Shipwrecked

“When I was just a lad, and I’m sure you’ve heard of it at least through rumor, I was shipwrecked.” Wilkes began recounting the tale to the lads there on the dock

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The sun beat down on him like a cruel lash on Wilkes’s back. Still just a lad he wasn’t fully used to the heat. He struggled to haul himself across the deck to the sorting area below when it suddenly became much lighter. He looked around bewildered and saw Thomas helping him from across the net.

“Well, come on lad, ye ain’t got all day to hoist a single catch. Cap’n’ll tan yer hide until the sun sets if ye try that shit.” The young sailor spoke quickly and breathlessly. He was always in a hurry, wild red curls coiling around his head. A lean build taunt with muscle and experience. He had his festival of adulthood the same year Wilkes had started his apprenticeship. He smiled and showed his missing front tooth. He’d lost it from picking a fight with Rangpar.

The pair hauled it with surprising ease after that. It settled among the previous catches and Wilkes got to work quickly. He began sorting the fish by size, scale color, and general health from what he could tell. Some were smaller and had deformities, those he set in the bait and stewing pile. The ones that were strong and healthy he put into the brining pile. It was a simple process. He still had to double check himself a few times, a novice at sorting through and through. Thomas chuckled while taking the nets up to dry in the sunlight. The clipper was a smaller ship compared to the main vessel. Thomas called it spare worker storage. They were about fifteen nautical miles out from the others, catching fish that were spooked by the main ship. After the nets were set Thomas came back down to help him with the sorting. Wilkes had never had an older brother, just Erik as a best friend and his Mom. If he had, he would’ve hoped it would be Thomas.

Quiet hours were spent except for the occasional cough and the wet slap of fish being tossed around. Wilkes still despised the smell, it had him cringing through the entire experience. Eventually Barry came marching down the stairs. Smoke curled around him from the old pipe as he looked at them cockeyed.

“Thomas, ye been helpin’ lil’ willy do his work again? How’s a lad supposed to screw his head on straight if ye do half the turnin’?” Barry grumbled, the first mate was de facto captain of the smaller ship. His arms folded across his chest while Thomas cracked a cheeky grin.

“Well I turned out fine with ye doin’ the same, so I suppose being soft is alright when a younin’ needs it.” Thomas mouthed off at Barry. “Unless yer sayin’ I ain’t got my own head on straight?”

Barry sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose idly. Another curl of smoke rose toward the ceiling. Barry unfurled his arms before shrugging and walking back up the stairs. Thomas slowly turned to Wilkes with that same ridiculous grin. A similar grin split across the barge lad’s face in turn.

“Time to practice your knots again Wilkes, yer shit at tying the sailor’s oldest friend. Gotta teach ye to get outta a pickle on yer own.” Thomas tossed a coil of rope at Wilkes’s feet. An argument started to form but Thomas scowled at him. With the words dying in his chest Wilkes got to work on his knots.

He kept messing up the final slip for the boat horn loop, cursing under his breath every time Thomas would yank the far end. The damn thing went back to just another length of twisted threads rather than the life saving knot he kept blundering on making. Out of frustration he threw it to the floor and kicked it sharply. Thomas smacked him upside the head with his palm and pointed over to where he kicked it. Hanging his head, Wilkes slumped against the wall of the ship to continue tying his loops. Another five trials of tying the loop finally got a working bowline. Wilkes looked at Thomas with starry eyes as the young sailor nodded at the barge lad.

“Good, now tie nine more. From scratch.” Thomas cackled as Wilkes deflated. The lesson was fairly clear to the barge lad; being good once could be luck. Being good consistently would save him a world of trouble. So he slinked over to the rope storage in the back side of the lower deck, and he got to work there. Huddled against the damp wood, with the smell of sea salt and fish oil hanging like a cloud. Wilkes became a better knot maker than he was hours before. He tossed each knot into a growing pile as he finished it. His fingers stung and his hands were bordering on numb as he kept tossing them over. The coarse fibers of the rope prickled against his uncalloused fingers. Sure he was nimble but the small bites from the rope slowed him just that much. Once the pile sat ten deep Wilkes looked to Thomas again. The young sailor had two loaves of bread, a small decanter of water, and a pair of grilled grouper filets on a plate. He cocked his head and the barge lad joined him to eat.

“So Thomas, I know Barry taught ye, but who taught Barry?” Wilkes asked between mouthfuls of bread.

“Hmm, figure he taught himself shortly after the gods first poured the sea in the mountain valleys of old.” Thomas joked, nibbling idly on the filet he brought for himself.

“Haha good one. But, seriously, who taught him?” Wilkes pressed the issue

“Sorry lad, but I genuinely don’t know. He was one of the first fishermen I ever knew, ye could probably check the archives to see when the fishing group started under the cap’n.” Thomas mused as he poured the decanter into a glass he’d snagged from Barry. He sipped idly, swirling the water around the glass before taking another drink.

