The Cruel Sea
The great blue brine of life rocked the Bonnie Marie once more. After our last adventure, which ended in wooden shrapnel and invading water, we found ourselves stuck in Australia. We thought the Marie would never tour again. After a few months, the Shipwright was finished with the repairs. We stood on the dock and watched the ship launch from the wooden ramps. The Captain says we are heading to New Guinea to pick up a shipment of sugar cane and then deliver it to the Brits in Southampton. We then board the vessel and load the supplies for the three-week voyage. I inhaled a large breath of salty ocean air, and felt the mist of the morning gently kiss my face. There was nevermore a feeling of peace than this for me. I never wanted more, then to just sail the ocean. I listened as the beaver wood creaked like the aching joints of an old wheelwright1. The ropes from the mast lay like a trigger-happy snake in the weeds. I picked up the rope and climbed the thirty-five-foot mast. As soon as I handed Crobbit the rope in the crow’s nest, I shimmied down the ladder all the way to the bottom.
“Ahoy!” I said. He caught the rope mid-air and slipped it through the ring atop the mast.
“Make sure it’s nice and tight Crobbit!” the Captain said.
“Will do cap’n!” James replied. He locked the knot, and climbed down the rope ladder.
The sun is at eye level on the east horizon. The seagulls are squawking above the ship, as the crew hoists the sails. Marie began driving onwards, as the wind above billowed the sailcloth.
My stomach was used to the obnoxious rocking of the Marie by now. Twelve years I have been a mate to the Marie and her crew. The time has went fairly quick, but I am unsure of the journey ahead. Something feels off about the path we are taking, but I wouldn’t dare challenge the Captains orders, so I pray for the best.
The evening draws near, like a veil of creeping darkness. The lanterns burn bright over the deck of the Marie. It’s the perfect setting for a pint of barley-bree. Crobbit, being a young man of many talents, began twiddling his fingers on an old accordion. He sings,
Some say the sea is the real black plague. But the sea to me holds a maiden quite vague. She wallops and waves, while singing her song. Trapping the seaman who tarry too long.
Crobbit nods to me, handing off the roll of songbird. I clear my throat and begin
to sing,
The tide has a way of luring the bold. It’s not just the young ones, but even the old. The beauty of her voice, it calls me tonight. It sounds so alluring; will I be all right?
We finished our pints and snuffed out the lanterns, as we unknowingly staggered our steps towards our hammocks below the deck.
The next day we arrived in Port Moresby, New Guinea, and began loading the sugar cane. Crobbit and I pack the small crates of sugar cane up the ramp, then down to the cargo hold. It was a rather large shipment, but the Captain believes the Marie will have no problem with the haul. He looks down from his poop deck and says,
“Not bad for a landlubbin greenhorn Crobbit. Keep up the good work.”
“Yes, cap’n,” Crobbit replies.
Crobbit is fresh to the sailing world, but has a lot of potential. Being just shy of 17, he yearns for the Captains approval. We hoist the anchor and set a course for England.
“Are you ready for the adventure Crobbit?” I ask.
“I’m as ready as a seadog with a treasure map,” he replies.
“The southern waters of Africa can be treacherous boy. If you don’t watch yourself, you may end up opening the door of Davy Jones’ Locker.”
He drew his cutlass to an imaginary opponent and sliced repeatedly through the air.
“Easy, greenhorn,” the Captain said.
“Sorry Cap’n. Won’t happen again,” replied Crobbit.
“Batten down the hatches and furl the mainsail. A storm’s a brewin.”
“Aye Cap’n!”
Crobbit climbed to the top and wrapped the sail tightly, while I tied the hatch-tarp. The wind began to pick up and the dark clouds billowed towards us. Soon the peaceful stride of the Marie will be a memory.
The waves were as strong as the stone walls of a castle. The Marie was thrashing around. Each crewman snagged up a rope, and tied it around their wastes. The raindrops, hard like pebbles for a stoning, kept me from keeping my eyes open. I clung to the railing of the Marie and hoped for the storm to fade. The intense pressure of the wind, kept the mast creaking like an un-oiled door.
