Solar Minimum

by Greg T Meyers

Horsa had sailed into Vancouver, British Columbia three months ago with nine ships and secured them at the Tsawwassen Ferry Terminal near Point Roberts. He had left one hundred men to guard them, but as he approached the port he couldn’t see any masts rising in the distance where they ought to have been. He had been watching the horizon over the past hour as they marched through the black ruins of Vancouver, dreading his army’s reaction if all their transports out of America were destroyed, or worse if there were not enough ships afloat to take them all off together. He had already sustained heavy losses in the mountains of Montana two months ago when the army was split over the decision to plunder what was left of the United States or return home to Belarus where they knew they had ample supplies and, most importantly, food. The disagreement become bloody when the opposing sides began collecting weapons and claiming the remaining supplies. The party choosing to stay in America felt they should have the lion’s share of all the supplies and that’s when weapons were drawn and by sunset 40,000 men were dead.

  When they were within 10 miles of the port, Horsa sent a scout ahead to assess the situation and just as Horsa feared, the scout returned with bad news. Horsa rode out to meet him so that they would be out of earshot of the rest of the army and Horsa directed the scout to speak quietly. Nodding the scout reported, “I could only account for seven ships and they were all sitting at the bottom of the harbor with only the masts showing. The docks themselves are completely destroyed and even if a single ship was afloat we would have to swim to her.”

  Horsa sighed and leaned forward resting his arms on the horn of his saddle and looking westward in the direction of the port, “So where are the other two ships—do you know how deep the harbor is? Perhaps they have just sunk completely below the water.”

  The scout thought a minute but then shook his head, “I don’t know for sure but the harbor is dredged so it couldn’t be over fifty feet I would think, however the water is so black that you couldn’t see to the bottom of a tea cup—so even if they were completely drowned you wouldn’t be able see them sir.”

  Horsa sat quietly for over five minutes assessing the situation and the options he had—which wasn’t many. He knew the army was already very fatigued since most of them had walked the 300 miles to the coast and this could quite possibly be the very last straw. Toprak soldiers were all soldiers of fortune and there hadn’t been any reward or plunder since they landed in America, which was supposed to be the opportunity of a lifetime.

  Horsa then sat up in his saddle, “I want you to quietly pass the word to all the officers that they are to meet me on the other side of that bluff in 30 minutes,” he said pointing to a small rise a quarter of a mile to the south.

  The scout nodded and as he was about to ride back Horsa stopped him, “And bring me a harbinger.” The scout nodded again, flanked his horse and rode back to the main body of the army who were all resting. Several soldiers had built a fire and were brewing coffee in an attempt to warm up in the cold northwest winter rain, made all the colder due to the Minimum.

  Horsa turned and rode over the bluff to wait for his officers but as he reached the top, which was approximately 50 feet high, he saw four masts protruding from the beach at an angle. One of his ships was lying on its side in shallow water just off Point Roberts. Horsa pulled his binoculars from his saddlebag and inspected the ship as best he could from that distance. As far as he could tell, it was seaworthy and must have drifted from the docks during the Minimum destruction and then washed upon the Point. There wasn’t time to ride down to make a full inspection before his officers arrived but it really didn’t matter since it was the only hope of getting back to Belarus. The much bigger problem was how he would peacefully select less than one thousand men out of thirty-thousand.

  Horsa determined he had only one option and as he watched his officers approach he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pulling his cloak higher on his neck to stop the never-ending rain from running down his back. He instructed his officers that there was a very strong Canadian Army to the south which was guarding their ships. He wanted them to return to the main body of the Toprak Army and announce that they each needed 100 men to volunteer to meet the Canadian Army. He also instructed them to be sure and stress that the battle would be very sore as the Canadians were very well armed.

  His officers were used to taking orders without question and even though they couldn’t see any Canadians to the south, they all saluted with a fist to the chest and rode back toward the encampment. Just before the officers left, the scout returned with a harbinger sitting behind him on his horse and as he reached Horsa, the scout pushed the harbinger off and he fell into the mud at the feet of Horsa’s Percheron.

  Horsa got off his horse, took a rope from his saddle, bound the harbinger hand and foot and then tied the long end of the rope to his saddle. He then mounted and waited for his officers with their hundreds to start making their way back toward him. He looked down at the harbinger who was shivering from cold and fear, “In a few minutes you’ll be released and your torment will end—take courage.”

  As they waited the scout cautiously said, “Pardon my ignorance sir but, I don’t see any Canadian army. Are they far off?”

  Horsa smiled only slightly, not taking as much pleasure in his deceit as he normally did, “There is no army. We cannot all sail on a single ship, which is all we have,” he said pointing to the ship on the Point, “I won’t be taking any bloody cowards back to Belarus.”

