Limitless Seas, Chapter 15.

Chapter 15.

Dawn was just peeking over the horizon when the quiet was broken by the rumbling sound of an ogre belching. Better than the ship’s bell, Bug Bartholomew’s belch was met with grumbles and complaints as the crew made their way over to the still bubbling pot of stew that Gilroy had kept simmering all night. Some chose to breakfast on the various fruits that the scavenging teams had found on the beach, but Larson opted for another bowl of stew, feeling the need for a more substantial meal after everything that had transpired yesterday.

“Good morning, sir, what’s the plan today?” Tarley asked after the officers had a chance to eat and check on the crew.

“We need to prioritize the ship repairs, so all hands will help the ogre getting the ship out of the water. The only exception will be Gilroy, who needs to work on preserving whatever shark meat that he can. Once the ship’s squared away, we’ll send a party out to gather more food and water. Let’s get to it people, with what I saw last night, I don’t want to hang around this island much longer,” Larson said, still fearful the monster from the cavern might make its way out.

After conferring with his officers, Larson looked for the ogre, who wasn’t too hard to spot. Over by the cookfire, the ogre was talking with a rather green looking crewman Gilroy. The ogre was holding up and gesturing at the ragged remains of one of the makon. Before his cook could lose his breakfast, Larson slithered over to help.

“Captain sir, our, uh, passenger, is requesting that I smoke some of the makon for the voyage. I’m not too comfortable using what little skills I do have to work on humanoid flesh, sir,” Gilroy stammered.

“Excuse us, Bug Bartholomew, please allow me a few moments to speak with my crewman. Maybe you can speak with my officers to get everyone started on the day’s work,” Larson asked. The big ogre just shrugged and stomped his way over to meet with ship’s officers, snacking on the corpse in his hand.

“Ok, Gilroy, I don’t want you to have to preserve the flesh of an intelligent creature either, but answer this for me. What do you think will happen if we don’t do it and the meat runs out after a day or two? Do you really want a hungry ogre on the ship with you? Sure, he’s been eating fruits and vegetables for a while, but somehow, I don’t think that will be enough to sate his hunger when there’s fresh meat to be had,” Larson said, gesturing toward Gilroy when he mentioned the fresh meat.

“Oh, yeah, I get your point, sir,” Gilroy said.

“Good, this won’t be a regular occurrence, but we need to accommodate our passenger’s special dietary requirements, at least this time. My only orders is that you make extra sure that the two types of meat don’t get mixed up,” Larson said. The still disgusted Gilroy left to gather wood and supplies to start smoking meat of both types. Thankfully, the ogre hadn’t mentioned the corpses of his fallen crew, which were now buried just inside the tree line, that was line that he refused to cross. With the culinary dispute handled, Larson joined the others to discuss the day’s work schedule.

“I smashes trees up good,” Bartholomew said with pride.

“Yes brother, you are rather adept as the task. I suggest that my brother and I start gathering the timber we’ll need. If your crew can arrange them how I request, we’ll have the Gull Dropping on dry land before noon,” Bug offered.

“Good, we’ll do it how you want, let’s get started,” Nogreb replied.

They spent the morning watching the ogre chop down palm trees with a single blow of hand. The crew and officers, then would take the logs and line them up under the bow of the ship. Other, smaller trees were placed to the side, the ogre advising they would be the best ones for keeping the hull upright while they worked. They did have to spend some time digging in the sand, trying to even out the spot of beach they hoped to pull the ship onto. Larson pitched in, sweating as he pulled log after log from the tree line to the beach. He enjoyed the hard work, there had always been a kind of calm comfort he found in working hard at a task with others.

After his lumberjack skills were no longer needed, the ogre began to tie off lines to the ship. He had fashioned several wooden pulleys during the night, which Bug Bartholomew placed at the necessary points. The ogre knew what he was doing, and Larson could see that he was excited to show off his skill.

“We pulls the ship now,” Bartholomew bellowed, finally happy with the placement of the lines and pulleys. It looked like the tide was as low as it was going to get. Three reinforced ropes had been tied off to the Gull Dropping. The ogre grabbed the center rope while Larson had the rest of the crew, along with the prisoners, divide up on the other two. With a heave, they all pulled as hard as they could.

The pulleys creaked and squeaked as the ropes pulled taut. Larson used his coils to dig into the sand, granting him a solid base to pull with. For long minutes, nothing happened, then, as the ogre shouted and redoubled his efforts, the ship rolled out onto the first log. With a slurp, the suction holding the hull in the wet sand broke, allowing it to roll onto the second log. Bug Bartholomew flagged down two of the crew to start bracing the sides of the ship.