“Thank Neptune for the strength of the Marie, boys,” yelled the Captain.
Crobbit is hanging off the other side of the ship by his rope. I let go of the railing and lean with the rocking vessel, taking each step very carefully, but in a quick manner. I stabilize myself on his rope, and begin to pull him up.
“Ahoy! Somebody give me a hand!” I said.
Two of the others from the crew slipped and wobbled their way to Crobbit’s rope. We pulled with all our might, as the Captain yelled,
“Heave, ho! Heave, ho!”
Crobbit grabbed the railing and pulled himself up, but the storm wasn’t over yet. We heard a crack that sounded like thunder, and felt the shards of wood rain on our heads. The wind finally broke the mast, which was hanging from the ropes around it. It was nearly 10 ft. above our heads. As soon as we noticed, we dove out of the way and went for cover. The boat was still trashing about. I looked up towards the ropes and noticed the knot at the top of the broken mast. It was coming undone with each movement of the ship. The mast swung out from the ship, nearly capsizing us, and then gravity took its toll. The giant beaver wood mast crashed back into its other half with great force. The knot let loose and dropped the mast onto the deck, instantly crushing the crew members who helped me pull Crobbit from his death. The water rushing across the deck carried their limp and lifeless bodies over the side of the boat.
“Men overboard!” said the Captain.
The safety ropes held the men tight to the side of the boat. As the boat leaned to the other side, the mast rolled over the railing, off the side of the Marie, and snapped the ropes. The intense weight of the mast yanked the boat to one side. The Marie quickly leaned the opposite way, but she overcorrected and capsized herself. The boat is rapidly sinking towards the seafloor because of all the extra weight on board. Under the water, I could see the Captain and crew drawing their knives and cutlasses, and cutting the ropes that tied them to the Marie. I did the same but couldn’t find Crobbit. We resurfaced and hugged some floating barrels. An hour has passed and the storm begins to calm. To the west we notice a flag flying vessel, The HMS Prince George. They notice the wreckage and come to our aid.
We board the Prince George and notice that Crobbit is aboard the vessel. Our Captain follows the HMS Captain into his quarters. I fear the conversation and its conclusion. Crobbit tells me he was sucked into the water and had nothing to hold on to. He lost sight of us and drifted into the path of the Prince George. He seems overjoyed by finding us, but also oblivious to the severity of the situation. Two men are dead and the Marie is lost forever.
The Captains finally return to the deck of the vessel and call all passengers attention.
“Cieze him men,” said the Captain.
“Cap’n?” Crobbit replies.
“We lost two men and a ship due to your mistake.”
The crew stood in silence.
“But Cap’n, I would never hurt the crew or the Marie. I would have given my life for them.”
“You will.” The Captain pointed with his cutlass towards port side, as a crew member set out the plank.
“Your mistake has cost us dearly Crobbit. The knot you tied on the mast did not hold.”
“I’m sorry Cap’n! It won’t happen again, I swear to Poseidon!”
“Save your breath Crobbit.” The Captain shifted his sword to the first mate and I.
We tied Crobbits hands and walked him to the plank. The Captain took over from here. He stuck his blade into Crobbits back and said,
“Say your prayers laddie.”
He inched towards the edge of the board as the Captain closely followed. The Captain stomped the center of the plank and Crobbit lost his balance. Down into the water he went. We watched as he kicked and struggled. He disappeared into the darkness of the deep. I look at the horizon and take a deep breath. My heart is hardened to the world around, but this pain is deeper than my chest can bear. No more will I ignore the cruelty of the sea. The very sight of the ocean makes me sick.
The Prince George carries us back to Australia. The Captain rents the Inn for the crew tonight, but I have made up my mind. I will disappear in the dark of the night and say goodbye to the cruel sea forever.
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