woohoo, another chapter. Slightly longer this time, as ideas have been brewing all week at work. Infact, I have another two chapters ready for updating, but I'm pacing myself-- lest I give away too much too soon and lose all interest :P
By the way - anyone who can tell me anything about how watches were arranged on ships would be very helpful. So far I've been saying day watch and night watch - but I KNOW this isn't right and it's very frustrating. I know they're arranged by the nautical habit of telling time with bells (one bell every half an hour, or something) but I don't really understand that either :(
The Pearl was a near wreck. The sailors had worked quickly and managed to batten down all the square-rigged sails, and had used only the fore and aft rigged try sails to guide us through the storm. But even those had proved too much strain on the mizzenmast, and it had split in two, from top to base, leaving it useless. This would unbalance the foremast and make it difficult to use – leaving us with only one the mainmast, cutting our sail-power by two thirds.
As if this wasn't bad enough, the hull was crippled and broken in several places, much of the Pearl's fine carvings had been ripped off, and two of the boats had been smashed to matchwood. The dear chickens had also been washed overboard.
The only joy was that we had found land. But what land – a dark, desolate island, nothing grew on its black surface, it was barely more than a rocky outcrop in the middle of the grainy, misty morning light. There was nothing else to be seen on the empty ocean.
The crew however, seemed excited and skittish in the presence of the island. They were haggard, their clothes in damp disarray from the storm, but they were working feverously to bring the wounded Pearl into a small bay of rocks and prepare the boats. They spoke in hushed, quickened voices, but even whispers carried on the sharp morning air. At my customary seat on the forecastle I could hear all. Pueblo was talking about El Dolrardo, an Aztec island of untold wealth, apparently discovered by Spanish sailors.
Once the anchors were weighed, Sparrow stepped down from the helm, and walked slowly across the main deck, his face grim. The crew immediately stopped their murmuring, and parted to let him though. They were eager to hear who would go ashore. I looked over the day watch, wondering who would merit the Captain's favour.
Duncan would have been my first choice, after the Quartermaster and the Boatswain. Chang should by rank earn a place, but the whole crew knew he had been an ally of Jeff's and was unlikely to be chosen.
Billy, the cabin boy and fully the youngest person on board at twelve years old should be allowed, by my count. True, he was on the night watch and probably asleep in his hammock by now, but the lad was so quick and eager the trip ashore would delight him. Cotton was a steady hand in a crisis, and would undoubtedly be taken. Halfpint, though only four foot tall, was worth his salt, Cairo….
"…And Miss Barbrook."
I looked up at my name, I hadn't noticed the Captain begin to speak. Ana, a picture of impatience, spied me on the forecastle and called my down.
And so a very small and strange landing party we made, Sparrow, Gibbs, Anamaria and me. Duncan was left in command, though the Code dictated that should have fallen to Chang, no one argued.
Sparrow was at the oars, aiming us for a cleft between two of the islands many rocky spits of land. He sat amidships, with his back to me and Ana, but something about the set line of his shoulders as he rowed, and the grim continence of Gibbs, who sat facing the rest of us in the fore of the vessel, told me he was not in the best of moods.
"Shouldn't we be baring a little more leeboard?" Ana's words rang out like bells in the crisp morning.
Sparrow didn't reply, but with a grunt threw his weight into another stroke of the oars, and maintained his course.
I don't know what imp of mischief moved me that morning, but Sparrow had flustered me earlier in the cabin, and now I was determined to have the advantage over him.
"How did such a useless scrap of land come about?" I asked, as sharply as I could.
"Underground volcano." Came the growled response.
"I can't imagine there's anything of value here." Ana gave me a warning glance.
"Are ye familiar with the term 'buried treasure'?"
"I've only heard it in stories, Captain. You're going to loose your ship." Sparrow stopped mid-stroke and slammed the oars down in the water, splashing us all.
"If we must bring that wench with us, can we at least gag her?" he spat out. "I'd rather have that snivelling fool Chang aboard than…"
"Jack." Ana spoke softly, but immediately the Captain fell silent, though I fancied I could still here him muttering under his breath.
I smiled to myself. Gibbs caught my eye from across the boat, he was also trying to stifle a smile.
For a while now we had been making our way parallel to the island, presently we came to a yawning shallow cave. We would have got their quicker had we steered further leeboard, but I daren't look across at Ana to see if she noticed this.
We entered the cave, there was a moment of grey twilight, then all was blackness. I could see nothing and hear nothing save the gentle splash of water against the boat and the occasional drip from somewhere far above. I had a feeling of space around me and I wondered how such a small opening could conceal something so large. Presently, Gibbs lit a lamp and hung it in the prow of the boat, giving us a little light. I could see we were in a large cavern, the rocks formed into strange shapes from years of water dripping down and running off its surface. We were only a tiny pool of light in the vast darkness, but ahead I thought I could make out a darker patch of black.
As we got closer, it became clearer – the dark patch was a tunnel, wide at the mouth, but quickly narrowing down so only one man could pass it at a time. We left the boat and Sparrow set off down the tunnel down the tunnel, but I hung back.
"What about the lantern?" I asked, making to remove it from the boat.
"Never mind about that now." Ana, usually so solemn, pulled on my hand like some impatient child.
I followed them down the tunnel, determined not to show my fear. The walls were dank and the sand beneath my feet was clammy and stuck between my toes. The other three seemed to be able to find their way well enough in the gloom, but I had to hold fast to Ana's hand in order not to stumble and loose them. After what felt like an age the tunnel began to widen and the air felt fresher. I stepped round a corner and was blinded by a dazzling light.