What Lies Within the Fog (part 4)
Quickly the journey drew into a state of boredom, the excitement seemingly endless in the start, ended quickly and the mundane tasks of a normal crew filled their day. One man, Rump as the men called him, who yielded an average build and a dark gaunt face void of sleep, approached Bach in their fifth hour at sail. His heavy French accent jumbled his words. “Salut Captain, I hope well you are. A concern I carry for you.”
“Tu sais que je parle le français?”
“Merci dieu!” The man exclaimed, quickly he began explaining his growing concern about the prisoner in the lower deck, Gus had grown quite mad. He rambled about characters who preached to him in the cell, telling him ancient stories of civilizations now extinct and twisted moral fantasies. Rump was quick with his explanation ending his complaint by asking for the captain to pay the man a visit, then jokingly asking if they could toss the man overboard.
Bach dismissed him, saying he would put another man on guard in his stead. Rump nodded and skittered away to his post. Gull kept his distance, his mind writhing in the unceremonious way that the captain had ordered O’Connell’s burial. Simply tossing his corpse overboard, no bells tolled, no words said. Now Gull stood, staring blankly forward from the mast, his fingers merely hanging from the helm, after all the ship seemed to steer itself. His mind was static until the captain’s hand shocked him from his waking slumber. “Gull, go rest. I will heed the helm.”
“I am fine, captain. I have weathered the pain of sleep before.”
“Gull, I ordered you to go rest.” Gull audaciously released the wheel, spinning on his heels to face Bach.
“As you wish.” He scowled. “Might I clean your boots with my tongue as well?”
“Go.” Bach ordered, doubling down on his command.
Gull relented and exasperatedly swaggered below deck. As soon as he was out of the captain’s sight, he ducked into the infirmary to see Joshua. He ducked through the doorway, walking with the pads of his feet so as to not alert anyone but Joshua. Flies fled in panicked silent directions as he crossed the threshold. The curtains were drawn closed blanketing the whole room in midnight. “Joshua?” Gull whispered, his pulse quickening. “Joshua? I have come to check on your wounds.” The bell loudly tolled on the deck. Joshua sat up painfully, his back layered with bloody white bandages, and swung his legs to the side of the bed, facing the wall across from Gull. “There you are my dear boy. Are you well?” No noise came from his lips, just a guttural moan of agony. “Joshua?” A smell, rotten, and putrid did battle against Gull’s nostrils, still he carried on. “Joshua, answer me when I speak to you boy, insolence will achieve you no grace by my hand.” The boy sat still, his body completely facing the wall. “Fine, have it your way. I will go topside.” Gull turned to leave, vaguely waiting for the boy’s response.
Nothing came of it, the boy must have been drowning in liquor to ease the pain, Gull had reasoned. Better not to dwell on it. He breached the hatchway, knowing better than to make a spectacle of himself in front of Bach. The captain had been awfully queer as of late, possibly just the nerves of running his own crew, but he had been watching Gull hadn’t he? Side glances, to total visual commitment in the oddest places. The bastard had been watching him. So as he approached the first mate’s quarters, it came as no surprise when he saw the captain staring at him. It was odd however, the captain could have chosen many different spots to watch him from, but hanging on a dangling dinghy outside Gull’s window was not a place he’d expected. The odd frowning smile cut in the center of his countenance, the moon casting its bony glow stretching black shadows across his face. Gull struck a match, the smoke fizzling out the image he had seen. “Nerves. Just nerves.” He whispered to himself.
“Nerves. Just nerves.” A soft man’s voice mimicked underneath his bedroom cot. Gull launched back, drawing his cutless in a silver arch. He jabbed the point to where his blanket dangled over the edge and lifted the quilt with the tip of the blade. The lanterns flame lightly wicked beams of light underneath his bed, revealing the natural cavern of his cot. He sighed a heavy breath, setting his sword down then sitting himself on the bed. He rubbed his eyes desperately in total mental distress. Finally, after a few moments of coming down from his panic, a solid knock sent waves of volume through his dorm. He gripped his cutlass, knuckles white against the hilt.
“Who is there?” He demanded, his voice more gravelly than before.
“Bach.” The captain yelled back.
“Enter.” Bach opened the door, his first mate sat on the bed, his sword drawn and next to him. Instantly his mind ran. He hopes to kill you, the turncoat is waiting for his chance! Bach willed his mind shut, more pressing matters lay ahead.
“Their bell has not returned its toll. It has been an hour!” Bach said his voice faltering in panic before he fixed it.
“I’m sure they’re fine, we should approach land by tomorrow evening. We are heading to the same port.”
“Gull, they could’ve hit a reef, could’ve sank! This damn fog is so thick I can’t even bear the thought.”
“So why aren’t we slowing?” Gull asked. “Why risk both ships?”
“Aren’t you listening? Fifteen minutes prior to our last ring we heard their response! In the odds they sank, or hit something or someone, we surely are dead men.”
The fifth follow up bell tolled hollowly once in the fog. “I see. Slow our heading, we might under God’s grace survive.”
“Orders have been given. We have come to half sail. Have you become aware of any strange happenings around? Aside from the murderer and two deaths aboard.”
“One death sir, just O’Connell.” Gull faithfully corrected him.
Bach looked surprised, pushing Gull’s heart to the depths of his belly. “Has no one informed you?” Silence filled the air for a moment. “Must I do everything myself?” He huffed.
Bach breathed in deep, collecting himself. “The boy passed from his wounds. We had bound the corpses together when we dropped them into the water.”
Gull found his hand over his mouth. Confusion dulled his reason, as anger invaded his consciousness. “When?” Gull growled.
“Hours ago. Seems my punishment was too harsh for a man barely four months at sea. I feel simply awful about this, you know. It makes my stomach churn.”
“That’s impossible, simply impossible.” Reason lacking, Gull took to the instinctive approach of blame. “You lie! You fear my courage! You fear my leadership!”
“Gull, don’t be a fool. I can prove it to you. We may go to the infirmary together and see that he is gone.”
“I just saw him moments ago! He sat up! You jest, you jest so that I may look like a lunatic!”
Bach took a brief moment, suspicion aiding him in a hasty conclusion. “Gull, have you seen many visions like this?”
“You wish to turn this on me, you’d rather I be seen as a loon, than be even close to achieving your rank! You have always seemed the jealous type.” A voice boomed from outside the oak door.
“Shall we take him? Do your suspicions reign true?”
“Aye.” Bach said in reply. The door burst open, moonlight blossoming through the entryway. Two men stepped in, one of them, a thickly built black man with curly lochs that sprung in front of his forehead, stepped forward. His hand shot out and gripped tightly on Gull’s shoulder. “Take him to the infirmary. See to it that he be examined by Gorebly now.”
“Yes sir.” The black man responded in his Moroccan accent.
“Bach, what is happening? What be the reason for this?”
Bach looked at his first mate with pity. “You are losing your mind, Gull. You are hallucinating things that to you are real, which simply cannot be. Harem is going to take you to Gorebly. You will reside there for a day. By then we shall be upon land.”
Gull attempted to protest, but the hoisting movement of Harem’s hand picking up on his body, cut his voice short. Harem guided him to the door, then with no words spoken, Harem took Gull to the infirmary.