A terrible scream resounded outside. Through the porthole, we spied a nightmarish scene. In a murderous frenzy, a few men faced one another, knives at the ready. Others, tottering and swaying, clamped their hands around their fellows’ throats in a pitiful attempt to throttle them. Worse than animals, they harboured only murder in their hearts. I was horrified at first, but soon the struggles enthralled me. Yes. To my great shame, I stared in fascination.
When the captain appeared, armed with two pistols, the crewmen stopped for a moment, but the lull proved short-lived. A cutlass flew across the deck and caught him in the throat. Blood spurted. The poor man staggered and fell, firing his pistols on the mutineers. One of them clutched his stomach and crumpled into a moaning heap.
The men, wild with fury at the sight of blood, grabbed the captain and moved to throw him overboard.
A voice shouted, ‘Why not eat him?’
The crew murmured then fell silent until, as one, the men flung themselves at the captain’s corpse and dismembered it in no time at all. A fight began over the miserable remains.
Struck with horror, I could not pull my gaze off the spectacle. My stomach sloshed with nausea as I watched the men who had won chunks of their captain’s body. Nothing human was left in these supposedly civilised beings while they stuffed flesh into their blackened mouths – only pleasure was painted across their deformed faces.
Some of them, their appetite unsatisfied, turned toward the wounded sailor who lay on the planks.
‘No!’ he screamed.
His body was torn apart and the crew battled again over the bleeding scraps.
I couldn’t sleep after witnessing this scene. Toine remained silent. Each time I turned, I spotted him swinging his hammock by tapping his foot on the rounded bulkhead. From time to time, he raised his upper body to spit a dark stream of saliva.
The heat had become so unbearable I asked, ‘What about opening up a bit?’
‘Go ahead,’ he said. ‘The dogs have gorged themselves.’
I hastened to leave the narrow apertures ajar.
A sickeningly sweet odour invaded our small galley, where no fresh air had penetrated for days. A fit of retching seized me.
‘That’s blood, son,’ Toine said. ‘If you can’t stand it, shut your hole!’
I complied, but not before casting a last glance outside. The night had moved away, making the stars pale. The line where daylight emerged was streaked with gold. The men, now silent, stretched out on the deck, digesting their crimes. Some stared straight ahead with empty, wild eyes, as if they were seeking oblivion in the distance, where dawn broke into the beginning of a new, unsullied day.
III
I awoke late in the morning. Around midday. In an overpowering heat. The atrocious scenes that had unfolded before my eyes sprang to mind and I sank in deep despair. Would it soon be my turn? What other end could I imagine to such a hideous situation? I must have let out a sigh because Toine’s voice resounded in that tiny space.
‘Well, then, son. Are you waking up?’
He stood next to a porthole. I stepped up to him and, stomach churning, I ventured a glance outside.
The macabre remains that littered the deck – shreds of flesh sticking to fragments of bones – had turned black as a result of the heat. And – endlessly repetitive mystery of life – a big green fly that wasn’t aboard the day before was already buzzing about. The men had resumed drinking rum, in the absurd hope to quench their thirst, but now they could bear it no longer and, their insides on fire, shrieked and writhed in pain, hands clenched on bellies. Several of them, incapable of withstanding the agony, toppled overboard into the immensity of that undrinkable water.
Toine set his hand on my shoulder. ‘See, son? Men ain’t pretty when rage takes hold of ’em. Worse than rabid dogs.’
‘What are they going to do now?’ I asked in a shaky voice.
‘Bah. They’ve tasted blood. When they get hungry again they’ll start all over, eating each other. Unless that goddamned wind begins to blow.’
The rolling pin on the kitchen counter moved. Toine grabbed my arm and squeezed. ‘Did you see that, son?’ Since I didn’t seem to realise the importance of his words, he went on joyously, ‘The current! The current! Can’t you hear it? That’s the wind coming! By tomorrow, it will be blowing.’
God be praised. The end of our terrible nightmare was nigh. I could hardly believe it. I burst into laughter and tears at the same time. Toine watched me, nodding. He seemed moved by my joy. ‘Better not rejoice yet, son. Our troubles ain’t over.’
