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.
Note: Footnotes can be found at the end of the chapter.
Chapter 11
Ralph Kingfisher, the waters, summer of 864
The sunset sky was hanging over Amasra. It was still bright, but it was now possible to look at the sun without much difficulty.
Ralph, Alexander, and Freemer were sitting at the edge of the breakwater that had been eroded by the sea, looking out at the cape from beyond which the Khadjibey and the Dolphin were supposed to arrive around noon the following day. The cassat was lying nearby on the sun-heated stones. Some distance away, both soldiers with muskets in their hands were resting near a large chest. The chest was empty, but the soldiers didn't know that. Ralph and Alexander had grabbed it from one of the houses on the same street where they'd found the cryptograph.
Almea Socrates and her bodyguards were located a little farther away. Ralph had caught her quick glances several times. It seemed the chest was of interest to her. Then again, who wouldn't be interested in such an object that had been obtained under these circumstances? Plus women were curious by nature.
"I don't like it here," Freemer grumbled for the umpteenth time. "I get the chills every time I think about those things in black clothes. And it's going to be night soon…"
"They did help us," Alexander reminded him. "At least one of them."
Freemer lowered his voice, "Still, the ships will only come to get us tomorrow. We need to find someplace to spend the night. And it would be great to get some rest, even if we take turns. Alexander, do you intend to keep sitting on this breakwater?"
"I needed to think, Uncle."
"You can think at the place we find for the night."
"And expose it ahead of time? Calm down, Uncle, I know where we'll be spending the night. Ralph, come with me! Do you still have your knife?"
"Of course!"
"Excellent. We'll be back soon, Uncle."
Alexander leapt to his feet and, jumping nimbly on the round concrete blocks, reached the railing, climbed on top of it, and came down onto the dock of the inner bay. Kingfisher could only follow.
"We'll be back soon," he told the cassat, only then realizing that he'd repeated the prince's words.
The cassat didn't move, only shifting his ear slightly. Of course, he was letting his friend go on strange human business, and, of course, he would be waiting for him in this spot, for as long as it took. Even an eternity.
There were rusted remains of some ancient mechanism on the dock. Even old and time-worn it instilled respect, just like the manmade breakwater consisting of concrete blocks placed along the shore. Man truly had been the king of nature before the catastrophe, able to turn it to his use so easily. On the other hand, had that been the reason for his terrible punishment?
"What are you thinking, Alex?" Ralph inquired, catching up to the prince.
"We need to find a boat."
"A boat?" Kingfisher threw a glance at the pitiful remains of fishing boats rotting away on the sand not far from where Amasra's mysterious skeletons had fought Almea Socrates's bodyguards. "Please, these aren't boats, it's firewood! They're completely rotten!"
"See that dome over there? What do you think it is?"
Ralph looked. There were indeed structures of some kind about fifty paces from the shoreline.
"How should I know?" he shrugged.
"Do the rails that lead to it tell you anything?"
Ralph looked closer. There were still intact metal rails stretching from the structures to the water, suitable for launching a slip cart on.
"You're right," Ralph muttered. "You're incredibly perceptive, Alex. But I doubt any boat is still in any condition to sail even under the roof. Sadly, wood doesn't last long."
"Sailing… Who's talking about sailing? All we need is to get out of the bay, go around the breakwater, and paddle over to the small island across from the eastern cape."
"Island?"
"It's the safest way to spend the night I can think of," Alexsander gave him a sly wink. "Staying in the town overnight is a really bad idea. But the island is another matter. A ship can't dock there, and even in a boat it wouldn't be easy. If anything happens, we'll be able to prepare for any uninvited guests.
"If the wind and the waves pick up at night," Ralph drawled skeptically, "we might get stuck on the island. Even a mild waves would slam any boat against the rocks. I don't think it can survive that."
Alexander smiled slyly, "The wind… Do we really need to fear the wind in the company of a wind charmer?"
Kingfisher froze mid-step. The prince's thought was so simple and unexpected that it had never crossed Ralph's mind. Shtarkhs only call to the elements aboard ships in the waters, which was self-evident and never questioned. Indeed, who would need to summon the wind while ashore? It was easy to hide from the wind on land, unlike in the waters.
Then again, such a small island could easily be seen as a ship… A ship that had run aground.
"Did I say something wrong?" Alexander frowned, seeing Ralph's confusion.
"No," Kingfisher shook his head. Nothing wrong. Unexpected, yes. I, and the other shtarkhs too, have never had to call to the elements while on land. The same way sailors don't have to change tack on a docked ship. Your idea… your idea is simply beyond the limits of my imagination."
"But that doesn't make it impossible, does it?"