“Ye know I hate reading.”

“Almost as much as ye hate tying knots, but look how yer doing now.”

“Only doing good because ye sat me down and made me.”

“So what ye need me to smack ye upside the head and press a book to yer nose? Don’t be a brat Wilkes.” The pair chuckled at that, Thomas rose slowly and rolled his shoulders. Sighing contentedly he cracked his neck and got back to work with a full belly. Wilkes lagged a few seconds behind as he still munched on the loaf of bread. It was dry, and needed butter like he needed a bath. Wiping the crumbs from his mouth afterward he decided to get a move on.

Wilkes rose to his feet and joined Thomas in checking the nets he had cast out while they ate. The sun still scorched his eyes as they adjusted and the warmth nauseated him slightly. He focused on work to avoid thoughts of how his stomach cried mutiny. Of the eight nets, only two pulled taut with a full catch. Wilkes began to haul it back up using the pulleys, dragging the rope over his shoulder as he struggled to stomp forward across the deck. Eventually the catch cleared the railing, and he stepped backward, letting the net settle onto the deck. The fish hopped and slapped each other in their hempen prison. The deck was damp beneath the net and quickly absorbed the smell of fish. Wilkes struggled to heft the catch, but stubbornly refused to ask for help. Surely enough he managed to get it up to chest height as he staggered back down. Thomas was close behind him with the net slung across his back like a simple letter delivery. Six more catches until another sorting. Two more sortings until the end of the day. Wilkes was already tiring despite only being a third of the way into his work day.

“C’mon lad, ye had lunch, can’t be tuckered out already!” Thomas called over his shoulder and he marched back up the steps.

“Says the bastard that’s been doing it for six years already.” Wilkes grumbled under his breath as he ascended the stairs

“I heard that!” Thomas called to him across the deck, smiling as he adjusted a few ropes to change the ships course.

“Thomas! We need to be headed north not west! Look at the waves, the warm current is heading north to south! If we cut into it instead of across they’ll fill faster!” Wilkes called to him

“The lad’s right you dunce! Fix our course or I’ll smack ye til yer tanner than deck wood!”

A crude gesture came in response as Thomas readjusted the ropes, the sail reinflated to full bore shortly after. Their pace increased just noticeably enough to give Wilkes a smug grin. It was Thomas’s turn to grumble something under his breath though Wilkes didn’t quite catch. The day continued on like normal from there. They continued to scoot along the water idly catching fish as they went.

On the horizon another ship Wilkes didn’t recognize was rowing steadily towards them. It was about as large as the Gracious Pearl, dozens of oars on either side sliced through the water with a fury. Its bow was angled sharply almost like a knife. The wave crashed against it and were forced aside by the break neck speed it hurtled forwards with. Faintly Wilkes heard the banging of a drum, an old trick to keep the rowers in time: A rhythm of two thumps and then a row. Bang Bang Row, Bang Bang Row, the barge lad watched mystified.

It slowed as it approached, one of their sailors waving an orange flag to catch Barry’s attention.

“Stay steady lads, and relax it’s a mail delivery! They wanna parlay to pass anything onto the captain for travel or home!” Barry called to the two boys.

The crew of three gathered on the deck, hauling up previous Parlay exchanges so if the ship that hailed them as heading somewhere they had mail for it could be exchanged. Shortly after Wilkes brought up the last barrel full of parchments, the hooks settling in as the other ship’s crew pulled the two vessels deck to deck. Planks were set across the gap and a single sailor from the other ship waltzed over. He wore a heavy officer coat, the poor bastard was sweating like a stuck pig in the summer. A handkerchief dabbed at the offending bodily function before he spoke.

“Right then, we’ve got letters headed to Terial and Phelamon. I figure ye lot are headed back to yer own island after this? We’re bound for Ferrenor to rest at the half point of our journey.” The stranger asked calmly

“Aye, we’re headed to Thellin. But might I ask why yer heading so far south before going back up to the north west?” Barry was calm but his hand drifted towards the pistol on his hip. The other sailor noticed and made a calming motion. The barge lad and young sailor joined the first mate in glaring.

“Easy, I got a lass in that port to raise. Tryna get her mother to quit giving me the cold shoulder since I spend so much time at sea. Honest.” the stranger spoke with shifting eyes, vying for sympathy from either Wilkes or Thomas. The barge lad softened his gaze but didn’t speak.

“I buy it as much as I buy shoddy rope. Take these, and get the fuck off my ship.” Barry spoke gruffly, he rolled a barrel towards the other sailor. He nodded, heaved it up to his chest, and walked steadily back across the planks. Thomas went about cutting the ropes and shoving the other ship away when it hit them

A third ship rammed into the opposite side of the clipper. The mast shattered and tumbled out into the open sea, crushing the front of the deck as it went. A band of pirates flew a flag high, and screamed as they began to flood onto the ship. Barry drew his pistol and fired a few shots as best he could. Ultimately he was overwhelmed as they pummeled him and bound him hand and foot.

