The Stolen Heart (9 page)

 

"Even the vengeful Mate reacted to the urgency of Jared’s tone, and
began to haul on the nearest set of ropes.

 

 

The men scrambled into the rigging to take down all the sails as a
huge gust swept the decks, pinning Al to the main mast. She grabbed
one of the ropes that was always kept there in case of emergency,
stepped into the loop, and cinched it tightly about her waist. They
labored to haul in the main and try sails, but as they worked, the
deck began to roll and judder under them.

 

 

A huge wave crashed over the side of the ship and swept several of
them off their feet. The jib sail tore away with a loud shredding
sound, and the main topgallant yard snapped like a twig and began to
hurtle toward the deck.

 

 

“Captain, look out!”

 

 

She shoved Jared out of the way of the collapsing sails and rigging,
and then had to cling on to him as they were doused with another
huge wave which began to sweep Jared over the side.

 

 

Almira hung onto his arm and the belt of his trousers for dear life,
and he in turn snatched at young Bill as he rolled toward the rail
while the ship careened precariously over nearly onto its beam ends.

 

 

Al peered up through her wet bangs to try to see what had happened
to the men aloft. Bob was dangling from the nets, and George was
struggling to keep his grip with both arms and legs around the main
course yard about twenty feet above her head.

 

 

But as she stood up to try to help haul the sail in, she looked
forward and saw the remains of Tom, who had fallen head first from
the top of the mast onto the pitching deck.

 

 

“Good God!” she gasped, and lost her dinner on the heaving planks.

 

 

Jared followed her gaze and spotted the dead crewman, and felt ill
himself. Damn it, he had been a huge bright boy, one of his own boat
crew.

 

 

He hauled Bill in further and pressed him against the mast. “Tie
yourself on, and don’t leave Al, do you hear?”

 

 

He clapped Almira on the shoulder and began to head for the
foremast.

 

 

“No, you can’t go!” she shrieked. “You’ll be killed!”

 

 

He stroked the sopping hair from Al’s eyes. “We'll all be killed if
I don’t.”

 

 

She swallowed hard and nodded. “I know. At least tie a rope around
yourself, then.”

 

 

He stepped into one of the ropes, pulled it tight, and placing one
warm hand on her shivering flesh, promised, “I’ll be back soon.”

 

 

The hail and sleet which had started as a sprinkle from the sky now
lashed down in earnest, stinging any exposed body part as the men
labored on.

 

 

“You there, get aloft in the mizzen!” Mate shouted at her.

 

 

But to climb up the final mast was to leave the safety of her rope,
and perhaps to meet the same fate as the unfortunate Tom. She looked
up to see that Bob had swung to safety, but George was still hanging
on with both arms and legs. They all needed her help.

 

 

She undid the rope and headed aft.

 

 

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you assaulted me,” he said in a
menacing growl as he followed her up the heaving deck.

 

 

She grabbed onto the taffrail and stuck her nose into his face. “You
assaulted me when I tried to warn the crew about this storm! I don’t
give a stuff if you like me or not. Now you’ve endangered the whole
crew, and Tom is dead because of you!

 

 

"So either let me do my job, and stay the hell out of my way, or
I’ll take a bloody lance to you, and crushing your nuts will be the
least of your worries.”

 

 

Mate almost looked as though he would hurl her overboard, but Smithy
came up now with another two men.

 

 

Mate backed off, and followed them as they got up into the mizzen
mast. She drew the short straw, ending up in the bunt of the mizzen
topgallant sail. Being in the center of it, she caught the lion’s
share of the wind, and also got the majority of the weight as she
dragged the sail down and tried to stuff it into the net.

 

 

She clung on for dear life, and continued to stuff down as hard as
she could, as fast as she could, so the wind would not catch the
sail and blow it about. She labored on until it was secured,
thinking all the while of the hideous fate which had befallen her
new-found friend Tom.

 

 

As soon as they completed the topgallant, they moved down to the
mizzen topsail, while the rest of the crew took down the mizzen
sail. Then they were left bobbing up and down with only the main
course, forecourse, and foretopgallant sails.

 

 

“Well done, men. That'll be all for now. Resume watch, everyone. The
rest of you go below and get warm and dry,” Jared ordered. "Next
watch, spell them as soon as you're done so they can do the same and
then get back to their duties."

 

 

"Aye, Captain."

 

 

Getting warm was more easily said than done. In fact, it would be
nearly impossible with no blaze or lights permitted because of the
danger of fires at sea. Cook had put out all the fires and lanterns
as soon as Al had given the shout.

 

 

The men headed to the galley to see if the old iron clad stove was
still shedding some heat. They had to try to do something to restore
the circulation to their stinging hands and faces after the lashing
they had just taken.

 

 

Jared came up to Al when he saw his cabin boy lingering. “Go on,
son, get below and get changed before you freeze to death.”

 

 

She shook her head and croaked, “I can’t. I need to know what will
happen to Tom.”

 

 

Jared patted her on the shoulder. “We'll put him in a bit of sail
and give him a decent burial in the morning.”

 

 

She nodded, and turned away as she felt the tears welling up in her
eyes.

 

 

“Al!”

 

 

“Aye, Captain,” she sniffed.

 

 

“Good work tonight. If it wasn’t for you, we might have lost the
ship.”

 

 

“Small comfort now,” she rasped.

 

 

“No, it isn’t! You and I and the rest of the crew are still alive,
and we are going to stay that way, do you hear me?” He shook her
slightly. “Do you understand? What happened to Tom is
not
going to happen to you. I won’t let it.”

 

 

“Aye, Captain.”

 

 

“Now go below, get into my bunk and get some decent sleep.”

