As the crew sets to work, Doran considers a song. With so many different tasks to hand, a capstan song or a halyard shanty won't suit. He decides the best he can do is keep the crew in a good humor and thinking about some of the better things in life, and runs through a number of funny songs about love, sailing and drinking.
"Ben Backstay was our boatswain A very merry boy
For no one half so merrily Could pipe all hands ahoy
And when unto his summons We did not well attend
No lad than he more cheerily Could handle the rope's end!"
Knowing what's coming, many of the crew join loudly in the chorus, with those who don't know the song catching on quickly.
Doran takes them through the rest of the verses, with the lusty-voiced chorus growing louder as the song brings the crew together.
"While sailing once our Captain Who was a jolly dog
Served out to all our company A double share of grog
Ben backstay he got tipsy All to his heart's content
And he being half seas over Why overboard he went!
A shark was on the larboard bow Sharks don't on manners stand
But grapple all they come near Just like your sharks on land
We heaved Ben out some tackling Of saving him some hopes
But the shark had bit his head off So he couldn't see the ropes!
Without his head his ghost appeared All on the briny lake
He piped all hands ahoy and cried Lads warning by me take
By drinking grog I lost my life So lest my fate you meet
Why never mix your liquors lads But always take them neat!"
Ollivor is prepping food for later when the others call him down. While he's learned to take pride in his craft as cook, he'd be the first to admit that when it comes to keeping the ship afloat, his culinary skills aren't a priority.
"I'm coming, I'm coming..." He says going down to the belly, he lets his hands trail down among individual planks of wood and objects, lighting them up like small torches. Suddenly the workers in the previous darkest parts of the ship find themselves with plenty of light to see by.
Above, he hears Doran giving orders, and he smiles as everyone heaves to it. It's amazing to see the difference between lash and leadership. Freemen work harder. Of course, in this case, they're also just trying to keep this tub afloat.
"Gonna make the ship grow wings?" A feminine voice chimes up behind him, "If not, put some muscle along side your magic."
"That's what I'm known for," The cook snorts but his smile is still intact, "Being a great bruiser and all..." But he puts his back, and, more importantly, what he recalls, into helping.
Just in time to hear the song starting. He joins in boisterously.
Unfortunately, his timing isn't good. As he holds a board in place for another to hammer, the ship wobbles and he loses his grip. Another sailor hammers down, and mashes his hand instead.
Ollivor is lucky his fingers aren't broken, but his song has switched to a beautiful stream of profanity that shows he has indeed been among sailors for awhile.
Some are sympathetic, but a few grade him on his profanity, points based on originality, passion, and appropriateness.
Thorn climbs one of the ropes hanging from the top deck. Quickly traversing the side of the ship Thorn could hear what sounded like song coming from the top deck. As Thorn climbed over the railing he could see Doran manning the helm and singing an song unfamiliar to him. Just as soon as Thorn reached the top deck he realized the noticeable lean in the ship as they were gaining speed as they distanced themselves from that dreadful island. "We're taking on to much water" Thorn said to himself. "If we don't fix some of these leaks, this could be the shortest voyage in the history of voyages." Thorn runs down to the lower decks of the ship to help with the patching of holes and draining of excess water.
Thorn reached the lower deck and stood in waist deep water looking for obvious leaks. Using his low light vision to aid his vision better Thorn could observed the flow and ripples on the top of the water to see where the water was entering the ships hull. Thorn trudged through the water to a large hole allowing the majority of the water into the ship. Thorn took in a deep breath before he submerged himself into the water to get a closer look at the hole. Thorn felt around the hole to gauge its size and shape. After a few moments of examining the whole Thorn resurfaced from the water and began to think of how to patch the hole. Thorn began to scan the area for anything helpful when he observed a round wood water bucket floating by him. Thorn grabbed the bucket and returned back to the hole. Thorn attempted to push the bucket into the hole but the force of the water entering the ship pushed bucket out of his hands. Thorn quickly chased after the bucket as it floated back to the waters surface.
Thorn began to get frustrated and angry at his failure to succeed on his first attempt. Thorn began to rage within himself thinking of the possibility of failure. Thorn snatched the bucket as it floated away and returned back to the hole. Holding his breath he roared out as he smashed the base of the bucket in to the hole. The majority of his air escaped his mouth in the form of bubbles as he roared out in anger while drove the bucket into the hole. Thorn waited for the bubbles to clear his sight and re-examined the hole, the bucket was in place blocking the majority of the hole but he decided steady rocking of the bucket did not sit easily with him. Thorn believed the bucket would wiggle free so he slammed his hands into the top edges of the bucket to wedge the bucket into place until it stopped moving. "Thank Erastil" Thorn said to himself.
