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TWENTY SIX, dead guys to port
❀ ✿ ❀ ✿
"YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE," Clarisse said. Aster hadn't even dried off from the mud yet.
They'd just finished a ship tour they didn't want, through dark rooms overcrowded with dead sailors. They'd walked through the coal bunker, the boilers and engine, which huffed and groaned like it would explode any minute. They'd seen the pilothouse and the powder magazine and gunnery deck (Clarisse's favorite, of course) with two Dahlgren smoothbore cannons on the port and starboard sides and a Brooke nine-inch rifled gun fore and aft—all specially refitted to fire celestial bronze cannon balls. It was sort of terrifying, in an awe-inspiring way.
Everywhere they went, dead Confederate sailors stared at them, their ghostly bearded faces shimmering over their skulls. They approved of Annabeth because she told them she was from Virginia. They were interested in Percy, too, because his name was Jackson—like the Southern general—but then he ruined it by telling them he was from New York. They all hissed and muttered curses about Yankees. The soldiers didn't like Aster very much either, because apparently her first name was "too progressive." They also didn't take too kindly to where she grew up, Vermont.
Tyson was terrified of them. All through the tour, he insisted Aster hold his hand, which she was not thrilled about at all.
Finally, they were escorted to dinner. The C.S.S Birmingham captain's quarters were about the size of a walk-in closet, but still much bigger than any other room on board. The table was set with white linen and china. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, potato chips, and Dr Peppers were served by skeletal crewmen. Aster wasn't particularly fond of eating anything served by ghosts, but she hadn't eaten since yesterday's dinner, so the hunger overruled any good judgment she had.
"Tantalus expelled you for eternity," Clarisse told them smugly. "Mr. D said if any of you show your face at camp again, he'll turn you into squirrels and run you over with his SUV."
"Sounds better than being turned over to Tantalus," Aster muttered under her breath, which she hoped Clarisse didn't hear. Luckily she gave Aster no indication that she did and continued to eat her sandwich.
"Did they give you this ship?" Percy asked.
"'Course not. My father did."
"Ares?"
Clarisse sneered. "You think your daddy is the only one with sea power? The spirits on the losing side of every war owe a tribute to Ares. That's their curse for being defeated. I prayed to my father for a naval transport and here it is. These guys will do anything I tell them. Won't you, Captain?"
The captain stood behind her looking stiff and angry. His glowing green eyes fixed on Percy with a hungry stare. "If it means an end to this infernal war, ma'am, peace at last, we'll do anything. Destroy anyone."