  The sun was starting to set as Horsa finally saw his officers and their hundreds approaching and looking through binoculars he saw that the remainder of the Toprak army was content to let their comrade’s march off to fight for them in the dark rain. Seeing their lazy complacency greatly angered Horsa and after the volunteer division was past the bluff, he took out a knife and slit the harbinger’s throat and then brutally flanked his horse sending it running back toward the encampment dragging the harbinger behind it, leaving a trail of blood.

  Horsa and the scout watched the horse enter the encampment and then Horsa held out his hand. The scout noticed there were four scars crisscrossing his palm and he watched Horsa make a final deep cut on his palm, completing an inverted five-point star on his hand. It bled profusely and he then walked over to the trail of blood and yelled very loudly, “BASLATMAK!” and slammed his hand down on the harbinger blood trail that led to the encampment.

  The scout knew that the word Baslatmak was the Turkish word used to initiate a harbinger herald but as Horsa hit the ground it shook the earth and intense fire shot up along the blood trail all the way to the encampment and when it reached the harbinger it violently exploded sending shock waves back toward them. Horsa and the volunteer division all instinctively fell to the ground when they heard the explosion as the shock wave passed over their heads. Horsa lay on the muddy ground listening to the screams and moans of his once great army being destroyed. He had never known failure in war and the feeling was surreal and very unsettling as he lay looking up at the rain falling on his face, his back sinking deeper into the mud.

  The scout was beyond afraid and as he lay next to him on the ground he dared not even move wondering how a man could wield such unbelievable power—power enough to destroy an entire army with one hand. However, the act seemed to rob Horsa of all his strength and he could hear him breathing very heavily and moaning quietly, secretly concealing his vulnerability.

  Minutes passed and at last an officer approached Horsa to inquire if he was alright, “Of course I’m alright,” he said angrily as he rose to his feet still noticeably weak.

  By the time Horsa and his volunteer army reached the ship, the tide had already come in and the ship was nearly upright. Once they raised the sails, she stood strong and began to come about. Horsa made his way to the captain’s quarters leaving the sailing to one of his officers who was also a rated sailing master. He collapsed on his bed and finally gave in to his extreme fatigue and wondered which of his ships he was on. He rolled ov
er and on the floor he found a log book and he held it up to the hazy moonlight and read, “Baslatmak.” He threw the log on the floor and rolled onto his back and sighed, “Perfect.”

  Horsa closed his eyes and quickly drifted into a dream. As usual, but especially in times of great fatigue, Horsa wandered in his sleep walking behind Afet. He anxiously anticipated her looking back at him like she did so often during the Russian wars. In most of his dreams when Afet turned to look at him, she was very sad and sullen but as Horsa’s heart began to pound in anticipation, she turned and smiled. Horsa was drawn into his dream even deeper but then abruptly shocked into morning by a knock on his cabin door and as he opened his eyes, the early sun was reflecting off the sea and through the stern windows. He sat up and called out, “Enter.”

  One of his officers came into the cabin, saluted and then reported, “Sails were spotted to the south during the morning watch, we have been trailing her since but haven’t been able to gain on her sir—and not knowing your orders, we have not strongly pursued.”

  “Why the hell was I not awakened when you first spotted her?” said Horsa staggering to his feet.

  The officer bowed his head and respectfully replied, “You were not responding to be roused sir.”

  Horsa looked at the traditional naval clock hanging in the cabin and saw that it was nearly noon, “Never mind then—carry on, I shall be on deck momentarily.”

  “Yes sir,” responded the officer and after saluting he left the cabin, shutting the door.

  Horsa couldn’t see that there was any reason to hurry since there was little they could do about another ship anyway. After all this wasn’t the 18th century where oceans were battlefields and they didn’t even have a gun on board that would fire. So he took his time enjoying a warm shower and a full breakfast of eggs and cold cuts of cow’s tongue. Dressed and greatly refreshed he came up on deck as the officer of the watch announced his presence, “Horsa on deck!”

  Horsa looked southward and couldn’t see any ship and just as he was about to speak the officer of the watch told him he would need to climb up to the crosstrees to see it. From the low perspective of the deck of a ship, the human eye can only see about three miles before the curvature of the earth hides things beyond the visible horizon. Horsa held onto the shrouds and climbed up to the crosstrees. From that vantage point he could see nearly 15 miles and there on the horizon was a spread of canvas. With binoculars he could see a three mast ship heading on their same course. He considered for a moment that there was a Toprak ship still unaccounted for and he held up the binoculars again this time studying the mysterious ship for identification. As both ships rose and fell on the ocean swell, the hull of the other ship could only be seen for brief moments but at length, Horsa was able to determine that the hull of the other ship was black—all Toprak ships were white and he hung the binoculars around his neck and climbed down the shrouds.

