Galleon

by CJ Williams

  “I don’t want to stay here alone,” Kyoko said.

  “Schlaf in meinem Zimmer.” Sleep in my room. Hannah pulled her across the passageway into the other officer berth.

  Gus left them and went up to the captain’s cabin. A lighted brass lamp sat on the wooden desk. After being cleaned, the desk’s green leather inlay gave it a feel of luxury and the lamp added a bronze tint to paneling that wrapped the cabin’s interior. The windows of leaded glass reflected the golden glow, locking the darkness outside. On the forward wall hung a seascape done in pen-and-ink. Next to it, an oil painting of a picturesque villa could easily have been of southern Spain.

  In the middle of the room, the conference table was now polished and laid with pewter plates and mugs for three. Behind it, the potbelly wood stove filled the cabin with a pleasant warmth. In the corner, clean woolen blankets covered a large bed. Throughout the room, everything shined with a brilliant luster.

  “Can you hear me, Alyssa?” Gus asked.

  The oil painting faded to black, replaced by a video shot of Gus standing in his cabin. The first time that happened it had freaked him out, but he was used to it now.

  “Of course, Captain. How may I help you?”

  “We just experienced a geological incident, as you call them. The hot springs blasted the hell out of our home, so we’re moving over here.”

  “Welcome aboard. I am sorry you suffered such a setback, but I shall enjoy having a full-time crew.”

  Gus hung his jacket on a wall peg and leaned against the wall. He needed to think about the logistics of living on this side of the lagoon. Provisions would be an ongoing challenge. The thought made him hungry. They hadn’t had a meal since breakfast.

  Hannah entered the cabin, edging by Gus and plopping some packaged stew on the table. “Abendessen,” she said. Dinner.

  Kyoko came in close behind and shoved him aside, carrying a bowl of fruit. “Hannah said it’s time for supper,” she said grumpily. Suddenly her expression changed. “Why is it warm in your cabin? It’s freezing in my room. This is nice. I’m staying here.”

  She put the bowl down next to the stew and scanned the cabin with approval. After selecting one of the apples, she ran over to Gus’s bed and climbed in, diving under the covers. Seconds later, Hannah followed.

  “This is not a sleepover,” Gus growled.

  Kyoko said, “Would you fix the stew, Grandfather?”

  “That’s your job.”

  Neither girl would budge. When he glared at them, they just pulled the covers over their heads. “This is my room,” he barked. They ignored him.

  Gus was disgusted with the situation. He was tired and had been looking forward to a good night’s sleep in the big bed. Then again, Kyoko’s expression had cheered markedly when she came into the warm cabin. It might be worth a little inconvenience to get her used to living aboard.

  “Fine!” he mumbled. “You can sleep in my cabin for one week. After that, you two have your own berths.” He grabbed his coat off the hook, stuffed the handiphone into a pocket, and left the ship.

  The spot of his original lean-to at the spa would be comfortable enough, but he didn’t trust the geyser. Instead, he walked all the way back to Nineteen. The lifeboat welcomed him so warmly Gus felt that both he and the stupid AI were pathetic. He sent a quick message to Carol that they had decided it might be best if they lived on the old ship after all. He mentioned the geyser but glossed over the savagery of the unexpected eruption. “I’ll send you a more detailed video tomorrow. I love you, babe.” In the middle of the night, Gus dreamt of younger days when their kids would climb into bed and snuggle between them.

  *.*.*.*

  Kyoko woke to an empty cabin the next morning, shivering from the cold. The stove had burned out during the night. She lay scrunched up in bed for thirty long minutes, feeling guilty about chasing Grandfather out of his room. After he’d stomped out, she had mentioned it to Hannah, who had not been sympathetic.

  Kyoko wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and scurried to her berth in search of warmer apparel. In the relative heat of their jungle house, she’d gotten used to wearing the loose cotton clothes that Grandfather had brought from the ship. Most of the pants she had turned into cutoffs but if they had to live aboard, those wouldn’t do anymore.