It was nearly an hour of hard work to get the ship as far as it would go. In the end, the pulled it mostly out of the water, the last ten feet still were partially submerged, but the crew’s strength was spent. After the ogre checked the bracing and tied off the lines, he reported the ship was far enough out for his needs. After eating a small lunch, the crew got back to work. Nogreb had the pair of sailors with the most experience inside the ship, while Bug Bartholomew worked from the outside. They would have to make serious modifications if they wanted to get the ogre below decks, modifications they didn’t have the tools or time for.

Shada led a pair of crew to fill their water casks and gather more food while Gilroy recruited the two prisoners to help him smoke all the meat. Larson could see that the cook had given the prisoners the task of carving up the makon bodies. He was a little nervous with Gilroy giving the prisoners knives for the task, but the chance of them attacking was slim, given the ship was going to be their only way off the island.

“Captain Larson, would you be so kind as to examine the rudder for us,” Bug asked. Larson knew the ogre was not going to wade into even shallow water, so he didn’t mind. The water was only up to Larson’s waist, and he could see that the rudder was pretty worn out. Barnacles and algae grew over the portions that had stayed under water, and the rudder post was on its last legs. He gave his report to the ogre.

“Hmm, not much we can do about the rudder post, but we should at least scrape the rudder clean. I don’t have the tools to fashion a new a new post, so we’ll have to make do with it until we reach port. I should have these patches completed in an hour or so, then we’ll get started on scaping the hull. It doesn’t look like anyone has touched it since the ship first sailed,” Bug told him. Where the damage had been on the hull, new planks were fastened. The planks were crude, the ogre had cut them with a notched sword used a saw, but they would keep the sea out as well enough.

Under the direction of Tarley, several of the crew worked on replacing the mast. The palm log required a lot of bracing, it wasn’t the ideal material. Larson helped them to rig a smaller rectangular sail from the remnants of sailcloth they had on hand. It wouldn’t move them very fast, but it was better than rowing. Scraping the barnacles off was a time consuming and mind-numbing task, but Larson jumped in to do his fair share, starting with the rudder where his strange body shape enabled him to reach it even while partially submerged. The way things were going, the ship would be ready for the evening high tide, as long as they were able to pack enough provisions to sustain them.

By late afternoon, the hull was as clean as they could get it and Larson had sent every available hand to assist in gathering provisions. Their larder was starting to slowly fill. They repaired and cleaned all the casks that were still onboard, and a team filled them from a fresh spring that wasn’t too far from the ship. Bundles of fruits and edible plants started filling up the nearly empty shelves of the galley and the prisoners were bringing in a steady supply of preserved meat, keeping careful to not get casks holding the two different types anywhere close to each other.

They had gathered a good amount of provisions by the time the tide started to roll in, and Larson was almost tempted to stay another day to make sure they had filled up all they could. Thinking back on the thing inside the cavern, he figured they had more than enough to get them to port and it was probably time to finally get sailing. A section of the deck was set aside for Bug Bartholomew who had setup a nest of sorts using scraps of sailcloth. His various devices and contraptions were stored around the ogre and Larson noticed that a disturbing amount of their available cordage had been used by the ogre to create a flotation device from leftover logs.

“You comfortable enough?” Larson asked the ogre.

“No, I no want to go on water,” Bartholomew grumbled.

“I know brother, but we have no choice, there are discoveries to be made and we won’t find them here on this tiny island,” Bug said to comfort his brother. Larson could tell from his expression that Bug wasn’t pleased to be out there either.

“Sir, we’re ready to cast off the lines,” Tarley advised.

“Cast off, lets see if she’ll float,” Larson ordered. He went back ashore to untie the three lines holding them secure. Once that was done, the ship began to rock slowly as the water level rose, lifting the Gull Dropping and causing it to roll down the logs and back into the sea. The remaining crew cheered as they floated free and Larson went below with most of the crew to row them out of the harbor until their sail could catch the breeze.

Larson rowed at his old oar, a pair of crew in front of him. On the other side of the ship, the prisoners had been chained back to their benches and they rowed along with another pair of crew, all that could be spared from their dwindling number. They slowly made their way out of the harbor, the wind and seas picking up as they left its shelter.

Tarley ordered the sail unfurled and Larson could feel the wind pull them along, allowing him and the others to cease their rowing for now. He made his way back onto deck to chart their course. In his cabin, Larson made a quick check of his hiding places, confirming the coins were still there before going to his chart table. As he worked, the internal compass in his head kicked in and Larson quickly found the heading they needed to take. Passing the information to Tarley, Larson took a spot at the bow, enjoying the feel of the ship cruising slowly across the sea.