‘But who will command the boat now?’
‘Fear.’
A shiver crept down my spine.
A few hours later, Toine and I were still locked in our galley. The heat had chased the remainder of the crew away from the deck.
‘Can’t stand it anymore,’ Toine said. ‘I’m going to splash some water on to that fucking deck.’ Before unlocking the door, he slipped a knife and a pistol under his belt. I moved to follow.
‘No, lad. Stay here.’ But, seeing the resolve on my face, he handed me another pistol. ‘Take this then.’
The sun slapped the deck hard. We stepped into a furnace, our feet burning. We fetched two buckets, tied lines to them, and began to draw seawater, which we splashed down on to the bloodstains, now brownish. I was happy to leave Toine with the task of throwing the remains overboard. I would not have touched them for all the gold in Peru.
Most of the deck was clear when a sailor sprang out of a hatch, yelling, ‘Leave it! It’s my food. D’ye ’ear? Leave it.’ He brandished an iron stick, or whelp. He was about to crack Toine’s skull open. Frozen by surprise, the cook hadn’t had the time to draw his weapons. I didn’t hesitate. I drew the pistol from my belt and fired on the madman without taking aim. A hole drilled in his forehead, the sailor collapsed. Stupefied, I stared at the corpse and began to shake.
‘There, there, son.’ Toine tapped me on the shoulder. ‘It was him or me. He’d’ve had me for his next meal if it wasn’t for you.’ He leant down toward the sailor, to make sure he was dead. ‘Come on. Help me. Let’s throw him overboard before they think of eating him.’
I grabbed the dead man’s feet, not without repugnance, and we swung the corpse into the water. A crowd of shark had encircled the ship since the crew’s repasts had filled the air with the reek of blood. They lunged at this unexpected prey and shredded it in the most hateful way.
We went back to the galley in silence. The inside of the cabin felt cool after the searing heat of the deck. We drank a little water, noting that our provisions were rapidly dwindling. Then we ate a small meal of flour, which Toine had moistened to make it edible. Neither the terrible stench nor the taste of mildew bothered us, so overwhelming was our hunger. Nevertheless, I realised I could not continue abusing my stomach for long.
Needless to say, Toine had locked the door as soon as we had stepped inside. An attack was to be expected at any moment. Luckily, we had plenty of bullets and gunpowder. We could only wait now. We stretched out on our hammocks.
As the hours passed, the ship came back to life around us. I fell asleep.
Songs and screams from the deck awoke me. Night had fallen. They’re back at it again, I thought in despair. I propped myself up on my elbows and saw Toine standing in front of the porthole. The lamp was unlit. He clearly preferred not to attract attention.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked.
‘Those idiots are starting on the rum all over again. If only, instead of sloshing their heads off, they had the idea of hoisting the sails, we’d be moving.’
I got up and peered through the other porthole. The survivors sat around a cask of rum, ripped open. Among them was the bosun, who seemed to be in charge. They dipped their tin cups into the cask and drank, a large amount of the rum trickling down their beards and clothes. So far, they weren’t fighting.
I turned to Toine. ‘Don’t they seem calmer?’
‘Don’t c
ount on it, son. We’ll soon see some odd things if the rum doesn’t kill them first.’
Feeling exhausted, I went back to my hammock. Hunger and thirst held me in their grips, but I didn’t dare to say anything to Toine, who suffered as much as I did and didn’t complain. Besides, he could do nothing about it. We were almost out of water, and we were wise not to eat much of the flour left. An image of the man I had killed assaulted me. On his forehead, a red flower grew and grew until it became enormous. The petals parted, and from the centre a stem sprouted suddenly. Like a pointed finger, it approached slowly, ready to suck me into the dead man’s skull. I screamed, and I must have screamed aloud because a hand shook me.
‘Hey, there, ship’s boy. Shut up.’
Toine’s face loomed over me. Although his voice sounded gruff, compassion shone in his eyes.
The dawn was as black as muddy dirt. The stars had fled but the night seemed to last forever. A silence as heavy as the heat hung in the air. The crew must have been wallowing in rum. Toine, who had returned to his hammock, no longer spoke, but in the darkness his pupils glowed like cat’s eyes. Suspense enveloped us, impalpable yet present.