"Quickly now," Aaron calls out to those sailors following him around from hole to hole. "One of you holds a board as steadily as possible, the other hammers it in place quickly." Just as he is about to do so himself, there is a yelp of pain followed by some rather colorful words. Turning to look, he sees the cook on his knees, holding his hand. "You alright?" His question is accompanied by a good-natured smile, though he does supress a chuckle successfully as well. He then turns to Ollivor's partner, the one holding the hammer. "Quickly yes, but perhaps aim for the nails the next time?" He then adds with a wink, "Nails mind you, not fingernails."
He then, having wasted enough time, retuns to the task at hand, as another sailor holds a board in place over one of the holes. Nails in one hand and hammer in the other, the Chelaxian man eyes the piece of wood as if it has just issued him a challenge. "Now then..."
With extract and mutagen enhanced strength, Vrunyar pushes the ship in his small clothes, so that he can relax in dry clothes later. After he can no longer touch the ground, he still pushes the ship while he kicks his legs in the swelling waves. He loves the feel of the water rushing past his bare skin. When it’s his turn on a dolphin the speed is so exciting he laughs in pleasure until an errant wave splashes his face. He coughs as he climbs the rope to the deck.
Some of the sails are beginning to get raised, and he knows his strength would be useful aiding them, but he also knows that raising a sail needs coordinated effort rather than a gang of people pulling for all their worth at their own pace. Saluting to Doran, the dwarf wobbles to the infirmary as the ship rocks.
He glances at his medical supplies to make sure they are in the same position as he left them last night. Everything seems accounted for. He’s confident there will be some injuries like rope burns and bruises. Hopefully not a broken bone.
Next to his medical supplies is are the items he made last night: a bucket of pitch and a bucket of waterproofing sealer.
Given the time constraints and the materials at hand, he isn’t too confident about the oakum and resin stopping large leaks. He ties his sash around his waist, sticking a mallet, a brush, and an awl into it. Gloves on his hands. He picks up a sack of oakum in one hand and the two buckets in the other and leaves.
”Torag’s sparks,” he says descending into the hold. The two buckets in one hand bang against each other and his knee. He nearly stumbles down the steps, but he’s able to drop the sack of oakum and hold onto a support. ”Oakum coming down,” he warns just in time as Faiza is able to dodge out of the way.
In the hold, the humidity is fierce, summoning sweat to his skin. At least there’s the comfort of a dark interior. ”You’re all right?” he asks Faiza putting down his buckets. He hands her the brush and the waterproofing agent. ”Vaiza! Here’s a job for you. It’s a minor alchemical substance. Brush it over small leaks. It’s kind of clumpy and a bit like jelly. I’ll be stuffing oakum into cracks and leaks, starting in the bow and working aft, focusing on the part of the hull that was grounded. I dreamt of a ship’s hull covered in metal like fish scales. We wouldn’t be doing this now if we had a ship like that. Well, less likely at least. HA!”
Vrunyar takes the oakum and bucket of pitch and goes starts looking for leaks. He sees a trickle. With his left hand he dabs oakum in the pitch and stuffs it into the crack. His right hand uses the awl to force it snuggly into the gap.
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Warm water sloshed around John’s leg as he threw his weight down into the makeshift leverage with a final lurching heave. Water splashed around him as the long levered pole that had stood as a palm tree only a day before fell to the water with a spray of water. With a creak and bobbing wake caused by the Man’s Promise dislodging into the water the ship slipped free. Raising his fist in the air John pointed to the others. Up the ropes! Up the ropes! He called, slapping Crimson on the back, before grinning towards Sandra. Putting action to words, the red haired marine splashed forward along the briny, jagged surface of the reef before grabbing the nearest rope and hauling himself free of the water.
On deck a riot of action was unfurling. Sails were being unfurled and a careful choreography of chaos was being danced for the ship’s crew. Below came the shouts from Hojo, while Sandra dodged two free rolling barrels shouting that those below needed more help. Ominously the Man’s Promise began to shutter and heel over. John gritted his teeth. The experienced sailor knew that there were three ways to deal with a list. The first and most simple was a redirection of weight from one side of the ship to the other. This would correct the list, but could prove problematic as the ship re-righted itself. The second option was tacking the sails in a way that cause the hull to favor one plane over another. Also useful, but entirely dependent on weather and that could be dangerous. The last option was one that Hojo had already begun to put her considerable talents towards. Plugging any holes and pumping the excess water over the side.