  Handing the binoculars to the officer of the watch he said, “Let’s keep an eye on her, alert me if we come within three miles of her, otherwise, put us on a direct course for Tangiers—I took a herald this morning and Hengist is stranded there. It appears his luck has been the same as ours—except we still have a ship.”

  The Baslatmak was comfortably cruising at 12 knots on a slight swell and Horsa walked to the bow still studying the horizon as the spray occasionally came over the rail providing much needed refreshment. Whatever the ship was on the horizon he felt he could rest easy knowing that it was probably not hostile since the whole world was licking their wounds and preparing for what would be a very long, cold and hungry winter.

  As Horsa stood on the bow, he reflected on Toprak’s global mission and began rearranging the various tactics and strategies so that they might again lead toward the Toprak Esir. The biggest obstacle Toprak faced was the loss of their once very large fleet of 175 ships, all no doubt sitting at the bottom of the ocean somewhere. Toprak still had plenty of gold but the only thing of value since the Minimum was food and while Toprak had great reserves of it, Horsa wondered if they had enough to make it double as both money and victuals. Horsa then had an idea—Toprak would just have to amass more food by any means they could. Growing it of course was an obvious option but that was a long-term plan, and they needed it now. The only option was to steal it where they could—an option Horsa liked very much.

  The longer he held still, the more he was reminded of his weakened state due to the harbinger ignition he performed yesterday. As he schemed, his mind wandered and just beyond the bowsprit he saw Afet walking before the ship and as he shook his head in an effort to clear his daydream, he could see white sails rising and falling on the distant horizon exactly to the same rhythm of Afet’s bare feet. He stood up to clear his head and placed his foot on the base of the bowsprit then looked to the horizon with his binoculars. He was certain now that he was not dreaming—there on the horizon was a full spread of sails on a black, three mast ship—they were gaining on her.

  He looked up at the Baslatmak’s spread, ordered every sail to bent and instructed the helmsman to purse the ship that was now two points off port and call the entire crew on deck. Horsa’s crew was made up of a pathetic group of soldiers who had spent the past two months marching across Montana and Washington after they had killed almost half of their fellow soldiers in a sore battle of disagreement. However, the soldiers that were on board Horsa considered the best of what was left of his once proud and powerful army.

  The crew stood at strict attention as Horsa walked along with his Chief Officer as if the crew were having an inspection. Horsa rubbed his sore hand as he folded them behind his back and came up with a motivating plan before he addressed what was left of his crew, “While I feel we have done very well to maintain and preserve our supplies over the last two months of hell, I regret to inform you all that we might not have enough victuals to see us to the far side of the Mediterranean. I am therefore placing the entire ship, officers included on three quarter rations until further notice.”

  There were quiet murmurs heard around the deck as Horsa continued, “The Baslatmak was the most ill provisioned of the fleet and our supplies from Montana will not be sufficient unless we come upon good fortune.”

  Horsa then turned to look at the ship on the horizon and pointed, “Behold our good fortune!”

  The crew all cheered and as the officers began commanding them to pipe down Horsa continued, “Without modern weapons, we shall have to fight like pirates—pirates without guns that is. It will be a boarding party attack or nothing. However, I imagine it will be a rather easy task compared to Montana. I suspect we will be fighting a lily white crew of California day-sailors.” The crew was still largely uncontrolled and they all broke out into laughter and cheers.

  Horsa dismissed his crew, called his officers together and began reorganizing his army into a navy.

  “Excellent rouse sir,” said Horsa’s Chief Officer.

  Horsa turned to him apprehensively and responded with no emotion, “That wasn’t a rouse. Unless we can find or plunder additional supplies we shall have to eat our harbingers before we reach Tangiers.”

  After the necessary arrangements and assignments were made, Horsa walked back on deck and saw his prey now about two points off starboard and almost completely hull up. He reached for the binoculars and in the fading light of the day could barely make out the ship’s name proudly displayed in gold leaf on her stern—Euterpe.

  ddd

  Matt made his way above deck on the Euterpe stretching after a satisfying meal of mutton and cornbread. His arm was still sore from the shot Nicole fired at him, especially after Gus retrieved the ball from his bicep with a spoon. Most of the provisions they took from Toprak in Montana consisted of a wide assortment of aposeptic meat and corn flour—both of which were very heavy and was therefore left behind by so many of the Toprak army having to walk back to Vancouver. Aposeptic meat was a modern process of treating raw meats which allowed it to be left at any temperature indefi
nitely without spoiling. The technical term was actually called aposeptic-pico, which defined the level of bacterial abatement and pico meaning the trillionth level. Unlike the food preservatives that were in the end ingested by humans, aposeptics were applied to the surface of meats and when cooked, burned off completely.

