This is a fan translation of The Treasure of the Kapitana (Сокровище «Капудании») by the Russian science fiction and fantasy author Vladimir Vasilyev.
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Chapter 20
Ralph Kingfisher, the waters tramontane of Tarkhankut, summer of 864
Ralph awoke from the weary oblivion but didn't rush to get up.
Despite the terrible hunger that immediately let itself be known. His experience as a shtarkh told him that if he leapt to his feet right then and there, he would feel lightheaded, his legs would fail to support him, and he'd need to find the strength to avoid collapsing shamefully onto the floor by the footlocker. And he didn't have that much strength to begin with.
It was better to lie there for five minutes, with his eyes either open or closed. To wait for his heart to circulate the blood throughout his body that was still recovering from the oblivion. Communing with the elements took a lot of energy. He also wondered if it was also drinking the shtarkh's life force, drop by drop, sip by sip, bringing closer that frightening and unavoidable moment when he would have to say goodbye to this world.
Ralph could clearly hear water splash against the brig's hull. He also felt the slight tilt to the bow, which meant that the wave he'd summoned was still obediently carrying the Queen Svenja along the chosen course.
He'd had to do some more work at night to change the wind and summon another wave, as the brig had to alter course from ponente to almost directly tramontane. If Ralph's senses weren't failing him, the Queen Svenja was now supposed to have already passed Tarkhankut and be well on its way to the far end of Tendra.
His strength was returning slowly. With it came the clarity of thought.
That it, Kingfisher thought. I can get up now.
He also thought about the cassat. How was his four-legged friend? Rested after the night watch? Probably hungry too, he'd have to get him something to eat.
In addition, Ralph was preparing for an inevitable talk with Alexander, but he didn't want to think about that yet.
Snoring was coming from the berth — it was the sailors of the night watch.
Someone was mumbling something monotonously in the corridor; he heard footsteps and occasionally laughter. It was unusual to him, as it was typically quiet in the chamber on a small Euxinian ship with five people at most sleeping. The primary sounds would've been the creaking of the rigging plus the waves and the wind.
It was different on big ships. And the Queen Svenja was just a brig, a two-masted vessel used by Albionians for patrol and messenger services; she was far from having the firepower of the Saint Aurelius.
Even the Aurelius wasn't the biggest warship in the navy with only two gun decks: one open, one enclosed. What was happening aboard ships of the line that had two or even three enclosed gun decks and a crew of nearly a thousand?
Ralph got up, bent and stretched, exercising his body, then shrugged his shoulders.
The hunger was getting unbearable.
The cassat was sleeping in his enclosure; when Ralph peered over the wooden fence, his friend only fluttered his eyelids and growled quietly.
"Tired," Kingfisher whispered. His lips stretched into a smile. "I'm going to bring you something from the galley!"
The cassat moved an ear. He'd heard him then. And, obviously, didn't mind.
It only took a few minutes to stop by the head and then wash up. After the necessary morning procedures, Ralph felt himself noticeably more cheerful, and he really wanted to eat. But even before he got to the galley, he was called out by Ishmael Judah, "Ralph!"
"Yes, Ishmael?"
"His Highness is awaiting you in his cabin as soon as you eat breakfast."
"Thank you! But I also need to bring the cassat something to eat."
"Tell me what, and I'll have someone feed it."
Ralph sighed. How could he possibly explain to an officer of the royal guard that a cassat wasn't fed like cow in a barn? One was supposed to converse with him, even if the cassat deigned to eat while the shtarkh simply stood nearby.
"I won't make him wait, Ishmael. I assure you."
Judah nodded in agreement. Ralph also nodded and was about to continue to the galley, when something in the guard's face made him pause.
"Tell me, Ralph," Judah asked quietly. "Did you see it again?"
There you go… Kingfisher thought in mild annoyance. Before breakfast…
He'd done his best not to think of the ship of the dead that he'd spotted among the waves. It was undoubtedly why the prince was summoning him.
