Page 18

The Storm

O n a subsequent afternoon, following an intensive rendezvous with the captain in his quarters, in between meetings that he had arranged with Hillier and Guthrie to discuss strategies and plans, I wandered up on deck to catch a breath of air.

The weather had been agreeable over the past few weeks, but as I came out of the sheltered hold, I spied skies like old porridge. The winds had picked up, and the Arrow was coursing like a thoroughbred over the waves. My hair had grown longer, and the wind whipped the feathery strands as I made my way over to Hanes, who stood at the rail with a worried look on his face.

“That don’t look good,” I said, starting to share his concern.

“No, it don’t. Not at all. We’re in for a pounding, I reckon.”

I frowned, not wanting to consider a storm at all. “The Arrow’s got through bad weather before…”

She was a sturdy ship, her crew experienced and competent.

“Aye, but this looks worse than anything I’ve seen in months. Just before you came aboard, we had a terrible time. We’d docked at Port Royal to take our bearings and conduct repairs. I don’t like the look of that out there.”

Neither did I.

He cocked his head. “This ain’t one of yours, is it?”

“Pardon?”

He gestured at me vaguely. “This ain’t one of your vengeance spells? Like the one you summoned at Cayonne?”

I blinked. “No, of course not. It’s a…a natural storm, I suppose.”

“You got any power over that kind of weather? Because that might be handy.”

“I don’t think so. Those others… They’re not really storms. I don’t think. The truth is, Hanes, I don’t know.”

He nodded. “Well, why don’t you go find Captain Martin, then, and let him know we’ll need to batten down the hatches in—” He looked into the distance again, and shrugged. “—a few hours. I reckon the gale will hit just before dusk. Which ain’t ideal to begin with. But nothing about that looks ideal.”

He made the sign of the cross over his chest.

“I will. I’ll go now,” I said and hastened down the stairs to find the captain.

He wasn’t in his chambers, or the meeting rooms that were attached. I tried the galley and found Domingo chopping limes.

“Oy,” he said, tossing me half of one. “Suck on that, why don’t ya. Stop the scurvy, right?”

I caught the piece of fruit and thanked him. “We’ll need more than limes though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Storm’s coming. Big one.”

His face went white. “Ah, fuck.”

“Not a fan of storms?” I asked, feeling the same, honestly.

“Not at sea. I’m just getting used to the whole floating all day and night thing. Not sure I want to try sinking.”

“We won’t sink,” I said, with more conviction than I felt. “But the situation could get dangerous.”

“You are a cunt!” Esmaralda shouted from the rooms behind.

“Shut your fucking twat, you sorry pile of feathers!” Mr Guthrie yelled back from nearby.

Esmaralda laughed, sounding like Domingo when someone told a good joke.

“Wonderful.” Domingo pointed the tip of his knife at me. “See, that was one good thing about being a whore, White. If the weather was bad, there weren’t any clients, so we had a chance to rest. But I can tell you, I’m not looking forward to weathering a storm on this floating pile of timber.”

I snorted. “Don’t let Dinesh hear you talking about his ship like that.”

Domingo laughed. “Oh, I say all kinds of things to Captain Martin. I don’t exactly watch my words with him, if you get me. But he knows I don’t mean half of what I say.”

“Do you know where I’ll find him?” I asked.

Domingo nodded toward the stern. “He went with Hillier to check the stores.”

“Thank you.”

“White?”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s the safest part of the ship during a storm?”

“I…don’t really know. Anywhere but on deck, I suppose?”

“Right.” He went back to his work, but his forehead furrowed, and he muttered under his breath.

I took my leave and found the captain and Hillier where Domingo had said they’d be. Hillier was standing before a wall of shelves, holding a clipboard and a pencil. Dinesh was reclined on a pile of burlap bags that had the word ‘FLOUR’ printed on them, one knee bent and the other leg stretched out.

“Ah, there he is, Hillier. Tell me, does he look taller to you?” Captain Martin asked with genuine curiosity.

“What?” I said, coming to a halt.

Captain Martin smiled benignly with amusement in his eyes.

Hillier examined me and nodded. “He’s carrying himself a bit straighter, now he’s an officer.”

“Captain, I was just on deck, and Hanes wanted me to tell you that he’s very worried about the weather.”

“The weather?”

“Aye. There’s a big storm coming. Well, the sky looks very nasty; that’s for certain.”

He frowned. “Hmm. We haven’t had a big one in a while. Apart from—” He gestured to me vaguely as he stood.

“Yes. He asked me if the coming storm was one of mine.”

Hillier and Captain Martin gazed at me with questions in their eyes.

“What?” I asked.

“Did you, uh… Has anyone made you cross, Rooster?” Dinesh asked, while Hillier listened attentively, his pencil poised over his paper.