  In the remaining minutes of daylight at thirty-seven latitude, Matt approached Nicole at the helm and told her Gus had prepared some awesome English lamb in the forward mess and if she were hungry he would take over for her. He was joking of course since he knew Nicole had not had anything solid to eat except for some bread since early that morning. Nicole eagerly accepted his offer but before going below deck she turned and said, “Just steer straight,” but then realizing that was a meaningless term on an open ocean to a neophyte she said, “Qto Ostro verso Scirocco,” she smiled teasing Matt knowing he would not have a clue about traditional wind points and then clarified for a landlubber, “One hundred seventy degrees,” and then walked back and pointed at the compass, “south by east.”

  Matt smiled and saluted un-intimidated, “Aye-aye Captain!”

  Nicole disappeared down the companionway and Matt took a deep, cleansing breath of the ocean air. It had been months since he had breathed air that was smoke-free and he inhaled long and deep. enjoying the full expansion of his lungs with the humid air. The sun was now below the horizon and the clouds were purple where they met the sea fading into a tranquil expanse of fading lavender and pink.

  As Matt was contemplating how peaceful the night was, Gus came up on deck and rather than look at Matt as he spoke, he stared past him at the aft horizon, “We have a predator approaching.”

  Matt hurled around to see a white hull-up ship with all her sails spread in pursuit, “How did you know she was there? I just came up on deck and didn’t see her.”

  Gus took notice of the recently setting sun and the position of the approaching ship and said, “She must have been hidden in the glare of the setting sun, but I didn’t know she was there by seeing her. I felt something amiss while preparing Nicole a plate.”

  “Just like you felt before we reached the Toprak battlefield in Montana?” said Matt turning to look at the compass to make she he was still on course.

  Gus leaned on the port rail and pulled on his beard, “Yes, the exact feeling as a matter of fact, which is odd. I don’t feel the danger of an impending event but it is centered on a person—whom I’m not sure. I’m convinced it is someone I’ve met and the signature is the same as Montana.”

  “Signature?” asked Matt.

  Gus was in deep thought trying to analyze the clairvoyant image in his mind and responded slowly, “Yes—ever since the Minimum destroyed everything, it’s like my hidden eyes are opened wider.”

  “Don’t you mean your hidden eye?” said Matt reminding Gus about their conversation with Professor Winston at Oxford and his private lecture on the penal gland being known as the third eye and how the effects of the Minimum will cause it to be more open due to the decrease of melatonin production.

  Gus turned to look at the ship which was gaining perhaps as much as a 1000 feet per hour. At that rate they would be upon them by morning. Unlike old oceanic wars, there wasn’t any gun powder that would explode so the only real threat was the ship getting close enough to board. It was obvious that the ship was a faster sailer than the Euterpe but given that the ship was nearly 200 years newer it was not a surprise.

  “All we can do is pray for better wind than they,” said Gus with an ill attempt to be humorous.

  Neither Matt nor Gus saw Nicole come back on deck and the first thing she noticed was the ship trailing them and noting their position she laugh slightly, “We won’t have to worry about them at all if they stay on their present course.”

  “Why is that?” asked Matt.

  “They are coming at us all wrong—downwind,” replied Nicole as she took the helm and made a slight adjustment to their direction taking advantage of the freshening breeze. “If they come at us from that angle, we will have the weather gage and the advantage of maneuverability—they’ll never get close enough to board us.”

  Matt joined Gus at the rail impressed with Nicole’s skill as a sailor and as he watched her harness every last bit of wind he asked, “How can you be so sure? She is certainly the faster ship.”

  Nicole thought a moment of how she could explain something that was so second nature to seasoned sailors and then concluded, “Experience—it almost wouldn’t matter if we were in a row boat, they are downwind which means in order to catch us they would need beat into the wind—a very slow process and after their first tack, we would be a mile ahead of them.”

  She slid up onto a stool she brought from below decks and took a bite of cornbread and then casually turned to look at the white ship now less than two miles distant and then looked forward again unconcerned, “All we need to do is make sure we stay upwind—they have already made a major tactical error.”

  The Euterpe was not nearly as disciplined as she should have been but their navigator was superior than most and they all took turns with the helm and manning sails as needs dictated. By morning, the mysterious ship was within hailing distance, less than 100 yards as all hands on both ships came on deck. Without a sound, the opposing crews stood and watched as their ships sailed alongside each other. The other ship reduced sail in order that they might keep an even broadside with the Euterpe and as they matched their speed, there was only 50 yards between the ships, close enough to distinguish faces.

  Gus scanned the white ship for any familiar faces and just as he was about to conclude that he didn’t know to whom the ship belonged, he saw a very large man come on deck with long unkempt hair and beard—Horsa—who also quickly recognized Gus.

  “Ahoy there Lord Guiscard—how pleasant it is to see you not only alive but on a bloody ship in the middle of the Pacific!” yelled Horsa cupping his hands to his mouth.

