In Search of Spice (21 page)

The Spakka learnt to speak Harrhein, some better than others, but remained stand-offish. They took part in sailing the ship, and were adept at anything they turned their hands to, but continued to prefer their axes to the Harhein variety of weapons. They revered Sara, and she would spend an hour a day with them talking in their own language and settling disputes. For some reason, they welcomed Little and Husk into their community, though this always seemed to spark some sort of argument. The ex-galley slaves also spent a lot of time with them, somewhat to the wonderment of the crew.

Perryn spent much time with Little and the soldiers, who were delighted to teach him the little they knew of battle magics, and his own skills grew rapidly as he experimented with the different techniques they told him about.

Other skills were learnt as well.

Captain Larroche was standing on the poop in the sunshine enjoying a morning brew when Brian came up to him.

“Going well Brian. Can’t remember a voyage with such fine weather and such a constant wind.”

“Indeed sir. Only problem is the new hands think they are real sailors.”

“Ha! Indeed. They’ve settled in well. Don’t know when the crew smiled so much.”

“Yes, well you can thank Suzanne for that.”

“WHAT! Don’t tell me she is screwing them all? Surely the women would get upset.”

Brian cursed himself under his breath. He had forgotten that the Captain was a bit touchy about sex.

“Ah, no sir. I am not aware of her having sex with anyone.”

“Then what the devil do you mean?”

“Well sir, you are aware that the crew make relationships with each other? And that this usually causes lots of problems, arguments and resentment?”

“Of course. Reason that fool Black only has men in his crew. And makes half the profits we do.”

“Well, it seems that she caught one couple arguing, the girl in tears and the boy shouting. She dragged them off to her cabin and discussed it with them, then, ah, had them make love to each other while she, ah, instructed them on it. It seems the instructions were quite detailed.”

“Good God.” The Captain was speechless.

“Word got around,” Brian continued. “More couples went for lessons. Seems like everyone on the ship attended her class.”

“Good God. What about the Bosun?”

“Ah, she was one of the first. She told me about it, sir.”

“Good God.” The Captain stared unseeing into the horizon. He jerked as a thought struck home. “Brian! You have had a lesson too?”

“Oh no, sir. Regretfully I don’t have a partner. Wouldn’t do for the First Mate to be thought of as having a favourite.”

“Partner? What do you mean?”

“Oh, she doesn’t actually do anything herself, sir, she insists everyone brings a partner and she teaches them together.”

“So you and I the only ones not to ...”

“I believe so, sir. Apparently it saved a couple of marriages amongst the older hands. Suzanne is one of the most popular officers I’ve sailed with.”

“Next thing the ship will be full of squalling brats. It’s all your fault, Brian. I never wanted women on board.”

Brian ignored this. “Actually, sir, I think you will find we will have less than ever before.”

“Eh?”

“It seems that the actual making love is just one of her talents. She is also accomplished at the consequences.”

“Do you mean to say she is carrying out abortions on board? Put a stop to it at once. She will kill those poor girls.”

“No sir. She has a store of herbs, well, actually she found them in the galley stores and took some from the magicians. She makes teas for the girls which stop them becoming pregnant. She also apparently can cure that Spakka disease some men get from whores.”

This was too much for the Captain, who changed the subject but it was noticeable he started treating his Fourth Mate with more respect.

Nineteen days out from port, the wind failed.

It was hot and sweaty without it, and tempers grew short. Walters was constantly testing the air and looking worried. The sails flapped loosely to the odd gust. The Bosun had the crew cleaning and repairing and kept watching the horizon. Pat asked Else why, and she told him shortly that a flat calm was often followed by a storm. But nobody knew what it would be like out here in the middle of nowhere.

Sure enough, Walters came running to the Captain who started barking orders, and Pat and Sara found themselves working hard in the heat, releasing the spars from the masts which were lowered to the deck with their sails tied round them and stored away. After four hours of brutal work, the masts were bare poles with most of the rigging removed, just the essential ropes that kept the fixed masts in place.