I narrowed my eyes at Captain Martin.

“‘Has anyone made me cross’? Of all the—” I folded my arms over my chest. “ You’re making me cross right now, but I ain’t gonna call a storm.”

He gave a forced laugh.

“Right,” Hillier said.

I stomped my foot in frustration. “For fuck’s sake, my bloody powers ain’t like that. They ain’t a conscious thing I do. They just…happen.”

“When someone you love is threatened,” Dinesh agreed. “I know. But I wonder…”

I frowned. “You wonder what?”

But Captain Martin shook his head. “Never mind.”

He turned to Hillier. “Well, Hillier, I suppose we’d best batten down the hatches and warn the crew. If this is as bad as that beast several months ago, we’re going to need all of our luck and more.”

*

T he storm hit as the sun went down, just as Hanes had predicted. We’d prepared as much as we were able, rolling up most of the sails and only using the storm jibs to keep us pointed in the right direction.

The ship lurched and jerked in the midst of the horrible gale. Hillier, Guthrie, and the captain were on deck, shouting orders as men hastened to follow them. Hillier had the wheel, fighting the wind to keep the ship steady, and Captain Martin stood nearby, holding onto the mizzen mast to keep his feet, both of them soaked to the skin. Strangely though, they seemed to know what to do and had an air of authority, as if they would get us through in one piece, which I chose to believe.

As an officer myself, I should have stayed with them, but since my sailing skills were abysmal, the captain had sent me downstairs, ostensibly to keep his rooms in order, although how I was supposed to stop things from tumbling off his desk and out of his cabinets, when the Arrow rocked and lunged, I didn’t half know. The larger pieces of furniture were bolted down and didn’t present a problem, but the straight chair kept sliding back and forth, and eventually tipped over. I held onto one of the oak bedposts and prayed to a God, whom I didn’t believe in, to be merciful. I was sick with worry for the men up top, but I knew I wouldn’t be any good to anyone up there, and Dinesh would have been distracted with worry for me.

I was quite damp, still, and not very comfortable but glad to be below deck. The cabin was dim and dark with dancing shadows. Lightning lit the space in frequent bursts as thunder boomed with terrifying intensity. I daren’t light any of the lamps in case they fell from their hooks and caused a fire. Perhaps that was unlikely—what did I know, really?—but I wasn’t taking any chances.

I mumbled some barely remembered prayers and tried to remain calm. I didn’t want my desperation and fear to cause me to summon a supernatural tempest because that might be a bad idea in this situation. So I closed my eyes and tried to imagine blue skies and good times.

Then the cabin door slammed open, and I almost shit myself.

Domingo stood there, with his chartreuse robe belted over top of his shirt and trousers, and the small cage containing a frantic Esmaralda tucked under his arm.

“Oh, thank God, you’re here, Rooster!”

He shut the door and ran to the bed, wrapping his free arm around the footpost.

“Is the ship going to sink?” he asked, eyes wide with panic. “I don’t want to die!”

From somewhere, I summoned the pretence of calm.

“We’re not going to die. Everything’s going to be fine,” I said, hoping those words would soothe me as well.

“Pummel the blackguard! Take him out back!” Esmaralda shouted as if she could intimidate the weather into easing.

“Shh, my pretty girl,” Domingo cooed. He gazed at me in apology. “I didn’t have time to cover her cage.”

“Perhaps she can distract us,” I suggested.

Domingo gave me a mean look. “You’re fucking delusional. We’re all going to die. We’re going to end up on the bottom of the sea and the fishes will feast on our bones!”

I sighed and then shouted a little too loudly, even with the crashing of the storm and shouting above us.

“Get a hold of yourself, man!”

He looked at me as if I’d grown another head. I was a little surprised myself.

Esmaralda said, “You are a cunt!” but I knew she didn’t mean the insult. She was frightened as well and flapped about restlessly in the confines of the carrying cage.

I continued in a volume somewhat more controlled.

“For one thing, you almost caused a literal shitstorm when you barged in here. I’m barely controlling my bowels right now. And I know the captain has this under control. And Hillier. The crew will keep us afloat.”

I tried hard to believe my words.

“Do you think so? But—”

“They will . They have to,” I said, tightening my grasp on the bedpost as the sextant tumbled off the captain’s desk.

“Oooh, that’s his favourite thing to play with—other than me,” I commented, watching the instrument slide to the other side of the room.

Domingo barked a laugh that was half amusement and half cry of terror. Mostly tension relief.

The ship lurched in the other direction, and the sextant went sliding across the floor, along with a selection of other items.

“You’re remarkably calm for someone holding onto this bed for dear life,” Domingo commented.

“It’s called self-control, Domingo. You should try it.”

