Riven Isles

23 | Into the Din

The opening in the Giant's Ring looks like nothing more than a black hole, obscured by thick sea-spray. We're far from it, but even from the distance, I can see that there is no light within, not for a while. It's an intimidating thing, looming in my near future as it is. We'll be entering the currents soon, and once the keel catches that rush, there will be no way to turn back or think twice.

Simon keeps staring at it. I've caught him many times since it has come into view. He sits on the barrel by the chartroom, the forecabin, and reads his book, and every hour, once or thrice, he looks up to squint and stare at the gap in the rock wall.

He isn't the only one, of course. I do it, too. The doctor does it, the crew do it, Lydia does it. The captain looks, too, but not with anxiety like the rest of us. He looks with excitement. It's the sky that he looks to with anxiety. The sky where the moon sleeps with us every morning, nearly full, and today, hidden beneath blankets of gray cloud.

Harvey Cobbe and Rabbit clean and care for the deck cannons, preparing them. Wearily, I'm worried as to what for. Increas Langley continues to spar with us, and sometimes we see him high up the mast, uncannily crossing swords with the captain along the top of the sails—balancing on their beams, just for sport.

Leslie encourages morale, but we all have nerves despite his cheer. The choppy seas knock the ship about, and our confidence rolls with it, threatening to bounce over the edge. The weak ones, the frightened ones, the fault in the captain's system of trust have been weeded out. The captain apparently allowed, though very disappointed and angry about it, this group of spineless men to jump ship. Mr. Tussock, Mr. Walsh, and a half-deaf fellow called Teek disappeared.

There are no longboats missing. The captain, grumbling, may have claimed to have 'allowed' them to leave, perhaps, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that those men are no longer among the living. If they didn't have a longboat, and they aren't aboard, they'd either been tossed over and drowned, or they'd been killed and then tossed. Of course, Simon has theories, but I avoid them. I'd rather not dwell.

The upside is that the remaining company aboard are people we can trust. Not 'confide in' trust, just trust, though there is some uneasiness yet around the werewolves, especially the ones without the 'cure'. The captain is always watching them, and when he isn't, Langley or Leslie is, or another man sent to watch them in their cell in the brig. Simon, too, of course, investigates, but that should go without saying. He's expressed his worries of the moon's phase more and more frequently.

The captain's smoking habits have increased with the phase, which only makes Simon more worried about whether this apparent 'cure' works.

"His instincts are kicking in. The aggression, the alpha-male temperament..."

"Laod is with us, Simon," the doctor assures each night.

"So is my pistol, and it'll be of more use."

He hasn't used it on anyone, yet, but I've been anticipating it. Every time an officer passes him, his fingers creep to the hilt of his weapon. Yesterday, the captain had teased him behind his back, to me. He'd made me laugh at Simon, but the professor won't know. The professor won't know that he amuses all the officers. That he amuses me.

I watch the captain leave his cabin now and dump the contents of his pipe into the sea. He rubs his eyes and scratches his whiskers and reaches into his pockets for his tobacco pouch. He'd shaved his chin clean a couple of days ago, but the werewolf cycle makes his hair grow unusually fast.

Increas approaches him, and the captain puts an arm around the taller man's shoulders. Increas bends slightly to listen. Avery points to the upper deck, where Leslie inhales the wind at the helm, and after a few words, the sailing master trots off to see the quartermaster and relay whatever message given.