Chapter 48 – The storm

It was nearing noon and The Sun Goddess was in peril. The hurricane was to the south east and closing fast. Waves were 20 to 30 feet high and crashing over the ship. All but the topsails were down, and even with those small sails up, the ship was speeding through the seas. Worst of all, the captain was nowhere to be found.

Jason burst into the cabin, soaking wet. “Where is the captain,” the first mate yelled.

“Not on board,” the monkey replied. There is a boat missing, and two ables. Another boat in disarray, as though they tried to launch it and failed. The ables are Kollor and Keeper.”

“Both rookies,” Keenstone cursed. “And that damned captain is gone too? He called for storm shifts earlier, but only he can call all hands.”

“But you are the captain now, Captain Keenstone,” Jason replied. Aye, aye, captain, the other men called out. “And we have a problem in the hold, captain. The water there was up to nearly my waist when I was looking for the old captain.”

Keenstone only paused a minute before donning the mantle of responsibility he was forced into.

“Get some men and beat the pumps. Take Kookla with you. He will be safe there,” the new captain ordered. He turned to a seaman and ordered him to go to the mates’ cabin and bring out the ropes Jason had invented to help steer the ship. Jason didn’t wait around and was soon on the stairs down to the lowest deck, calling four men standing on deck with him and pulling the little cabin boy with him.

As they ran to the pumps, a torrent of water crashed over them. Looking up, Jason saw that the aft hatch was open. The captain hadn’t ordered ‘batten the hatches’ as he should have early in the storm. Jason hoped the new captain would do so soon. The four men took stations on the pumps, which were operated on a step basis. Jason banged a drum, and each man trod on the step in front, which pushed down on their weight, moving the next step into position, and pumping out gallons of water from the bilge. Another torrent or water fell through the hatch, and Jason realized they were losing ground, as every wave pushed three times as much water in as they were pumping out. He turned and grabbed Kookla and set him before the drum, standing on a small box.

“Beat the drums like I was,” Jason ordered and once the boy had the beat, he dashed off, getting soaked again under the hatch. He scrambled up to the deck, and looking around, saw four seamen huddled in a corner.

“You men,” the boy called. “Batten down that hatch and then come with me.” The men wrested the hatch lid mostly into position, and Jason yelled out instructions until it dropped into position. He then ushered the men down the steps.

It was darker now, with the hatch closed, and it took a moment for the men’s eyes to adjust. “Hey, they’s already men on th’ pumps,” one sailor said.

“Yes, but you lot will spell them off,” Jason ordered. Normally one set of men would work the pumps for an entire shift or longer. Jason wanted to have 15-minute turns on the pumps so the men could work faster. At least water was not pouring in on them now. From the aft. He heard a wave break over the ship and a torrent of water came in the fore hatch. Kookla had taken five minutes rest until Jason put him back on the drum and darted towards the bow. As monkey he knew the ship in the dark, although wading through waist-high water slowed him down.

He found another four men in the bow, and got them to put the fore hatch down, and again made the men come to the pumps. The second group was relieved, as well as Kookla, who was now sobbing, but continuing to beat. Jason took over again. The water was over his waist now. Looking around he saw a square of light. The midships hatch was still open. Luckily it only allowed half as much water as the other two had, but it still slowed the progress of the pumpers.

Jason was wondering if he should go out again when a flash of lightning went off, followed by a smashing sound.

“We bin hit,” one of the resting sailors guessed. “Main mast, I reckon.”

Jason looked at the sobbing boy. He was in no shape to drum, so Jason got one of the resting sailors to take the drum. He then sped up to the deck, and just as he emerged another bolt of lightning struck in the air, illuminating the scene in front of him. The main mast had indeed fallen and was leaning against the mizzen at about a 20 degree angle. It was twisting back and forth on the tangled sails and lines, knocking into the mizzen. In time it would take the rear mast out as well. Worst of all, the fallen mast had landed on the main hatch lid, smashing it.

Jason ignored that calamity. The mast was the current problem. Several sailors had tried to climb it and were tossed to the deck. Jason pulled out his knife, which immediately hummed the words ‘Hurry, urgent’. It took a second for the boy to realize that what he was seeing must the battle mode his father had described about Pate. Everything was in wireframe. He could see red ropes and he jumped on the mast. Green ropes appeared on occasion, and Jason learned that he had to grab those to balance against an upcoming wave tossing that would otherwise throw him to the deck like the others. In a few minutes he was up to the first red rope and sliced it quickly. Pate could slice through steel and bone, but the knife cut through thick ropes like they were threads.

When the rope was cut, the mast dropped a half foot, with the boy holding onto green ropes to balance against the fall, and another wave. Then he scrambled up to the next red rope and cut it, causing another drop, this one nearly a foot.

When he cut through the 15th rope the mast landed on the deck. He jumped off and went back to the hatch. The ship’s carpenter was there, inspecting the ruined mast. Jason looked at the hatch, and the smashed lid. He needed something to plug that opening: water was still coursing in when waves hit. He turned and went to the mainsail spar. The sail was lying loose on the deck, and Jason’s knife soon cut a huge square out of the sail. Gathering it up he found a body underneath. An able was either on the mast when it fell or was hit by the falling spars. Looking around Jason spotted six stunned men huddle against the gunwale. “You two,” the boy shouted. “Take this man down to sick bay. You other four come help me.”

The men apparently were just waiting for someone to take charge and didn’t balk at it being a 12-year-old. The five of them wrested the piece of sail over to the hatch and laid it across. “Have you nails? We need about 16,” Jason asked the carpenter, who handed him some. Jason started tacking the sail to the hatch, four nails per side. He used the butt of his knife, which seemed to make a good hammer, putting each nail in with two or three blows. The carpenter saw what was happening and started taking the side opposite Jason using his hammer. They met at the end and Jason handed his spare nails to the carpenter.