“What a trollop!” Esmaralda said, then gave a whistle of appreciation.

“I’m calmer already just being near you. Even though I think you’re deluded if you think we’re going to be fine.”

“What’s the point of expecting the worst? Besides, you don’t want me to panic.”

“Why not? The bowels?”

I gave a half-hearted laugh. “Not only. If I panic and feel like our lives are in danger, I could call up another storm on top of this one.”

Domingo’s face went even paler. “Fuck. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“It’s all I’ve been thinking of.”

There was a tremendous crash of thunder and a flash of light that illuminated the very struts of the groaning ship. Esmaralda was struck to silence, and Domingo and I found ourselves in a frantic embrace, holding each other like these were the end times. It certainly felt that way.

When the world didn’t end and the shouting and lurching of the ship continued, we released each other and uttered embarrassed apologies.

“All right. Go back to your own bedpost,” I muttered, ashamed to have lost my composure.

“No, I want to stay near you,” Domingo said, clutching the same sturdy post as I and sounding determined.

“As you like.” Perhaps we had better stay close to each other.

“Do you smell smoke?” Domingo asked, sniffing the air.

I sniffed and caught a whiff of woodsmoke. “Fuck. Is the ship on fire?”

Then I heard the sound of running men and a voice—Hanes, possibly—yelled to clear the way. I met Domingo’s gaze, and we turned toward the door as it swung open.

Two men carried the captain inside.

“Put him on the bed!” Hanes instructed Lahiri, who was helping him.

“What happened?” I cried, letting go of the bedpost and rushing forward.

Dinesh!

“Lightning strike,” Hanes said.

“Lightning strike!” Domingo gasped. “The ship’s been struck? We’re all going down!”

“Nah, it glanced off the side. We snuffed the fire,” Lahiri said with a calm and confidence I envied.

“Shard of the rail came off and went through his leg,” Hanes explained. “He’s bleeding pretty bad.”

I grabbed one of the oil lamps, struck a match, and lit the wick, then adjusted the flame and hung the lantern back on the hook. I stared at the blood soaking the cloth wrapped around Dinesh’s thigh.

“I’m all right, White. I’m fine,” Dinesh said, with a brave attempt at a smile.

He was alert but looked pale as a ghost as he gazed up at me before turning to Hanes. “Go back on deck and help Hillier. We’ve got to be at the back of this weather soon.”

“Aye, Captain,” Hanes said. “Here, White. Look after him. Keep pressure on that wound. Faraday’s on his way.”

My blood ran cold, but I wasn’t giving in to despair.

“All right,” I said, steeling my nerves and calling all the last vestiges of my bravery. “Go on, then.”

They left and I kept my hand firmly on the cloth that covered the captain’s wound.

“Figures the two of you’d be canoodling,” Dinesh said. “Found some time whilst I was otherwise occupied, I see?”

I frowned at his ill-timed humour. “We were terrified and trying to convince each other we’d live to see tomorrow.”

He nodded and looked chastened. But I didn’t like his sudden lack of confidence.

“Are you truly going to be all right?” I asked him.

“Of course. Merely a flesh wound. But if this storm doesn’t let up…”

“It’ll stop,” I stated, not willing to consider other options.

“Here,” Dinesh said. “I can hold this.”

I lifted my hand from the bandage on his thigh, and Dinesh replaced it with his own, holding the fabric firmly.

“I’m not sure the Arrow will withstand this,” Captain Martin said. “Why don’t you try to call on your powers?”

“My…powers?”

I knew what he meant but pretended I didn’t to buy myself some time.

“Well, we might all very well die today, Rooster. And it might not make an ounce of difference if this wound isn’t fatal, because sinking to the bottom surely will be.”

“Mother Mary and Jesus!” Domingo whispered. “Not drowning. I’m too pretty to drown.”

As if on cue, Esmaralda said, “You are a cunt!”

I waved my hand at Domingo and his annoying bird.

“Shush.” I glared at the captain. “What do you mean ‘why don’t I try to call one of mine’?”

“Rooster, the past two times we’ve been in a life or death situation, you’ve called on your powers, and we’ve gotten out of a very sticky spot.”

“But I don’t—” I said. “It’s not—”

“Well, that’s a fucking shame because we could really use that magic right now.”

“For fuck’s sake, Dinesh, I’ve been trying not to call a storm! There already is a storm! You want to suffer under the weight of two storms?”

“We never suffer under yours. Whatever powers you call upon, when you do summon them, we are never harmed. And I’m not sure we’re going to survive this. Whatever magic you possess, what arises is not a natural phenomenon. And this natural phenomenon is trying its bloody best to kill us.”

We stared at each other. I didn’t want to admit that he was right, but he was. There was still one problem.

