Seaborn

Breaching the surface was an epic moment – even for a carrack. Storms moved the water in the ocean in unique patterns. The depths were affected differently than the surface – most notably they were calmer. Powerful still, but not riotous. As we departed the relative peace of that layer the force of moving waves seemed to shock everyone, freezing them in place. Then the bow split the surface to the report of crashing thunder and forks of lightning in the air. Hurricane winds whipped rain about us like the storm sought to punish the lot of us for daring to rise from the depths.

Epic. In every sense of the word.

I’d taken care to make our ascent at the bottom of a trough between waves. Without the appropriate sail configuration, the ship wanted to turn to port and travel laterally along the trough. That was a recipe for disaster, so I fought it as best I could while I yelled for the proper sails.

Even as the veteran sailors translated what needed to happen to their teams of raw recruits, the Death’s Consort slipped up the face of the swell behind us. The height of the wave was over forty feet. I knew there would be waves in this storm easily twice that.

Being driven along by the waves might seem like an ideal method for quick travel. It was not. A ship would indeed be carried far, but it would be carried by the whims of the storm. A ship needed water flowing over its rudder to maintain directional control. A wave coming up behind you and driving you forward negated that.

Just as I was experiencing the uselessness of my position at the helm, the sail snapped into place. Just the one to start with, and the wind tore at it like an angry parent who thought their child ought to be elsewhere. In the storm’s case, it thought our sail belonged on the other side of the Ocean.

Despite the power behind the winds, the sail held. As did the mast. I knew they would. It wasn’t enough to give us maneuverability, but it let me keep the ship from turning afoul our course.

Then the next sail fell into place, as I’d ordered. If I’d ordered them all released at once, the sudden tension would have snapped the masts again. Now I felt the strain pull on the timbers even more – there were even a few points of durability dropped from the recently restored pristine shape – but it held. As the full set of sails that I’d ordered were implemented, the ship slid forward again.

It wasn’t a tenable position, but I didn’t need it to be. I now had the time to explain what I wanted from the crew. The maneuver was called ‘wearing’. It was similar to tacking, and would allow us to turn the ship about and bring the bow of the ship into the wind. Then I could douse my biggest sails and just keep control of the unwieldy carrack while I let the storm do the work of carrying us south.

Why south and not the direction the amulet was guiding me? Because I had a cache of useful materials hidden in a cave by the Falai cliffs, and it was time to collect. I believed that if I used this storm right, I could pick my supplies up and get to the destination in nearly the same time as I could by fighting my way in that direction now, with the added bonus of leveling up my crews’ seagoing skills through extreme hardship.

It was a dangerous play, however. It wasn’t a maneuver easily performed by a novice crew. It wasn’t something even veteran crews might pull off in a storm like this. Burdette voiced these objections but I overruled him. I had a point to make.

We prepared everyone for the task, making sure everyone knew what commands would be given and what they meant. They also were instructed on what to look for as we changed which aspect of the ship and sails were presented to the wind. Several times I heard crewmembers voice their objections. Each time I overruled them. The conflict in their minds was clear. They were torn between thinking I was crazy person who belonged in irons below decks and my power in their minds as a mage. If left between those two factors I doubt everyone would have accepted my decision. But I could see the moment when they suddenly remembered that I was a servant of Davy Jones as well. The storm seemed to have pushed that detail into the backs of their minds – that or they had tried to forget.

Voice of the Crew status set: Desperation.

The crew is on its last legs. The sudden capture of the ship, their impressment, and uncertain future have pushed them to the point of desperation.

+10% physical attributes; -25% mental attributes.

The first condition Voice of the Crew set was a pain in the rear. The crew as a whole might be a bit stronger, but my own mana pool now had a quarter that was grayed out!

Finally, after getting the teams as prepped as was useful, I started giving the series of orders. The waves had increased in height. It was difficult to measure if the winds had gained any more ferocity, but it stood to reason they had. I turned the helm, fighting and leveraging my 22 points of strength to manhandle the wooden wheel. One of the sailors – a middle-aged man by the name of Joash – helped me and together we managed it.

The crews managing the sails and adjusting the spars were not quite so proficient. I could see them going through the right motions, but they weren’t doing it fast enough. It was their first time. The ship turned but the sails lost the wind and the crew couldn’t move fast enough to catch it again. We slid down the backside of a wave on our starboard side, the ship adopting a severe list and many voices crying out in fear as they seemed to be facing the same doom that had sent the ship to a watery grave only hours prior. In their terror they ignored all ship handling and clung tightly to the nearest solid object.