A sound like thousands of little paws running on the deck came from outside. Toine leapt from his hammock, shrieking words I could not understand. He glanced through the porthole. When he turned toward me, a broad grin split his face.
‘That’s life coming from above, son. Can’t you hear it? Rain. At least we can drink as much as we want.’
He went to the door, unlocked it and stepped out. I found him stretched out on the deck, his mouth wide open, avidly lapping up the fortunate tears of the sky. I let myself fall by his side and drank, drank until I became breathless. I rolled about in blessed and delirious joy. Toine put an end to it by tapping me on the shoulder.
‘Come on, son. That’s enough. Let’s go lend a hand to the men.’
I followed him reluctantly. The crew, what was left of it, was busy unfurling the largest sails. As they did so without hoisting them, they had endless trouble to keep the sails facing the sky; the rain falling on the canvases made their weight barely manageable.
Toine and I added our efforts to theirs. I helped them with some repugnance, the frightful scenes I had witnessed too fresh in my mind. Toine, however, spoke to the sailors in friendly tones. His kindness astonished me at first, but I had yet to learn that men are as vulnerable to joy as they are to suffering.
IV
The rain had abated. The sails were hoisted, and the barrels we had placed everywhere filled with that precious gift from the sky. Calm reigned during a botched dawn in which pitch black shaded off into dark grey. Isolated sunrays pierced the clouds to shed light on a terribly flat sea like a lake of tar.
Far, very far away, cracked muted peals of thunder. The storm approached quickly, lightning streaking the leaden ceiling while the sea shivered and quivered under a fresh wind. The ocean began a wild dance. One by one, the sails puffed up, getting rid of the rain, once again as white as angels’ wings. The ship listed then picked up speed as the wind shook the riggings in a song of departure.
We cried our joy as one. Then Toine tapped me on the arm. ‘That’s not all. We need to head somewhere. Let’s take a look at the bridge.’
The bosun was already there, several maps unrolled in front of him. As we drew closer, he raised a frightened face.
‘Ah,’ Toine said. ‘The captain tricked you.’
‘And you with us,’ the bosun riposted. Then he said in friendlier tones, ‘Ye’ve sailed with him for a long time. D’ye know where he kept his instruments?’
‘First we should find out what our last position was,’ Toine answered.
‘How? All I can find is maps that weren’t used. Surely the good ones must be hidden with the instruments. I’ve looked everywhere.’ He shouted, ‘Sailing without navigation equipment is like sailing blind.’
‘We’ve got the stars,’ Toine said in a quiet voice.
‘Sure.’ The man shot a nasty glance at Toine. ‘And who can read the stars on this boat?’
‘I can tell you,’ Toine said even more calmly.
The bosun grew red in the face, as if he were about to have a heart attack. Toine, hands buried in his pockets, gazed at him, an amused gleam in his eyes. He seemed to enjoy the man’s growing exasperation.
‘Who?’ the bosun yelled.
Toine shifted his quid to the other cheek, spat a long stream of saliva and said in nonchalant tones, ‘Me.’
Then he became another man. He straightened his back and took on a hard tone. ‘Without me, you’re lost. Get it inside your head and tell your mates. I can lead you but on one condition. I want to be your commander. If not, go fuck yourselves. I’ve got nothing to lose.’
At first, there was silence. Then the bosun, mouth stiff and fists clenched, stepped up to Toine. ‘Hey, Toine, are ye taking me fer a fool? Ye the commander? Are ye out of yer mind?’
‘Maybe I am, but just take it or leave it. Go tell the others and quickly, because we’re running in circles. You can also tell them I’m not against your being my second-in-command.’
The bosun opened his mouth, thought better of it, turned on his heels and went out.
‘There we are,’ Toine said when he was sure the other couldn’t hear him. ‘It’s settled. And I’ll tell you something, son. I’ll be lucky if I can tell the difference between the Great Bear and the Southern Cross.’
‘But what will become of us?’ I said, terrified.
