In Search of Spice, page 5
“How are they shaping?”
“Well enough. One pretty boy, sort of, but he’s a tough bastard too. Reckons he’s the best archer I’ve ever seen, and says it matter of fact, not boastful at all. Asked him to put an arrow in a barrel for me, and he laughed, said it was too close. Pulled out the biggest damn longbow I have ever seen, marched off a good extra hundred paces and smacked it right in the middle. Another archer, a girl, says she’s a mercenary, but too young. High born, I think, running from a forced marriage. A bunch of toughs from the streets of Praesidium. Mixed lot, but we do need the strength. Some farm boys and for some reason half a dozen tavern girls. They’re shaping up and will do a job. Fourth Mate will cause trouble and he is poor at his job.”
“I know what you think of the Fourth Mate, but he bought a lot of shares. The archers, are they good enough for our pirate plan?”
“Yup. The boy for sure and there is something very tough about the girl. That’s them both, up with the topsailsmen.”
“Good attitude. What about the toughs?”
“We might have trouble. Mixed bag of pimps, thieves and enforcers. Let’s see how your speech goes down. Bosun’s got her eye on them. My biggest worry is that fourth mate.”
“Bit of a playboy, no harm in that I suppose. Swears he’s a sailor, and he has an idea of navigation but his rutter is damn nigh empty. He bought a big share in the trip, though. You worried he will bother the female crew?”
“The way he talks? Too right. I told him if he bothered the girls I would put him in with the Bosun for the night.”
The Captain laughed. “Has he seen her yet?”
“Yup. He laughed till I introduced them. She’d been listening and played along well, pinched his arse and promised to carry him off. Frightened the life out of him. But he did say that although he did like the ladies, he had a foolproof plan to make sure he didn’t upset any of the crew.”
“Did he say what it was?”
“No, just smiled.”
“Hmmph. Please God he doesn’t fancy the animals. I’d beach him, but we haven’t enough investors. Bit short on trade goods despite the crown’s backing.”
“You always say that sir. It will be enough - where we are going they will fill the ship, and we’ll have more than enough for the second trip. If we can find our way back.”
“Oh, we will - this priest knows his stuff. Just hope there is still a crown when we get back, not sure that they are aware of the unrest being stirred up by this new parliament.”
“No business of ours. We’ll still trade, no matter who runs the country.”
“Taxes will go up whoever wins.” The Captain ended gloomily. “There’s the priest arriving now, with his assistant. Get him settled and let’s have a look at his charts. Ask the sailing master to attend us as well. Just the soldiers we are waiting for now. They were supposed to be here yesterday, present from the Crown to save us from pirates.”
There was a knock on the cabin door and Brian put his head round it. “Crew assembled and ready for you Captain.”
“Excellent Brian. I will be right there.”
Captain Larroche picked up his hat and walked to the door, placing it on his head as he strode out, automatically ducking under the lintel. He strode to the railing overlooking the main deck where the entire crew assembled, not in any particular order; they were not a military organisation.
He stood for a moment and cast his eye over them. They looked good, he noted, keen and anticipating his words, no signs of unease or fear. His topsailsmen were in the rigging he noted, just the two new recruits with the old hands. He winced. They would need more.
His old crew were noticeable as being older, and most of them married to each other with a few kids sitting cross-legged at their feet. The cook’s assistant was nursing her latest babe, he noticed.
“I have called you together to have a few words with you as a crew. You newcomers need to understand how we operate - we are a family, a large extended family and we know each other intimately. We will all profit from this venture, with a division of shares according to our status, but the majority of the money is contained in this ship and its trading goods. It allows us all to live well, as a family. You are now part of this family, though on probation.
“We expect this trip to take about three months. Maybe less, probably more. We could be gone for over a year. During that time, you will get to know us, and we will get to know you. You have been selected to join us not just on your abilities, but on how well we think you will fit in. At the end of the voyage, we trust we shall welcome you all as full family members.