The wind howled. Thunder crashed. Another wave loomed above the ship, dozens of feet above the tip of our mainmast. Burdette looked my way and cursed me.

“You’ve doomed us all!”

I regarded him calmly. Then we began to sink.

There was no crashing wave bearing us down, the ship hit the bottom of the trough and just kept going. It fought through the severe turbulence churning just under such powerful waves, then we had calm again.

Judging by the terrified reactions and slow realizations around the crew, it seemed that nearly all had forgotten what kind of ship they served on, and who captained it.

“That was not good enough.” I said, leaving the helm with the sailor as I swam about the decks and rigging, pitching for my voice to be heard. “On a mortal ship that would have resulted in death.” Someone whimpered loudly, disliking the reminder that we were no longer normal. “I intend to have you all learn to sail in a new manner that capitalizes on the benefits of our nature. To get there I have to make you sailors. I will not have a crew that is dependent upon my own abilities and control to manage the ship. I spent months trying to get real sailors instead of summoning constructs to do my sailing, so by the depths I’ll have the skills you can offer!”

I glared about me. “You are no longer ordinary sailors. You are no longer ordinary slaves. You are all part of my crew! We will learn to master our ship until we can ply the waves of any storm without cowering. As you learn of my capabilities,” I gave a pointed look at Burdette, still with his feet anchored to the deck. “You will learn to trust my judgement, as I will learn the value of your input.

“Now, we are going to reset, take a quick respite, and resurface. The storm will have gotten worse, but we are going to keep at it until we successfully complete the maneuver. Then we’re going to challenge ourselves in new ways until this storm wears itself out! This will be the harshest indoctrination you can ever expect to go through, but it will pay dividends. Team leaders!” I called to each of my veteran crewmembers. “See that each member of your team is straightened out and ready for another round!”

I swam towards Burdette and gestured to him to follow me over the side. He hesitated at the gunwale for a moment before diving and swimming with expert proficiency.

Under the keel made for a strange meeting place, but it was private. It was also distinctly foreign to Burdette. I worried that pulling him anywhere on ship would allow him the sense of ownership over the space that I knew he was used to feeling. This served to keep him off balance. I knew I needed his expertise and I knew I badly wanted his knowledge that had propped him up to level 24 in seamanship. I also knew that he was not a man to submit himself. We would have to redefine our relationship very carefully.

“I am aware of the troubles I put on you by taking the Captaincy and setting you as first mate.” He didn’t say anything. “I also know we had sharp disagreements before, and it rankles you to have to take orders from me. I find that I dislike being too autocratic though, seeing as how I’m feeling Davy Jones’ boot on my own neck. So allow me to sweeten the deal for you. How long have you been at sea?”

“All my life.”

“I’m guessing you picked up the seamanship ability quickly?”

“Aye, definitely.”

“How long did it take for you to gain the last four levels?”

“Almost 15 years of constant sailing.”

I nodded. As a man in his early fifties, he’d had an impressive rise through the early levels. He was gifted. That only took someone so far, though. They had to challenge themselves to continue developing. After a certain amount of time, people just stagnated. They’d done it all, or done so much that they believed time and repetition were the only things left.

“What if I tell you that you could have the next level in a few months, and the one after that no later than a year?”

“I’d ask what kind of hooch you were drinking; but that was before I saw the sea demon – bloody Davy Jones himself – pop out of nowhere to have a conversation with you.”

“I saw my own growth taper off sharply before Jones got his hands on me. Then I advanced faster than I had in years. Why? Because sailing as I do – utilizing the currents as winds, understanding the water around you is just another medium for you to move through – it’s an entirely new method of sailing. Imagine what that does to your skill!” I could see the realization in his eyes, then the greed. I knew I had the perfect bait for him. “Sail for me, and I promise the Captaincy will seem like a bargain for the exchange.”

He nodded, and when I proffered my hand he shook it.

Our second emergence from the sea didn’t feel epic, but our subsequent return to the depths was. One of the veteran sailors wasn’t where he was supposed to be. When orders were given, some teams obeyed and his didn’t know what to do. The result was a frantic minute of yelling by those who knew what to do at the poor souls tied to their stations who yelled back that the terms were meaningless to them. “Which is the clew?” “What’s the leech?” “Does that mean pull on it or let it go?”