 

 

"“Your bunk?” she asked, surprised and a bit worried by the
implications of what he was saying.

 

 

“I have to stay on deck all night. I can just smell the storm
getting worse before it gets better. I’ll sleep tomorrow when the
storm passes.”

 

 

She nodded gratefully. “Good night, then. And please, be careful.”

 

 

“Good night.”

 

 

She went down into the cabin, got into the bunk as ordered, and
cried herself to sleep.
Damn the Mate. He had no right to treat
anyone the way he did, let alone allow Tom to die…

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER NINE

 

 

The next morning dawned clear and cool, with a good wind, and Jared
was able to at last relax and let out some sail.

 

 

Then he set the men about the grim task of cutting away the fallen
rigging and disposing of Tom’s remains.

 

 

His final grim chore of the morning was to auction off the contents
of the boy’s sea chest. At least there would be a goodly sum of
money to send home to his needy family on behalf of the crew, and he
would add to it himself from his own purse.

 

 

He was relieved to see that Al slept through the night, and into the
afternoon, but finally he got a bit concerned when he did not see
her moving about on deck.

 

 

He headed down into the cabin, but found the door locked.

 

 

“Al, are you all right?” he called, tapping.

 

 

“Just bathing and getting dressed, sir," came the reply. "Is it
something urgent?”

 

 

‘No, I just wanted to make sure that you’re all right.”

 

 

“I’m fine. Just tired is all. And a bit sick to my stomach still.
You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.”

 

 

She opened the door and came out. “I’ll get some water and go about
my duties.”

 

 

“You know there was nothing you could have done,” he said quietly.

 

 

“I know. But the Mate is a bastard, sir. Pardon me, but he is. We
would have all been killed thanks to him last night if some of the
other men hadn’t raised the alarm.”

 

 

He frowned at her purple throat and her croaking voice. “I think I
can guess what happened, Al. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. File
a complaint against him, and I shall relieve him of duty
immediately.”

 

 

She shook her head. “We’re already a hand short, and miles from
home. We can't afford to have him sitting around doing nothing but
eating rations. So please, just leave it for now. And put me on
Second’s watch so I can keep the hell out of his way.”

 

 

“I’ll do that, lad. But this is still going in the log book,
including a commendation for you. Now go on, get some water, and try
to eat.”

 

 

Almira reported for duty a half an hour later, and Second sent her
aloft into the rings. She stared out at the vast ocean dully,
crushed by grief.

 

 

Tom had been a good lad, always ready with a joke or a kind word. It
was hard to imagine him being gone, consigned to the deep.

 

 

She was sorry she had slept through his funeral; she would have like
to say goodbye to him.

 

 

But it was just as well that the Mate did not see her in tears, for
he would only use it as an excuse to be even more cruel to her. That
was what bullies did best. They tried to exploit any sign of
weakness for their own ends. The only thing that had made him pause
last night had been her rounding on him so furiously. But it might
not work a second time, and next time, she might not be lucky enough
to have Jared around to rescue her.

 

 

She sighed heavily, then leaned forward in the ring. She stared, and
stared again as she saw a small, umbrella-shaped jet burst upwards
from the water.

 

 

She tapped her companion, a man called Jemmy, who was tall, thin and
in his mid-twenties, on the shoulder.

 

 

“Whales?” she pointed.

 

 

“Aye, lad.” He spat a wad of tobacco over the side, and said, “Well,
ain’t you going to call it?”

 

 

“Throat’s sore.”

 

 

“Try anyway. It’s your gam of whales.”

 

 

“Thar she blows! She blows!” Al shouted down.

 

 

Jared came running. “Where away?”

 

 

“Three points off larboard.”

 

 

“What kind?”

 

 

“Right whales,” Jemmy called back.

 

 

“Men, in the boats!”

 

 

Jared checked their location with his spy glass, and headed to his
own boat.

 

 

“Look lively, lads, and this time, no swimming, you hear me?”

 

 

Right whale pods were much smaller than sperm whale ones, so they
needed to make the most of the small group of five. Though not full
of the valuable case oil in the head, it had its own special
product.

 

 

Unlike the toothed sperm whale, the right whales possessed baleen.
This was the so-called whalebone used back home for everything from
women’s corsets to carriage springs.

 

 

It was called bone, but it was really the strange fibrous filters
which substituted for it's teeth, which hung suspended from the
whale's upper jaw. The whales would cruise along with their mouths
open through a mass of krill, small shrimp-like creatures which it
fed upon almost exclusively. When its mouth was full, it would close
its great jaws and expel all the water, leaving the krill trapped
against the fibers for it to swallow.

 

 

Once the men caught the whales, they would remove the head, cut the
baleen out of the jaws, and have to clean it. They would also have
to ensure that it did not get moldy or rotten on the voyage, as Cook
explained when they were scrubbing the great fifteen-foot long
pieces a few days later, having succeeded in taking three whales
without losing any of the boats, or having too long a pull back to
the ship.

 

 

“We'll stack them in bunches, and air them out on the deck in the
sun every few weeks, as soon as the weather is good.”

 

 

“It certainly is a foul-smelling job," Almira said with a grimace,
sure she was going to lose her lunch.

 

 

“Aye, but just think of all the fashionable women at home just dying
to get their hands on this. The more we take, the more we earn.”

 

 

Almira shook her head. “I don’t know. There is such a thing as too
much. These are all luxuries. I took them for granted when my father
was with us, but now that he's been lost, and my mother's gone, I
realize there are a lot of things which are far more important.
Friends, family food on the table, are far more important than the
latest fashion or wanting a substitute for a tallow fat candle so
that the women in the household don’t have to worry about black
smudges in the house.”