The pigs and chickens complained at being locked away, while Sam and Meghan checked each fastening. Dan and Billy got into a fight which Little dealt with quickly and efficiently by the simple method of knocking them both out. The Bosun threw a pail of water over them and told them to get back to work.

The sea started to rise, waves getting bigger by the hour, and they watched apprehensively a rough patch of sea getting closer as fast as an eagle in full stoop. It hit in a similar manner, with a rush, the masts bent and moaned, singing a strange song over the rush of wind. The crew were huddled in the fo’c’sle, some sitting but Pat and Sara had copied the experienced seamen and were in their hammocks. Only experienced seamen were on watch and above deck. Both Captain Larroche and Brian were on the poop deck, with Taufik himself at the wheel, two brawny boatswain’s mates to help him.

The Queen Rose seemed to buck beneath them and the hammocks swayed, while those not in them were thrown across the cabin. Nobody laughed as they climbed into their hammocks.

“What will we do?” Pat asked to the room in general.

Bart answered from the far end. “Run before it lad. All we can do. You don’t fight the sea, you live with it.”

“Get some sleep if you can,” added Jim. “This could last a few days, and you’ll take your turn on watch and helping the officers.”

“Watch? What can you see in that?”

“Rocks, lad. Listen for ‘em, you can hear them roaring far away, then we need to get ready as the ship will go down if we strike them. We pray that the Captain knows what he is doing.”

The room fell into silence. Pat noticed Sara looking at him, and she pushed down one side of her hammock and opened her arms in invitation. After a moment’s hesitation, he got out of his hammock with difficulty, and made his way to hers by clinging to the ropes as the ships swayed. He slipped in with her and she grunted as he kneed her thigh, but they managed to twist around till they were comfortable. Pat noticed most of the other hammocks were either empty or double as others followed their example.

The lights dimmed, and Pat jumped as he felt Sara’s hand slide down his trousers.

“I’m not sleepy,” she whispered in his ear. “This could be fun!” It had taken a couple of weeks, but Sara had recovered from her experience. She had not yet allowed Pat to make love to her, but she enjoyed experimenting and playing with his body. She was beginning to allow his ministrations in return, but still clammed up on occasion.

They weren’t the only ones to seek such recreation, and shortly shouts of complaints came from the singles at the noise the various couples were making, but this stopped when Gerry leant out his hammock and was copiously sick.

The older hands were furious with him, and had no patience, driving him up to the deck to get a bucket of water and forcing him to clean up. They made damn sure that all the others knew where to go to vomit in future. The room stank, and Pat was pleased when Suzanne stuck her head in and called to Pat and Sara.

“I’ve got the watch - you two are in it. On deck, come to the poop in five.” She grinned at the sight of them in one hammock.

Getting up on deck was a challenge, but one they relished. Neither were bothered by the motion, though several of the new crew were being sick in the scuppers while a boatswain ensured each had a rope tied round them in case they were swept over the side. Some of the waves into which the ship plunged came up and into the scuppers, over the moaning bodies wishing they were dead.

For a moment Pat thought the door had been locked, till he realised it was the pressure of the wind. Coming outside was a shock, as the wind whipped the ship along and the rain was horizontal, smacking into unprotected flesh with a painful, smarting blow. Waves were huge, and despite her size the Queen Rose was wallowing, with an uncomfortable corkscrew motion. After the heat that had been building day after day, it was wonderful to feel so cool again, though it was still not cold.

Pat and Sara dragged themselves to the poop deck using ropes to cling on and haul themselves against the wind. They were soaked to the skin by the time they climbed up, both grinning from ear to ear. Suzanne was standing in the lee of the Captain’s quarters looking smart in a great coat with her hair wrapped up and down her back, inside the coat. She shouted at them over the wind.