  The rising sun filtered through a lightly frosted window. Outside, she saw Grandfather and Hannah walking along the crater rim. He had an armload of firewood and Hannah carried a stringer of fish and more fruit.

  Kyoko’s feet were freezing on the metal floor. She opened the sea chest and found some woolen socks that fit loosely and helped warm her numbing toes. She slipped on another pair of trousers and added a flannel shirt over the sweater. It was still cold. She ran back upstairs to wait for the others.

  *.*.*.*

  Gus found Kyoko sitting on one of the captains’ chairs with her knees drawn up, bundled up like an Eskimo. She had wrapped two blankets around her shoulders.

  “Have a comfortable night?” Gus groused, putting the handiphone in the cupboard.

  “It was cold,” Kyoko said meekly.

  “Deal with it,” he growled, still in a bad mood. He regretted his overly generous gesture of the night before. The lifeboat had not been that bad, but it was a long walk. And his own foolish pride would not allow relegation to a midshipman’s berth, even temporarily. In silence, he got a new fire going while Hannah set the table.

  They had just started to eat when the ground trembled, and a shrieking noise erupted from the geyser anew. Kyoko grabbed the handiphone and followed Gus out onto the quarterdeck to video the steam shooting into the air.

  Even in the center of the lagoon, water bubbled up, filling the interior of the crater with the familiar fog. More worrying, high up on the crater’s rim the red glow of volcanic lava appeared. It oozed out of an opening halfway up the peak and flowed down the inside of the cone toward the lagoon. In the distance, on the seaward side, voluminous steam rose into the sky.

  Hannah pointed at the lagoon. “Aussehen!” Look! Hundreds of fish appeared on the surface, floating lifelessly in the bubbling froth.

  “Boiled alive,” Gus said. If the water was cool enough near the shore, it would be worth wading in and harvesting a few. “Might be good eating.”

  The words were hardly out of his mouth when a dozen triangular-shaped dorsal fins knifed into the lagoon through the crater rim’s western gap.

  “Are those sharks?” Kyoko asked, zooming the camera lens.

  “Close enough,” Gus said. He gave an involuntary shudder at the idea of being in the water with the creatures. The surface came alive with thrashing fins and massive jaws filled with sharp teeth. The monsters devoured the dead fish and one or two of their brethren. Gus glanced at the girls, who were both eyeing the scene with alarm.

  After half an hour the orange lava flow dimmed, and its movement slowed to a halt. The high point of the crater rim seemed to settle back on itself as though its display of temper was over. The question was for how long?

  Gus sighed at the implications. “We need to rethink how viable it is to stay here,” He turned his gaze down to Alyssa’s main deck. “I wonder if we can float this old girl after all.”

  *.*.*.*

  On the Studio 37 set Russell watched the sharks turn the blue water of the lagoon an ugly red. When the video ended, he sighed in amazement. “Talk about bad luck! Are those three people snakebit or what?”

  The Grandfather Watch graphic read Day 191.

  “I just can’t believe it,” Cassie said. “Every single time they make a little progress something terrible happens. How do they even keep trying? I’d just give up and die. Colonel Singleton, do we know where they are yet?”

  “Not really,” Singleton replied. “And quite honestly, we never will. Grandfather was smart enough to send back plenty of nighttime images of his stars, but nothing correlates. The problem is the handiphone’s resolution. It’s simply not sufficient to distinguish the u
nique features of the brighter stars in his area. More advanced instruments would be necessary to gather that data. And…”

  “And what?” Cassie asked. “You look like you want to add something.”

  “Well, I was wondering about something last week. It’s my own thought. I haven’t checked it out with those who would know.”

  “Spit it out, Colonel,” Russell said. “If it’s bad news, I don’t think it could get any worse.”

  “I did notice several of the images that Grandfather sent back included views of the Milky Way. Do you have any of those that you can show?”

  “I’m sure we do.” Russell prompted, “Kent, can you dig up some of…oh, there you are.” The thick band of stars that appear in a clear night’s sky, a sight familiar to all amateur astronomers, appeared on the video backdrop. “Okay, I recognize that. Anyone can see it on a clear night.”