He shrugged. ‘I wonder. But someone must take control of these brutes. We’ll manage to gather the weapons. After which, we’re in God’s hands.’
It was the first time I had heard him mention God. I couldn’t tell why, but I didn’t like it. Maybe because I had deserted God since my childhood. I had no time to think about it because the bosun came back.
‘All right, cook,’ he said defiantly. ‘Ye’ve been made commander. But they don’t want me to be yer only second mate, they want two.’
‘Perfect.’ Toine slitted his beady eyes. ‘Then go tell them they can navigate with the wind. If I’m the commander, I don’t take orders.’
The other looked stunned but once again left without a word.
In the meantime, the wind blew with greater force and the ship listed dangerously. Nobody seemed to care. Through the large windows of the navigation room, we saw the sails all puffed up.
‘If they’re stiff like that for a long time, they’ll tear.’
He stuck his head through the door and shouted into a megaphone I hadn’t noticed before. ‘Furl the mainsail!’
I felt hesitation among the sailors on deck but it didn’t last. Someone repeated the order and Toine was promoted commander of a ship he didn’t know how to guide. In other circumstances, I would have thought it funny.
The day passed without incidents. Even though hunger had weakened us, we took courage. When night came, Toine pointed to a star to follow, surely chosen at random, and then he took me to the captain’s cabin, our new quarters. It was a wide, comfortable cabin with two bunks. By some miracle, it had not been looted.
‘We’ll be better off here,’ Toine commented.
He searched everywhere but found only one instrument, which he studied closely before showing it to me. ‘With this instrument, when it works – and this one doesn’t – you can determine the latitude.’
‘Really? How?’ ‘By measuring the height of the sun above the horizon. It’s called a sextant. But we don’t have the right maps anyways.’
I let Toine choose one bunk and I took the other. An empty stomach prevented me from enjoying the new comfort, after so many nights passed in a crude hammock. Despite my hunger, I soon fell into a deep sleep.
V
When I awoke, I was alone. The ship shook; her shell and hull creaked. I took a sitting position and glanced to the porthole. Enormous waves swelled and broke, their crests crowning with foam before hollowing into abysses. The sight appalled me but I d
ecided to go up to the deck to join Toine, who was probably in the navigation room.
I climbed up but had a hard time opening the hatch to the companionway. I thought I had made it when a terrible wave sent me back down. I tried again and this time, between two billows, I succeeded in hoisting myself on to the deck. Doubling over, I started as fast as I could toward the room. A wave rushed on my heels as I hurled myself through the door.
Toine wasn’t in the room. I looked outside and there he was, clutching the tiller. He was taking the commander’s role seriously. No one else had ventured on the deck. It was a remarkable spectacle, Toine alone against the wild elements. Like looming skeletons, the mizzenmast and the fore-mast stood stripped, for the sails had been furled, while the bowsprit, with its sail still stretched out, pointed toward the sky and then plunged into the sea like a flag announcing death.
Surging waves hit the deck in rapid succession. I would never get to Toine. Staying in the cabin was out of the question. A strange uneasiness pushed me to avoid being alone. I decided to try despite danger. The waves had me rolling on the deck against the bulwark and I narrowly escaped going overboard. When I started again, I saw Toine’s lips move. He shouted words I could not hear. Finally, one wave heaved me against him. One hand on the helm, he grabbed me with the other until I steadied myself.
‘Tie yourself up.’ He thrust his chin toward the base of the helm, where a rope was fastened, the same he had used to attach himself.
Gripping the helm with both hands, he righted the ship that had been listing dangerously.
‘Just in time to lend me a hand, son,’ he said. ‘It takes two to hold on to this damned wheel.’
‘Where are we heading?’
‘That, ship’s boy, nobody knows. To avoid any argument about the direction, I ordered them to head straight at the rising sun.’
The wind howled. The dance of the ocean was getting ever wilder. The galleon kept soaring and diving. The mainmast swayed like a drunkard but, free from the heavy sails, it held. The bowsprit, however, still encumbered by the sail, could not withstand the strain. A moment later, the sail swelled so suddenly the bowsprit broke.
The Weird: A Compendium of Strange and Dark Stories Page 81