"You mean the ghost ship?" he inquired just as quietly.
Judah didn't answer, looking away.
Definitely about that…
"Both the first time and last night I had the same thought," Judah said dully. "I couldn't believe that anyone besides me was seeing it. When I try to speak of it, it's as if a seal of silence is magically placed upon my lips. I don't know by whom. It was very difficult for me to ask you that question, Ralph."
"I understand, Ishmael," Ralph replied in all seriousness. "I assure you, I feel the same way. Yes, I saw the ghost ship last night again, even though I was busy. It passed us by twice on the port side, about half a mile away. Right?"
"Right."
"You weren't just seeing things, Ishmael." Ralph sighed. "I'm going to go," he added. "Summoning the winds and the waves takes a lot out of me. I swear, I could eat a roasted ram whole right now!"
"Go!" Judah spoke sadly. "Enjoy your meal! Both you and the cassat…"
Half an hour later, Ralph walked up to the prince's cabin. Two guards were posted by the door, but they knew Ralph; plus they'd clearly been warned because one of them immediately turned and knocked on the door. A second later, the door opened, and a servant peered out.
"The flag lieutenant to see His Highness!" the guard boomed as ceremoniously as possible.
Ralph had clearly been expected, as the servant didn't even go to announce him, immediately opening the door wider (unintentionally knocking it against the other guard, who had to take a step away) and motioning for him to go inside, "Come in, Lieutenant!"
Yeah, Ralph thought. I'm a lieutenant now! All I've been hearing all my life from even the lowliest cook was "damned shtarkh," but here people are almost bowing to me… Maybe there's a reason for that. I'm a de Kriam, after all, not just a Kriam. Maybe I'd been born to experience the respect and trepidation of the others, and it was the evil fate that took it all from me when I was little.
"Ralph! I've been waiting for you!" the prince exclaimed upon seeing Kingfisher.
"Forgive me, Alex, I slept like a log! I barely managed to crawl back to my footlocker last night…"
"I understand, Ralph! That was why I made sure you weren't bothered or awakened! But I was still waiting. I detest waiting! Even when it's necessary."
The prince wasn't being entirely truthful. When it was really necessary, he became surprisingly patient and calculating. On the other hand, just because Alexander knew how to wait, it didn't mean that he enjoyed it.
"I came as soon as I could," Kingfisher said simply.
"Naturally! I'm number two after the cassat, after all! In your personal hierarchy," Alexader laughed. "Am I correct?"
Ralph frowned a little.
"You're trying to compare the incomparable, Alex," he said gently. "Loving your wife doesn't mean you stop loving your mother, for example. And the birth of a second child doesn't leave your firstborn neglected."
"I'm joking, I'm joking," the prince waved it off, still laughing. "Take a seat," he cleared the spot across the table from him from papers.
Ralph sat down.
"But tell me, Ralph, you stopped by the cassat before going to the galley, didn't you?"
"It's true, Alex," Kingfisher said calmly but firmly. "It has always been this way, and it will remain so. The cassat and I are one. He means more to me than… well, let's say, this hand. I'll probably survive without the hand. Not without the cassat."
"Really?"
Ralph chuckled, but it was a mirthless laugh, even a little bitter.
"You may grant me all sorts of titles and ranks, Alex. But I will always be a shtarkh. It's my bread and butter, it's my life. I'm no one without the cassat. They might not even take me on as a sailor on some lowly trade santona. They probably won't because it's better to get a skilled sailor instead. So I will continue caring for the cassat the way I'd been caring for him all these years, even since I went into the waters for the first time. And, please, let's not talk about this anymore. I hope you don't consider these words to be too impudent."
"You and I are friends, and, from that viewpoint, your words lack any impudence," Alexander shrugged. "I apologize if my musings have touched a nerve. But that wasn't what I wanted to speak with you about."
"Of course," Kingfisher replied calmly. "You wanted to talk about the ghost ship. It appeared again last night."
"So you noticed it then?"
