Bruno sat sullenly in the tiny boat, gripping one of the oars and threatened to crush it with the force of his resentment. Matthews sweat soaked shirt stuck to his back as he balanced inside the sway of the vassal and extended his hand up towards Ruby as she clambered down the slimy rope ladder. Her hand shook as she took his and gave a grim smile, her eyes flicking between the hostile glares of the other two crew members.
Bruno and Pietro began pulling long strokes with their huge shoulders as soon as the pair settled into place. Ruby had opted to hitch her skirt high and leave her shoes behind and sat uncertainly in the middle of the boat as the water sloshed about her.
“Pat the fish won’t you Bruno!”
“Make sure you name one after me!”
“Give one a kiss Pietro!”
The mocking cries of their shipmates followed them as they sped toward the small rocky outcrop; the only indication there was a coral reef lurking below.
Brunos dark face imploded with further anger as the jeers reached his ears. He expended his emotions on getting the small boat away from the ship as fast as he could; wishing with every stroke he was aboard lighting the fuses to the home-made bombs Calisto had spent all night preparing.
The teasing shouts soon turned to delighted whoops as the first one exploded. Peitro and Bruno exchanged a wistful look as they imagined the others collecting the floating fish and preparing them for drying and salting on deck.
Bruno grunted. “Saves us having fish guts in our fingernails.”
“Might have been an improvement on your smell”
Bruno put the oar down and launched a misaimed kick at Pietro, his mood darkening again.
“If you don’t mind, I am sure the Captain wants us back in one piece.”
Mathew glared at both rowers. Ruby clutched the sides of the boat as it rocked and fearfully looked at the water lapping about the edges.
“Not much further now signora.” Matthew patted her tense hand.
Although not perfectly flat, the tiny ripples on the surface only intensified the beauty of the wonders which began to rise up underneath them.
“Let us float about here, but not too close to the rocks over there Bruno.”
Bruno grunted again and kept the oar dipped in the water, waving it slightly to shuffle them about.
Matthew brushed his hand down Rubys arm and attempted to free the fingers still gripped to the side of the boat. “Lean over and watch the fish. You promised the Captain you’d write about it.”
Rubys ashen face peered hesitantly over the side, the sheen of fear begotten sweat beading with that of the heat.
She marveled at the spiky coral, waving tendrils of seaweeds, fish peeping in and out and began to relax with the rhythmic bobbing of the boat.
“Its beautiful. I would never have imagined.”
“You can swim can’t you Signora?”
“In streams and small ponds, but never anywhere as vast as this. I fear I will be swallowed up.”
“Never a truer word spoken Singora." Bruno Nodded, "Tis Godless to be swimming. We were never meant to.”
“In that case.” Matthew stripped off his shirt and slid into the clear waters, grinning at the shocked faces of Bruno and Pietro.
He lifted a dripping hand towards Rubys chalky face. “Come on in – you’ll see the fish and the coral much better from here.”
Ruby looked at the stormy face of Bruno and the incredulous look Peitro gave her and then down at her dress.
“Its not like I aint seen it before”. Bruno sniffed. “I’ll turn me head if you want to act all prissy. Once you’re in the water no-one can see anything anyway.” Bruno slapped Peitro and they both turned toward the ship.
Ruby looked down at Matthew; terrified and entranced.
“Jump! Come in and see the fish in their world. ….I won’t look either” as he turned about.
Ruby looked at the back of Brunos head towards the ship.
“I doubt the captain has his spy glass lookin at you if that’s what you’re thinking.” Hawking again Bruno spat as far as he could into the distance between them.
She flung her dress off , closed her eyes, took a deep breath and jumped. After the initial shock of the temperature of the water, she giggled with delight as she luxuriated with the freedom of the buoyant water about her naked body.
“Ruby, over here!” Matthew sprayed droplets of water as his arm raised out of the water gesturing wildly.
They watched a large school of fish thread their way around the coloured coral.
“Thank you Matthew, this is a truly a gift from the goddess herself.”
A deep boom reverberated inside their chests as it pulsed through the water.
“I’m glad I’m not in the water closer to the ship. Poor fish. They’ll have killed a lot with that one.”
Indiscriminate shouts rose from the ships direction.
Another boom shattered the scene.
A flurry of oars as Bruno kicked Pietro awake. “Get into the boat we have to get back to the ship, its under attack.”
Matthews tall, lean figure slid easily into the boat. Bruno plucked Ruby out of the water with one arm and set her unceremoniously into the boat. She shook with both fear and the cold as a slight wind wove lazily around her. “Attack? By what?”