  Before responding, Gus turned to Nicole and asked for reassurance that the Toprak ship could not catch them whereupon Nicole nodded. Gus turned and yelled over the shrinking fifty yard distance between the two ships, “Ah—and a good morning to you sir. I see you too have escaped the Minimum tolerably well?”

  Nicole noticed the gap between the ships was narrowing and she matched the Baslatmak’s tack, keeping them at a safe distance. Matt stood on deck watching a very intense and secretly hostile situation unfold and couldn’t help but wonder if old sea battles were similar to this, where in time they would eventually kill each other but for now, both sides were content to exchange pleasantries in the warmth of the morning sun.

  By late afternoon, the Baslatmak was not any nearer in fact the spread of sea between two ships appeared to be even greater as Nicole skillfully matched Toprak’s every move. In the last watch of daylight, Horsa was seen on deck reprimanding his sailing master for failing to catch the Euterpe in a somewhat subdued matter obviously trying to be discrete. Even though Horsa was not a sailor, it was obvious to him that his Master had approached the engagement all wrong and he was frustrated and very angry to once again miss an engagement.

  The Baslatmak was over a half mile away to the east as the morning sun shone through her rigging since the winds had blown steady and consistently through the night. Jess made his way to the quarter deck and was enjoying a hot cup of coffee when he noticed some excitement on deck of the Baslatmak. He watched for several minutes and then determined that they were responding to something in the water, most-likely a shark. They were cruising into warmer waters now and even though it was early January, the morning temperature was a pleasant 50 degrees and it would warm up to 70 by mid-day.

  Jess continued to be entertained by the Baslatmak crew as they could be seen running from one side of the ship to the other, yelling and shouting over the whereabouts of the shark. He did think it rather curious that they were so interested in it and concluded that it must be of an extraordinary size or perhaps it might even be a whale—however, he could
not see anything in the water of that size. He took another sip of coffee just as he got the strangest feeling like he was being watched. Without thinking too much about it, he turned around and saw the light foam churning up from under the moving ship in a long wake that could be seen two miles behind. It looked like a very long road with a slight curve as they held a steady course steering very close to the wind. He couldn’t help his thoughts from wandering into another age when the Euterpe was the most modern development in ocean travel; an iron-hulled ship that was still a rather good sailer nearly 200 years later. I wonder how many men have stood on this quarter deck and watched the world go by as she has sailed round the world. He thought to himself. His thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of a splash and followed by anxious voices over on the Baslatmak.

  It was obvious that a man had gone overboard but the Baslatmak was too far away to make out any details. As he watched he was fairly certain that the man was not recovered as the crew on deck at last lost interest after a time and dispersed. For the second time in the last 30 minutes, Jess felt the eyes of someone or something watching him but before he instinctively turned around, he analyzed his intuition and confirmed that he was definitely being watched and tried to look as far to the right as he could without turning his head but he couldn’t see anything. With a quick spin, he whirled around and after his mind was able to fully absorb what he saw, he fell against the mizzen, spilling his coffee and then falling onto his back.

  Nicole, who was always at the helm while they were running from the Baslatmak, turned and looked down at the Priest and in a tired voice said, “That’s an odd position to be saying your morning prayers Father.”

  Nicole started referring to Jess as the Priest and Father ever since their second day on the water, a title Jess never responded to but secretly liked. Jess looked up at Nicole with a look of shock on his face, first at what he saw in the water and second for falling onto his back. Seeing the Priest in such a state, Nicole reached down with one hand sensing that something was wrong, “Are you quite all right Father?”

  Jess staggered to his feet and timidly looked over the quarter deck rail into the deep blue ocean. He stared into the wake watching the foam fade away into the distance for several long minutes before he turned to look at Nicole. Nicole was facing forward and not looking at Jess as he had suspected she was, but without turning around she responded, “Nice to know I’m not going mad—thank you Father for confirming it for me.”

  “What—what are you talking about?” replied Jess pretending to be confused.

  Nicole turned to look at Jess and saw he was still scanning the water directly below the railing, “You probably shouldn’t be too eager to see it again—that is if you believe what legends say about mermaids.”

  Jess turned from the rail to look at Nicole, surprised that she had actually confirmed what he thought he saw, “Mermaids?”

  “You know that is what you saw, and I thought I saw one too last night. I had almost convinced myself that I was just tired—you know, as sailors get when they are on deck all alone in the middle of the night.”

  Nicole laughed as she remembered a hallucinogenic incident on the far side of Africa during one of her circumnavigations, “Once off the cost of Mauritius I talked for about two hours with a grey bearded man dressed in foul weather gear who told me of how he sailed these waters in a very severe storm in ’91. It wasn’t until I realized he meant 1791 and how all hands were lost that I realized he wasn’t real and he disappeared. Now that you have confirmed what I both saw and heard now in the daylight, I know this time I wasn’t dreaming.”