"It was difficult not to," Ralph spread his hands.
Alexander's face grew serious.
"And here I thought your attention was fully focused on communing with the elements. At least that was the impression I got when I looked at you and the cassat."
"You have to look carefully around to summon the wind and the wave," Ralph explained. "Otherwise the elements aren't going to understand. Even then they don't always understand everything the cassat and I ask them to do."
"Well, even better then," the prince said. "Did you notice the signals too?"
Now it was Ralph's turn to be surprised.
"Signals? What signals?"
Alexander leaned against the table, pressing down on the papers, "They were sending signals from the ghost ship, Ralph! With a lamp… or something else because I'd never seen a lamp that produced such a deathly light. But they were definitely signals! A sequence of flashes! Ordered flashes, with identical pauses between the signals! I've spent half the day racking my brain trying to decipher the code. Assuming it's a code, of course… but it seems to be."
"But… are you saying that you memorized the sequence?"
"Some I memorized, some I wrote down! Right on the cuff, with a piece of charcoal. In fact, the sequence wasn't even that long, only eighteen signals of two or three flashes each. Here, take a look!"
He handed Ralph a sheet of paper from the table. It was covered in dots and dashes.
"Does this mean anything to you?"
Ralph took a look.
"Doesn't look like the standard maritime frequency alphabet…" he muttered. "Hold on, I'll take a closer look…"
Kingfisher did his best trying to find a system of some kind in the mishmash of dots and dashes. He gave up after three minutes, "No, Alex. If this is a code, I'm not familiar with it."
"Me neither," the prince complained. "Damn those cloaked skeletons! There's a got to be a reason why they flashed us those signals."
"I'm afraid it's one of those times when logic is useless," Ralph said. "We don't even know who those cloaked figures from the ghost ship are. And whether it was them we met in Amasra."
"It was them," the prince snorted. "There's no one else. How long do we still have to go?"
"It's about midday now," Ralph estimated. "I figure Tendra should be appearing on the horizon now. But it'll already been dusk when we reach its tramontane… I mean its northern end. And it'll be at dusk that we'll have to go around it."
"Too bad… would've been nice to arrive there during daytime. But we'll see…"
The prince fell silent for a while, deep in his own thoughts. Ralph waited and waited, before finally daring to break the silence in the cabin.
"Excuse me, Alex…"
"Did you say something?" the prince perked up.
"Yes. I wanted to ask you a question."
"What is it?'
Ralph hesitated a little; he suddenly thought that his question was inappropriate and foolish. But it was too late to retreat. So, waving his hand mentally, he spat out, "I wanted to ask what role Nazim Socrates's youngest daughter has played in recent events."
"Amrita?" the prince asked in surprise. "Why are you suddenly interested in that?"
Before answering, Ralph thought about it for a few moments. He had to word his answer as properly as possible.
"You see, Alex…" Ralph sighed. "On the one hand, the girl has made a certain impression on me. On the other, I have absolutely no idea what is going on."
"Oh!" the prince livened. "You like Amrita? You do, don't you?"
Ralph lowered his head.
"She is an aristocrat, the daughter of a viceroy… even if a disgraced one. "And I'm a shtarkh," he muttered.
"You're also a flag lieutenant of the royal guard," Alexander corrected him. "Trust me, it's no small thing. And, if it comes to that, it's within my power to grant titles to my loyal people."
"I haven't earned it yet."
"Then earn it!" the prince said, leaning forward. "Bring me to the Kapitana! And you'll see that I can be generous."
"I don't doubt your generosity for a second, Alex," Ralph replied dryly. "But let's set all this talk of titles for later."
"Agreed," the prince nodded. "As for Amrita… I'm the one who found her. Well, Ishmael Judah and I. While probing the situation in Kerkinitis. Would you like me to explain why?"
"Please do, if it's not a secret."
"It's not a secret, at least not for my flag lieutenant. It's elementary. Nazim Socrates is our enemy. Correct?"
"Correct."
