Moonlight Waves

Casualties

Captain Dax immediately crumbles to the ground and for a moment I think he'll be swept overboard, but Ian reaches out one hand and grabs hold of his ankle while keeping his other hand on the helm.
Roman is one second ahead of me as we both jump up and sprint to the poop deck. The ship rocks beneath me and it takes everything in me to keep my boots planted firmly on the wet boards, but I make my way safely up the steps and grab hold of Captain Dax's feet as Roman holds him around his torso. Ian let's go of his hold on our Captain and turns back to the helm.
"Help me get him to his cabin!" Roman shouts.
I don't bother giving a response and crouch down to get a better hold on both of his feet. Roman gives a groan as he lifts Captain Dax's dead weight and I struggle to lift his legs up off the deck, but we manage to make it down the slippery steps without dropping him.
We turn towards the door to the cabin and do an awkward shuffle up to it. I hold one of Captain Dax's feet under my armpit and use my free hand to open up the door. We're about to shuffle our way through when a wave crashes over the deck and practically drowns us. The force of the water makes me drop the Captain and I slide through the doorway on my side. I stare up at the ceiling for a second before pushing myself up onto my unsteady feet. I stand for a moment and focus on getting my footing under me again, and search for where the wave pushed Roman to.
  I grab hold of the doorframe and peek around to the left and then the right, another onslaught of water hitting my face —I try helplessly to wipe the stinging salt from my eyes with my hands.
I find Roman clutching onto Captain Dax's still unconscious form under the stairs to my right and I rush forward to him.
  "Let's just drag him." I say, grabbing hold of the Captain's left arm.
"Yeah, much better idea." Roman agrees, grabbing his right arm.
We pull him along the slippery, wet deck and into the cabin by his arms, his weight and size a struggle for both Roman and I. We make it to the middle of the room and I drop his arm to rush back and close the cabin door. A false sense of security keeping us separated from the storm, as if this small cabin is all it'll take to keep us safe from the fury of the sea.
  "Help me get him on his bed." Roman says.
"I think he looks comfortable there." I answer, tilting my head in analyzation. Roman slowly turns his gaze up to me from where he's knelt by Captain Dax and stares at me. "Oh fine." I give in a mere moment later, unable to resist his gaze.
  I grasp Captain Dax's feet once again as Roman holds him up by the armpits and our grunt is in sync as we lift him up. Our eyes meet and we burst out laughing, the humor in our situation shining through for a moment. I'm laughing too hard now and I about drop the captain's feet.
"No, no, no." Roman says through his own laughter. "We've got to get him to his bed before we drop him on his head."
I burst out with renewed laughter, "That rhymed!"
"Hey, it did, didn't?" Roman realizes, "I'm an original poet!"
"I'm dropping him!" I laugh, unable to control my giggles.
Roman lowers Captain Dax's torso to the floor as his feet slip from my gasp and they thump against the wood.
  "You're right," Roman says, his breathing heavy from laughing. "he does look comfortable here."
A stupidly amused grin spreads across my face. "Here, I'll get him a pillow."
  I grab a small cushion from his bed in the far corner and prop his head up on it. I gently use my fingers to move his graying hair off of his forehead to inspect his injury.
  "That doesn't look very good." I comment, getting up to find a rag and water.
"It's a good sign if there's a lump already appearing, right?" Roman asks me.
I return to his side with a wet rag in hand and gently press it against the side of Captain Dax's head where blood trickles down and discolors his shirt collar.
  There's a deep cut stretching from the arch of his right eyebrow to his ear, a constant flow of blood escaping the gash. Above the cut I see the swelling lump Roman referred to.
"I don't know," I say, pressing the rag to the cut to soak up the blood, "I don't have the first clue what to do with injuries."
  "That makes two of us." Roman answers, watching me pat helplessly at the head injury. "Maybe we should try stitching it up?"
  "I suppose," I say, very unsure what to do next. "Do we have any needle and thread in here?"
Roman jumps up and starts rifling through the drawers in the cabin, moving about the room and finding nothing. The ship jerks roughly to the side and Roman loses his balance for a second, his arms flailing about before he finds his footing.
"Roman," I get his attention, realizing something. "You have to get above deck: you're the first mate. You're in command now."
Roman's eyes slowly widen as he comes to the same realization as I did. But he shakes his head, turning back to the drawers. "I should stay here and help you and Captain."
  "I'll find Sam, he'll know what to do with the Captain better than either of us. You need to help Ian navigate the storm and the pirates."
