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Chapter Nineteen
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Nathaniel passed on joining his crew, who were merrily falling into drunkenness. The cook was a marvel at brewing his own alcohol and the strong liquor would flow freely. It ever failed to bemuse him, that men so hardened to drink became intoxicated so quickly.
Like himself, many had been drinking since they were children, lulled to sleep by parents dousing milk with brandy. Consequently, Nathaniel's tolerance to the heady brew had started early, and he could indulge in well beyond the realms of healthy without even getting a sway in his step.
"Make sure we don't lose any in the sea, lad," he muttered to Thomas as he swept past towards the dark of the rocks. "If we do, don't bother fishin' them out. I ain't go time for idiots on board."
Thomas mustered a smile. "Aye, Sir," he answered to the departing back. "If they'll listen."
Putting a task like that on him was hardly wise. The crew were older and unlikely to listen to
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Dark Water Chapter Twenty-One
The fire in the village roared high, sending smoke twisting into the sky. The flames writhed, forming images that were beyond nightmarish. A wizened woman stood nearby. One eye was glazed, blind from birth but giving a rare sight that no other had. The second sight to the other world and powers that foretold present and future. She watched quietly. The crackling filled her ears as she studied what the fire was saying. 'What leads travellers to be so foolhardy?' She asked herself, shaking her head. 'They see not the true treasures that surround them. Only caring about trinkets that hold no real worth.' She shifted, looking across in the direction of the sea. The intrusion was widely felt but none felt what she did. A great blessing as the cold darkness chilled one to the core, like a cloth, saturated with rain and clinging to the skin. "May the Gods and their guardian spirits come through to them," she whispered. "The errors must be seen, and the price must be paid. May my prayer
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Greed keeps men forever poor, even the abundance of this world will not make them rich. Even their tombs are too small. Nathaniel sat back; his eyes fixed on nothing. On his desk was a small pile of coins, polished to perfection and gleaming in the soft candlelight. He reached out unconsciously, touching the glimmering gold and feeling the familiar sensation, an electric tingle, flow through him at the coldness. Cold. Hard. And divinely beautiful. More alluring than the fabled Sirens that cursed the ears of many a seafarer. Every time his eyes sight of them, the draw grew. The bargain he'd made fell further into the abyss of his mind. He clicked his tongue, picking up the map thoughtfully. The faded images were still clear, albeit smeared, and far more useful than any writing. "Ain't goin' to hurt," he muttered. "Using what I bargained for to find what I sought, even if the damned thing ain't goin' to be happy by the end of it." He tossed the map aside and reached for the rum.
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Lloyd swore under his breath as he plucked the wiry splinters from his chafed hands. The sharp fragments of the rope had embedded themselves snugly under the surface of the skin. It was times like this that Lloyd cursed himself for biting his nails as the blunted fingers struggled to pluck at the protruding ends. "Soak your hand for a while." Thomas glanced over as he walked past, hearing the grumbles. "That will bring them closer to the surface. One of the crew also swears by putting a thin layer of paste or something sticky on them. Then they pull out." "That sounds worse than waxing your legs." Lloyd forced a smile. "Something I swore I'd never do again. I took half the skin off." "It won't do that. Not if you're careful. We'll be sailing again soon, so you'd best sort it out before then. Try a potato. Press it for a while and it can draw them higher." The crew had slowly returned. Their faces set like stone as if they could feel no enjoyment anymore. The fascination of the e
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"Why the hell is he lettin' pigs on board anyway?" The low voice was acidic. Much like its' owner. His glazed eyes scanned the deck to make sure no one was in earshot who shouldn't be. He couldn't risk being overheard, even about a topic that most everyone agreed upon. Nowadays the desire to stab someone in the deck was higher than ever. "Ain't my place to try and figure out what Hemlock is thinkin'," his companion muttered, sweeping the access water back into the cesspool of the sea. "Must 'ave some reason. And who bloody cares?" The man grimaced, filthy water splashing his filthy trousers. "He'd 'ave gutted him in the beginning." "If you're hinting that he's gone soft, then don't." The other looked up sharply, narrowing his eyes dangerously, the receded orbs glistening like slivers of glass. "This might be what we need. If Hemlock don't figure somethin' out, we've got a few ideas. Even if they don't work. It'll ease the strain." The pair fell silent, looking across the deck
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A harrowing scream echoed across the quiet ship.Lloyd's heart leapt into his throat, the broom falling from his hands. And he wasn't the only one, all of the crew ceased their work to turn in the direction of the cry.Smithy writhed and pulled against the ropes that bound him to the mast, cutting into his torso and wrists, leaving chafed, bloody rings on the latter. Foam bubbled from his mouth and his eyes bulged so far, those nearest feared he would lose them. They were stained red, where vessels had burst under strain and moist with pained and fearful tears."They're everywhere!" He screamed, the veins in his neck pulsating beside the throbbing Adam's apple. "Below the waves! In the sky! You have to kill them! The dead! The damned!" He threw his head back, slamming the back on his skull against the mask. "There ain't no Hell! This is Hell! Drowning in misery! Toys of the infernal!" Gibson moved across, muttering something urgently, but whatever words were uttered, they fell on de
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Lloyd was tired as he sat in the chair and stared up and the blacken ceiling. He tossed his arm over his forehead as he stayed awake. Sleep seemed to be running away from him.Slowly, he sat and drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his chin on them. He didn't know why, but he felt if he were to fall asleep. Something would make sure he didn't open his eyes again."Get on with it," he muttered to himself and reached for the dusty book nearest him. "Maybe it'll keep you awake. Or scare you more so that sleep eludes better."His hand hovered over the bronze clasp of the drawer as he pulled the book to him. He knew Nathaniel would be livid if he pried into his papers...but that was a small risk if these pages yielded nothing.Still. This time, new information danced before him. Rather like a good novel, he saw different things. The words were blurred as if water had made the ink run. A high possibility when all was considered.'...a mighty Great President of He
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