The Archman

Chapter 5 - A Remorseful Discovery

The mid-afternoon sun beats down upon the silent deck of Normond's ship, which bobs through the water aimlessly, no one manning the sails or steering wheel.

Strewn about the upper deck are dozens of naval officers, all collapsed across the wooden floor. If it weren't for the clear absence of blood, it might look like the grim aftermath of a harsh battle.

Normond lays slumped over on his side, his right hand still faintly gripping his telescope. He very slowly opens up his eyes, the glaring unobstructed sunlight prompting him to quickly snap his eyelids back shut. He places his hands on the floor beneath him, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, the telescope still in his right hand. He opens his eyes, using the back of his head to shield his face from the sun. He looks around, taking in a deep breath, as his muscles are still mostly half-asleep.

All around him, the other naval officers are starting to wake themselves up, reacting to the blinding sunlight in a similar manner to Normond.

"Captain...?" Normond hears the first mate call out to him. He turns to the direction of the sound, blinking slightly to get a clearer sight.

"Mm?" Normond responds ambiguously.

"Are you okay, sir?" The first mate walks over to Normond, offering a hand to help him up.

Normond takes the outstretched hand, the first mate helping him up to his feet slowly.

"Fine, thanks." Normond brushes the dust from his uniform, the gesture serving to give him a moment to catch his breath as well. "How is everyone else?"

"We have two unaccounted for." The first mate hands Normond his cap, which he was holding onto.

"Two missing?" Normond takes the cap and returns it to its rightful place upon his head. He's disheartened by the loss, but surprised that it was as minimal as it was. When he had collapsed onto the ground, his last thought was whether or not he would be waking up again.

As he looks around at the recovering officers, something occurs to him. His eyes widen suddenly, as the trace amounts of relief in his body have been expelled. He turns to the first mate, his voice shaking with dread.

"Where is Miss Pryce?"

The first mate looks around the deck, at a loss for how to respond. He turns to Normond, a clear lack of clarity in his expression. This only serves to deepen Normond's turmoil, causing him to raise his shaky voice to alert all the officers in his midst.

"ALL HANDS ON DECK!!!" He bellows, gripping the telescope in his right hand with such ferocity that his knuckles turn white.

Normond's urgency quickly spreads to the rest of the crew, who bring themselves up to their feet as fast as their exhausted bodies will allow them. They start to arrange themselves in an orderly fashion, but Normond interjects before they can organize themselves.

"Scour the ship! I want every nook, every cranny properly searched until Miss Pryce is found!"

The officers quickly make their way down the two staircases, onto the main deck. All manner of organization or orderliness has been abandoned as the officers spread throughout the ship. They search through the cabin, below decks, and in spots which would seem ridiculous to anyone not in a panic, such as the insides of barrels and drawers.

Normond stands by on the upper deck, looking out onto the boat as officers bustle around frenetically. He holds the telescope behind him, his white-knuckle grip still firmly locked around the brass instrument. He has all but forgotten about his body's exhausted state, as his mind mulls over this perilous circumstance. He tries to keep a hopeful attitude, but he can't help but visualize the absolute worst-case scenario. His stomach drops as he starts to picture what Commodore Kinsley's reaction might be. He knows that Kinsley is a forgiving soul, but there are limits to what even the saintliest men can put up with. Losing one's fiancé in such a tragic manner will certainly surpass that limit.