“I don’t know how, Dinesh,” I said, holding onto the bedpost as he did the same. Even though he lay in the bed, the ship was pitching and rocking so much he could easily roll off. I held my free arm out, palm up. “I can’t just call upon my powers as I like.”

“How do you know?” he asked, his eyes entreating me. “Have you tried?”

“Well, no, but…” I covered one ear and bent the other to my shoulder to shut out the shouting from above. Another flash lit the room. The gas lamp swung on its hook and gave the cabin an eerie feel in the darkness as shadows shifted and moved.

The captain lifted his free hand and reached for me, then flinched in pain.

“Please try. I think it’s the only way to survive this.”

Domingo wailed and clutched the bedpost like a lover.

“No, no, no, no, no. I’m not going down to the depths of the ocean. I’m not going to die like this!”

“Take it from behind!” Esmaralda ordered, then clucked and chirped, the flutter of her wings against the wood cage a frantic accompaniment.

Fear swirled in my belly as an ember of heat warmed deep inside me. A sensation that had become familiar, but didn’t help me to summon my powers with intention.

“I don’t know how!”

“Think about me dying in some horrible way,” Captain Martin suggested. “And Domingo too.”

“Noooo!” Domingo cried. “I’m too young to die! Don’t let me die!”

Dinesh’s words did what they needed to, as harsh as they had been. The glow of heat and the sharp knife of fear grew and grew.

“And Lahiri and Squid. Hillier and Guthrie. All of us plunging to our deaths.”

The fear and the heat increased, a storm inside of me. I turned my free hand palm up. There was a faint blue glow there, under the skin. I looked at my hand on the bedpost. Blue light shone against the wood.

Dinesh continued, his tone eager. “The goats , Simon. The chickens ! All sunk to the bottom of the sea. Elizabeth and Henrietta!”

I stared, horrified, at Dinesh. Then I planted my feet apart for purchase and brought my free hand to the bedpost to grip the polished wood, wrapping both together in seeming prayer as the words of the ancient spell came to my lips:

“Bring me the fire and the flame,

O’er the ocean, in my name.

Give me the lightning and the storm,

From the heavens, let it be borne.

Smite those who threaten what’s mine.

They’ll not have anyone this time.

Let the sea and the flame rejoice.

Let the ocean and sky make the choice.”

Maybe this was a mistake, but I was too far gone to stop, and the sense of power flowing through me was heady and new.

I opened my eyes and lifted my head from where I’d had my forehead pressed against the bedpost. Through a blue haze, I saw Dinesh gazing at me with abject terror or possibly awe that looked like terror. Anyway, whatever emotion was displayed across his features didn’t matter because I couldn’t stop now.

I closed my eyes, put my forehead against the wood again, and repeated the chant, whilst the sounds of chaos echoed around us, and somewhere at the edge of my hearing, Esmaralda shouted, “Pummel the blackguard! Pass him around!”

A whirlwind surrounded me. I couldn’t hear Domingo’s bird anymore, nor anything but the shrieking of the wind and the creaking of the ship as I waited for the saltwater to suck us down to the depths because, surely, that was going to happen. I’d only hastened our imminent end with my ridiculous attempt at a rescue.

If only the captain hadn’t pushed me to call upon my magic. I’d blame him because that was easier than blaming myself.

A strange buzzing filled my ears. I lifted my head and gazed at my hands where they clutched the bedpost.

Translucent blue fire engulfed my hands and the bedpost. My first thought was to let go, but I couldn’t, and the flame didn’t hurt me. The blaze coursed through me, around the post and up through the ceiling, melding with the ship and with time itself. None of this experience felt real, and the spell went on forever.

There was a terrible ringing in my ears, worse than after the explosion at Cayonne. I opened my mouth to scream, but I couldn’t tell if anything came out of me but blue fire.

Time meant nothing, but at some point, the ringing in my ears lessened, and a sense of peace descended as if a cool cloth had been placed over me. My breathing, which had been heavy and laboured, calmed and fell into a gentler rhythm. The world around me quieted, and I wondered if I was on the bottom of the ocean. Or in heaven.

I gasped out a laugh. As if I’d end up in that place, after all I’d done.

Then Domingo’s voice whispered in my ear, and soft arms wrapped around me.

“You did it, Rooster. You did it. Dios mio , we’re saved!”

“What a cunt!” Esmaralda exclaimed.

I opened my eyes.

Captain Martin gazed at me from the pillow, his loose hair a halo, his face a picture of reverence and awe—a strange and somewhat awful expression, but much better than fear.

The peaceful feeling expanded, and I realized that the room was filled with moonlight. I heard cheering from above and the cawing of gulls.

“Well done, Rooster,” the captain said. “You were magnificent.”