He stood and noticed the four seamen staring at him. “Come you lot. We have work to do.”

The four new men were placed on the pumps. One man, the afternoon master, had taken charge of the drum and had been rotating the men in turns during the hour Jason was away. He handed the drumstick to Jason and went to rest. “The little guy got too tuckered out, so I took over,” the master said. After a half hour Kookla woke, and seeing Jason at the drum, crawled over and hugged the monkey’s back. Jason was happy. The little guy was warm on his back, a little steam engine warming him.

Jason took over at the drum and was astonished to see that the water was barely at his crotch level. They were making progress.

The men pumped for hours. After several hours, some of the men were actually falling asleep as they marched, sometimes stumbling when they missed a step. Jason took that crew off and told them they should sleep for a couple hours. He did the same with the next crew as well and made the other two crews work for 15 minutes, and then leave the pumps idle for 15, so the remaining men were still only pumping 15 minutes per hour. The water was below his knees now, and the storm outside seemed less intense. Jason woke the sleeping sailors, needing to use a bucket of water on three, and sent the others to sleep. Most were snoring in seconds.

Jason continued to drum as the big pumps lowered the level on their legs. When one group was to rest for the next 15-minutes Jason had a thought. He reached around and felt Kookla’s forehead. It was burning hot. No wonder the boy was warming Jason so much. He grabbed the boy’s legs and piggybacked him through the hold and up to the deck and sick bay. Kalosun was treating the man the mast fell on, but Jason laid the boy on a second cot.

“It is the cabin boy,” Jason said. “The new captain’s son. He has a tremendous fever.”

“I need another five minutes here to set this man’s leg, if he is to ever walk again. Give the boy some water. From the blue jug: the red one contains a weak grog. Try to get a half cup into him.”

Jason put a cup up to the boy’s mouth and was rewarded with eyes fluttering open. “Sip a bit of this, matey,” Jason said and the boy complied. He would do anything for his hero. After half the cup was gone, Kookla laid back and fell asleep again.

Kalosun named several different herbs and liquids from his self, and Jason mixed them together in a poultice. He had finished grinding the ingredients together and spreading the poultice onto the lad’s chest when Kalo came over, having finished setting the seaman’s many broken bones.

“Good job, boy,” Kalo said. That will help him sleep well. Now I will make a potion that will break the fever. How are you, Jason? You look like hell.”

“Tired, Kalo. Just tired.” Just then he heard the whistle call out ‘all hands on deck’. “I should answer that.”

“Tell the captain I’m a bit tied up at the moment with these two,” Kalo said as Jason tiredly slumped out the door.

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Captain Keenstone looked out over the shambles of his ship as the storm abated somewhat. One mast down and sails gone or tattered on the others, and just over a dozen seamen on the vessel, mostly lolling about on the main deck. Had he lost so many? He had his mate signal a master on deck to blow the all hands signal.

The carpenter and four men stood up near the ruined mast. Then, astonishingly men started pouring out of the hold. Ten, then 15 and finally 16. What had they been doing down there?

The monkey appeared from sick bay at the foredeck. Keenstone had last seen him, during flashes of lightening, bringing the crippled main mast to the deck. With the men with him on the aft deck, Keenstone thought that only one or two men were lost, not counting the three who had abandoned ship. And what was that white thing over the main hatch?

“Carpenter! Report!” the captain ordered.

“Serious damage, sir,” the man said. “Lightening hit the main mast and travelled down it to the deck. The bolts there lit up and burned through the wood. Luckily no one was on the mast at the time. Two to four days to Gerry rig a new main mast.”

“Any other injuries?” the captain called out.

“Kalo has two in sick bay,” Jason called out. “A seaman hit by the falling mast, or more likely a spar. He had several broken limbs and will be off the list for a while. And Kookla, the cabin boy, took a fever doing heroic service in pounding out the pumps. He is also with Kalo and will be off for a few days.”

“Kookla,” the captain said softly, and he had to use all of his willpower not the rush off and see how his son was.

“Master Kertle, you were in the hold? Why so many down there?” He addressed the master who had been working the pumps.

“My doing,” Jason said as he walked from the prow to the stern of the ship. “Four men were not enough to handle the pumps. We were losing ground, especially with the hatches open. I guess we would have gone down in another hour at the rate water was coming in. I kept adding men until we had four teams, each working 15-minutes hard, and then resting for 45. Your boy beat the drums while I went out and battened the hatches.”

The hatches, Keenstone thought. The old captain didn’t give the command to batten, and he himself hadn’t thought to remedy the situation. It was the ship’s monkey who took charge and saved the ship from floundering.

The storm had passed and was to the north and west of them, but the seas remained high. One of the masters was pressing the men back towards the safety of the top deck when one last wave hit the side of the ship, topping it and catching Master Kull with its full might. The man was knocked over and started to slide towards the opposite side of the ship and overboard.

Jason was 15 feet from the master and reacted almost immediately. He dove into the horizontal wall of water and caught hold of the older man’s shirt. As they were both swept up and over the gunwale, Jason managed to twist the master’s collar over a handy belaying pin.

Seconds later Jason found himself hanging onto the master’s belt. On the outside of the ship. He heard the terrible sound of cloth ripping and wondered if this would be how he died. But seconds later dozens of hands reached over the gunwale, and the master was hauled on board. Jason never felt better than when several hands grabbed hold of him, and he was also brought back. He slumped to the deck and lay there trying to regain his strength while vomiting up some of the seawater that had entered his lungs.

Kull seemed to recover first and sat up. He leaned over Jason and said: “I am your man for life.”