Andrew Hartley - Act of Will

I passed my time fencing with Orgos on what little area of free deck there was. It wasn’t easy, and I spent as much time dodging spars and deck fittings as I did his sword. Still, it kept my body moving and my mind off the amount of water under our ancient keel.

The gulls swooped infuriatingly at us for miles, convinced we were trawling. At first I felt ill, but it was more trepidation than actual seasickness, and it passed, mercifully, within a couple of hours. Oddly enough, it was Garnet who suffered most. He was greenish before the dock was out of sight and, as we cleared the sandbars that flanked the port, he began hanging over the rail with a desolate look on his face. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for the poor swine.

We slept in hammocks, two to a berth, and it wasn’t exactly idyllic, but the rocking of the ship actually helped me doze off. Orgos lay large and completely silent beside me. I don’t think Mithos closed his eyes much, since Garnet, his berthmate, spent half the night running up to the deck to throw up. Mithos’s sleeplessness turned out to be for the best when he caught one of the ratty, toothless crew pawing through our belongings. From then on, one of us kept watch.

On the morning of the second day we saw dolphins leaping off the starboard bow, apparently racing us. They flashed silver-grey into the foam of our wake like curving arrows. The sky was cloudless and we were making good time, but if there had been more to occupy the captain, things would probably have worked out better.

He was a big clumsy man with a black beard, a mouthful of gold teeth, a natty little scarlet jacket, and a penchant for heavy earrings. His voice was permanently slurred, even when he wasn’t on the rum, and his tongue clicked and gurgled when he spoke. He didn’t have an accent as such; you just couldn’t tell what he was saying. I would just nod, laugh loudly, and say “Yes mate, exactly” a few times, until he left me alone. He spat through his beard as he talked and his eyes wandered around sparkling mischievously, so that more than once I wondered with a start of panic what it was I was agreeing to. Garnet said he looked like he had been a pirate once, and I could see his point. His face was red and leathery from the sun and salt wind, and his arms were tattooed with voluptuous women coiled around snakes and daggers. He would sidle up to you and make crude, unintelligible jokes and then slap you on the back and laugh to himself while you wondered what the hell he was going on about. He wore a short, heavy-looking cutlass with a bowl-shaped hand guard. Maybe he still was a pirate.

Renthrette was on deck waiting for the sun to go down when he made his move. I don’t suppose she understood most of what he suggested, but she got enough idea to detach herself from him and head for the cabins. He’d had a skinful, however, and wasn’t to be dealt with so easily. He caught her from behind, but she shrugged him off and slapped his hands away. Since Renthrette was angry but controlled, things might have been left at that had I not decided to “rescue” her.

For a moment there, it was close to perfect. I took two quick steps and caught him off balance with a punch to the jaw. He never saw it coming, and though it wasn’t really much more than a slap, he slumped to the ground. Feeling pleased with myself, I turned to minister to Renthrette, who was staring at me in disbelief. I was just realizing that what I had assumed was admiration was actually outrage when I heard the captain stagger to his feet behind me, scraping his cutlass out of its rusty scabbard.

His eyes were small and full of malice, and he started to advance on me, spitting meaningless curses. I had no weapon to hand, but he was in no mood to be sporting. Renthrette closed as if to part us, making conciliatory noises, but he swung the sword at her like a club and she stepped back, giving a single unhurried shout for Orgos. The first mate appeared, ushering her out of the way, then stood there laughing. I was beginning to regret a lot of things.

On the deck, discarded from our last training session, was a blunted épée. I seized it and turned back to face the captain, who was drooling and laying about himself pointlessly with the squat and murderous-looking cutlass, his eyes locked on me.

“Perhaps we could discuss this. ” I ventured. He swashed wildly at me with his sword.

I instinctively raised my blunted “blade,” and it almost kicked out of my hand as he made contact. He came at me again and I parried wildly, following up with a crazed lunge that didn’t come close. I knew that I just had to keep him at bay until help arrived, but I couldn’t manage that kind of composure. I swung like a berserker and fled from his hacking attacks, leaping rope coils and clambering over the huge racks of bound timber. He came lumbering after me, barking wordless insults and bellowing like a rabid bear. I poked at him with my (now bent) épée and hopped away again.

Orgos took him from behind, catching his sword arm and raising a dagger to his throat until he became still. As the crew roared with laughter, I scrambled to my feet and looked for somewhere to hide my embarrassment.

“My hero,” said Renthrette dryly.

I tried to think of a crushing riposte that would salvage some dignity from the moment. But nothing came to mind, so I just started shouting, as one is wont to do in such situations. “Look, I was trying to help you out, right? You might show a little gratitude, for God’s sake!”

“Gratitude?” she sneered. “For what? For starting, and almost losing, an unnecessary fight? Let me fight my own battles, Will.”

“Right, I will,” I spluttered, “And next time-”

I was interrupted by Orgos calling me from the foot of the mainmast. Lisha was with him and they looked thoroughly disenchanted.

“Oh bugger,” I muttered, and went over to them, staring at the decking all the way. When I stood before them I could barely look them in the face.

“Sorry,” I said in a small voice. “I just. ”

“I know,” said Orgos. His tone was soft but not without reprimand. “Renthrette can look after herself, Will. And did you forget everything we have learned together? You looked drunker than him.”

“It’s different when you’re fighting someone with a real sword who wants to hurt you,” I replied bitterly.

“In a real fight you have to be even more composed than when you fence, because the hits are more crucial.”

“Don’t lecture me, all right?” I said. “I’m not a child.”

“Will,” said Lisha quietly.

“What?”

“There won’t always be someone on hand to pull you out of trouble when you get in over your head. If only for that reason, be more cautious.”

They left me to myself, and I stared over the side at the water for a while, feeling the slight sting of the salt spray on my arms and face.

You’ve got guts, Will, I’ll give you that,” said Garnet obliquely as we sat down to a supper of dry biscuits and steamed mussels. He gave me a half-smile of encouragement, and then moved to where the smell of the food didn’t remind him of how awful he felt. Renthrette behaved as if the matter simply hadn’t happened, which was actually a pleasant surprise. She even passed me the salt as we ate. As if we didn’t have enough salt.

I saw the captain lurching around the galley in the evening and sort of smiled at him. He muttered something spiteful and gestured with his fist. I was not the Cormorant’s most popular person.

That night it transpired that there were two meetings. The party meeting consisted of Lisha reminding us that we should “keep our heads” (directed at me) and that when we docked tomorrow we should conduct ourselves with caution and dignity (also directed at me). Mithos sat out of the lamplight, almost lost in shadow. Once he nodded solemnly, but he said nothing. Garnet ground the bit of his ax, tracing small perfect circles with a flat stone. Renthrette was rebinding her sword hilt in the same tortuous manner. Her eyes would flash from Lisha back to the weapon in her hand as she wound the thin leather thong round and round the handle, spiraling slowly and immaculately up to the pommel.