"I don't know," Ralph answered honestly. "I have no idea if the cassat will help me if I try to call to the elements while on land. I don't know if the elements will answer even if they hear my call. I don't know because I've never tried it before."
Alex smiled wryly, "Well then… I guess we'll be the pioneers. I trust you're willing to give it a try."
"If necessary. If not, then we don't bother the elements even in the heart of the waters."
"Excellent," the prince summarized. "Let's go."
They hobbled over to the rails with their feet sinking into the sand. Then the walked along the rails. The large structure covered by a semicircular dome looked like half of a cylinder turned horizontally with the end facing the water. They could make out a gate in the end with the rails diving under it. The material the gate and the walls were made of looked like thinly rolled iron, once silver and now covered entirely in rust. After looking around, for some reason, Alexander kicked the gate.
The result was not encouraging, as his boot went through the iron with a crunch. The iron turned out to be as rotten as the boats on the shore. There was now a hole in the gate, large enough for a man to crawl through. But Alexander didn't seem to want to get down on all fours, so he kicked the structure again, at the wall this time.
The wall collapsed, falling apart into small debris. The corner of the hangar sagged and fell apart, while the roof was hanging precariously over the people.
"By St. Aurelius!" Alexander exhaled, jumping back.
Ralph also decided not to wait to be crushed to death and took several steps back.
The building sagged a little more, but only slightly, with crunching and grating sounds. And without any fatal consequences, with rusty dust falling and hand-sized pieces of metal falling off.
Soon everything calmed down.
"Yeah," Ralph looked dubiously inside the hangar. "I'm afraid to go inside. The whole thing might collapse."
Alexander looked as well.
"Difficult to say. Look, there are support beams along the walls. Everywhere, along the entire perimeter, except the front wall. Maybe that's why it collapsed."
Ralph could only shrug.
"I'll try to kick it from other sides!" the prince stated decisively and started walking around the ill-fated structure on the right.
Either it was indeed thanks to the support beams or because the hangar had already sagged as much as it could, the further kicking of the walls with boots didn't lead to any catastrophic results. Only rust kept falling off, and the iron groaned sadly. The roof no longer tried to dive onto their heads, and walls weren't falling apart.
"All right," Alexander said, walking around the hangar and returning to the starting point. "At least it's a little brighter inside. Don't you agree?"
Ralph laughed, "I swear, it's highly valuable quality to always see the silver lining."
"Perhaps. Well then? Shall we enter?" Alexander gave his companion a careful look. It seemed he thought that shtarkhs roamed the ruins on a daily basis.
"We shall," Ralph agreed. "After all, if walls can be kicked through, then why can't the ceiling break over our heads?"
Now it was the prince's turn to laugh.
Hesitation and confusion were more easily masked with laughter. Ralph did fear a few things in life, and even though he didn't consider roaming the ruins to be the most dangerous task in the world, he also wasn't known for being reckless. Ralph wondered what it was like for Alexander, who'd up until recently spent years sitting in the tower of his father's castle and knew almost nothing about the outside world. Probably not great.
They carefully climbed under the torn edge of the sagging roof and entered the hangar. Ralph realized right away sailors had once been here. Several thin sheglas with very short sailyards were lying along the walls, and three streamlined hulls were sitting in the far corner. They were clearly ancient fishing ships. Suz Hartwig of Kerkinitis and Serhan Gunuc of Pantikapaion [Footnote 1], a shipwright known among the Euxine sailors, possessed plenty of marvelous colorful paintings portraying the seafarers of the past and their vessels.
A fourth such ship maybe seven or eight paces in length was standing on a slip cart that had been standing on the rails all these years after the catastrophe. Special metal boots with handles had been placed under the front wheels of the cart. The ship's hull wasn't made of wood but of an unknown ancient material, one that was light, strong, and durable, which might have even survived for centuries unharmed. Or not, as Taurican sailors often found such vessels on the northern shores of the Euxine and especially up the Borysthenes and Hypanis [Footnote 2]. Some could even still float, as a few tried to throw them into the water out of curiosity. But no one could adapt such vessels for sailing the Euxine, as the familiar wooden ships of local manufacture invariably proved themselves to be far more comfortable and reliable.
"Whoa!" the prince stared at the small ship with undisguised interest. "I think we've finally gotten lucky!"
Ralph wasn't yet prepared to share his enthusiasm. The ship could easily turn out to be full of holes.
Or maybe not. There was only one way to test that.
"Let's not celebrate just yet, Alex. Why don't we try to free the path for the cart? You haven't broken the gate completely."
"Good idea! I assume that trial and error is the only way to reveal the seagoing qualities of this… what do we call it?"