As we continued our turn the wind caught the sails while the rigging was a mess, slapping the yardarm around with a crack that could be felt throughout the ship. I took us under the surface of the wave to get out of the winds but couldn’t descend fast enough and wound up peeking out the other side as the wave rolled onward before finally slipping down to a comfortable depth. Comfortable for me at least – the crew was slow realizing that submersion meant relief and not death.

Burdette found the man who had missed his assigned post and chewed him out efficiently before moving on to the next group that had performed terribly. I waved over the sailor and he reluctantly approached, developing a severe tremor in his legs as he climbed to the helm.

“Uh, yes sir? I mean, uh … Captain?”

The man’s name was Dalin. I knew him to be a rather unsociable man but a dab hand. “Remember that your team is comprised of greenies who’ve never worked a line on a ship before. They have to be taught. I want you to go around and make sure everyone is picking up on what our terms are. Be back with your own team before we surface.”

“Yes Captain!”

“And Dalin,” the man froze before he’d managed to dart down the ladder. Reluctantly, he returned his gaze to me. I gestured at our environment. “Use your swimming skill, man!”

His eyes darted about, then he looked down at his own feet before shoving off and beginning to swim, making the mental transition necessary. I hoped people would begin picking up on that particular utility.

I left Joash at the helm and moved about, talking with the sailors and their teams. I made some adjustments, sending people to different tasks to balance out the stats we needed in each area.

Strength and Endurance were the most important attributes right now, followed by agility and dexterity. Whenever I saw that raised Voice of the Crew stats or handicapped levels affected the primary stats that someone could bring to bear, I mixed and matched teams until they had what they needed. Part of knowing the work on a ship was having an idea of the stat requirements of each job. Lifting a sail required X number of crewmen with Y strength. Getting stronger crewmen could help but you still needed hands to work the gaskets so one incredibly strong person wouldn’t work.

Thankfully I had manpower. We’d been shorthanded, but that was on skilled labor. Unskilled labor could be dangerous, but I’d reinforced that typical consequences weren’t a concern to me.

I spoke with those who happened to be over level 14 about their situation. My own level was now capped at 10, and with my 4 levels in Leadership anyone in my crew could grow to level 14 just like Jones had said. Those that already been higher leveled had their attributes reduced comparatively. They still “had” them, they would get access to the attributes they’d already chosen again once I leveled Leadership, but my crew was handicapped. Judging by how the skill had been growing whenever I took charge, I should grab the next few levels quickly. After that, it would be a grind. I wanted to at least get 10 levels soon so I could have some level 20 crewmen.

I also offered instruction when it was clear the sailors weren’t good teachers. I’d been instructing new sailors for years and could present the basics of what they needed to know succinctly. Stars, I’d been giving knowledge to experienced sailors too when they’d accept it. Now that I was in charge I didn’t have to worry so much about wounding their pride and getting a reputation as a know-it-all upstart.

I let the respite stretch to nearly an hour, then just before giving the order to surface again Burdette motioned to me. He indicated I look up.

We were flying a flag. I was positive we weren’t earlier, but now it was pulled taught with the current.

“Who put that up?”

“No one, sir.” Burdette said. “The bloody thing is growing from the mast. I noticed it earlier and tried to have someone fetch it, but it won’t come down. We could try cutting it?”

I took a careful look at the colors I was now flying. I’d sailed under many different flags, and no loyalty to any. What was floating from my mast could be trouble though: a black flag, with a pair of skeletal arms crossed, their bony fingers formed into fists. Shackles were hung on each wrist with a simple chain hanging from each.

Was this supposed to be my personal crest, grown from the ship I had chosen? Whatever it was, it looked like a pirate flag if I’d ever seen one. Not that anyone getting close enough to analyze my ship wouldn’t have greater concerns anyway.

“Leave it.” I ordered. “I don’t want to take it down like I’m ashamed of it in front of the crew. We’ll deal with it after this bloody storm.”

We surfaced.

I wanted to spend more time on the surface, but we really had to have the crew move quickly through the sail stations and anything short of success meant we had to restart.

We restarted many times.

When it finally came together, it went so smoothly you’d think the crew must have been born on the ship. The ship was positioned to face the waves and take the wind to keep her bow straight. I laughed. I laughed much louder than I actually felt like laughing for the sake of those watching.

“Mr. Burdette!” I cried.

“Yes Cap’n?” the man replied from the main deck, his voice raised with skill like mine to carry even in the tempestuous winds.

“What do you see?”

He glanced about, searching out the horizon, then the ship and crew. He seemed to pick up on what I wanted. “I see a motley band of apes hanging from the spars, sir!”