Standing before the quarterdeck, John looked up. Doran held the ships wheel. He would know how to direct the wind and the keel where she needed to go. Nodding at the spry Halfling, John pointed toward the bilges. I’m going below. Once we plug the leak and start pumping overboard I’ll see about adjusting the ballast to even us up! Without waiting for a reply. John threw off his shirt, before smiling grimly to himself. He had expected a turn at the bilges, but perhaps not quite so soon. Shaking his head, John pushed his way down into the darkness below. Luck be dammed. John thought, feeling the strength in his arms as he landed down in the slowly flooding bilges with a grunt, before grabbing oakum, a plugging cone and a mallet.
Clear the gap! John called, pushing himself towards into the spraying water, under Hojo’s cool gaze. Stuffing the hempen material into the gap, John wedged a cone into the crevasse that gushing foul smelling water. Holding the mallet with slick fingers, John slammed the cone in place. That’s one.. the marine muttered looking over his shoulder. Only twenty or thirty more to go.
League by league, the Man's Promise sails agonizingly slowly through the sea towards their salvation. The ship lists side to side as the crew furiously keeps its decks from flooding. The badly damaged hull leaks through Hojo's jury-rigged compartments, even as they pump water out of the bilges when it drains down. They work as hard as they can, but the ship is badly undermanned after the mutiny. The ship takes on more water than they can free, slowly filling the lowest deck. John and Thorn keep pumping as best they can, aided by Crimson and Ollivor, but after a few hours they are nearly neck-deep in the cloudy water. None of the shorter crewmen can offer any effective assistance. But they can help use the sails to use the wind to get as much speed as they can.
The work is utterly exhausting, and the knowledge that any break could get them killed forces them to work as hard as they can. A few days of hard sailing might get them to their destination, abut what shape will they be in when they arrive? Sandara climbs up to speak to Doran, who left Arutro manning the rudder in order to personally help with the sails. "We need to work out a system of some sort for the crew to rest and eat, maybe staggered. Or Vrun could whip up something to keep the fatigue at bay. Either way, we won't be very effective pretty soon. Maybe Thorn could offer a tip from his slave dsys."
Doran casts his eyes about as he stands perched in the rigging, studying the set of the Promise's sails, trying to balance the need to keep the ship moving as quickly as possible without putting too much strain on her poor, battered timbers. He sadly notes that she's getting lower in the water and more sluggish all the time, but they're already doing all they can to keep her afloat.
When Sandara approaches, he considers her words gravely, then says, "You're right, we've got to get on watches rather than around the clock, or we'll kill ourselves before we manage to sink. Let's see what Vrun can put together, as you say. And for watches, I say we split the crew in half, take four hour watches on-and-off, and Ollie feeds each watch when they come off shift. They'll sleep better with full bellies, if they sleep at all." He thinks a moment longer, then concludes, "Drop down and see what John thinks about that idea, would you? I'd have to swim in the hold at this point to ask him. In the meantime, I'll see what I can do to keep people's strength up."
He slides down the nearest ratline to the helm and stands by Arturo. He gulps down a ladle of water, then begins to sing, his small body sending forth a clear tenor note that lifts the spirits of the crew as they struggle to survive.
Each hour that passes, the Man's Promise sails a touch slower and a touch lower in the waterline. In the decks, Hojo works herself to near-exhaustion and then to exhaustion, then beyond. Every few hours, the ship deteriorates further and she has to jury-rig some solution to keep it from flooding the ship and sending it to the bottom of the sea. Aaron, himself no stranger to the working of wood, learns new techniques and investment time workaround. He keeps the ship afloat during the little time Hojo allows herself to rest. For three days, they continue to prolong the inevitable while the others use the sails to dance along the breeze to get as much speed as they can muster. Gozran must be watching them, because a gust comes just when they need it, pushing them within sight of the northernmost islands of the Shackles on the second day of their desperate escape. They twist the sails and send the boat east, towards their destination.