Brunos face set into a grim line as he pulled the oars in quick succession.
“Pirates.”
Friday, 26 June 2009
Sunday, 21 June 2009
The Fishing ....Trip Part 2
Labels:
Captain Juan,
Father Paolo/Matthew,
Peitro,
Pete,
Ruby
Juan looked sternly at Ruby and Matthew. “I’m afraid I don’t like it. The danger of you being cast accidentally adrift, so far from the ship. Its lunacy.”
Ruby shook her head slightly, remembering at the last moment she no longer had long locks to flick about. Instead she tried a different tact. “Please Juan. I’ll write about it. I’ll write everything I see. Give me a chance to find something I can get excited about.”
Matthews low, soothing voice cut in over her pleading. “The ships been becalmed for days. Not so much as a whiff of breeze to shift her more than a foot. Its no more than a five min row out. With the sea as it is, we could hear you whisper across the water, much less if you shouted for us to return.”
Rubys small upturned face, populated with genuine interest warmed Juans heart. Perhaps she needed to find some sort of beauty or passion in order for her to continue with her learning.
“The sails aren’t even out and you’ve got the sea anchor setting us in place. What could go wrong?”
Juan winced inwardly at her words. Bad luck and ill winds seemed to attached themselves to him ever since they had crossed paths. He thought again of the old superstitions pertaining women and the sea.
“Beggin’ your pardon Cap’n. We are all set to go with the fishing.” Pete had slipped quietly into the small huddle.
The busy hum of activity had stopped. Ropes had been fed into coils awaiting their journey into the sea, nets spread evenly into easily thrown shapes, knives sharpened and honed. A quiet creak of La Gongozzler matched the slight sway of movement as it sat on the dead still sea.
Ruby straightened and drew herself to a stately carriage. “I’ll not beg. I’m asking you Captain Juan. As a marooned guest upon this ship, I wish to see the wondered of a coral reef and take full responsibility for my safety.”
Against his better judgment he nodded reluctantly and turned his head slightly toward Pete. “Prepare the davit”. Pete ducked his head, glanced up at Ruby and Matthew and scrambled back down the companionway.
“Take Peitro and Bruno with you. Even if a freak wind stirs up or an unlikely swell shifts us in the next hour, their strength will row you back in no time. Best go before Calisto unleashes his pots.”
Ruby shook her head slightly, remembering at the last moment she no longer had long locks to flick about. Instead she tried a different tact. “Please Juan. I’ll write about it. I’ll write everything I see. Give me a chance to find something I can get excited about.”
Matthews low, soothing voice cut in over her pleading. “The ships been becalmed for days. Not so much as a whiff of breeze to shift her more than a foot. Its no more than a five min row out. With the sea as it is, we could hear you whisper across the water, much less if you shouted for us to return.”
Rubys small upturned face, populated with genuine interest warmed Juans heart. Perhaps she needed to find some sort of beauty or passion in order for her to continue with her learning.
“The sails aren’t even out and you’ve got the sea anchor setting us in place. What could go wrong?”
Juan winced inwardly at her words. Bad luck and ill winds seemed to attached themselves to him ever since they had crossed paths. He thought again of the old superstitions pertaining women and the sea.
“Beggin’ your pardon Cap’n. We are all set to go with the fishing.” Pete had slipped quietly into the small huddle.
The busy hum of activity had stopped. Ropes had been fed into coils awaiting their journey into the sea, nets spread evenly into easily thrown shapes, knives sharpened and honed. A quiet creak of La Gongozzler matched the slight sway of movement as it sat on the dead still sea.
Ruby straightened and drew herself to a stately carriage. “I’ll not beg. I’m asking you Captain Juan. As a marooned guest upon this ship, I wish to see the wondered of a coral reef and take full responsibility for my safety.”
Against his better judgment he nodded reluctantly and turned his head slightly toward Pete. “Prepare the davit”. Pete ducked his head, glanced up at Ruby and Matthew and scrambled back down the companionway.
“Take Peitro and Bruno with you. Even if a freak wind stirs up or an unlikely swell shifts us in the next hour, their strength will row you back in no time. Best go before Calisto unleashes his pots.”
Thursday, 18 June 2009
The Fishing Trip ..Part 1
Labels:
Calisto,
Calvin,
Captain Juan,
Father Paolo/Matthew,
Fielden,
Pete,
Ruby
Calisto absentmindedly fingered his frayed “lucky” fuse as his keen eyes cast their final look over the fishing bombs he’d been busy constructing all night. The squat pottery bottles stopped with bees wax sat forlornly awaiting their watery fate.