  Roman still looks reluctant, searching around the cabin one last time with his eyes before meeting my eyes again and giving me a definite nod.
  "I'll be back." He says, his long legs covering the distance to the door and his form disappearing back out into the storm.
  "Ditto." I tell Captain Dax as I rise to my feet and make my own way out of the cabin.
  I search through the rain for Sam, but can barely distinguish the forms I can make out. I decide to try my luck below deck and run down into the dark, damp refuge from rain. Sailors are still manning their post by their canons and searching out their gun ports for a clear shot.
  "Sam!" I shout from the stairway. Several heads turn my way and then back to the men around them as they search for Sam as well. "Sam!"
  "I'm here!" Sam answers, coming out from the far corner. His light brown face twisted with concern, and I understand his expression as I see Zach behind him holding a bloody arm to his chest, bandages wrapped halfway up to his elbow.
  "It's the Captain," I explain, "he's been injured. He's in his cabin."
  Worried glances pass between the sailors, but they all know better than to panic. In all my experience with these men I've never seen them once lose their head. Always calm and collected, thinking their situation through. Or at least the ones who think things through stop the rash ones from doing anything stupid.
  Sam passes the bandages in his hand to Géorg, instructs him to finish wrapping Zach's arm, then grabs a small bag from the floor and jogs up the steps after me—his short legs making him slower than me.
  I'm already back by the Captain's side as Sam comes through the door, stopping to pull it securely shut behind him.
He kneels down across from me and removes the bloodied rag from Captain Dax's head. "Has he been bleeding like this since it happened?"
  "Yes, I think so." I answer, "I think it's slowed a little bit."
"He's still losing quite a bit of blood." Sam says, turning his attention from the injury to the contents in his bag. "We're going to need to stitch it then hope for the best." He pulls out a needle and thread from his bag and hands it to me. "Thread that while I try and clean the injury."
  I do as I'm told and pull the normal clothing thread through the needle as Sam pours some of the Captain's good brandy on the injury.
  I spend the next ten minutes holding Captain Dax's face as Sam sews up the gash, watching the needle go in and out of his skin.
  Not the prettiest thing to watch, but I'm somehow unable to look away.
We've barely been into this "battle" an hour and already we're down our Captain. What happens next? Should we try and run? I know that Roman and Ian will get us through the storm, keep us alive, but we were all relying on Captain Dax. Now he's unconscious and who knows for how long? He's the one with military experience, there's only a handful of others aboard the ship that have military training, but nothing in the sense of strategy like Captain Dax.
Sam finishes up by tying a bandage around the Captain's head, "That's the best I can do." Sam tells me, proceeding to put things back in his bag. "I've got to go check on the other injured, he'll be okay for now. They'll probably need your help on deck as well."
"I'm not sure what I can do." I admit, not having a permanent position or job aboard the Moonlighter like every other sailor here.
"An extra pair of hands is an extra pair of hands." He says, rising to his feet and walking out the door. A cold wind entering the cabin as he exits it.
I take a last look at Captain Dax to make sure he's okay before following Sam out. Each time I think I've gotten used to the rain when I come out, it's just as cold and chilling as the first time. Wetting you down to your core. My knitted hat is sopping wet and offers no warmth to my head any longer and my toes are beginning to go numb. But just like every one else, I push through the cold to do what needs to be done.
I mount back up to the poop deck to find Roman and Ian conversing loudly over something. Shouting the only way you can hear and understand anybody in the chaos. Ian still stands at the helm directing the ship and it sounds like Roman is giving him his next directions.
Roman turns and sees me and motions me over. "I need your eyes!" He shouts, grabbing hold of my arm and directing me towards the starboard side.
Even now, in the midst of everything, his gentle touch on my arm sends my heart racing and my face a flush.
"We've lost sight of the Widower," Roman explains to me, his face close to mine. "I need you to look for her and let me know as soon as you see her."
"Aye." My answer not a shout but a mere whisper that is carried away on the wind.
Roman caresses my cheek gently with his own freezing fingers, before rushing off again and is back by Ian's side.
I turn my thoughts away from Roman, and wrap my hands around the rigging to the side of me and use the ropes to anchor myself as I peer over the railing and search the angry sea for our even angrier pursuers.
  Nothing grabs my attention, only the rising and falling of the waves as far as the eye can see. No white sails bobbing up and down, straining to survive the ocean just as we are. Either the Widower is no longer to the right of us, or has been claimed by the sea.
  The latter is too much to be hoped for.