"Whatever you want. How about a scow?"
"Agreed. Let's call it a scow! Let's get working."
With utterly unaristocratic industriousness Alexander started tearing through the gate with the method of the already-proven boot. Ralph was doing his best to help. The rusted iron wasn't giving in eagerly, but they did eventually manage to destroy the entire gate, and now the front wall of the hangar was gaping with a fairly wide opening. The roof was swaying and squeaking dangerously but didn't seem to be about to fall.
The prince and shtarkh kept glancing up at it while working, so as to have time to run away if it fell. Neither of them wanted to be buried in the rubble.
"Excellent! I think now it will pass."
Ralph removed the boots from the wheels.
"Let's push!"
I hope the wheels aren't rusted! Ralph thought hopefully.
The wheels were a little rusted, but Alexander and Ralph still managed to get them moving.
Reluctantly, with squeaking and grating noises, the wheels started turning.
It was good that the rails were at a downward angle. It was unlikely that two men would be capable of pushing the cart with its cargo in the opposite direction.
They got soaked after entering the sea up to the waist, but they did manage to push the scow off the cart and into the water. Ralph, who'd thrown a metal cable (rusted, of course) onto the small bollard on the pupa beforehand, held the scow, not allowing it to float away.
"Alex!" he addressed the prince. "Hold it! I'll look for something like a paddle."
What he ended up finding several minutes later had probably once been a wooden shovel, but it would do for a paddle. Then again, after seeing how high the side of the scow was, Ralph thought that the handle might be a little short.
He turned out to be right, but they weren't exactly planning on taking part in a rowing competition, and the island wasn't far away.
They only managed to get into the scow after standing on the cart that was underwater.
"Well? To the pier first? And then we can see if this tub holds water," Alexander said, smiling with a pleased look.
"Alex, it's not a good idea to insult a ship you're about to entrust your fate to."
"Hmm…" the prince frowned. "You're right, Ralph! I shouldn't have said that."
He patted the scow's dirty-gray deck, "Sorry, mate! I wasn't trying to insult you."
The prince was genuine when talking to the ship, and that didn't seem ridiculous to Kingfisher. He'd realized long ago that one didn't mess with the sea.
Not even a little.
Paddling to the pier took only five minutes. Sweltering summer twilight was coming, and it would be good to get to the island before dark. As soon as the scow pressed its side against the rough edge of the pier, one of the soldiers secured the barmic, while Ralph went to see how much water the scow had taken on during its first minutes afloat. The hatch was closed, but Ralph was able to easily kick it open. The method of the all-conquering boot seemed to be working well today.
To Ralph's surprise, the scow hadn't taken on any water at all. It was entirely dry under the withered dunnage, like on a rock on a summer noon with a clear sky.
What do you know? Kingfisher thought, shaking his head. I guess we'll see how it goes…
He put the dunnage back and looked around. The cabin was, to put it mildly, cramped but fairly cozy, even without ignoring the years of abandonment. Lost of dust, of course, and the soft flat pillows covering the surfaces over the dunnage were noticeably shabby, but, back in the day, it was a comfortable and "proper" room. Five people could've easily spent the night here, six if he counted the passage. Ralph decided not to take a more thorough look. Daylight was fading, which is why they needed to hurry.
"She'll do!" he announced loudly after sticking out from the hatch. "All aboard!"
The soldiers immediately picked up the chest by the formerly gilded handles. Captain Freemer gave them a commanding wave, and they quickly stuffed the chest into the bow part of the cabin.
The cassat, who had spent this time basking in the last rays of the sun, finally deigned to look at the strange vessel his shtrakh friend had brought to the pier. He lazily jumped down onto the prova and started pacing between the strange curved leer on the bow. There was no parapet there, only wire leers stretching along the perimeter.
"Umm…" Freemer drawled quietly. "We should probably grab the lady too. The local skeletons don't seem to like her and her bodyguards much, as we've seen."
"Of course we will," Alexander nodded. "I'll go!"
He nimbly leapt from the pupa to edge of the pier.
They managed to get to the island without an incident; the night turned out to be quiet and moonlit. They even got some sleep, taking turns. During his watch, Ralph seemed to pick up some sort of movement on the shore, but there were no fires or noise. The dim light of the moon interfered rather than helped him get a good look at what was happening, but, thank the heavens, no one tried to get to the island or start a witches' sabbath in the city. As for the movement, it was gone by morning. To be honest, he didn't even want to know who it had been.
Summer nights were short; the predawn grey snuck up unexpectedly.
