“I don’t care, Captain. I’m not going to let you kill us all!” Horani drew his dagger and lunged at Thrium’s gut. Sucking in his belly, Captain Thrium danced backwards, spinning away in an effort to dodge the seaman’s wicked slash. Even so, a line of bloody fire traced its way across his ribs.
“Mutiny! Down with Captain Thrium!” The wild sailor ran at the retreating captain, trying to force the older man away from the rubber and over the transom. The rest of the crew seemed frozen in both shock and indecision. Thrium felt his heels bump against the stern rail. Dropping to a crouch, he watched the glinting knife blade and Horani’s bloodshot eyes, trying to gauge when the mutinous sailor would strike.
Horani didn’t make him wait. Reversing his grip on the weapon, he brought it overhead and rushed in, driving the dagger down to the Captain’s chest. Thrium’s hands snapped up, catching Horani’s wrist in his grasp. For a moment the two men struggled. Horani’s hands began to shake and the knife blade pulled away from its murderous descent. Fear and determination twisted his face into a grimacing mask. The Captain slowly turned the knife blade away from his direction.
Thrium’s knee snapped up, catching Horani by surprise. The knife clattered overboard, lost in the low pitching waves. A brief scuffle ended with the mutineer flat on his back and Thrium’s boot pressed against his neck. Stomping down, a crack sounded across the deck and Horani screamed in pain, nursing his broken arm.
“Kirus, get this crap off my deck. Throw him in the brig.” Turning to the rest of the silent crew, Thrium continued. “Listen up. This ship is under my command. It follows my lead. This was known to all of you before you signed on. I want to go home too. And if that mean daring the deeper waters and sailing out of sight of land, then that’s what I’ll decide to do.” None of the crew said a word; they remained silent during Thrium’s speech as well as during Kirus’ cuffing of the mutinous Horani.
Watching his deck master lead the whimpering prisoner away, Thrium continued. “It’s very simple, lads. We can’t sail back home; the current would drive us into the icy cliffs around Mountain Bay. We’ve already been warned twice to keep clear of Iroquois land. We’ve seen their own ships and I wouldn’t want to go toe to toe with them, especially with our own hull jerry rigged and patched. A third warning would involve arrows, rams, swords, and then us learning to breath water or a quick trip to their courts and a tomahawk to the brain pan.”
“I know the seas. I’ve been sailing on them since I was old enough to crawl. I know currents, winds, and waters. Trust me when I say that there IS land to our west, we just can’t see it yet. If we sail due south on the morning tide out of the peninsula the natives here call Niagara Falls, we will find land again long before Neptune even knows we’ve strayed from home.”
“But Captain,” one of the crew asked, “Wha ‘bout Ulysses? ‘Member when he dared to sail off and he and his crew were ne’er ‘eard from ‘gain!” Murmurs of assent rippled through the sailors and legionnaires.
“Come on, lads. That was a very long time ago. Long before our grandfather’s grandfather’s grandfathers were even born. And that was with ships that couldn’t hold a candle to the Furious Thundercloud. We easily have 3 times the beam length and some 10 times the sail that even the largest curraghs had back in those days.” He shook his head. “It’s very simple boys, I miss my home. I know some of you have sweethearts and darlings back at Rome’s docks. I’ve heard of boys and girls that waved proudly as their daddy sailed away. I want to get home. Our job is simple; sail around the continent, map the land as we do, and find ports friendly to Rome and Romans abroad.”
He pointed out at the choppy seas to the southwest. “If we do things my way, I can cut a month off our travels. But, it involves doing it my way. No more mutiny, no more complaining, and no more bull.” Kirus came back topside, nodding to Thrium and shaking a set of keys.
Acknowledging this, the Captain continued. “I’ll put it this way. If you don’t want to sail under my command, I will personally turn the ship around to the nearest Mayan city, unload you there, replace you with an, I’m sure, braver Mayan crew, and continue our journey, by water, to Rome. You can follow the caravans home. And once there, explain to everyone how you abandoned your captain, your missions, your boat and crewmen, and your country because you were afraid to try something new. Something dangerous, for sure, but most importantly, a direct order from your Captain.” He sneered. “Try getting on a berth from that point on. And if you lie, and we sail home, I’ll personally make it my business to have you clapped in irons and led to Hundred Cross Hill myself.” He stared hard at his men. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Ay, ay, captain.”
“What?”
Louder and together, the crew answered, “AY, AY, CAPTAIN!”
“Better.” He checked the wind and took a quick bearing on the sun. “Then look alive, boys. I want the sail up full, I want every barrel, bucket, and box lashed to the deck. I want 20 men at all times securing the rigging. I want the runners prepped and a full team ready to row at a given’s notice. Kirus, I’m holding you responsible if everything isn’t ready in the next 5 minutes.” Grabbing the tiller, he swung it out and away, turning the great galley west southwest, and latched the guide chains in place, fixing the Furious Thundercloud’s heading.