“We don’t have punishments like the army or the King’s warships. Oh, there are extra duties and the Bosun and her mates will shout at you, but there is no imprisonment or beatings. There is no profit in it. There is only one punishment we enforce.”
He paused, and ran his eye over the assembly, who were listening with rapt attention, though he noted the more senior members were looking at the new people, and he picked out those who had the most attention on them.
“We do not tolerate theft, violence or harm to be done to another family member. And when I say violence, I mean spoken violence as well as physical violence, for words can hurt and cut as deeply as any sword. If any of you are found guilty of these offences, you will be beached at the first opportunity. Think on that, because we are going where no Harrheinian has been before, to new lands where you have no idea what life will be like.”
He let his eyes sweep over the crowd again, and saw to his satisfaction there were no worried faces.
“You should know this, but I wish to emphasize it again now, because tomorrow we sail, with the tide, and this is your last opportunity to leave us. We bear you no ill will if you cannot abide by our rules, but if you think our laws onerous, do leave us.”
Nobody stirred.
A voice lifted up, cutting through the silence. “I think I speak for most of us, Captain, when I say I think your laws are good laws and I for one am happy to abide by them.” It was Sara, her voice strong from the rigging, and there was a general nodding of heads from the new recruits and smiles from the older sailors.
“Yeah, Cap’n, proud to be here.”
“I’ll stick with you as long as I can Captain.”
“For life you’ve got me.”
A few more voices rose in assent, and slowly died out. Captain Larroche smiled at them.
“Well, thank you and I am pleased to hear it. Now remember, being a sailor can be a dangerous thing, I want no stupid heroics putting yourselves and others in danger. If you fall overboard, it is almost impossible to find you and save you, so DON’T! We keep a barrel with a flag on it and a few ropes attached at the back of the boat. When we are sailing, if somebody falls overboard, the barrel goes over the side for them to grab and hang onto and we will try and turn the ship and find you. Get to the barrel if you can, but beware of big fish we call sharks that follow the boat and eat the rubbish we put over the side. They will think you are rubbish too. Topsailsmen, you take especial care. If you fall from high up, we won’t bother looking for you because the water is hard and the fall will kill you.
“Now, for a more pleasant thought - where are we going? I am pleased to confirm what I suspect you know - we are going to the fabled spice lands, to Hind and beyond, and this ship allows us to pass out of sight of Spakka pirates and we can bring back the strange and exotic drinks and spices of that fantastic land. We will find out what is true about it and what isn’t.
“Some of you have met our new sailing master. His name is Taufik, and he comes from Hind. Shipwrecked here last year by the Spakka, the only survivor of his ship. Sailing ships like the Queen Rose have been used there for many years and he has taught us how to build and sail her. He speaks the languages and will ensure this trip is a success. He knows the dangerous, warlike people, whom we shall avoid, and those keen on trade and friendship.
“Bishop Walters is coming with us. He is a cartographer of great renown, as well as a priest, and has compiled a chart over the years, not just of the lands but also the currents and winds we shall face. From this chart, we know we can sail southeast for a thousand leagues and we shall come to a chain of islands, fire islands that smoke, which stretch for two thousand leagues. So we cannot miss the islands.”
The crew realised this was a joke, and laughed quietly, though some were now looking nervous, he realised.
“The islands are inhabited, the larger ones, but by strange people with brown skin and black hair who wear no clothes. They are reputed to be cannibals and warlike, but friendly when they see a show of force. We shall see. The islands make a route we can follow up to Hind where we shall trade.
“In the morning, we shall catch the falling tide to take us out to sea, where God’s Breath will take us away down to the tropical islands. We shall be the first men to make this trip and we shall give these islanders a surprise.”
There was a resounding cheer from his old crew, to which most of the new crew joined in, a few rather slowly. The sound of pipes broke out and a Bosun’s mate stepped forward, playing them. Another Bosun’s mate stood beside him and his voice lifted in song as the sound died away to hear his voice.