It was Ralph's second watch, this time with one of the soldiers. As it turned out, the soldier's name was Justin. He spent his entire watch nodding off while sitting on the chest, but he wasn't asleep, as every time Ralph called him quietly, Justin would look up right away. Not jerkily, as if waking up, but leisurely and evenly, and his gaze always remained clear. Justin also kept ahold of his musket, pressing its butt into the stone between his boots. Had he fallen asleep, he'd have dropped it for sure.
Almea and her gloomy highlanders were set up apart from them. One of the highlanders also didn't sleep and sat there with his back hunched and his legs crossed.
The night went by well. Although Freemer looked displeased after waking up and kept grunting. Sleeping on rocks, even ones that were still warm from the previous day's sun, wasn't a pleasant task. Alex also didn't look happy but didn't complain either.
The scow was swaying evenly on the lazy waves right where they'd left it.
Ralph climbed aboard and checked for leaks again, finding none.
He clicked his tongue in amazement, giving the ancient shipwrights their due. He also carefully examined the remains of the rigging on the fashta to see where the shegla was attached, where stays and shrouds where secured. He would later ask himself multiple times why he'd done that and what he'd been hoping for.
The Khadjibey and the Dolphin failed to arrive at noon. Or in the afternoon. Everyone, including the soldiers, kept staring at the cape where they were supposed to come from. Freemer's face kept getting gloomier, and confusion kept growing in Alexander's eyes. But Ralph didn't miss a barely noticeable triumphant smile on Almea Socrates's lips, one she did her best to hide if someone was looking in her direction.
Conversation died down. In all that time, he managed to exchange a few words with Freemer and a dozen with Alexander. In order to distract himself, Ralph called out to a soldier—Justin again—and went to the hangar to take a look at sheglas.
He wanted to take one apart and figure out where everything was supposed to go. To cut out an elbow for the timon, which was old, withered, and useful only for one more trip to the island.
Based on the masts, the scow they'd found had a Bermuda rig. But he didn't find any sails in the hangar, and if he had, they'd have been rags. The hull of the scow had survived the centuries relatively intact, but there's no way the sails could have. The same went for the lines. The rusted metal cables were only good for holding up the mast.
Because Kingfisher was doing something, time flew by faster for him. But Alexander and Freemer were tired of waiting by the fourth hour. Due to the nervous wait, no one asked themselves what Almea Socrates, who was claiming to have escaped her dad, was waiting for.
Then a dinghy slowly appeared from behind the cape. There were six people in it, but only one of them was rowing and with a single oar. He was doing it like a gondolier. As if in a trance, Alexander and the captain headed for the edge of the dock, where the pier ended and turned into breakwater. Ralph dropped the rigging and went there, but at a run since he still had to get around most of the bay. He didn't even turn to Justin, who could do nothing but grab his musket and run after him.
They reached the edge of the pier just in time. The dinghy reached it, and Khadjibey's bosun Dogfish tossed a line to the stonefaced Freemer without a word.
Six men climbed out of the dinghy; one, who couldn't get to the pier on his own, had to be carried out. Ishmael Judah, the only man with a sword, wearing torn and bloodied clothes, stepped forward and stood before Alexander and Freemer.
"Your Highness! My captain!" he reported in the dry voice of a man who hadn't had a sip to drink in at least a day. "We were attacked. We fought to the last, but they outnumbered us three to one. Everyone fought: both our soldiers and the sailors of Khadjibey and Dolphin. No one on the Dolphin survived. Everyone you see here was disarmed, tired up, and thrown into the hold of one of the attacking ships. Fortunately, one of us managed to hide a knife in his shoe. We waited for nightfall, cut down three of the guards, took their weapons, stole a boat, and fled. All we have is a single sword and two knives. We spent the entire day rowing along the shore, ready to dock and hide from pursuit at any moment, but, strangely enough, they didn't pursue us. This… This is it, Your Highness, my captain. And, for the love of all that is holy, please give me some water…"
Looking at these exhausted and wounded men, it would be difficult to call Ishmael Judah's tale a lie.
Captain Freemer, gloomier than a storm cloud, was playing with his jaw muscles.
"Who was it?" he asked finally.
"The sailors say they were the Galitan thugs of Nazim Socrates. We were intercepted by five ships. Socrates had hoped to capture you and Prince Alexander and was furious when you and Your Highness weren't aboard."
Something made Ralph turn around, and he saw Almea Socrates standing five paces behind him. She'd undoubtedly heard everything. Fury was burning in her eyes, and she was beautiful when angry, even more beautiful than usual.
Footnotes
1) Pantikapaion was an ancient Greek city on the eastern shore of Crimea at the site of the modern-day city of Kerch.
2) Borysthenes and Hypanis were ancient Greek names for the Dnipro and Southern Buh rivers, respectively.