Wormwood Mutiny
Chapter 9: The Storm
Rain poured and winds raged on the morning of the seventh day. The sails whipped and flapped violently overhead. Carrog, who'd been whipped along with Essig on a trumped up excuse while Ana and Vela had suffered in the bilges, wouldn't have it easy in the rigging.
Beside Vela, Ana watched as her friend's black eyes followed Master Scourge's boots, shining with rain, while he handed out assignments to the swabs. The samsaran's hands curled into fists, but she kept her head down, white eyes burning holes into the wooden boards of the deck.
She thought their supervisor might designate Vela to be his runner, but he assigned her, Ana, and Sandara to haul and knot the ropes on the main deck down to the cargo hold. The stench of the bilges likely had something to do with it. Ana could smell it on him as well. And while the three worked in the rain, Sandara kept her distance when she could.
That night, the strengthening waves rocked them all violently in their berths. Ana barely heard the tolls of the dawn bell over the howling wind and whipping sails. She had simply been still awake when the others climbed out of their hammocks. Even the most seaworthy of the pirates staggered out of the lower deck, climbing the stairs on hands and feet as the Wormwood roiled in the belly of the storm.
Even Master Scourge and Mr. Plugg could barely stand in the face of the storm, bracing an arm against either side of stairs under the poop deck. Shouting commands, they assigned everyone to the rigging. "Ana, Vela, Crimson, Cusswell," roared Master Scourge over the wind and the waves, "get in the mizzenmast! You're on repairs!"
Ana clambered after Carrog, who'd left Pluck below deck, at the back of the four on her hands and knees. The ice cold rain pounded her back and nearly blinded her. She slid from side to side on the slick boards with the titantic rolls of the deck. And kept sliding.
The ship was tipping. Ana screamed, but the storm swallowed the sound. Her nails scrabbled and scraped the wet wood. She flailed for any hold. Her hand clamped down on Carrog's ankle.
Carrog looked back at her. He held them in place against the cresting wave, but his hands didn't have any hold. When the ship rocked back, they both began to slide. Her white eyes met his bright blue gaze through the thick, corded. Ana let go. The wind whipped his scream away.
Even as she braced to go overboard, she looked and flailed for anything, anything to hold. Then a hand grabbed her by the back of her jacket and she jerked to a stop. She looked up into the rain. Mr. Plugg's mirthless black eyes glared down at her below the black clouds cracked with lightning. Before she could catch her breath, he threw her by the jacket back towards Carrog, Crimson, and Cusswell. Carrog caught her arm and dragged her with him to the mizzenmast.
The four tied safety lines around their waists attached to the mizzenmast. They grabbed coils of rope and climbed the slippery rungs into the rigging. As soon as she reached the rigging, Ana wrapped her arms and legs through the rope squares, clinging for dear life.
Crimson climbed down to take a position beside in the rigging beside her while Carrog and Cusswell remained above. The ice cold rain drove through their clothes like frozen nails. The rigging thrashed in the wind, threatening to shake them down at the first misplaced hold. No one could hear over the deafening wrack of the sails. Through it all, they had to watch for frays and breaks in the ropes to replace at once.
Ana's limbs deadened in their chokehold around the rigging. She cried out helpless. The wind tore out her voice, the rain drowning her tears. She pressed herself as flat as she could to the ropes, screaming and crying until her throat went raw. She choked and coughed on the rain while the wind shook her endlessly.
She stared down into the churning water. Waves crashed into the Wormwood, smashing loose crates and barrels to smithereens. Here and there she thought she caught a scream through the wind, the rain, and thunder. But her head had beaten into the ropes so many times that she could no longer keep track of her own sounds and self. She vomited all the contents of her stomach onto the deck below.
Time passed at a crawl, but it passed. The sky gradually lost what little light remained. In the violent dusk, the four hung as precariously as drenched rat carcasses with their paws stuck in rusted manacle chains. The smallest carcass fell, trailed by a long rope tail with a frayed end.
Ana blinked through the thick, corded rain. The water below bloomed white from a definite splash. She looked up and around. Carrog, Crimson. No Cusswell. Carrog followed her gaze to the splash. He winked on bright blue eye at her. He jumped, diving backward into the sea.
"Carrog!" Ana struggled to free her limbs from their deathgrip through the rope squares of the rigging. She pried one arm and leg free. The wind bashed her into the ropes. Every limb went slack. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her back fell away from the rigging.
A strong arm hooked under her shoulders, slowing her fall. Crimson climbed around and behind her, pinning her between himself and the rigging. His lean, solid body was cold as ice, but so was hers. Both stared out into the sea for any sign of life.
The ship rolled further and further from the fading white splashes. Ana counted the seconds as best as could. Carrog stayed under for two minutes. Three. Four. She clenched her teeth but couldn't stop counting. The waves devoured every last trace of white splash.