  Singleton said, “Now, next to that image, can you display a view of the Milky Way taken by NASA? They load a new photo of it every few months.”

  Seconds later another photo appeared. It was a sharper image but had the same line of dark smudges that expanded around a central shining sphere of light that was the center of the galaxy.

  Russell stared at the two images for several seconds. “What about it?”

  “Notice anything?”

  Cassie was the first to gasp in astonishment. “Oh, my God,” she exclaimed. “They’re different!”

  Then Russell saw it. The objects on the screen were very similar but on close inspection were obviously photos of two different bodies. “Great God in heaven,” he whispered. “Where in the world are they?”

  “That’s my worry,” Singleton said. “Are those different galaxies or is the difference because Grandfather took those photos with a camera that was out of date fifty years ago? To me the answer is inconclusive. But it makes me wonder if they are actually too far away to ever return.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Cassie said assertively. “I know Grandfather is within reach of home and that he will bring them all back safe and sound. You heard him. He said he’s going to float that old boat and I believe him! We just need to have faith.”

  *.*.*.*

  Gus walked around the Alyssa, inspecting damage to the outer hull. He poked a knife here and there to determine if it was indeed watertight. It wasn’t. In two spots the scrapes in the metal crossed over seams of the patched metal, and the knife went all the way through the hull. Those places would require detailed attention.

  For that matter, getting the ship afloat was still the most significant problem he faced. Ever since he first seriously considered trying to sail the galleon, he’d been worried about how to get it from its dry-dock position on the lava bed into the water. The previous crew could put a lot of muscle into the operation, but he didn’t have that luxury.

  He had his own questionable ingenuity, and maybe a little help from gravity since the boat was at the upper end of a natural ramp. Whatever solution he devised, he would only get one chance. Any mistake and Alyssa would be hopelessly stranded on the rocks. But even before any attempt to refloat the vessel, he had to make it seaworthy.

  To that end, he resolved three main objectives. First, he would examine the hull both inside and out. Clearly, it wasn’t watertight at present. The question was, could it be made so?

  The second task was to test the sails and rigging. Most of the ship’s metal-based cordage was in fantastic shape, but it all had to be inspected. Besides that, the galleon had a variety of non-standard equipment on the deck. For one thing, all the ropes and lines that were attached to the sails—in other words, the running rigging—were managed with individual winches mounted along the gunwales. Such equipment was unheard of in the early days of sail. Back then the lines were cleated off to gunwales with belaying pins.

  But Alyssa’s winches were similar to those Gus had known in his youth and were still used on modern sailboats. The lines wrapped two or three times around a smooth metal shaft. Removable handles let sailors ratchet the lines down tight, which could then be locked in place by a clutch on the top of the shaft.

  Alyssa’s winches had another twist. Behind each one, a drum took up the slack rope. The reel inside the drum had just enough torque to pull in the excess line, but not so much that it fought against him when he played it out. It would make handling the sails a lot easier because there would not be miles of extra rope all over the deck.

  He would also have to take down the old sails and put up the new ones from the sail locker. In the process, he would have to figure out how they worked because he had no previous experience with a square-rig configuration.

  The third objective was to supply the ship. That would be the easiest of the three. The island provided everything they needed.

  After completing his walk around the outer hull, he climbed on board to inspect it from the inside. The hold was below the waterline so he would start there.

  The repair shop was crucially important. Over the past few months, he had used several of the tools but had not investigated every single cabinet and drawer. For that matter, he needed to complete an exhaustive inventory of every item in the hold, and there was no time like the present.

  He started at the stern in the repair room. In ancient times it would be called the carpenter’s shop. In one locker he found packages of metallic powder. Alyssa explained that when mixed with water it made a thick paste for repairing damaged metal.

