Journey to the Forgotten Island

Chapter 10 - The Art of Leadership

'What do we do, Captain?'

Toma held his hand up for silence and stared at the floor . The creaking of the wooden ship sounded like screams. The drumming of feat on the deck sounded like thunder. He tried to think amongst the din of the angry chanting men. Toma knew that the slower he made his decisions, the less his men were likely to believe in his authority as a leader, which would only worsen the situation. He needed more time.

'Stefano,' Toma said. 'Take some men to ensure the steps to the quarter deck are guarded and blockaded. I want barrels, shields and pikes keeping the men on deck from taking control of the ship. Return here once the area is secured.'

Stefano left with the cavalrymen, leaving Toma with Ami and a few shaking attendants who had been awoken to serve the men and the sleepless nobles. Toma noticed that Ami still had his sword at his hip as if he were a soldier rather than a planner of the merchant class. He wanted to ask Ami how such a man would find himself as a honed swordsman but Ami had also saved his life and Toma did not want to subject him to public scrutiny.

Toma turned to a senior attendant and commanded him, 'Fetch me Miro Espo, the spy, and ask him for his guidance on whether we should execute Fero. He is a man who knows the Duro generals well. I want his opinion.'

The attendant bowed and left.

'What about me?' said a deep growling voice. 'Do I get a say in my own murder?'

Toma and Ami turned to see Fero sitting on the ground, weighed down by all his chains and cuffs. His face was hard and golden with a dark curly beard and short sheared black hair. Even fettered and caged, Fero's sheer bulk was striking. It was a wonder that even with several men they had managed to capture him.

As if reading Toma's mind, Fero sneered, 'I must've drank more wine than I thought. It was a dirty move, Captain, sneaking up on me with your men like that.'

Toma watched Fero for a moment, noting that he was one of the few infantrymen he had seen without scars on his face. He looked down and saw that the usual scars were instead on his arms; his height had saved his face from the slashes of spears, arrows and swords.

Toma tugged Ami's arm and they stepped away from the cage to speak out of earshot.

Fero laughed, 'You don't want the dead man to hear what you have to say? I didn't realise you were so precious with your words, Captain.'

Toma had to steady himself on the wall of a cabin as he walked. The ship was shaking from the ceaseless thudding and stomping of the men. The attendant returned and Toma could see from his eyes that he was afraid to speak.

'Out with it,' Toma said.

'Yes, Captain,' the young attendant began, before stopping again. 'It's just – Sir Espo's message did not use the words or tone I would customarily use amongst decorated soldiers.'

'Say the words, boy,' Toma said.

'As you please, Captain. Sir Espo informs you that it is not his business to run the ship and that it is your duty to prevent mutiny. He has no interest in involving himself in your f-failures and is only here to observe and command in the name of Duro where necessary. He s-said that you have no authority over him and not to b-bother him again.'

Toma raised his eyebrows and was finally glad of the darkness so that none could see his pale scar reddening. There was a long pause and Toma could feel the gazes of both the attendant and Ami on himself.

'You may go,' was all Toma said.

'What do you think?' Ami asked. 'What do you really think?'

Toma shook his head and looked back at Fero who appeared calm in his rattling fetters. 'I think that if we execute Fero, the infantrymen's and sailor's favourite and natural leader, after ten days of stale bread and wine...if we do this now and the winds do not pick up and we stay becalmed even another day or two, then another leader will rise and there will be complete mutiny.'