  “Saw AND heard?” said Jess.

  “Yeah, I first heard some splashing just there,” said Nicole as she pointed at about two ‘o clock, “and then I heard a shriek—for just a brief moment before it was muffled under the water. I then tied the helm and walked over with a torch and sure and plain, there she was—long blond hair, blue eyes—the whole package. When she dove beneath the water, she flipped her fins and she was gone. I was certain I was high on sleep deprivation.”

  After scanning the ocean from the wake to the horizon, Jess turned around and leaned on the quarter deck railing shaking his head, “The most beautiful creature I ever saw—and I would have thought they had sea shells—you know?”

  “That is a modern-day morality invention,” said Nicole laughing and motioning for Jess to take the helm.

  Jess nervously took the helm as he glanced over at the Baslatmak which was still shadowing the Euterpe about a half mile distant. Nicole assured him she would closely monitor his actions so that they would stay out of their grasp. Standing with both hands on the helm, Jess was surprised to be able to feel the pulse of the ship so well and how she responded to both the wind and each individual swell. It was a very empowering feeling and he smiled inwardly with satisfaction at the thought of controlling such a massive ship. However, the haunting vision of the mermaid forced herself to the top of his thoughts and he again marveled at the creature’s beauty, “You say they are dangerous?”

  Nicole had been at the helm all night and while she took a seat she sighed and continued with fatigue, “It’s all myth you know but the old sailors say their beauty was a just a rouse to get you into their watery bed—I’m guessing that’s what happened over on the Baslatmak this morning and sailors who went overboard after a mermaid never surface again. The myth of the mermaid is a curious one. Modern media would have you believe they belong in the peace-loving and cuddly world of fairies and unicorns but they have a dark history. I don’t remember any stories about if they were man-eaters or not but why they lure men only—not women is rather strange, and of course why they never return from the depths,” Nicole sighed again, getting bored with her own dialogue, “It’s all just myth.”

  Jess laughed slightly, “A myth that is now a reality, or are you suggesting we are now both mad?”

  Nicole was too tired to be overly concerned about anything except out-running the Baslatmak and she simply concluded their strange conversation with, “After what you have all told me about this Solar Minimum thing, I suppose anything is possible and that they have really been here all along but we can now just see them.”

  Nicole stood up and pulled her long blond hair into a ponytail as she surveyed the bright red sky in the east as the sun began cresting the distant horizon, “We finally have our window of opportunity it appears—thank you Poseidon.”

  Jess looked at Nicole confused as she pointed to the red sky, the gathering clouds and the increasing swell, “We have a storm headed our way and by the size of the surge in the swell, we could be in for a long, wet night—I’m wagering Baslatmak will reef her sails, making them move slower in an effort to spare the ship any hardship. If we keep a healthy spread of sail, we should be able to lose them.”

  “What about the health of our ship? I’ve heard stories about old tall ships being de-masted in terrible storms”

  Nicole leaned on the rail as the wind began to freshen, “It’s a risk we’ll have to take—the alternative is just as dark don’t you think?”

  Jess nodded as Nicole continued, “We have one advantage; I’ve sailed this ship in a tropical storm with a 17 foot storm surge and with a healthy spread of sail to-boot. She handles beautifully well. By the looks of the Baslatmak’s handlers, I’m guessing they have not even done a single circumnavigation.”

  True to Nicole’s prediction, within a few hours the sky became very dark and threatening as the wind steadily increased from a mild eight knots to over thirty. Also true to her prediction, they watched as the Baslatmak dropped her topgallants and reefed most of the other sails as the Euterpe continued with a full spread. After a short time, the ship began to heal over so much that Nicole ordered all sails to be eased slightly but still aggressively maintained their current course toward the eye of the storm as the Euterpe groaned under the heavy strain.

  By nightfall, Nicole had been relieved at the helm by Ted. After 26 hours, her s
trength had entirely left her and she was now sitting on the quarter deck leaning up against the rail under a cold and pelting rain, shouting orders to Ted and the rest of the small crew who were all getting a quick and painful lesson in sailing a tall ship in harsh conditions. The Baslatmak had long since disappeared from the horizon and the only threat now was the very heavy storm that was hitting them in the teeth.

  Nicole finally ordered the topgallants to be completely dropped in order to provide some relief to the ship and it responded with a very noticeable decrease in creeks and groans. Everyone was on deck and following Nicole’s minute-by-minute orders and all were completely soaked to the bone and shivering in the stiff wind. Every few minutes a large wave would crash over the deck so powerfully that everyone except Matt tied a lifeline around their waists and attached it to the ship so that they could be easily retrieved if they happened to be washed overboard. Shay came close several times as he was thrown across the deck into the starboard railing each time spraining and nearly breaking an ankle or leg. Despite blood flowing down his legs and pooling on the deck, he maintained his post at the foremast manning the three jibs.