I turn back to Roman, his face pinched in concentration and his clothes soaked and sticking to his muscular form.
  "No sign of them!" I shout, "They're not there!" Roman turns his attention towards me and searches over my shoulder for what I already confirmed isn't there.
  Over his shoulder, I watch in horror as a wave grows taller and taller. It's grown far bigger than the Moonlighter and towers over the port side of the ship. Like a giant hand reaching out of the depths, it's fingers arched over us and ready to crush us in its grasp.
  "Roman!" I scream, my eyes wide with terror and my tiny hand pointing at our enormous doom.
  Roman spins on his heel to see the cause of my distress and immediately turns to Ian.
  "Turn her!" He yells, "Run her straight and true!"
Ian doesn't question his orders and spins the wheel, the Moonlighter tilting to its left and the port side sinking nerve rattling into the water as we turn.
  "Grab hold of something!" Roman orders.
Those closest to us turn our way and it takes them a moment to register the order before passing the order on to the others.
  I wrap my arms around the railing in front of the helm and lock my elbows, bracing myself. Ian steadies his grip on the helm and Roman grabs hold of the railing next to me.  The Moonlighter is facing the wave head on now, nothing but a wall of watery darkness ahead of us.
  I turn my eyes to Roman, searching his face for reassurance. "We're going to be all right." Just say that. That's all I need you to say. Please. His face is calm, collected. But in his dark pool of eyes, as dark as the wave in front of us, I see the same fear I feel reflected in them.
  "Deep breathe." He says, his words inaudible, but readable. 
My gaze is forced from Roman's as the bow of the ship strikes the wave first, the force of the impact jerking the entire ship. From the poop deck I watch as the whole of the ship is swallowed in the jaws of darkness. Just as the wave reaches the poop deck I take a deep breathe and tighten my grip.
  The water hits me with such force I about lose my hold on the railing, but I fight against the current and bring myself back closer to Roman's side.
  When people say there's calm in a storm, I never thought they meant in a literal sense. How could there ever be stillness in a storm like this? A place of peace and calm? But here, in the midst of the wave, beneath the surface, that is where the calm is.
  Everything has fallen silent, nothing but my own blood rushing in my ears. We don't sail through the wave, instead we float—like a autumn leaf being carried by the wind.
  I open my eyes and I see sailors gripping onto the Moonlighter, desperate to live out the next hour. All of their bodies weightlessly lifted from the deck by the sea.
  It's serene under the waves, as though the world above is entirely separate from the one you're in now. A distant thought that you needn't concern yourself with. A place where every worry becomes obsolete. This must be what Heaven is like, yes? So peaceful, so calm, so serene? So perfect?
  But the stillness disappears just as quickly as it came, the bow of the Moonlighter exiting the wave and the rest of her body following suit. The water falls to the sides of the ship and retakes it's place beneath us instead of around us. Our bodies drop back to the deck as the sea no longer holds us aloft.
I pant as air renters my lungs and my heartbeat is in my ears. Roman looks to me first to make sure I'm okay and I give him a small smile. He returns the smile and stands to his feet to resume his position as first mate.
"We keep her sailing through the storm." I hear Roman tell Ian. "Forget the pirates, we sail through the storm we'll still be headed towards home."
  "We'll be out of the worst of it soon enough." Ian says, pointing past the dark clouds to where a thin strip of light stands like a beacon.
  "Good, keep her on." Roman says, "We'll deal with Captain Nico on calmer waters."
  I follow Roman as he descends the steps to the lower decks and we make our way to the very bottom. Five men stand around a hole the size of a pumpkin and pump water, three of them pumping as the other two patch it up.
  "Are there any other holes?" Roman asks them, stepping forward and helping hold a board in place as Hugh nails it in.
  "No, nothing like this." Winston answers, "A few splintering here and there, but this right here is the worse extent of it."
  "Good—" Roman is saying, but is abruptly cut off by a loud clash.
  The explosion of gunpowder.
All heads jerk up as if we can see what the noise was from here, but our only view is wood planks.
  "Finish up here as soon as you can." Roman says, grabbing my hand and guiding me back towards the stairs. From there we run up the stairs two at a time, our hands stretched between us. Roman comes out first and I take one step on deck only for him to spin right around and push me down, himself dropping down right next to me. I hit the deck hard and I accidentally bite my tongue, the crisp, tangy taste of blood filling my mouth. Over our heads, where Roman had just been standing, a cannonball goes wishing past and connects with the deck a few feet from us.
  "Great." My words laced with sarcasm, "Here we go again."