"We have yet to decide who Almea Socrates is to us. Maybe also an enemy, maybe a rival to both us and her father. Maybe neither, just a grown aristocrat who has decided to solve her own problems through all available means. Maybe Almea is even our friend. But one thing is beyond doubt: obtaining information on what is happening inside the Socrates family, the sort of customs that are in force there, and the relationship between its members can be done from… where?"
"From within the Socrates family, of course," Kingfisher shrugged.
"And that was how I got to Almea's younger sister," the prince concluded. "I'm afraid there was no one else, as all the men were at sea with the viceroy. But, fortunately, she turned up, Amrita. A lovely child."
"But how did you pique her interest? Why would she blurt out her family secrets?"
Alexander pushed himself away from the table and leaned back against the bulkhead that doubled as the back of the bench.
"I was planning on… not really seduce her, no. More like attract her with the shine of the home islands. Palaces, balls, gallant suitors… Girls of her age attach incredible importance to such tinsel."
"And?"
"She cut me off before I was finished, can you imagine?" Alexander admitted. "She figured me out! From the get-go! Me, a prince of Albion! I barely opened my mouth to speak, when that snot-nosed brat from the edge of the world informed me in a calm and angelic voice, 'I'm going to help you, Your Highness. But on one condition.' Imagine that!"
Ralph replied in as reserved a way as he could, "For a fifteen-year-old girl, it was indeed… abrupt. But, Alex, you've told me several times that you'd spent much of your free time in the library instead of court intrigues."
"Oh, Ralph, I see you have a poor idea of what court intrigues are like," Alexander chuckled. "I had to engage in daily intrigues to win the right to the library! Hourly, in fact! I had to twist my way out of a marriage planned by one of my relatives… And yet here, in Kerkinitis, I was stopped cold, Ralph! I was even given conditions. And by whom?"
"Hmm… May I ask what the condition was?" Ralph inquired carefully.
"To take her away to Londiniuim," the prince sighed. At first, I thought that Amrita would demand that I marry her. But the girl is wise beyond her years. And instead of a pretty fool I had to deal with an absolute beast! During the conversation, I kept getting the feeling that she could see right through me! Damnation, to borrow Uncle Freemer's favorite expression."
The prince shook his head dejectedly.
"I did learn a few things," he continued. "But now we have two mysteries instead of just one. I can't claim that the youngest of the Socrates sisters isn't playing her own game. Almea helped us. So did Amrita. But I still have no idea who they really are. Damn it, it's impossible to understand women, I swear!"
Alexander was likely trying to continue speaking, but then someone knocked on the door. The servant immediately dove out from behind the curtains in the corner that hid the bed and ran to the door to open it. The prince, his chest already full of air for another tirade, glanced tensely towards the door.
"Lieutenant Judah, Your Highness!" the servant announced hurriedly. He knew perfectly well that an officer of the royal guard would never enter his master's cabin without a good reason. Only on business.
"Let him in!"
The servant immediately opened the door. Ishmael entered, focused as usual, but calm.
"What happened?" the prince inquired, clearly trying to head off another formal address that was necessary and long.
"Ships, Your Highness. Not ours."
The prince leapt to his feet and got out from behind the table.
"Come, Ralph, Ishmael. What ships?"
"Looks like Socrates's squadron. I recognized both of his quarissas."
"Squadron?" the prince asked in surprise. "What do you mean a squadron?'
"There are more than ten ships. And they're everywhere."
The prince froze before the ramp that led up onto the deck.
"What do you mean everywhere?"
"Your Highness, Socrates's ships are trying to surround us. They're everywhere but northeast. And also directly behind us, probably because thanks to Ralph we're moving at an incredible speed, and they simply can't catch up. I've already placed everyone on alert. I'm sure you can hear it for yourself."
Indeed, they could hear the pounding of many feet and the shouting of officers.
"Damn it," Alexander swore and flew up the ramp.