  The next section forward was the magazine, stacked with barrels of gunpowder. He used a wooden mallet to knock the lid off one of the smaller kegs. The black powder inside was vacuum sealed in a clear plastic bag. Gus tore a hole in the covering and scooped up a fistful of the thick grains to rub against his palm. Black powder was composed of basic ingredients and packaged like this would last forever. The residue in his hand appeared to be in good shape. Someday, he thought idly—not for the first time—he would have to fire one of the cannons.

  A pair of gun cabinets contained three dozen muskets wrapped in oilskins. All of them were covered with dust, but underneath the metal shined; they merely needed cleaning. Stowed in lower drawers were twenty-inch socket-mount bayonets. For whatever it was worth, he had plenty of armament.

  Surrounded by all the explosive material, Gus decided some safety precautions would be appropriate. He took one of the blankets down to the shore and wet it thoroughly. Back in the hold, he put it up as a doorway to the magazine. Now he had a spark barrier against the work he’d be doing.

  Another cupboard contained fifteen elegant swords. They had curved, single-edged blades with intricate circular guards and long, two-handed grips. They were stored horizontally with the sharp edge of the blade up. Below each blade was a lacquered sheath.

  Later in the day, his idle comment about the Chinese swords piqued Kyoko’s interest. She turned up at dinner wearing one of the sheathed blades around her waist. She must have spent hours cleaning the scabbard, as the ensemble looked brand new.

  “What’s up with that?” Gus asked.

  “Your education is lacking,” Kyoko replied, drawing the sword and holding it up for display. The blade gleamed with a mirror finish. “This is not a Chinese sword, it is a Japanese katana blade.”

  “I don’t think the Acevedos were Japanese,” Gus said.

  “They were if they made these blades. And it makes sense. I told you before the dragon figurehead is the image of Mizuchi, an ancient Japanese dragon. Observe.”

  Kyoko selected an apple from the bowl on the table and tossed it into the air. In one smooth motion, she sliced the fruit into two pieces, sheathed the sword, and managed to catch one of the halves before it landed. She smiled mockingly and took a bite. “Only a katana has such perfect balance,” she stated flatly.

  Gus was impressed. This was a side of Kyoko he had never seen; he always thought of her as meek and mild. “All right,” he said with an easy smile. “Japanese works for me. Where did you learn how to do that?”

&n
bsp; She gave him a haughty look. “I was the Samurai’s Handmaiden.”

  “I’m not really sure what you’re talking about.”

  Kyoko grinned. “It was my first lead role. You have no idea how hard I had to train to get that part. I got the Kinema Junpo Award for it.”

  Gus nodded with a blank expression. He had no idea what she was referring to. “That’s nice. I hope you’re not going to wear that thing around every day.”

  “No, but this one is mine. I have named it Masamune. I shall clean another for you and hang it up over there on the wall.”

  Gus didn’t really want his own sword but thought it best to accept the offer. As long as she didn’t insist on giving him lessons.

  *.*.*.*

  Gus woke up in the middle of the night and sat up on the side bench in Nineteen’s cabin. He’d forgotten about ballast. The bottom of Earth’s historic sailing ships were filled with heavy weights, a conglomeration of iron ingots and stone. The weight gave the vessel stability and kept it upright. When he arrived at the galleon later that morning, it was the first question he asked.

  “Alyssa, do you have a ballast?”

  “Yes, it is in the free space below the data center.”

  “Are any of the repairs below the ballast?”

  “That is correct. You will have to remove some portion of the ballast to access the inner hull.”

  After breakfast, he headed for the data center below the hold. Sure enough, a doorway near the stern opened to a narrow companionway leading down to the ballast area. The overhead was less than four feet high, so Gus had to crawl around on his hands and knees to maneuver.

  At least the bottom wasn’t filled with rocks and dirt like it was on ancient Earth vessels. Instead, individually shaped ingots were fitted side by side to match the shape of the hull. They filled the bottom to an even height of about fourteen inches, resulting in a relatively level surface to crawl on. Each ingot measured about eight inches square and had a recessed handgrip built in for easy removal. Gus counted a few rows and did a quick calculation.