Riven Isles

5 | The Adventure of Choice

It would be obvious to state that I had never expected to be on the docks of Lilton East the day after my mother's murder. (I still feel guilty, for I haven't yet cried, and I can't place why it is that I feel little desire to. Is this unnatural? Is this wrong of me? Am I inhuman?) Cornelius Oswald, I have discovered, has always had a thirst for adventure, but ne'er a reason nor a place to go. Eager as a dog for a meal, he drags us all along. The fish people share his excitement. This was their idea, after all. Dr. Oswald drank the Seer's translated prophecy like a connoisseur drinks the finest wine.

I haven't made protest to the rush to adventure, for I'm not adverse to it. A breath of fresh air, no longer limited to the pine-scented Amity breeze, will be good for me. What's more, I'd like to see what's so great about the island and its X-marked treasure, so great that it invited death to my doorstep.

Late afternoon it is as we step into the office of Lilton East's chief harbormaster. The man, decked in a powdered wig different to Dr. Oswald's, welcomes us genially, and offers for us to sit. Dr. Oswald and Simon take the two chairs before the harbormaster's desk. The fish people take a bench along the back wall. Unwilling to sit with them and their odor, I hover beside the doctor.

The harbormaster introduces himself and shakes hands with the doctor and the professor. His naval prowess glistens on his blue coat's lapels in the form of badges. A medal of honor, I recognize. The others, I do not know.

Harbormaster Quince inquires as to what he can help us with, and Dr. Oswald begins. He says nothing of the Seer. He says nothing of the map. He asks, very plainly, where he might purchase a ship, hire a captain and a crew, and so forth go about organizing an expedition.

"Are you sure you are looking to buy a ship?" questions Harbormaster Quince. "I have a number of captains with ships of their own, in port now, that you can hire."

"That sounds splendid, sir."

"Excellent. I'll just ask you a few questions to narrow down your options."

"Please, go ahead."

Quince pulls out a thick binder, labeled with a neat tag reading 'Captains IN'. "Is your expedition one way, or return?"

"Return."

"Where are you headed?"

"There is a ring of stone in the middle of the sea that we wish to study."

The harbormaster frowns. "I see." His brows knit together and he takes the spectacles from his nose. "I believe I know the place. There is no land or port anywhere near the Giant's Ring."

"Which captains would be willing to take us there?" Dr. Oswald asks, unaffected.

"None with their own ships, sir, I can tell you that. Many fine vessels have been lost that way. Treacherous, mysterious waters, they are. The superstitious captains wouldn't brave it for any fortune. That limits you to..." Quince returns his eyeglasses to their perch and squints at the second page in his binder, running his finger over the dried ink. "Four, currently in. Captain Walker should make berth within the week, and I'm sure he would be willing to take your job as well."

"May I see the four available?"

"You may." The harbormaster flips through the binder. Individually, he pulls out four pieces of paper from different places among the bulk of sheets. I peer over.

In bold at the top of each page is a name. Captains William Noble, Argus Matterson, Samuel Wicker, and, set timidly off to the side, Hank Clarke.

"These three," Quince lays his hand over the first of the papers, "are your most conventional options. Noble is young, a new captain in the navy. He is up for anything and has a sharp instinct at sea. He doesn't charge a large sum. Matterson is a retired naval commodore, from the Windsor Coast branch of His Majesty's Royal Navy of Praedor and knows more about the sea than any current officer in His employ. An upstanding gentleman, too."

He smooths out the next page. "Samuel Wicker is a self-taught sailor, but I'd give him a review as good as any navy man. He's got an aptitude for command, and has, under his own employ, brought in a count of...," he pauses to read the paper, "Three full crews of pirates. Forty-six men altogether, all hanged."

Dr. Oswald picks up Captain Argus Matterson's review paper. Simon reaches for Samuel Wicker's.

I frown. "What about Clarke?"

There is a pause, where the silence in the room rings clear as a bell. The doctor and professor read, and I wait.

The harbormaster draws the page nearer himself, almost guilty. "Captain Clarke is... the most courageous sailor I've ever known and is beyond qualified for navigating dangerous waters. In fact, Clarke requested to be hired for this exact voyage—voyage to the Giant's Ring."

Simon and Dr. Oswald both lower their reviews and expectantly wait for the man to continue.

"But you seem like conventional gentlemen, and though he is a fine sailor, and a fine gentleman, he can be a wild card, too. Great reviews, don't get me wrong, but, he's a... free spirit. When he takes command, he takes command."

"Doesn't sound bad to me," says Dr. Oswald.

"If he requested to sail to the Ring, I think he's a very good option indeed," I reckon.

"Captain Clarke is a privateer under the employ of our Praedor, and has been for thirteen years, since his official pardoning. He spent, in his younger years, time in the navy, but I know little of it, for he refused to go into any detail in his interview. He deserted the navy after reaching admiral rank in record time and turned to acts of piracy."

Simon howls in outrage. "Piracy! We'll not be hiring the likes of that!"

"The man has been pardoned and honest for thirteen years!" Quince protests.

Dr. Oswald loses interest just as quickly. He sets down the paper in his hand. "I like Argus Matterson. His qualifications are very reassuring."

Some chatter comes from the Aquians. I glance over my shoulder to see them approaching. Rootwig is still dragging along her netted glass ball.

"Samuel Wicker has a marvelous reputation," Simon comments, "and I'd place my interest in him."

In the case that my opinion in any way matters, I voice agreement for Dr. Oswald's choice. Rootwig hisses. Thenshie tells us, "No."

Simon smugly grins. "Samuel Wicker it is!"

Thenshie proceeds to tell him, "No," too.

We all frown. Harbormaster Quince's lips part slightly and his brows drawn together in confusion, but I have no interest in explaining a thing to him, Simon's not kind enough, and I think Dr. Oswald wants to keep it all between us, anyways.

Simon begins to blather on to Dr. Oswald about how the opinions of the Aquians don't mean anything, but is silenced by the raised hand and stern eyes of the doctor, firmly convinced otherwise. Thenshie drops Captain Hank Clarke's paper into his hands.

"This one."

Simon hast to stand up and pace with his distress, fingers clawing in his oiled hair. I am not for it either, exactly, but Clarke, former pirate or not, had seemed like a good option when Quince had given us his overview. He was a reasonable selection, despite his... record.

Dr. Oswald slides the paper across the desk, towards the harbormaster. "How can I contact this man?"

"You can't be serious!" Simon gasps, hands flinging down from his head to his knees. He drags them down his face, head shaking.

"And, presumably, I'll be needing to purchase a ship suitable for the voyage, as well."

That settles it. We take the contact information in and prepare to meet our likely captain that very same evening. Dr. Oswald places a faith payment on a newly built brigantine, Orpheus, and we, apparently now taking all advice from our peculiar Aquian acquaintances, are well into the 'no turning back' part of preparations. According to Dr. Oswald, we'd be at sea in two weeks at the most, and not a soul would keep us.