes. Eventually.' Cornelius studied his friend with some amusement. 'But it's like I told you this morning, the best thing you can do in this situation is get a decent breakfast inside you. I noticed you didn't eat very much, did you?'
'I . . . wasn't really hungry,' said Sebastian, who was finding it very difficult to take his eyes off the horizon. 'Too excited, I suppose.'
'Well, that's where you went wrong,' said Cornelius, smiling gleefully. 'Now, me, I had a hearty breakfast.'
'Did you?' whispered Sebastian, not really wanting to hear about it.
'Oh yes. Three fried gallock eggs – you know, the really tasty green ones – several rashers of javralat meat with all the fat left on them . . . some taties fried in the meat juices . . .'
'Could we talk about something else?' said Sebastian, who could actually feel the colour draining from his face. He looked hopefully back towards the shore and was shocked to find that it had become nothing more than a faint brownish streak on the horizon.
'And then I mopped the whole thing up with a big slice of—'
Cornelius stopped talking suddenly. His eyes widened and he looked as though he had just come to a terrible realization.
'What's wrong?' asked Sebastian. 'Did you forget to bring something?'
Cornelius shook his head. 'No. It's odd but . . . I do believe . . . I do believe I feel a little bit . . .' All the colour suddenly left his face, and he abandoned the idea of talking and threw himself across the rail. He began to vomit, long and loud, into the sea.
'Ah-ha!' cried Sebastian jubilantly. 'That'll teach you! All that talk about greasy breakfasts – you were trying to set me off . . . but it backfired!' He started to dance a little jig, but had trouble placing his feet on the seesawing planks and quickly abandoned the idea. He put a hand on the rail to steady himself and then felt a dry belch rise up in his throat.
'I'm not going to be sick,' he said aloud, though he wasn't sure who he was supposed to be talking to. 'I . . . I most definitely am not going to be—'
And then he gave up trying to talk himself out of it and made for the rail alongside Cornelius.
The pair of them looked as though they were leaning out to shout insults at the land they had left behind.
Jenna breezed past them, not even bothering to stop and see if they were all right. 'Gentlemen,' she said, 'when you've quite finished, I'd like you to join me in my cabin. I'm dying to have a look at that treasure map.'
And she moved on without even slowing her pace.
CHAPTER 14
THE CAPTAIN'S TABLE
It was quite some time before they managed to prise themselves away from the ship's rail and venture down the swaying stairs that led to the captain's cabin. The first time they tried it, they both had to dash back up on the deck for another bout of coughing and retching, but eventually, when there was nothing left in them to bring up, they found themselves sitting, pale-faced and weary, at the round table down in Jenna's cabin, Cornelius perched on his usual stack of cushions to bring him up to the right height.
Behind them, the windows in the ship's stern afforded a fine view of the churning wake flowing out behind the ship but, for the moment at least, they didn't have much inclination to look out.
Jenna was eating a ripe red pommer. She was either oblivious to their delicate condition, or determined to make them feel even worse. Lemuel entered the cabin, carrying a large wooden bucket. He closed the door behind him, set the bucket down between Sebastian and Cornelius and took a vacant seat at the table.
Jenna smiled at them. 'You two quite finished?' she asked them. They both nodded, but without much enthusiasm. It was evident that either of them might succumb to further bouts of sickness at any moment. Jenna pointed to the bucket. 'Use it if you have to,' she told them. 'And ensure a good aim – I like to keep a tidy ship.'
They nodded at her, their faces two pictures of misery.
'Now,' she said expectantly, 'if we are ready . . .?'
'Hmm?' grunted Sebastian.
'The map!' she said.
'Oh yes.' Cornelius nodded. He reached beneath his breastplate, pulled out the ancient sheet of paper and unfolded it across the table.
Jenna pulled it closer and examined it carefully in absolute silence. Then she lifted her head to look at them. 'It certainly looks authentic,' she said. 'This is undoubtedly very old parchment, and there are proper co-ordinates written here.' She indicated a near-indecipherable scrawl, inked in blood on one corner of the page.
'It's somewhere south of Lemora,' muttered Sebastian, who still wasn't convinced he'd finished vomiting. 'Do you need to know any more than that?'
'Of course,' said Jenna. 'That's not enough information to find an island. It's a very big ocean. It would be like looking for a tiny seed thrown onto a massive blanket. If we don't plot our course perfectly, we could easily sail right past it. One thing's for sure: whoever put this map together knew a thing or two about sailing.'
Cornelius struck Sebastian on the elbow. 'What did I tell you?' he said excitedly.
Now Jenna and Lemuel busied themselves with their charts, consulting the scribbled notes from time to time.
'There are lines of latitude and longitude here,' continued Jenna, 'so plotting a course shouldn't be that difficult. We'll take readings at noon and midnight.'
'Where did you learn to do that?' Sebastian asked her, not really that interested but wanting to give the impression that he was.
She glanced up at him. 'From my father, of course. He's sailed these waters all his life, and that was in the days before we had the quarterstaff.'
Sebastian frowned. 'What's a quarterstaff?' he asked Cornelius, but the little warrior just shrugged his shoulders.
'It's a wooden instrument that helps us find our way across the ocean,' explained Jenna. 'We use it to take readings from the sun and stars.' She indicated the charts spread out before her. 'These were my father's,' she said. 'He drew them up himself, every last one of them. And when I was a little girl, he taught me how to use them.'
Cornelius forced a smile. 'Unusual for a young lady to move into such a profession,' he said.
Jenna shrugged. 'I think it's no secret that he would have preferred a boy. But my mother could never give him one, and I suppose I showed no interest in the fripperies that most girls care about – dolls, dresses, that kind of thing. So he got a tomboy instead and had to make the best of it.'
'So . . . what happened to your father?' asked Sebastian.
'Oh, he's still around,' said Jenna. 'But he's not able to captain the ship any more.' She looked sad. 'He was on a voyage down to the Southlands four summers ago when a man fell overboard. My father went over the side to try and help him and . . . there were kelfers in the water.'
Sebastian Darke: Prince of Pirates Page 10