The pipes blared and the old crew crashed in, showing their pride with the chorus, while the new recruits started to beat time with their feet, trying to pick up the words.
Captain Larroche nodded at the Bosun who made a throat cutting gesture at the piper, who ended his song in a squeal of pipes and bowed theatrically at the crew, who shouted and cheered. Pat felt thrilled and he could feel the energy bouncing off Sara who had a huge grin on her face. The whole crew was lit up.
He heard Sara whisper to Else. “There must be more verses - is that the ship’s song?”
“Sure is. Some of them get very rude too. You’ll love it, and make sure you learn it. We expect all the newbies to be able to sing in within a week.”
Captain Larroche raised his hand and spoke into the almost silence.
“So we sail on the morning tide. Curfew tonight is 2 am and I want you all shipshape and rarin’ to go at eight bells. You new crew will have one last afternoon’s training, then you have the evening to yourselves and may go ashore. Don’t even think about an advance on your pay. Dismissed!”
There was a ragged cheer from the crew, but the Captain did not stay to listen and was gone. The ship buzzed as everyone started talking at once, until the Bosun’s harsh cry echoed over their heads.
“Right you landlubbers. This afternoon you will be sorry you came aboard and I don’t expect any of you to come back from shore leave. You have half an hour to get some grub down you, then back here on deck at the sound of two bells.” She glared at Sara and Pat. “And don’t think you two lah-di-dahs are excused just because you can climb a fucking rope.”
Pat and Sara went to the fo’c’sle and found a small teenager standing in the space beside their hammocks holding his own in his hands and trying to work it out.
“Hi,” said Sara, “you new? I’m Sara, this is Pat. We’re your shipmates.”
“Uh, hello, I’m Perryn. How do you get these things up?”
“Simple,” said Sara. “You tie one end in that ring and the other in that one.”
Pat grabbed one end, tied it up, took the other from Perryn, undid the granny knot and tied a sheepshank.
“He doesn’t say much,” grinned Sara as Pat blushed, “but he’s useful. That’s a better knot; best watch how he ties it as you will need to learn knots.”
Pat obligingly undid the knot and re-tied it, slowly.
“Thanks,” said Perryn. “Umm, what is it for?”
“That’s your bed,” said Sara cheerfully. “That chest there is yours, you stow your gear in it. Hmmn. Robes? Not much use on a ship. Haven’t you got any trousers and shirts?”
“Errr, no - I’m not actually crew, I’m a novice but I asked to bunk with you guys.”
Pat looked at him with interest, Sara more critically.
“Been sent out on your quest?” she asked. “What’s your skill?”
Perryn looked at her in some surprise. Not many people knew much about the magical aspect of the priesthood. “Yes, it’s my quest, I suppose. I am helping Bishop Walters, but he has no magic. Not much vocation for the priesthood either. He’s a cartographer. I haven’t found my own skill yet.”
“Have you got books?” Pat spoke for the first time, a bit eagerly.
Sara and Perryn looked at him in surprise.
“Since when could a farm boy read?” asked Sara scornfully.
“This one can. It’s important to learn things.”
Perryn looked at him with some respect. “Yes, I have a few. You are welcome to read them.” He indicated a sack.
Sara reached in first and pulled out a thick grimoire. “Haileybury’s Analysis of Fire. You’re quite advanced.”
Perryn stared at her. “You can read too? And you’ve heard of Haileybury?”
“Yup, read it too, but I can’t do magic. Useful to know what you guys can do, though.”
Pat had pulled out another book. “This one isn’t magic. I know the priest who wrote it.”
“What? You know Peronnus?”
“He stayed with us in Fearaigh two years ago.”
“That would be just before he wrote this,” Perryn said slowly, looking at Pat. “He did say something about a youngster showing him about blood.”
“I did take him hunting and showed him a bit,” admitted Pat. He realised the others were staring at him and they expected a little more. “You know, where the blood comes from, hearts and stuff.”