  After several long hours, the seas eased somewhat by degrees and the Euterpe settled into an easier cruise as she rose and fell over the 18 foot swells. Compared to the last six hours, the crew felt as if they were on a pleasure cruise. Ted gave the helm to Matt as he helped Nicole get to her feet and below decks to a dry hammock as Gus prepared a warm meal of veal and cornbread. The worst of the storm seemed to be past and Matt was given strict instructions to sail due southeast until Nicole could come get a sextant reading when the clouds cleared.

  By morning, Matt was found leaning up against the quarterdeck rail as he had figured out how to tie the helm in a fixed course and he would adjust the knot every few minutes as the winds and current demanded a course correction. Nicole came up on deck limping and through the partial sun, she checked their course and current positioning and then looked out at the horizon confused.

  “We’re still due southeast just like you asked,” said Matt anticipating some kind of reprimand.

  Nicole’s concentration was broken and she turned to Matt shaking her head, “No, I mean, yes I see that we are due southeast but I’m confused at the current. How long have you been having to make a westerly correction?”

  Matt returned a blank stare which made Nicole smile, “How long have you been having to turn the wheel that way?” she said pointing west.

  Matt smiled, “Oh—about the last hour I guess. I didn’t need to adjust at all before that.”

  Nicole untied the helm trying to get a better feel for the current, “Nor should you have—and still shouldn’t. There is a very strong and unexpected current pushing us east that shouldn’t be here.”

  She tied the helm again and walked over and took out a chart to check their current location. She calculated everything three times and each time she placed their location at just past five degrees latitude or about 100 nautical miles off the west coast of Panama. Having sailed the area before, she knew there shouldn’t have been a current pushing them toward land, all currents here normally circled around the Galapagos Islands and then south toward Cape Horn.

  Nicole returned to the helm and changed their course from southeast sharply to northeast, “A current pushing east right here can only mean one thing.”

  Matt jumped up and sat on the stern railing, wobbling back and forth trying to find his balance, “And what is that?”

  “The Pacific has found the Atlantic,” said Nicole staring at the eastern horizon.

  As they approached the ruins of the once great Panama City still smoldering under great piles of twisted metal and mountains of ash, they could see a very wide channel heading inland over the isthmus. The current was very strong and Nicole called for all hands to reduce sail and drop anchor before they were swept into the channel and quite possibly run aground. The Euterpe came to rest a mile off the coast in 35 feet of water and everyone stood on deck surveying the wreckage of Panama and the mysterious new channel as Matt climbed up to the crosstrees to get a better look. Not a single soul was seen on the beach or anywhere along the coast and much like every other coast they had passed, the water was black and heavy with ash accompanied by a rancid smell.

  After a few minutes Ted determined that the mysterious channel they were looking at was actually what was left of the Panama Canal. The original canal was completed in 1914, long before fly ash was used in concrete but in 2015, a new and much larger canal was completed to accommodate larger ships that were too large to fit into the old canal. Looking at the gaping channel cut through the isthmus it was obvious that the new canal was made from concrete containing fly ash and the Minimum totally obliterated it. Mother Nature then did the rest by cutting out a canyon a mile wide as the Atlantic and Pacific rushed together destroying everything in between.

  It was Nicole’s original plan to sail round Cape Horn or perhaps the Strait of Magellan if the way appeared clear enough for passage but if they could sail through the new strait; it would save them nearly two weeks travel time. The question in Nicole’s mind was if the new strait was deep enough for a ship of their size. The Euterpe drew under 30 feet but without any modern sounding equipment on board, Nicole wasn’t sure how they could ever navigate it successfully unless they took manual soundings the way they did in the 19th century, which was painfully slow not to mention riddled with error.

  Having no other option, Nicole went below and returned with a yellow cloth and a long rope. She tied it to a spare steel halyard and threw it overboard. The rope quickly uncoiled and flew over the rail and then rested at the bottom. Looking around at the crew she looked for someone who was about six foot tall and called Ted to come retrieve the rope.

  “You’re six foot aren’t you?”

  “Six foot one to be exact,” responded Ted.

  “Close enough. I need to mark this line into fathoms,” she said as she instructed Ted to pull the line in with his arms fully outstretched and after every arm-to-arm span she tied a scrap of yellow cloth marking the intervals.

  “So a fathom is six feet?” asked Ted watching Nicole working on the line.

  “Six feet and a few odd inches to be accurate, but this will be close enough. We just need to make sure we never sound less than five fathoms,” replied Nicole as she pulled the halyard onto the deck, “Right now we are at exactly six fathoms, which is plenty for the Euterpe.”