“Nils has the fore watch. Pat, you are to join him and learn from him.” Pat nodded, grinned and turned. As he started to make his way down, there was a loud crash from above and the central topmast snapped off, swinging down in a tangle of rigging and started banging against the main mast. The ship leaned hard over and groaned as the wind caught the obstacle and pushed.

Captain Larroche was out of his cabin in a trice, and called to Pat.

“Get Nils and tell him to cut that away.”

Pat jumped to the deck, the wind catching him and blowing him so he landed several feet further along than he expected. Travelling to the bow was hard, having to time his movements with the pitching of the ship and after one close shave when he nearly went overboard, he learnt to pick his next handhold and let the roll of the ship and the wind take him to where he could grasp it with a death hold.

Just past the main mast he met Nils coming back. Nils turned his ear to hear the shouted instructions.

A determined, grim expression spread across Nils’ face. “Stay down here Pat, I’ll sort it.”

“You can’t do it on your own. I’m with you.”

Nils grinned at him. “On your own head then. Grab an axe and tie it to your belt. You’ll need both hands and the axe is vital. Keep three points of purchase always. Stay away from me so I don’t knock you off if I fall.”

The two of them started up the mast. Pat couldn’t believe the force of the wind. He tried to keep it on his back so the rain didn’t blast his face. Without looking up or down, he concentrated on each step, planning where he was going to put his hand or foot next. As he climbed he grinned, remembering times in the past scaling trees and cliffs, then thought that crossing the desert had been more similar in terms of sheer endurance. His arms straining from the constant pulling of the wind, he glanced down and was surprised how little distance they had travelled.

Putting it out of his mind, he concentrated on a foot at a time. Reach up with a hand and grasp the rope. Take a firm hold, look down and watch the foot rise up to the next step. Wiggle the foot and slot the rope between the toes and grip. Move the next hand up. Straighten the leg and watch the second foot come up into place. Repeat. Over and over while the wind buffeted him, his clothing rubbing against him and weighing him down as it more than doubled in weight from the rain.

Almost in trance he moved up steadily, and then banged his head. Looking up, he found it was Nils’ foot. They were at the first spar location.

Nils shouted something down that he couldn’t hear, and pulled himself up. Coming up carefully, Pat saw that the mast was greasy. One of the protective beads had split and gone, spreading slippery grease over the mast and ropes in the process. He checked, there was no way around, he had to go through it. Nils inched past, and he could see his foot slip on the grease. Pat was thankful for his bare feet and stretched his toes getting ready. His first step landed on a greasy rope and he slipped. Buffeted by the wind, he couldn’t see and pain seared through his fingers as they caught a grip. Digging his nails into the unforgiving wood, he tried taking tiny steps and inched his way up.

Past the spot he went faster, and felt the mast ringing with every gust. He held on more tightly, seeing Nils was going slowly. While he watched Nils, he saw the top mast crash back just above his head and Nils stiffened, then grabbed the rope with rigid arms. Pat watched the topmast swing out again and saw broken rope slashing after it. Nils didn’t move. He was in a dangerous place and now was inching back down. Pat looked at the other side of the mast. The rigging remained in place, but it was a stretch to reach. He swayed in the wind, then timed a gust and swung with it, risking a hand and foot across the gap. The gust pushed at his back and gasping he grabbed the far rope, pulling himself across, breathing rapidly. Pulling himself level with Nils, he sensed something wrong.

He reached out with one hand as he came level and grabbed Nils’ arm. Nils turned his face towards him and Pat gasped. Nils’ left eye was gone, just a gaping hole with blood trickling out of it.

“Rope end” screamed Nils, “slashed me across the face. Can’t see properly.”

“Your eye!”

“Is it bad? Hurts like the devil and I can’t see a thing. Give me a moment and I’ll go up and free it. Got to get past this bit where it slams into the mast. This is where we earn our pay, lad!”