The third day is the hardest. The ship's inner decks are entirely flooded and the waterline is almost an arm's length from the upper deck. Those who work the bilges must do so using a hose for air, slowing it down dramatically. John spends most of time in the bilges, more comfortable swimming in the water than with his missing leg on land or deck. Pumping is hard work, but at least it is not as hot as it once was. Vrunyar tries to come up with an alchemical solution to the problem of breathing underwater and comes up with some interesting theories but no tangible benefit that would solve the problem immediately. Thorn helps as well,taking turns with the breathing hose in the bilges.
Doran's singing and Ollivor's cooking are all that keep the crew in good spirits through the punishing and exhausting work. The halfling's voice remains clear through the hours and days, long after it should have been hoarse. He seems to have an inexhaustible supply of shanties and ballads - perhaps a side effect of the psychic scars left by mental contact with the makaru on Bonewrack Isle.
Late in the afternoon on the third day, the ship has a remaining lifespan measured in hours, if not minutes. Doran consults the map and compass with John, still dripping from his last trip to the bilges. Rickety's is close, perhaps a few miles farther, but they might not make it. The water is spilling over the railings at times when the boat rocks. Once it starts coming over more quickly, it will all be over very soon thereafter. With their goal so close, they must decide how to proceed: abandon the ship here and find Rickety's from the land, or push the ship as hard as it will go and try to sail in, or another option entirely. The rest of the mutineers come to consult, giving each of them a voice in the plan.
Thorn could feel the exhaustion and fatigue in all of his muscles as he pumped the lever of the bilge. He had been rotating with John over the past three days to allow for rest and give each man a chance to breathe freely with out the assistance of a hose. It was nearly the end of Thorn's turn to work the bilge. He took his time to maintain a slow and steady pace while concentrating on his breathing. Thorn would inhale deep and slowly through the tube as he lifted the lever to the bilge. He then would exhale his remaining hair out as he presses down firmly on the lever to keep a steady pace to try and keep up with the rising water.
After about one hour since their last rotation, Thorn realized John had not come to re-leave him from his turn on the bilge. Thorn stopped his pumping of the lever and swam up towards the top deck following the hose. Once Thorn reached the top deck he could see the water was starting to spill over onto the top deck. Thorn scanned the deck to see John and Doran talking as they charted out our best path to Rickety's our next destination. While walking over to join in on their planning session Thorn over heard they trying to weigh out a couple of options.
Thorn listened to the options as they were explained, just now realizing their dire situation. The option of pushing the ship on and making it the few remaining miles sounded reasonable but what if Doran's calculations are wrong and the island is 10 to 20 miles away. The ship will not make the greater distance and that will leave a lot of swimming for the crew "a tough swim in open waters for any experienced sailor" Thorn thought to himself. Thorn then looked at the land off the horizon and thought "completing their voyage by land did not sound half bad and could be much safer as long as it was not like the blasted island they just escaped". Thorn began to think about their situation for a few moments before coming up with the idea. "Maybe we could sail the ship into the beach running her a ground. Once the ship is anchored to the land we can use Aaron's knowledge of carpentry to scrap the useful timber from this ship and build a couple of two to four man sail boats or slopes to sail the coast line until we reach Rickety's."
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She’s finished. John rumbled in his deep basso voice with its burr of Sousten lilt. Taking a bite from the ship’s biscuits that Ollivor had prepared, John noted how pruned his fingers had become from the past three days of almost endless hours spent in the bilge fighting to keep the Man’s Promise afloat. Hojo’s a miracle worker, between her and Aaron I don’t think we would have made it nearly so far, but we will be lucky to strike land.
Taking a bite from the hard-tack biscuit with an unsatisfying crunch, John quickly washed it down with a swallow of water. If we are lucky we might be able to make it to Squibb’s, but there has to be some sort of lookout watching for ships that are inbound and frankly the idea of trying to sail into a hostile port while your ship is sinking and we are being peppered with crossbow bolts sounds dammed foolish to me. Nodding in Thorns general direction, John continued. I think that Thorn has a worthy suggestion. An overland march sounds dangerous, but we do have that token that we found on the island. We could probably use it to tow another raft behind it. I’m not sure of the Promise’s small boat, but we could use the pair together. Anyhow.. John paused looking towards Doran and hoping the Halfling would support his suggestion. I think we can all agree there’s no chance of salvaging the Promise , and our only hope of escaping from this place is going be by taking a replacement from Squibbs.