Captain Philsby was on the upper deck in addition to the helmsman and the officers of the watch. At the moment, he was studying the horizon through his spyglass.
"What say you, Philsby?' the prince asked him.
"Not good, Your Highness," he replied. "The ships are small, but there are many of them. I've counted a dozen, and I think I see the masts of two more. I believe they're trying to push us northeast to where I can see land."
"Land?"
"Yes, land. I'm certain it's Tendra."
"Ralph, is it Tendra?"
"Tendra, what else? Thank you, Captain, I can see without the spyglass."
The prince chewed on his cheeks.
"Push us," he repeated quietly. "What can we do?"
Philsby shrugged, "Guns, Your Highness! If we can maintain the current speed, we can punch a hole in their circle, one or two local tubs aren't going to be able to hold us. We'll be able to leave them behind too. Assuming our pursuers aren't able to move as fast. We're moving almost half again as fast as the wind allows. Even the wind is special for our ship — it's like we're moving inside a gust, with the wind surrounding us noticeably weaker."
Staring at the closest quarissa, Ralph made the inevitable conclusion, "Socrates is also moving far too fast. Without a doubt, he has shtarkhs on board. Take a look: his sails aren't rigged for ordinary wind, but they're still working at full strength. This means that the shtarkhs have summoned a counter gust. And I can already see a wave."
"Then we can't flee them?" the prince's face darkened.
"Well, I wouldn't say that," Ralph replied mysteriously, feeling a chill in his chest but also being gradually filled with amazing and intoxicating excitement. "Sure, they have shtarkhs. But I'm the best!"
Alexander peered into Kingfisher's face.
"Are you planning something, Ralph?" the prince asked forcefully.
"I am, Alex! I am! We'll see who can do what!"
The thought that had come to Ralph was unexpected and, at the same time, incredibly simple. And it definitely wouldn't have occurred to a weak shtarkh. Maybe not even every strong shtrakh. It was just that Kingfisher had already run into a non-standard situation when he'd thought of the possibility of summoning the wind not from aboard a ship but from the island near the town of Amasra. Now he was once again thinking not like a shtarkh. But he still remained one.
Also, it was unlikely he would've reached the thought under normal circumstances. It was the danger that had spurred him on, the way trouble always spurred on brave and enterprising people. Ralph was wound up like a good fighter who'd suddenly found himself on the floor after a sudden blow.
All that was left was to see whether it was for good or ill.
"Captain!" he address Philsby. "Turn to starboard! Head straight for the land, as directly as possible! Alex! With your permission, I'm going to go get the cassat!"
"Land?" Philsby muttered in confusion. But…"
He broke off because there was no one to reply to him — Kingfisher had already run off.
All he could do was watch his rapidly departing back.
"What's going on, Captain?" Alexander asked sharply. "The shtarkh told you to turn starboard!"
"But it's land, Your Highness! If we speed up, we're going to run into a sandbank!"
The prince threw a hesitant look at the low shore that now seemed dangerously close. Then he sighed and spat out, "Give the order! And may St. Aurelius help us!"
With the look of a condemned man, Philsby gave the order, "Prepare to turn! Quickly, you slackers!"
The sailors immediately scattered to take their places and ran up the low sailyards. Thanks to the small number of sails and their low rigging, the Queen Svenja was ready to turn in only a minute.
"Starboard!"
Several minutes later, the brig, leaning slightly to port, slipped off the summoned wave and dashed off towards the shore. Her speed dropped slightly, but not significantly. In that time, Socrates's ships had managed to noticeably close the semicircle. Seeing that the Queen Svenja had decided to go to the shore, they all reduced their sails and slowed. At the same time, the brig was doing her best to speed up.
Naturally, Ralph and the cassat didn't return to the bridge, immediately dashing off to the prova… meaning the forecastle, to the bowsprit. There was barely enough time to call to the elements. His cassat friend could clearly feel the shtarkh's excitement, immediately falling into the necessary state.
Closing his eyes and raising his hands to the sky, Ralph began.