Nodding again with satisfaction, he closed the lid to his supply of Salt of Petra – a secret mixture which included naturally occurring potassium nitrate and the refined finishing from niter-beds. He double checked the secure fastenings of each box before closing the cupboard door and latching it against the rhythmic roll of the sea.
Bruno had granted him a small corner cupboard and constructed bench space away from where the rest of the men slept in their hammocks; mainly due to their nervousness toward the myriad of foul smelling ingredients he kept to produce the various explosives he created.
Pressing his upper lip onto his gaped yellowing teeth, he gave a sharp whistle. “Eh Boy. I’ m ready.”
Calvins eager face appeared moments afterward. The lad held his arms out to assist carrying the pottery jars onto deck and chattered incessantly about how careful he would be holding them.
The crew leant against balistrad and masts, picking either their teeth or fingernails with daggers. The heavy hot air was stifling and difficult to breathe after even the most minor physical exertion. Many of the crew had striped away their shirts and signs of sunburn were beginning to show on the whitened chests. Jagged scar wounds, puckered and fierce, marked each man as seasoned participants in the many scuffles the crew from La Gongozzler had experienced.
Juan stood squinting into the flat horizon, his arms behind him and hands tapping together agitatedly. His pure white linen shirt, loosely threaded to the throat, hung in dampened, but not dirty, folds around his muscled torso. His dark thick hair lay in its natural waves, if not shorter than currently popular; dampened too by the heat wave which becalmed the ship. His brow wrinkled slightly as he strained to see.
Pete handed him a spyglass. “I saw it too. But, wasn’t sure.”
Juan scanned the horizon again to where he had seen a shape or a shadow and shook his head. “Nothing. I think the heat and all this waiting around has driven us all mad.”
Bare feet shuffling uncomfortably behind him, caused Juan to reluctantly put the spy glass down.
“Beggin’ your pardon Captain. I’m ready”
Juan gracefully turned about slowly; as if in a dance and allowed the first smile he’d born for days to spread across his face.
“Thank you Calisto. We all look forward to the diversion.” He nodded at Pete who scrambled waving his arms about as he shouted orders.
“Look lively, you men with the hooks. We’ll need some nets over here as well. Garcia, get more pots from Pablo. Fielden is your group ready with those gutting knives?”
“Ey Pete.” Fielden flicked his knife into the air and caught it deftly, spinning it about his hands seemingly absentmindedly, but grinning at the jealous looks he received.
Ruby fluttered an ancient fan and frowned at Matthews questioning look.
“I’m trying to do as the Captain has asked and take on a more feminine role.”
She leant over the railings on the quaterdeck and peered down at the rest of the crew.
“What exactly are they planning to do? I’ve never seen fishing with pots before.”
His elbow touched hers as bent closer to her. “Its pretty crude, extremely noisy and involves no fishing tackle. Petes had the men throw burly around the ship now for hours to lure fish in. They’ll just throw in the explosives and up float the fish; half dead, stunned or partially cooked. Pete has teams ready to scoop up the fish and those who will gut and clean them ready to preserve and cook them.”
Matthew misunderstood Rubys shocked face as an unspoken further question. “The blast causes shockwaves underwater. Any fish nearby will have its innards explode or stun them. Some of them float , but most of them sink to the sea floor. We’ve used this in the past to clear coral reefs we have had near run ins both on the Mediterranean ………and when we sailed in another places.”
“Coral?”
“Sea gardens – under the water – truly a beautiful spectre to behold. Colours and shapes like you’ve never seen, fish darting about, all curious about you being in their space.”
I’ve never heard of coral before.
“As hard as stone and if you get cut with it as dangerous as a kiss from death. It’ll cut a ships keel like knives and sink you quicker than being in he grips of a sea monster. The Mediterranean is not a particularly deep sea. There are outcrops where islands used to be or simply put there by the god of the sea to wreck ships. See that splashing out beyond?”
She nodded
“That would be a reef for certain.”
“I’d love to see it. You’ve seen it.”
Matthews face wrinkled as he smiled and nodded..
She stopped fluttering her ineffectual fan and turned to him. “Take me out to the reef. I want to see it.”
Matthew watched the teams of men preparing for the fishing haul. “Well – the ships not going anywhere soon, we’ve laid a sea anchor. We’d have ask the Captain. It may not seem any distance, but once away from the ship there’s the danger of drifting, of being lost.”
Her eyes sparkled with an intensity he’d not seen for weeks. “What could possibly go wrong Matthew? Let go , now. Before they start I don’t think I could bear to see those poor fish flopping about helplessly.”