Ollivor finds himself working hard to keep the food coming regularly. While everyone is exhausted, Ollivor realizes when it comes to being the cook, he's pretty much it. He is surprised at how often a simple cantrip ends up being his best friend to keep the galley clean, the food hot long past when it should have cooled, and so on. He's damn grateful to Doran for his singing, because sometimes he swears that tune is the only thing keeping his own feet from stumbling under him.
When the two captains and Thorn make their suggestions, Ollivor manages to pipe up, "Well, damn. If Hojo and others think this ship is dead, then she's dead, but yes, let's get the corpse beached at least. This ship still has plenty of food and goods we might want to use to restock the lighthouse when we take her back."
Vrunyar listens to the suggestions and opinions offered. Looking at the sails, he sighs. He stops massaging his forearms, ”I’m not sure if it’s been mentioned before, or more likely I forgot the name, but who is in control of Squib’s? Do they normally attack ships sailing into port?” He waves a hand, indicating the answer isn’t that important right now.
The dwarf casts his eyes to the island. ”I agree with beaching her. Maybe some wood could be salvaged. How long would it take to build a sail boat? Is time really an issue though? Ha!”
The dwarf smiles with a helpless yet hopeful shrug. ”Anyone know of dangers on the island?”
Doran nods along sadly as the others express their views, then concurs. "I think you all are probably right, it's folly to try to sail her any further. But, Ollie, this ship got us off that damn island and almost all the way to our destination, have a little respect for her. A ship's like your family, you've got to love her no matter what, and she'll give you her all. The Promise was wrecked on a reef by a damned fool, and in most cases would have been left there as unsaveable. But we saved her, and she saved us, right?"
With a kindly nod, indicating his little sermon is over and was well-intended, he turns back to the matter at hand. "John's right, we should see if the johnboat is in any shape to sail. Aaron, can you cast a carpenter's eye, as well as a sailor's, over the small boat and see if she'll float? And we should beach the Promise, as you all say, and salvage what we can from the old girl. Though I think we'll be lucky to make more than a raft from her, but it might be a good one. Building a proper boat from salvaged timber could take us longer than walking overland to Squib's. But if we use that token we found, and tow a raft behind it as John suggests - a good idea, that, by the way - we could get there pretty quick."
”I’ll get medical supplies ready. Help Ollivor as well with food. Did anyone search the cabin for secret compartments? A place for the captain to hide treasure...” Vrunyar looks around at his companions eager to hear someone discovered a stash of gold.
”Should we bury the things we can’t take?”
Aaron smiles as Doran "orders" him to examine the small boat and make sure it is in good enough shape to sail. Although it is more a request than a command strictly speaking, the Chelaxian wonders if the halfling captain appreciates the irony as much as he does, considering the more common relationship between their two peoples.
"Certainly, Captain Tidewrack," he says with a small bow of his head, the smile still on the pale man's lips. His tone is friendly, warm even, albeit perhaps just a little teasing. "I will get on it right away. And if it needs a patch here or there, I will see what I can do about that as well. It will float."
Doran bristles at the response from Aaron, thinking, If that hell-spawn Chell is mocking me, thinking me just a damn slip... He directs a fierce glance at the man they rescued from that cursed island and sees, surprisingly, a gentle smile on his face. Doran releases a breath he didn't even realize he was holding, and smiles back at Aaron. "Captain Tidewrack," he says, adding a touch of a pompous tone to his voice, "I like the sound of that! But we'll have to have a title for John as well, right? If the captain's in charge of sailing, then maybe 'Major Rawkins' takes command when things get rough and bloody? Hells, we might as well make him a colonel, right, Colonel Rawkins?"
A smile still on his face, he looks at Aaron and says,"I've no doubt you'll do good work, it's why I asked it of you." He holds the Chelish man's gaze a moment, then gives a firm nod, as if to say, Thank you, and well done. Doran's aware that Aaron has not only built a bit more trust between them, who might naturally be staunch foes, but brought some humor to a painful discussion, and few things are appreciated more by a crew at sea than laughing in the face of danger.
With the ship sinking by the minute, Doran orders the ship south in a dash for land. Their speed slows to a crawl, barely two knots, despite a decent wind. Doran orders the sails moved this way and that, hoping to whisper just a final burst of speed into the ship. By the time they have the Garundi coast in sight, water spills more and more rapidly over the railing. Every bit of gear they hope to salvage is already on the main deck, as the water drains faster into the lower decks. The entire crew stands on the forecastle or works the sails, watching the horizon closely for the promise of dry land under their feet. After the last few weeks (or years, for some), even an overland march would be preferable to the constant fear and danger they survived.