Wilkes struggled to grasp what was happening. The third ship had come from seemingly nowhere. It had rammed into them carelessly instead of signaling for parlay, now they were tying up Barry like he had been the one to do wrong. Thomas was groaning on the deck, splinters peppered his right side and his knife was firmly stuck in his left thigh. Heavy spurts of blood came out unevenly.

“Take everything that isn’t nailed down! That barge lad’ll make a fine powder monkey when we’re through whipping him!” A booming voice called. Something clicked in Wilkes's mind. He recognized that pirate in the present day. It was Carden.

Panicking, the barge lad ran below deck. He ran with all he had, weaving around the pirates attempting to catch him. He leapt down the stairs rather than walk them. He distantly heard Barry crying out to him. Hiding beneath the old lengths of rope, Wilkes trembled and bit down on the base of his thumb to keep himself from whimpering. Heavy footsteps creaked at the top of the stairs. A pair of pirates stood tall and began to tear the lower deck apart.

“Well, if the lad doesn’t want to be useful, leave him.” one of the pirates said snickering. They ransacked the lower deck. Taking the bowlines he had tied, the fresh caught and sorted fish, alongside every bit of metal they could find. The spare anchor, the length of chain it needed, all of the fishing hooks, every single bit of value was stolen. Packed away into a burlap sack they unceremoniously carried back up the stairs.

There was muffled shouting and laughter on the deck. Then it sounded like powder was being poured out, something grainy and rough. It scattered around the length of the deck, the sound going quieter as they seemed to walk further. A few precious beats of silence. Then a sound like reality cracking open. Heat rippled through the air, it rapidly dried and Wilkes felt his lips grow chapped in real time. Fire broke out above deck, and he was trapped below. The ship was rapidly burning up.

The smoke rolled in, thicker than ever had been brought on by barry. Another set of foot falls creaked on the deck. Uneven and stumbling, then a violent crashing sound. Whoever was coming had fallen. In the center of the lower deck Wilkes saw him. Covered in blood, burned badly, Thomas was clinging to life.

“Wil… kes” He called weakly, crawling around with his singular good limb. A shaky breath let him cry out louder “C’mon lad!”

The barge lad burst out from his hiding spot. Thomas smiled weakly up at him.

“Thomas! What’s going on?! What do we do?!” Wilkes pleaded with him, helping the young sailor up to his feet. The knife had been dislodged, his pants were slick with blood. The splinters sunk in deep into his side had their own streams pouring down his flank now. He gave a crooked grin.

“We’re gonna… soak some rags, hold ‘em to yer face. Makes breathing easier. Yer gonna run up them steps and hop in the dinghy.” Thomas spoke with labored words, the smoke beginning to force a hacking cough from him shortly after.

“What about you?”

“... You need to run again wilkes.”

“I’m not going withou-”

“SHUT UP AND SOAK THE DAMN RAGS!” Thomas snapped, shoving Wilkes out from supporting him. He took a few stumbling steps but braced himself against a support beam. “Soak them, and go, I… have a plan.”

After doing as told, he went up the stairs. The suns wrath was nothing in the face of the blaze. His skin sizzled faintly, the damp rag had steam beginning to stream out. He continued onwards. Thomas crawled on all fours up the stairs behind him. Cinders raining down on him, briefly his bright red coils came ablaze. He patted it out as quick as he could manage, but scorched spots left his skin bare to the sunlight. Cracked and blistered, he kept moving behind the barge lad. Their world had been plunged into hell, but Thomas refused to leave Wilkes alone. Running with the strength he had left, he slung Thomas over his shoulder when they reached the top of the stairs. The weight was nothing in the face of all this fear, and he forged onward. The dinghy was on the starboard side, where the false flag ship had docked previously. The pulleys were still in tact. Wilkes thanked any god that was listening as he hopped into it. He set Thomas down on the deck, the sailor leaning heavily on the railing as he ensured Wilkes safely hopped inside the Dinghy. There was enough supplies for two days if they both went. A hand stretched out, offering Thomas a place on the refuge.

It was smacked away as a knife cut through the ropes. Thomas cut the pulleys support and sent Wilkes hurtling to the water below. The dinghy was pulled by the current far faster than the skipper. He sailed away from his friend as the flames roared higher. Something scratched in his throat while a screeching sound filled his ears. Wilkes later realized he had been screaming. He had half a mind to jump from the dinghy, to swim back towards the ship. But it was quickly lost amongst the chaos of the waves. Its bow turned up and the burning wreckage sank rapidly. Thomas was lost at sea upon a burning ship.