  Taking the last section of rope out of Ted’s hands, their eyes met and for a moment between them there was no ship, no world crisis, no Minimum just Nicole’s steel blue eyes that looked up at Ted. Nicole looked away as Ted squeezed her hand and she looked up again a second time and smiled.

  Seeing the brief flicker of romance between Ted and Nicole made everyone mentally stop and remember a world where pleasantries were possible and fear and death were a faraway horror. Nicole took the last section of rope out of Ted’s hands and looked back at the crew who were all watching her wondering if she was seriously considering sailing—quite literally—into uncharted waters.

  “We’ll be very careful and proceed with minimal sail, sounding every ship length. If we run into trouble we can drop anchor and turn her around. The canyon is certainly wide enough,” said Nicole defensively, “Otherwise we will spend the next two to three weeks sailing round the Horn. I don’t think we have enough food for that.”

  Everyone nodded and stood waiting for orders. Nicole handed the sounding line to Jess and instructed him to take a sounding every ship length, “Pick out a landmark that is even with the bow and take a sounding, then when the stern passes the same landmark, sound again. Yell out the mark so all can hear and I will yell it back to you so that everyone knows what depth we are.”

  Everyone nodded and Nicole ordered for the main and topsails to be set and the anchor raised. With a moderate breeze, they slowly moved into the new strait that Magellan was hoping to find over 500 years ago now made possi
ble because of the Minimum. Once inside the strait, both sides were black with wreckage and ash but where that ended, the jungle rose up thick and beautiful. Still no human life could be seen and it was deathly quiet only interrupted every two and half minutes by Jess calling out, “Seven fathoms!” and Nicole would echo back, “Seven fathoms Father!”

  In addition to the depth, Nicole was also worried about debris in the water and possibly half sunken ships in the way and as the sun began to set she advised that they drop anchor and wait for daylight. Everyone agreed and Matt suggested that they still have a watch since the bank on either side of the ship was less than a half mile—certainly within swimming distance for someone desperate for food.

  Matt’s suggestion was very unpopular since everyone was so spent but they all agreed and Jess volunteered to take the first watch. They all went below decks to find hammocks but after a few minutes, Gus returned on deck with a box of tacks.

  “I found an 18th century alarm system so you can sleep and be alerted to any intruders,” said Gus as he dumped out the large box of tacks on the deck next to all the railings, “If anyone comes over that rail they will be very hard pressed to not cry out.”

  Jess smiled gratefully as he got comfortable leaning up against the mainmast and closed his eyes. It wasn’t long before Matt shook him and told him to go below decks as he took over the watch. As Jess climbed down the companionway he wondered if Matt knew about the tacks on the deck since he was barefoot but concluded it probably didn’t matter since it had been a quiet night so far and he was sure Matt wouldn’t sleep anyway.

  Matt took a walk down the center of the ship from bow to stern as he usually did at the beginning of his watch and then settled on the stool behind the helm looking up at the star filled sky. The moon was nearly half providing adequate light to see shadows on deck and out of the corner of his eye he saw a shape coming from behind him over the rail.

  He jumped to his feet and rushed over to the quarterdeck railing where he saw not only the shape but also saw that there were three shapes, climbing over the rail ready to step on the deck. Reaching the rail, Matt took two solid steps right on the bed of tacks and yelled out in surprise. His yell surprised the intruders even more and one fell backwards over the side as Matt picked up the other two by their collars and since he didn’t have a weapon, he instinctively clubbed their heads together and threw them over the side. He then fell backwards on the deck to inspect his feet.

  “What the hell!” he said quietly as he pulled several dozen tacks out of both of his feet. He rubbed his hand over the bottom of his feet feeling for any tack he might have missed and then sat quietly listening for the three intruders. Everything was quiet and after a few minutes, he made his way back to the stool and remained alert and cautious until the eastern sky began to lighten. In the early light, he could see his bloody footprints leading from the rail to the stool. He got up to inspect what he had stepped on just as Gus was coming up on deck.

  “Where did all this come from?” asked Matt.

  Gus looked at Matt’s bare feet and then noticed the bloody footprints and started to laugh, “I’m guessing Jess didn’t tell you about our alarm system. Looks like it worked,” he said as he laughed louder and then sympathetically said, “So sorry Matt. So did you walk over to take a leak?”

  “No, we had intruders!” replied Matt irritated.

  “Would that be them?” said Gus pointing to two bodies washed up on the bank.

  Matt squinted to see what Gus was talking about and there on the bank were two men obviously washed up on shore from the stiff current, “I guess. They certainly weren’t there last evening but I didn’t kill anyone I just knocked their heads together and threw them overboard.”

  Gus laughed again, “It’s rather difficult to swim when you’re unconscious, don’t you know?”

 

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