The ship fights for every foot in the water, pushed onward by the tide and waves as much as the wind. The land creeps closer, enough for them to see the beach and the massive jungle of the foreboding continent ahead. The ship slides the last few feet to the bed, softly resting in the silt a good fifty feet off the shore. Certainly a less violent arrival than being dashed against the reef during the squall that brought them to Bonewrack Isle, but a more final one. The Man's Promise will not sail again, but it survived long enough to bring them within grasp of safety. Half-sunk, the ship slowly begins to settle in the soft bed of sand, tipping over very gradually to the port side. They will have to swim to the beach or use the barely-intact ship's boat, which they will need to use to salvage what wood and sails that they can off its carcass. The ship will take several minutes to settle, giving them a chance to make a plan of action.
"Didn't mean to offend her, Doran," Ollivor said torn between amused and a bit chagrined, I suppose I'll never be a true sailor until I can appreciate the ah... spiritual side of things He prepared goods splitting it among the crewmember's packs.
......
When the ship makes its last death run, Ollivor finds himself wishing he HAD been nicer to it, because the poor girl appears to be about to quit on them with only yards to go. Just a bit more...
And then, it finds it's resting place, fifty feet from the shore. "Anyone who can't swim, now's the time to confess it."
"Well I do a bit better than I did at the start of the voyage, Ollivor," Vrunyar says as he stashes the medical and alchemical supplies in the boat. He studies the food supplies already loaded, making sure it looks balanced. Back in Souston, I wouldn’t have done that, he thinks.
”This needs to stay as dry as possible. I can row, if need be, but well, if those dolphins return, I’d rather get a ride with them... Ah forget it! Can’t have people thinking the chirurgeon’s lazy. HA!” The dwarf joins the line of crew passing the supplies to each other to load the boat with a laugh.
”Okay, crew, this is it!” Doran calls out as he feels the Promise begin to scrape against the sandy bottom. ”Get the boat in the water and loaded with whatever you can’t carry!”
He casts an eye at the shore, hoping to gauge whether they’re at high tide or low. A high tide now will mean much less trouble scavenging materials from their battered ship, as they’ll be able to reach her more easily when the tide is out. If only we’d had time to plan this a little, to hit the beach at the highest tide…we’ll just have to take what luck Besmara will give us. At least this time I’m not watching all my friends drown as the ship sinks, dammit.
Once the jolly-boat is bobbing on the water and loaded with what she’ll carry, Doran shouts, ”Into the water and hang onto the sides, anyone who’s not sure about the swim to shore! If we all try to get aboard, we’ll swamp the boat. So get in, hold on, and kick for your lives! Once we’re in the surf where you can stand, push her to shore as quick as you can so she doesn’t turn over!”
He looks to John, then his other close friends among the crew and asks, ”Anything else we need to think of?”
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Turning back to Doran, John frowned slightly as his brow furrowed in thought. What little food the Man’s Promise had remaining had been stacked on deck along with the few personal belongings and salvageable supplies that could easily be transported to shore. Finally after a few moments, for the marine knew that time was of the essence he shook his head. No, I don’t believe there is anything else for us to do except, perhaps to give thanks to Besmara that the Promise survived long enough to deliver us to shore. Glancing towards the beach, John shrugged before trying to force a smile onto his face. I’m ready to be off; and who knows lads..? John said loudly raising his voice. I’m betting there’s a good chance we can get some fresh game tonight. The marine finished, raising a loud cheer from the tired crew.
"You catch it, I'll cook it," Ollivor promises. The young man looks fairly clean, and has been liberal with the use of his sorcery to help others who worked the worse of the bilges and other filthy jobs. It was a small thing, but more than a few of the crew thought all the more highly of him for it.
As for Ollivor, the young man seemed to be optimistic about hitting land again. Hopefully it wouldn't be nearly as dangerous as the island that had taken Wyn and others. Some of the crew, those who are willing to swim, have small patches of wood, not to float on, but to float gear as they kick paddle it to the shore with a minimum of getting it wet. Ollivor himself has one, to protect the few precious spices that remain.
When the migration to shore begins, he takes it slow and easy with said cargo, his legs pushing the wood and it's contents towards the beach in strong solid strokes.