Nodding again with satisfaction, he closed the lid to his supply of Salt of Petra – a secret mixture which included naturally occurring potassium nitrate and the refined finishing from niter-beds. He double checked the secure fastenings of each box before closing the cupboard door and latching it against the rhythmic roll of the sea.
Bruno had granted him a small corner cupboard and constructed bench space away from where the rest of the men slept in their hammocks; mainly due to their nervousness toward the myriad of foul smelling ingredients he kept to produce the various explosives he created.
Pressing his upper lip onto his gaped yellowing teeth, he gave a sharp whistle. “Eh Boy. I’ m ready.”
Calvins eager face appeared moments afterward. The lad held his arms out to assist carrying the pottery jars onto deck and chattered incessantly about how careful he would be holding them.
The crew leant against balistrad and masts, picking either their teeth or fingernails with daggers. The heavy hot air was stifling and difficult to breathe after even the most minor physical exertion. Many of the crew had striped away their shirts and signs of sunburn were beginning to show on the whitened chests. Jagged scar wounds, puckered and fierce, marked each man as seasoned participants in the many scuffles the crew from La Gongozzler had experienced.
Juan stood squinting into the flat horizon, his arms behind him and hands tapping together agitatedly. His pure white linen shirt, loosely threaded to the throat, hung in dampened, but not dirty, folds around his muscled torso. His dark thick hair lay in its natural waves, if not shorter than currently popular; dampened too by the heat wave which becalmed the ship. His brow wrinkled slightly as he strained to see.
Pete handed him a spyglass. “I saw it too. But, wasn’t sure.”
Juan scanned the horizon again to where he had seen a shape or a shadow and shook his head. “Nothing. I think the heat and all this waiting around has driven us all mad.”
Bare feet shuffling uncomfortably behind him, caused Juan to reluctantly put the spy glass down.
“Beggin’ your pardon Captain. I’m ready”
Juan gracefully turned about slowly; as if in a dance and allowed the first smile he’d born for days to spread across his face.
“Thank you Calisto. We all look forward to the diversion.” He nodded at Pete who scrambled waving his arms about as he shouted orders.
“Look lively, you men with the hooks. We’ll need some nets over here as well. Garcia, get more pots from Pablo. Fielden is your group ready with those gutting knives?”
“Ey Pete.” Fielden flicked his knife into the air and caught it deftly, spinning it about his hands seemingly absentmindedly, but grinning at the jealous looks he received.
Ruby fluttered an ancient fan and frowned at Matthews questioning look.
“I’m trying to do as the Captain has asked and take on a more feminine role.”
She leant over the railings on the quaterdeck and peered down at the rest of the crew.
“What exactly are they planning to do? I’ve never seen fishing with pots before.”
His elbow touched hers as bent closer to her. “Its pretty crude, extremely noisy and involves no fishing tackle. Petes had the men throw burly around the ship now for hours to lure fish in. They’ll just throw in the explosives and up float the fish; half dead, stunned or partially cooked. Pete has teams ready to scoop up the fish and those who will gut and clean them ready to preserve and cook them.”
Matthew misunderstood Rubys shocked face as an unspoken further question. “The blast causes shockwaves underwater. Any fish nearby will have its innards explode or stun them. Some of them float , but most of them sink to the sea floor. We’ve used this in the past to clear coral reefs we have had near run ins both on the Mediterranean ………and when we sailed in another places.”
“Coral?”
“Sea gardens – under the water – truly a beautiful spectre to behold. Colours and shapes like you’ve never seen, fish darting about, all curious about you being in their space.”
I’ve never heard of coral before.
“As hard as stone and if you get cut with it as dangerous as a kiss from death. It’ll cut a ships keel like knives and sink you quicker than being in he grips of a sea monster. The Mediterranean is not a particularly deep sea. There are outcrops where islands used to be or simply put there by the god of the sea to wreck ships. See that splashing out beyond?”
She nodded
“That would be a reef for certain.”
“I’d love to see it. You’ve seen it.”
Matthews face wrinkled as he smiled and nodded..
She stopped fluttering her ineffectual fan and turned to him. “Take me out to the reef. I want to see it.”
Matthew watched the teams of men preparing for the fishing haul. “Well – the ships not going anywhere soon, we’ve laid a sea anchor. We’d have ask the Captain. It may not seem any distance, but once away from the ship there’s the danger of drifting, of being lost.”
Her eyes sparkled with an intensity he’d not seen for weeks. “What could possibly go wrong Matthew? Let go , now. Before they start I don’t think I could bear to see those poor fish flopping about helplessly.”
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