The ship cut smoothly through the waves. The hot sun seared down on the adventurers as they sunbathed on the open deck and listened to the jolly sailors heartily singing traditional old sea shanties, like...
Shake, shake, add some spices,
Shake, shake, add some spices,
Shake, shake, add some spices,
Is it time for lunch yet.
And,
A handy ship and a handy crew,
A compass and a sail and a cook.
A handy ship has a handy crew
That have never never ever read a book.
Or at least, that’s what Sepwise had imagined...
In reality, the rain lashed into his face as the small, rickety fishing trawler began the climb up the next towering wave. He battled his way along the slippery deck, struggling against the fierce wind that was desperately trying to blow the ship in the wrong direction, and tried to attract Trussuk’s attention.
‘Hey!’ he shouted, but nearly choked when the boat crashed back down into the sea and sent a wall of salt water sluicing into both his face and his open mouth. He lost his balance and slid across to the port as the ship rocked from side to side. He grabbed hold of a nearby bit of sturdy superstructure and held on for dear life.
At the prow of the boat, the rest of Sepwise’s gang lay scattered in various states of fear and panic, bits of loose rigging washing into them with the rhythmic swaying of the ship. Armoro looked miserably up into the dark, dense skies and cursed the storm.
Two days they’d been on this sodding boat now. Two whole days. Admittedly the first day actually hadn’t been too bad: the sailors and fishermen had been less than hospitable, maybe, and the rations had turned out to be perfectly named, but at least it had been a calm sail out of the docks. In fact, it had been calm pretty much for the rest of the day. It was only when they started to get right out into the open sea that things had changed.
At first it was just a very brief gust of wind. A squark or a stall or something, that’s what the sailors had called it. They’d started running about the ship like a colony of termites, heaving on ropes, lowering sails, tying the steering wheel up and battening down hatches. Sepwise, interfering as always, had marched up to the Captain when the squall had calmed down again and helpfully informed him that the wind had gone and that they didn’t need to panic any more. The Captain had ignored him and gone below deck to put on some wet weather togs. Sepwise had then marched up to his men and told them that it was okay, the storm was over and there was no reason to worry.
Then the sail had billowed, the ship had almost capsized and the torrential rain that had now been pelting them for over twelve hours had begun its ruthless lashing. Sepwise had swallowed his words, and a lot of rain with them, and dived for cover.
But that was yesterday. Today was tomorrow from yesterday’s perspective and things had gotten a whole lot worse. Armoro turned his attention away from the clouds and peered aft, trying to ascertain what activity, if any, was happening. But it was useless. You could hardly see six feet in this weather. The rain was sheeting almost horizontally, blocking vision as effectively as the thickest of fogs. The motion of the lurching ship set head and eyes bobbing like... moored boats in a swell. Or driftwood riding a wave. Or any other number of ocean-related metaphors. It’s funny the way the brain works, thought Armoro. It often seems to get locked into a particular mode of thought that is very hard to break out of. At the moment, he, and he suspected most of the others, were very much preoccupied with things nautical.
Maybe not Andrew, he added to himself after a moment’s thought.
A wave lapped over the boat and drenched him further. The boat continued to lurch and roll. Very loud creaking and splintering sounds were not doing his confidence the power of good either. The distant rumbling of thunder now joined the symphony of despair. There was little point grumbling though. They had no choice other than to sit back, cover up and ride it out.
During a brief lapse in the storm, he thought he caught sight of a short man clambering towards the wheel where the Captain was battling to hold onto control of his ship. It was probably Sepwise, but vision was still too poor to be sure. Not wishing to pursue the matter further, the psychoanalyst snuggled down under his drenched blanket and tried to grab some sleep. After a while, he reached out, grabbed the wooden bowl that kept knocking against his head and threw it angrily away.
<=> <=> <=>
A dolphin that happened to be swimming happily along under the surface, tucked away from the disturbances of the storm, caught sight of the familiar shape of a boat’s keel above and just to its left. Knowing as it did that the creatures on the boat were friendly and would play with it, it changed course and surged onwards and upwards, aiming to emerge just to the left of the prow.
With a squeal of greeting, the dolphin leapt joyously from the waves and was concussed by a heavy wooden bowl that fell on its head.
<=> <=> <=>
‘How long?’ shouted Sepwise, swaying absurdly to try and keep his balance.
‘Eh?’ shouted the Captain.
‘LAND. HOW LONG UNTIL LAND.’
‘EH?’
The boat dropped suddenly down from the top of a wave again.
Crash.
Sepwise fell headlong into the Captain, knocking him away from the wheel. As they tumbled over backwards, the Captain reached out desperately forward, a look of horror on his face. They slapped soggily against the wooden deck, both winded and disorientated. The Captain was the first to get his bearings. He stood up, ignoring Sepwise for the moment, and lunged for the wheel, but before he got there, the ropes tying it steady snapped and it span viciously to the left. The entire ship keeled to the right and everything and everyone slipped, slid and rolled into the splintering bulwarks of the ship.
They were out of control.
<=> <=> <=>
And the wind dies down. The seas calm, the waves deflate and the clouds depart. The sun comes out and starts drying the tiny vessel below. The crew and passengers lie down gratefully and bask in the heat. Further away, a small wooden bowl bobs gently up and down on the water’s gently rippling surface until a vengeful dolphin attacks and destroys it.