Then she saw it. A glint of gold in the black water. Carrog raised one arm and waved wildly. His other arm wrapped around the limp form of a halfling.
Ana pried one arm loose once more. She slapped her hand against Crimson's. He pat her shoulder and climbed as quickly as he could toward the mizzenmast. She waited until he'd reached the mast to follow one square at a time with her deadened limbs. She kept flat to the ropes. At the mast with its rungs, she pounded one palm at a time against the its solid trunk, forcing daggers of feeling back into her hands.
Her fingers flexed at her command. She grabbed hold of the mast's metal rungs and climbed down to Crimson at the bottom of the mizzenmast. Carrog's safety line was taught in his Crimson's hands. The Varisian's muscles strained just to keep hold of the rope.
Ana grabbed on in front of him and walked her way down the railing. The ship rocked and rolled underfoot, but she braced both boots against the wood of the rails. The Wormwood tipped. A great maw of water roared and churned and roiled hundreds of feet below the ship's rail. She held fast to the rope for dear life, pupiless eyes wide.
A wave like a mountain surged up above the churning maw. It crashed down with a deafening roar. The ship rocked back. Ana's hands slid on the taut, wet rope, but her body had pumped so full of adrenaline that she could barely feel or hear anything over the pounding beat of her heart.
Hands grabbed onto the rope beside hers. Crimson stood on the other side of the rail. She nodded at him. They heaved with the backward rock of the ship. The ship rolled forward. They waited. Wave by wave, roll by roll, they tugged Carrog's safety line back to the Wormwood's side. They walked back from the rail to the mizzenmast, hauling Carrog and Cusswell up from the water.
The two fell over the railing onto the deck. Cusswell vomited up seawater and bile. Carrog crawled, dripping, toward the mizzenmast. Ana and Crimson ran and slid toward the two. They grabbed at any free fabric or limb and dragged the two back to the mast before the ship threw them back overboard as it rolled underfoot. All four clung to the mast and each other, riding out the wave. With safety greatest in the rigging, they climbed back up and into the ropes, Cusswell sporting a new safety line around her waist.
With the added darkness of night, the storm lessened just enough that Ana could hear the shouts of other pirates over the wind and the waves. She shouted just to hear herself. "Finally!"
Crimson beside her and Carrog above both whooped and hollered. Despite her deadening limbs, bone-deep exhaustion, and the icy wetness that clung to her like a second skin, Ana grinned.
"Thanks," shouted Cusswell. "For, you know."
"It was weird," Carrog shouted back. "My body just moved. My head was completely blank. Instinct, I guess."
"I didn't ask for a story. Just take my thanks, asshole."
"I'm pretty sure that should be 'Savior Asshole.' Asshole Saver?"
"Fuck you with a barnacle, Carrog."
"You're welcome."
"Want to hear a real story?" shouted Crimson.
"Yes," shouted Carrog.
"No," shouted Cusswell.
"Fine, another time."
The storm battered them all through the night. But with the breaking of the dawn, the sky lightening from black to a stormy grew. The frigid rain thinned from ropy cords to fine, silver stakes. The dawn bell tolled over the howling wind.
"All hands on deck!" boomed the thunderous voice of Captain Barnabas Harrigan himself.
Ana gathered her leaden limbs out from the rigging. She clawed her way down the rungs of the mizzenmast with frozen fingers. Crimson took her hands into his equally cold and wet hands and rubbed a bit life into both pairs. They waited for Carrog and Cusswell to join them before gathering with the rest of the crew outside the doors of the captain's cabin.
The captain, flanked by Master Scourge and Mr. Plugg, cast a black, piercing eye over the beaten and shivering crew. "You did well last night. Get to your berths and get some rest. The officers will take us to the Fever Sea. You are dismissed."
The doors of the captain's cabin opened behind him. The officers strode out into the silver rain on either flank of the captain. By Master Scourge's side stood a wiry gnomish woman with bright green hair in towering spikes, a pasty half-elf with multiple piercings in both pointed ears, and a soft-faced Garundi woman in a dress with pristine white petticoats. Beside Mr. Plugg stood the drow Stitchman, Officer Quarne, a Rahadoumi woman with a wooden peg leg and skin browned by the sun to match the wood's hue, and a creamy-skinned woman whose long, blonde curls fell and framed her ample bosom.
The crowd parted, heading for the stairs en masse. Ana waited, pearl white eyes following the officers as they took stations around the upper decks. Officer Quarne gave her a half-smile in passing, as did the blonde woman she'd never met.
Vela and tugged the soaking sleeve of her jacket. Ana turned to see the red-headed woman with Essig, Carrog, Sandara, Crimson, and even Cusswell. "Ana, let's go," said Vela.
She followed her friends below deck, smiling quietly.