However, he does sometimes look back, seeing if any one else who dared the swim is having trouble.
Holding on to his own piece of wood and the few precious items carried on it, Aaron swims towards the shore, sacrificing speed for caution. He knows full well that what is important is not reaching dry land a little bit faster, but managing to do so with as many of what remain of their belongings as possible. Still, he looks forward to finally having his feet touch a different ground than the one of the last three years, the smile on his face as he struggles to move towards it while holding onto his patch of wood a clear enough indication of his good mood despite the circumstances. Although he does spare the doomed ship a glance, otherwise his eyes are almost glue to the land awaiting them only a few strong strokes of their arms and legs away.
One by one, the crew of the Man's Promise decamps and swims ashore, except for those who use the ship's boat. The waves crash on the Garundi shore softly, not giving them much trouble. Most of the swimmers - Doran and Vrunyar excluded - are able to touch the ground halfway to the shore, and walk the rest of the way in. The crew arrives on the shore and begins to pull the gear and salvaged equipment up the shoreline. With any luck, they can spend a day or so taking whatever they can from the sunken ship. They look out from the beach and watch the ship settle slowly on its side, battered and broken from the coral reef.
They begin an inventory of what they were able to salvage as they sail to and from the hull to tear off whatever pieces that they can. In addition to their personal arms and possessions, they have a fair bit of food in the form of tack and dried meat. They saddeningly jettisoned the booze when trying to lower the weight of the ship, but they have enough water remaining for at least a few days. Waterskins ought to get them going during the trip, and they saw enough river deltas coming out of the jungle that they should be able to find plentiful fresh water to refill as needed. They have enough wood for rafts and repairs, and they strip down some of the sheets to create makeshift tents for the time being.
For now, they are safe. They may be on a hostile, uncivilized continent filled with savage beasts and dangerous men - but that is better than being marooned on an island of corpse-riding shells or in the service of cruel slavemasters. They may have nothing more than what they carry on their back and their freedom, but they know that they can take what they need from those who prey upon the innocent. They quickly set to organize and set aside what they can; with the overland hike that they will need to take to reach Rickety's, they won't be able to carry everything and will have to come back for it. There is some joking about burying their treasure, but the isolation of the area means that it will likely be safe for a few days if it is well-hidden or guarded. "Maybe some of us should stay here. It'll be easier for a small group to steal the ship, and supplying the entire crew will be harder if we're not using this as a base of operations," Sandara suggests to Doran and John. "We can also use the time to finish stripping the Promise and have it all ready when you get back."
Vrunyar inspects his axe and his medical tools. The scalpel needs a little sharpening which he takes care of while the others are organizing the supplies.
”I’m looking forward to this trek,” the dwarf says chuckling. ”I never had much use for hiking, but after being on a ship for so long, my legs and feet are going to dance up those hills." He does a few squats and stretches his hamstrings by pushing against a tree. He tries to touch his toes, but gives up with a belly laugh. ”Onwards!” he says clapping his hands together once.
”Has anyone been to Rickety’s?” the dwarf asks. ”What should I expect?”
As they take a break during the hike Vrunyar goes over to talk with Rawkins. ”John, if you want to know how to make black powder, I can teach you,” the dwarf says with a nod at the pistol. ”I’m happy to make it for you of course, but I thought you’d like to know.”
"Small group is fine by me, if it's fine by our captains," Ollivor adds his two coppers to the conversation.
When Vrunyar's enthusiasm starts the hike in earnest, Ollivor chuckles a bit as his attempt to touch his toes. He's glad Vrunyar's humor seems indomitable. Anything that helps morale is good right now, he figures.
”Has anyone been to Rickety’s?” the dwarf asks. ”What should I expect?”
"Never been," He answers, "I've seen shipyards before, but they were legal ones. I suppose this might be more secluded. No idea how guarded it would be, but hopefully they'll just assume we're pirates waiting for work to get done on our ship. Which, in a way, I guess we are."
Doran is glad that Sandara and others in the crew feel so free to offer suggestions, it's exactly the way he'd hoped the ship would function - except that the ship is now stuck in the sand a hundred yards offshore, never to swim again. In any case, he's glad the crew is alive and still offering ideas.