“I see them too! Never have I seen a more drenched troop weigh down the masts! But they’ve done it, by the depths! In the worst kind of storm the Passive Ocean could wind up, they’ve done it!”

I let out a whoop, and I could hear several others give out ragged cheers.

Having gotten my wish to give the crew experience on the surface of a storm, I wanted to give them experience doing things about the decks. It was all well and good to tie them in and have them pull when told, but I meant it when I said I wanted them all to have the Seamanship skill by the time the storm had finished – with the ship bobbing on swells topping a hundred feet, they’d have their sea legs level up too. With spare line we tied teams together, then let them out of their harnesses. Some I had go below decks, others I had practice climbing amongst the rigging. All were being quizzed on the names and function of absolutely everything.

Burdette, one of the only other ones not lashed to someone else – approached me and asked to go over our course. I agreed and left Joash at the helm, joining Burdette in his cabin.

Or his former cabin. I suppose I’d kicked him out. Or would kick him out … hopefully he took the initiative to move himself.

Burdette dried his hands and shaved head on a towel before retrieving his charts. I didn’t bother following suit – I knew that the charts would be uniquely water resistant while on board and wouldn’t mind me dripping on them.

“So Captain, where’re we headed?”

He said it so casually, so relaxed. What had happened to the fear that looked like respect? Where had the anger at being usurped gone? Was he hiding his true feelings?

Why was I so suspicious? Hadn’t I wanted him in my corner? Wasn’t this the way a first mate should be able to communicate with his captain?

“South. Past Tulisang to the Falai Cliffs.”

“You’ll want to be avoiding the manhunt after you, of course.”

I drew my finger along our route, letting his question sit in the silence for a moment. Yes, Burdette was being too casual.

“That manhunt was to eradicate me because of what I was, not because of anything I’d done. Now the ships’ crew, the former slaves,” I looked up from the chart to bore my eyes into the man. “And you, Burdette, are all on their list. I am not a refugee on board this ship. We are all wanted.”

He swallowed and his hand twitched, but made no other movement.

I indicated the spot on the chart where my stash was and made a mark there. “I have items here that we’ll need to pick up – primarily weapons that I want to outfit the ship with. What this ship has now wouldn’t frighten a seagull. Bos’n Willy will work with Sadeo to install them while we travel to our next destination.”

“Who?”

“Sadeo – the kitsune – he’s a professional artillerist. I’m putting him in charge of the weapons.”

Burdette looked at me with a blank expression for a moment, then nodded.

“After we recover the supplies, we travel northwest.” I pointed. “Past Antarus to the coast of Bandarn. Our mission is there.”

“What is our mission, Cap’n?”

I filled him in on the details – at least everything Jones had given me to go off. “I don’t know who this friend of Davy Jones is that’s still around, but our task is not to reason out why. We have our orders.”

“Is it always like this with Davy Jones?”

“No. His first mission to me was to get a ship and crew. No guidelines, no expectations. It wasn’t until he showed up last night that I found out he was pissed at me for taking too long.”

“You were holed up in Tulisang that whole time?”

“It was my training ground,” I said defensively. “A life at sea somehow didn’t adequately prepare me to become some … some …” I waved my hand in the air. “Renegade pirate-tactician-warrior ready to face the fleets of the world!”

“Right, sir.” Burdette said. In the break that followed, he asked “Your Seamanship is 19, correct?”

“That’s right.”

He nodded. “You’ll enjoy the difference at level 20. Now, this storm is going to swing southwest and make landfall here …”

Burdette made a detailed outline of the storm’s path and strength that illustrated there were indeed things for me to learn in the 5 levels that differentiated us. He estimated the storm would push us for two days before we felt it diminish – not that we’d get remotely close to the eye, I doubted the ship could handle the strength of that – and we could ride the shirttails of the storm all the way to our destination. We’d make record time. I agreed – that had been my whole plan after all – and found the only thing we disagreed on was details such as how many days it would take or how many degrees of course the storm would bring us. I didn’t bring up these disagreements, because as good as I was he did have experience on me. I didn’t want to be proven wrong in anything.

I wiped the streams of water off the chart before sliding it over to Burdette – he’d frowned when I’d first started dripping but had noticed the water simply beading and rolling along the surface of the map with the severe pitching we were undergoing.

“Make sure the teams are rotating out so they all get exposure to different activities. The more they do in this storm the better their skill gains will be.”

“Aye aye. Where will you be?”

“At the helm. I love this weather, and plan to enjoy it!”