“You heard the cap’n!” bellowed Kirus. “Get your lazy asses in gear! If the cap’n expects it in 5, then I want it in 4!” For the next few minutes, the crew and passengers of the Thundercloud worked furiously hard. Every net was strung across the goods on deck and tied tightly to the railings. Roman sailors scurried up and down the main mast and rigging, fastening the red and white striped sail. Every loose bit of board and rope was stowed away. 68 of the strongest men, sailors and legionnaires alike, manned the benches where the great oars lay.
During it all, the winds picked up the further the galley sailed from the safety of land. Every experienced hand on board could feel the mighty ship groan as the stronger ocean currents grabbed hold of the hull and sweep the Thundercloud out to sea. Those that could, watched the land shrink away on the horizon, the greens and browns becoming faded and washed out. As the day passed into night, even the lookout was unable to spot the Iroquois shores.
Tensions were high that night. Most of the crew found sleep would not come. The waves of the oceans ran higher and stronger than anything the sailors had ever felt before. It had been hours since the depth finder had been able to strike bottom, even with extra line and a total run of 50 meters. Thrium remained at the tiller, his feet braced on the pitching deck, his arms locked on the rudder and chains.
“Cap’n Thrium!” called Kirus as the deck master made his way over to him. “Do you need me to spell ya a bit? Go catch yourself some sleep before you pitch over from exhaustion?”
“No, Kirus. I’m fine.” He looked down at his deck master’s hands and smiled as he saw Kirus’ wine flask was out and opened.
“Then how ‘bout something to chase away the demons in your head?”
“That, I will take.” Grabbing the slick flask, he took a long pull, almost choking as the acrid wine poured down his throat. “Neptune’s beard!” he swore. “What the hell is this? Vinegar?”
Kirus took the flask back and drank from it himself, smacking his lips in enjoyment. “Well, it wasn’t when the voyage started. Sorry cap’n we’ve drunk all the good stuff.”
Thrium took the flask back, sniffed cautiously, then shrugged his shoulders and drank again. Swallowing, he screwed his face up and returned the wine. “Thanks, I still don’t know if I needed that, but thanks.” Regrabbing the tiller, he asked, “Morale running low?”
Kirus grimaced. “Low’s not the word, cap’n. More like frightened. Oh, everyone’s ready to do their part and get us through, but there’s talk amongst the men. They’re saying that this is a fools errand, and we’re just buying time on a suicide galley till Neptune tears out our hull and sinks us for sure.” He looked earnestly at Thrium. “You asked, cap’n, an’ I’m not one to mince words or say things the men said if they didn’t actually say ‘em.”
“It’s alright, Kirus,” Thrium said, “I kind of expected that myself.” He leaned forward. “Listen, I’m telling you that by day break, we’ll be seeing land ahead of us and calmer waters as well.”
“I hope so, cap’n. I hope so.” Looking about the tossing ship and beyond the rails to the roiling waves, Kirus added, “We’ll not be long on these waters if you’re mistaken. Hell, we’ll not be long if the weather turns as well! I can’t imagine being out here if Neptune and Zeus were spoilin for a fight and arguin up a storm.”
Thrium nodded in agreement. In silence, the two men stayed, each one keeping the other awake long enough to pilot the bobbing galley through the night.
As the eastern sky began to brighten, and the stars paled and fled away until only Venus still shone on the Thundercloud and her frightened crew, Kirus ordered the lookout back into the crow’s nest.
The sun peeked over the eastern waters, Apollo shining from a place with no land visible as far as the eye can see. Thrium called up, “I don’t care where we’ve been, sailor. Turn your attention west. Do you see land?”
Most of the crew was up and about, standing on the main deck, waiting to hear if they were doomed to die on the ocean waves or if they were saved by Thrium’s seamanship. The depth finder hurled his weighted line overboard and began counting knots as they slipped through his fingers. “One…Four…Seven…Ten…”
The lookout squinted, trying to pierce the gloom of the still dim western horizon. “Fifteen…Twenty…Twenty-two…”
“Well? Do you see land?”
“Twenty-four…Twenty-six…Twenty-nine…”
As the sun rose higher over the water, sending more of it’s light to race across the seas and pierce the gloom ahead, the lookout was stunned.
“Thirty-one…Thirty-three…What the hell?” The depth finder felt the line in his hand slacken and catch momentarily and then pull from his grasp, a sign that the lead weight had struck bottom.
“Captain Thrium! Land! I see land!” The lookout was pointing wildly. There, emerging from the morning fog and dawn shadows, the telltale green and brown smudge on the horizon promising land.
“Huzzah! Huzzah for Captain Thrium!” The entire company of the Furious Thundercloud cheered, most of the men hugging each other and openly crying at the news.
“Captain!” The depth finder cried out. “Basement at 33 meters!”
Kirus clapped the visibly exhausted and relieved Thrium on his bicep, squeezing him and grinning. “Nice job, cap’n. Nice job.”
“Thanks, Kirus.” The cheering Roman crew merrily continued their celebration as the Furious Thundercloud sailed closer and closer to the safety and security of land.