<=> <=> <=>
In the morning, when the last of the water had been bailed out and hasty repairs had been completed, the Captain strolled over to Sepwise and had a quiet word with him. The others watched in silence as Sepwise stood in obedient humility and accepted responsibility for the incident of the previous night.
‘I wonder what the Captain’s saying?’ said Trussuk.
‘Probably saying he’s going to throw us overboard,’ suggested Armoro.
‘Oh no, that wouldn’t be good,’ said Andrew, ‘I can’t swim.’
‘Would be a great tragedy,’ said Jeudd. He brightened. ‘Could make a good play...’
The Captain was gesticulating animatedly to Sepwise with an unlit pipe. Sepwise was nodding his head feebly and apologising at every turn. They appeared to reach some sort of agreement, both fairly reluctantly, and then Sepwise returned.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘now that’s all sorted, let’s continue with our field training.’
‘Oh, no!’ moaned the others.
Sepwise stood firm. ‘It is necessary,’ he said.
‘What did the Captain have to say?’ asked Armoro.
‘Orienteering,’ continued Sepwise, ignoring the question, ‘is one of the most vital skills an explorer can have. So it is without... Andrew. Andrew! Are you listening to me?’
The geographer turned away from examining the pristine blue sky and looked at Sepwise. ‘I’m sorry?’ he said innocently.
Sepwise took a moment to compose himself. ‘Look,’ he said, but he got no further because there was a cry from the lookout.
‘LAAAANNNDD...
‘... HOOOO!’
The adventurers instantly span round, glaring ahead of the ship. Then, they span round and glared to the port and starboard. Then they experimentally tried the stern. Then they just looked wherever they could, but they saw nothing.
‘Well, where is it?’ said Sepwise, just checking he’d covered the entire horizon. ‘Can’t see anything.’
Andrew was still spinning round jerkily. ‘Maybe it was a mistake?’ he said. He tried jumping to gain a bit of height.
‘Nah, it’ll just be too distant to see from down here,’ said Trussuk, knowledgeable in matters such as these.
The Captain suddenly materialised beside Armoro. ‘DISTANCE!’ he bellowed upwards.
‘TWO SIX NAUTICAL!’ came the response from the crow’s nest.
‘Be ‘nother few hours then,’ informed the Captain. He looked at Sepwise for a moment, took a swig of rum, then went down the other end of the boat.
Andrew stopped spinning round, wobbled giddily for a moment or two, then fell over the side.
‘MAAANNNN OVERBOARRRDDD!’
<=> <=> <=>
As the crew heaved Andrew out of the sea, they sang to keep their spirits up:
Oooohhh ... Once upon a time there was a sailor
From merry merry old Trelgynn.
He reefed and he jibed and he tacked all over
He was merry merry merry old Jim.
Oooohhh ... Merry old Jim now he liked a drink
Liked a very very very strong gin.
He drank and he drank and he drank some more
He was very merry merry old Jim.
Oooohhh ... Merry old Jim found he couldn’t steer
He was very very very very pissed.
He weaved and he swore and he nearly passed out
He was merry merry merry old Jim.
Oooohhh ... He steered his boat into a great big rock
That was very very very very sharp.
He fell and he tumbled and he went right over
And was eaten by a very big shark.
Oooohhh ... Poor old Jim.
Poor old Jim
Poor old merry old Jim.
The last few hours of the journey were spent mostly in silence. Silence on the part of embarrassment in some cases, anger and irritation in others, and hard work on the part of the rest. Now that they knew where they were heading, and that the seas had calmed down and a brisk wind had picked up, sails had magically been unfurled and hoisted all over the ship, some in places that Sepwise would never have guessed you could hang a sail on, and real progress was made.
Somewhere near the shivering Andrew several sailors were heaving on a thick, fraying rope wound on a capstan. The geographer watched them intently for a while, amazed at the efficiency with which they undertook their tasks. As a team, they worked tighter and better than any Andrew had ever seen. The famed nautical dedication was in abundance on this vessel.
He ventured to stand up and talk to them once they’d finished.
‘It’s called a halyard,’ explained the nearest sailor. ‘Used for raising and lowering sails.’
‘I see. It looks very hard work.’
‘Nah, piece o’cake. Sailin’ ain’t the chore they make out, you know. Get to see the world, laze about in the sunshine most of the journey, sometimes grapple with gigantic creatures from the deep, we have a great time. And when we do have to pull on the odd rope from time to time, there’s always five other big strong guys helpin’ you out. Best job in the whole world, mate. Wouldn’t catch me goin’ out adventurin’.’ He grinned a black-toothed grin at Andrew and walked off.
Andrew was left feeling a bit disillusioned. He’d always been told that sailing was tough, that you needed to be a real man to do it. Maybe it wasn’t so.
‘Oh,’ added the sailor before he’d walked out of earshot, ‘wouldn’t stand there too long, mate. We’re tacking our way to the island. That boom’ll be swinging across in a bit, so just watch out, yeah?’
Andrew nodded vacantly. His policy on this journey was to try and pretend he knew what was going on even if he didn’t.
‘Jibe O!’ came a shout from the wheel. A bunch of sailors appeared around Andrew, heaving on ropes and letting out slack. The geographer noticed the sail sag a bit and start to flap. Then, without any warning, the helmsman span the wheel round, the boat skidded to the left and the heavy boom that supported the main sail swung across and knocked Andrew neatly overboard again.