“Sir, I’m happy to report the lower hold is dry and the repairs are holding up just fine,” Nogreb said.

“Excellent, it appears our passenger does good work,” Larson replied.

“Aye, sir, hopefully he’ll find his sea legs before too long,” Nogreb added. Almost on cue, the ogre leaned over the side of the ship, both hands had a death grip on the railing as Bug Bartholomew emptied his belly out through both mouths.

“That’s not a pretty sight,” Larson said. When Nogreb started to leave, Larson motioned him back over.

“Hold on, Nogreb, we need to talk. You’ve been doing a great job, but what is the deal with the whole I owe you for Maggot thing?” Larson asked.

“Permission to speak freely?” Nogreb replied.

“Of course,”

“That devil of a Maggot took everything from me. The person who sat in your seat was my daughter. She was a proud woman and a powerful warrior, but I had to sit there and watch her waste away each day as Maggot took most of her rations, leaving her weak and nearly useless. When they took you captive, she was taken away and tossed overboard. I heard her screams, the last sound I will every hear of my daughter is her scream of terror as she plunged into the sea.

“I remained silent, waiting for my opportunity to strike against Maggot. It didn’t matter if I perished in the attempt, I would choke the life from him and smile as he drifted off to whatever hell awaited him. When you broke free and killed Maggot, my revenge, my reason for living was taken from me, just as my daughter was. I know you mean well, but it is a slight I cannot overlook, sir. It will not affect my duties, but I will exact a toll at some point,” Nogreb told him.

Larson wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He couldn’t imagine the pain the orc had felt over what had happened to his daughter, but how was he to know what had transpired? If he had known, instead of snapping Maggot’s neck, he would have tossed him into reach of Nogreb. No, Larson knew he had no guilt here, he had done what needed to be done. Was his bosun decide one day that Larson’s back needed a blade in it? What exactly was he expecting to take for this “toll”?

“Fine, I can’t even begin to understand your loss, but you could have told me what had happened, and I would have gladly delivered Maggot to you. How can you hold me to some strange debt for this? You’re a better man than that, Nogreb, you are dismissed,” Larson ordered. He was fed up with the orc, a person he could respect save for his strange demand for recompence. Nogreb left without another word, leaving Larson to his thoughts.

A sliver of doubt entered his mind, was he doomed to fail in this new life? No, he was too driven, too focused on the goal to give in to doubt and worry. That did bring up a question, other than making it to port, what was his goal? So far, he had only thought short term, focused on overcoming the next obstacle, but what now? He had a ship, though it was a bit ragged and worn, it was his. What did he want to do with his ship? He would hire a crew, but to what purpose.

Taking a moment to plan, he thought about his desires. Larson wanted to sail the seas, it was in his blood, literally now that he was a water naga. He also found that he liked to fight, the thrill of combat was real, and he couldn’t wait to try his skills against more foes. He knew he had fought back in his old life, but the memories of that were gone save for the feeling that the fighting was more detached, less close and personal than he experienced here.

Maybe he could try and gain command of a naval vessel for the one of the Free Isles? No, that meant following the wishes and orders of others, he was done with that. He wanted to follow his own flag, to have others follow him. A pirate perhaps? No, he didn’t want to gain his fortune by harming the innocent, he was a hard man, but he was one with a moral compass.

There might be another way, but it was going to depend on the type of government he found once they reached land. Until then, he would focus on the next step, getting to port and fixing up his ship. He had a crew to recruit, another task he wasn’t quite sure how to handle. It might be best to find a crew and some cargo to haul, waiting on longer term plans until he got a better feel for what was out there.

The weather stayed fair, and they made slow and steady progress toward their destination. Food and water stores were holding out, thanks in no small part to Bug Bartholomew’s lingering sea sickness, which put a damper on his appetite. It took a lot of work to keep a ship sailing and the lack of crew was quite a burden on them, the ships officer’s and even the prisoners were pressed into service, but they were all becoming exhausted on the journey. Larson was able to work almost non-stop, his minimal need for sleep allowed him to work almost around the clock.

A day out from their destination, Rockwell Port, Larson experienced something strange as he lay down for his few seconds of rest. Instead of instantly coming awake, refreshed for his next day, Larson’s sleep lingered. He could feel his mind slipping away, he was drifting back down into the abyss he had started from. Was he dying yet again? There was no voice this time calling to him from the darkness, there was nothing.