Darren Shan - 02 Ocean of Blood

“Daniel Abrams,” the boy said smartly.

“You will get another coin when you bring your captain to me.”

“Yes, sir, Master Crepsley, sir!” Daniel yapped, then raced off.

The captain was a gruff, thickset man. He eyed Larten dubiously, but like Daniel, his face lit up when he spotted the pretty Malora. “Sir. Ma’am. Can I be of help?”

“We seek a cabin,” Larten said.

“Alas, this isn’t a passenger ship. We have a handful o’ passengers, but we’ve already squeezed in as many as we can fer this journey. If it’s America ye’re looking fer, I can recommend —”

“I do not care where you are going,” Larten snapped, then paused. “America?”

“Ultimately,” the captain nodded. “Got a few stops t’ make first, and we’re going by way o’ Greenland, but —”

“Greenland!” Larten yelled with excitement. “That is where I want to go.”

“A strange place t’ want t’ get off, sir,” the captain said. “But I can recommend a couple o’ ships fer there too.”

“I do not want any other ship,” Larten growled. “This is the ship for me. The Pearly Tornado — a fine name, a fine ship and a fine captain.”

“Very nice o’ ye t’ say, sir, but I’m afraid I really can’t —”

Larten dug into his pockets, pulled out all of his money and thrust it at the astonished captain. “Is that enough? Malora, give him more if he wants.”

“I don’t think he needs any more,” Malora said quietly. She shared a look with the captain and took back a couple of notes. He didn’t object — in fact he seemed relieved. “will that cover the cost of our voyage and help you persuade some of your other passengers to make way for us?”

“It will,” the captain said weakly. “But ye’l have t’ share a cabin.”

“No,” Malora said firmly. “We need a cabin of our own.”

“But —” the captain began to protest. Malora handed him one of the notes she had retrieved and the captain glumly pocketed the money. “Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll have it sorted fer ye by then.”

“And, captain,” Malora called him back. “Fresh linen if you please.”

He grinned thinly and tipped his hat to her. “Aye, ma’am.”

The Pearly Tornado set sail on the next tide. Larten missed the launch. He was asleep in their cabin, tossing and turning from the fever. Malora had washed him down once already, after he had vomited all over himself and the sheets. The next few days or weeks were going to be hard, until the flu passed. ( Or until he dies, part of her whispered, but she preferred not to consider that grim possibility.)

When she felt the ship get under way, Malora left Larten and went on deck. This was her first time sailing and she was fascinated by all the activity going on around her. She had never guessed that the running of a ship would be such a complex process.

The other passengers were on deck too, looking at the shore with sad longing as they pulled away. There were four men, two women and a baby that clung to its mother and cried shrilly. Malora assumed they were going to start a new life in America, and were so poor that they hadn’t been able to afford passage on any of the regular ships.

Daniel Abrams — the boy who’d first greeted them — edged up to Malora, spat over the railing and nodded pleasantly. “Yer master’s asleep?” he guessed.

“Resting,” Malora said.

“He looked right sick when he came aboard,” Daniel noted.

“Influenza,” Malora said. “He’s over the worst of it, but will probably lie low for most of the journey. His eyes are weak from the illness. He can’t bear to be out in the sun at the moment — that’s why he had the umbrella.”

“Ah.” Daniel nodded again, this time like a doctor.

“If ye need anything, liquor, medicine or hot food, let me know. We don’t have much, but I can fetch the best of what there is… fer a price.” He coughed uncomfortably, unaccustomed to such bargaining.

Malora smiled at the boy. “My master is a generous man. You will be well rewarded for any services rendered. And you already have my gratitude for making such a kind offer.”

Daniel blushed. “Anything ye want, ma’am, just ask fer Master Abrams. I’m a right little jackdaw, me.”

Malora remained on deck a couple of hours, adjusting to the swell of the waves, breathing deeply of the salty air. Before returning to her cabin, she asked Daniel to arrange some supplies for them, drink, food and a burner — she said she would cook in their cabin while her master was sick. As he was doing that, she went to check on Larten.

The vampire was awake but ill. He didn’t recognize Malora when she came in — he thought she was Evanna, come to scar the other side of his face. He tried to hide beneath his blankets, but as she whispered his name over and over, his eyes half cleared and he sat up.

“Malora?” he whined.

“Who else?”

“Where are we?”

“On a ship.” When he stared at her, she said, “You wanted to see Greenland.”

He tried to work out why he might have said such a thing, but his head hurt when he thought too much. “I’m hungry,” he whimpered instead.

“Food is on its way.”

“No,” he said. “The other kind of hunger.”

Malora frowned. She had already considered this — it was one of the reasons she’d been reluctant to set sail in the first place — but hadn’t thought he’d need to feed so soon.

“Can you wait?” she asked. “We dock at our first port in less than a week. We can slip ashore then and…”

He was already shaking his head. “Can’t,” he wheezed. “The hunger… I have to feed when it comes. Dangerous not to. Might drink recklessly if I do not sip regularly.”

“Very well,” she sighed and sat beside him. She rolled up a sleeve, took a knife from her belt and made a small cut beneath her elbow. She didn’t wince as the blade bit into her flesh — it would take more than that to make her cry. “Not too much,” she murmured as Larten leaned forward eagerly. “We have to make it last.”

He nodded, then fixed his lips around the cut. Malora smiled and stroked his hair as he fed, her expression and gestures very much like those of the mother’s on deck had been as she’d tried to soothe her wailing baby.

Malora hoped that Larten would disembark when they docked. His condition was worsening and he needed rest and warmth. But he wouldn’t hear of it. When the fever made him feisty, he insisted on going to Greenland to search for the palace of Perta Vin-Grahl. (Malora had no idea who that was.) In his lower moments he moaned that he wanted to die onboard and be buried at sea. Either way, he had no intention of setting foot ashore at any of their early stops.

Malora never lost her temper, even when he was at his most pitiful and demanding. This was the man she had chosen and she loved him as completely as any sixteen-year-old had ever loved. Nothing he did tested her patience, whether he yelled abuse, wept and asked her to kil him, threw up over her or spat in her face. It was the flu that made him do these things and she refused to blame him for his addle-headed actions.

The captain, Daniel and the rest of the crew were enamored with Malora. She spent a lot of time making friends, joking with the sailors, stitching clothes for them, helping out in the kitchen. Daniel was especially fond of her, even though he knew he couldn’t win her heart, being younger than she was and just starting out in life. He trailed her like a faithful dog whenever he could. He even asked her to teach him how to cook, so that he could spend more time with her in the kitchen. He was a terrible chef, but he stuck with it to be close to Malora.