“Pat,” said Sara patiently. She was beginning to understand him after a couple of days. “We don’t know. I haven’t read this book. Nobody knows what blood is, it’s just something that comes out when you cut skin. Most people wouldn’t even think about it. Why don’t you just accept that and tell us what you know - not everything, just a rough outline, and how you know it.”
“Oh. Well, I learnt a lot from the Elves and from talking with hunters, and skinning animals. If you cut up an animal properly, you can see how it works. There are tubes are in the body, they have the blood in them, they go places and sort of disappear. The heart pushes the blood along those tubes. Stop it beating and the blood stops flowing. Every hunter knows that.”
Perryn spoke faintly. “So you were the young hunter he spoke about. He had a lot of respect for you. There is a huge argument about this book. The priests don’t accept it; lots of people don’t believe it.”
“Well, they’re idiots. Speak to the butchers, they know. Probably the soldiers too.”
“Do you mean lots of people know about this?” Perryn asked, still faintly.
“Sure, it’s not exactly new stuff. I was shown it when I was six, first time I helped butcher a cow. Way I heard, soldiers are taught where to strike and cut up bodies in their training so they know more.”
“But why are the priests not accepting it? They are very upset about this book!” Perryn was getting animated.
Pat shrugged. He was not much interested and was leafing through the book.
“I expect the priests don’t like being told anything by somebody who is not a priest,” said Sara . “The church is quite hidebound.”
“True,” said Perryn, thinking of some lectures.
“Perryn, nevermind this,” Sara spoke seriously. “Let’s concentrate on being sailors. Something tells me we may be the only ones that can read, never mind have this sort of knowledge and it is probably best not to mention it.”
“We’re topsailsmen,” said Pat to Perryn. “Want us to teach you?”
Pat groaned and stared at the hated bit of smooth but heavy oak in his hands. He was not sure how much more of this he could take and he had noticed Sara stop smiling at least half an hour ago. First time, he thought.
They were sitting in a rowboat, called a jolly boat for some strange nautical reason, along with six others, four to a side, each with an oar, and a satisfied, smirking boatswain’s mate at the tiller looking at them. All were exhausted, all had blistered hands, some of them had blood smeared on their oars, but finally they were rowing at the same time and the mate had not bellowed at any of them for at least three minutes.
“Right ladies,” he cried, “blow me for a cocksucker but I think you landlubbers might even be turning into sailors. Let’s see if you can row us back to the Rose, and if you make it with no cock-ups, I’ll let you haul me aboard and you can have the rest of the afternoon off.”
The energy in the boat surged and all the rowers sat a little straighter.
“Now,” said the swain, “Let’s see if you remember anything. Larboard, stop oarrrrrs - now!” Four oars went level without touching the sea. The boat rapidly turned and the Queen Rose came into the view of the boatswain. “Larboard, prepare to row - row!” The four oars came down into the water in perfect time with the starboard. The boatswain smiled beatifically. The boat shot towards the mother ship, impelled at speed by eight eager oarsmen. “Prepare to ship oars high - ship!” screamed the swain. All eight oars shot upright into the air. “Chainsman, prepare!”
Pat passed his oar to Sara who held it, picked up a long pole with a spike and a hook on it and waited as the boat cruised towards the ship, slowing as it did so. He deftly hooked the chain hanging down the side. This acted as a pivot for the boat to come around and slap gently alongside the ship, bow pointing towards the bow. Pat’s muscles rippled as he took the strain under the boatswain’s watchful eye, while the others moved not a muscle.
“Right, stow the oars and secure the boat.” The boatswain’s voice was quieter now, as the crew stowed the oars under the seats and arms reached up to grab the ropes coming down fore and aft from the ship. Each rope split into two and each separate strand ended in hooks, which slipped into rungs on either side of the boat. “Climb aboard, lads and well done. We are the first boat back. Get her up and your liberty starts as soon as she is secure.”