"Sounds like a good approach to me, Sandara," Doran replies. At Vrunyar's limbering up for the hike ahead, Doran lets out a great laugh, more than is called for by a long shot. It's clear that he feels great relief at the fact they all survived and made it to land, even if their ship did not. "I've got to say, Vrunyar, Ollie, everyone - I'm damn glad we're all crewmates, and damn glad we're all still alive. We did well getting this far, and one way or another we'll get ourselves a ship and get back to sea. I wish I had a glass to lift to you all, and something to put in one, but I swear, I'll buy you all a drink soon enough!"
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Glancing down at Iakob’s pistol, John frowned. Huh.. I guess your right Vrun. Back in the navy, black powder would be issued to the officers that carried firearms. Out here though, I’ll have to fend for myself. Clapping the Vrun on the shoulder, John smiles at the red-bearded dwarf. Once we get out of this mess, I’ll be happy to take you up on the offer. Outta curiosity what goes into black powder anyway?
As the ex-marine waits for a response he turns his attention first to Sandra and then to Aaron. That’s a good suggestion Sandra. John states matter-of-factly. As for the actual trek, we have the charts we were able to salvage from the Promise and we have a pretty good fix on our location. I would also recommend that Aaron and I take turns breaking the trail. I think that Aaron is better at overland navigation then I am, but I’ve done my fair share. Between the two of us we should be able to keep from getting lost if we have to break off from the coast.
"I certainly had my fair share of practice on that island," Aaron agrees with a nod of his head, a sigh escaping his lips as he chases the unpleasant memories associated with his last "home" from his mind. "And I also have this," he adds, putting his hand in a belt pouch and retrieving a compass from inside of it.
As the group starts moving forward, the Chelaxian man looks at the charts John mentioned every now and then, the information he gathers from them supplemented by his compass, and, along with the Taldan sailor, they start making progress, if a little slowly considering the foreign land surrounding them.
The crew of the now-sunken Man's Promise divides into two parts: the first, led by Sandara and Hojo, will remain at the beach and strip the beached ship of all of its parts of value; the second, led by John and Doran, will travel through the jungle (again) and find their way to Rickety's in order to steal the Empty Lighthouse back from Harrigan's men. Their plan is desperate and audacious, but the best they can muster considering the difficulty of getting this far after the shipwreck and mutiny that bought their freedom. The two groups separate as the latter slips into the jungle. They cannot travel directly on the beach for fear of being spotted in the open terrain, so they start the long trek through the dense jungle.
The consultation of the map makes them believe that they can make it to Rickety's Squibs in a day or less. The pirate haven is not marked on any map, for obvious reasons, but the common lore of the well-known location gives them a decent idea. According to what they know about it, the clandestine shipyard rests on the inside curve of one of the many rivers that dumps from the heavy jungle into the Fever Sea. The tales of the continent of Garund are truly unbelievable, though much of it is probably the constant embellishments of sailors. The northern and eastern coastlines of the continent is much like the rest of the Inner Sea - civilized, if exotic at parts. The uncontrollable Eye of Abedengo rages to the north of them; it was likely a surge out of the everlasting hurricane that drove them to Bonewrack Isle. Like the Eye, the west coast of Garund is wild and uncivilized. The great Mwangi Expanse, of which they now border, is supposedly a wealthy and untameable vastness where dinosaurs and apes rule uncontested.
They push through the thick jungle, stopping often to reassess their location and ensure that they are headed in the right direction. The jungle's sticky heat slows them as well, but the frequent shallow rivers and multitude of fruit trees keep their energy up. The cries of the birds and vivid colors are nearly overwhelming to the crew, trapped in an exhausting cycle of hard sailing for the last several days. Vrunyar finds plenty of material that he can use in his extracts, plucking herbs and ferns from the ample flora as he explains the ins and outs of black powder to John. They talk when they can about things other than how they are going to keep the ship afloat for a minute more or avoid the lash of their cruel masters. The hike invigorates each of them for different reasons, and each of them feels hope growing that they might survive and even prosper.
As the sun sets, they find a place to stop and rest. They sit down for a meal of an alligator shot by Thorn and cooked by Ollivor. Doran regales them of tales around the campfire, telling him the many stories that he has heard of the continent they are now on and singing a few songs. Aaron volunteers to take the first watch, with Vrunyar taking the midnight watch on account of his dwarven eyes and Thorn taking the watch into morning. Tucked away in the base of a great tree, the group sleeps on the hard ground with gusto. It is the best night of sleep - trapped without a ship on a hostile and dangerous continent - that any of them have had in quite some time.
As dawn breaks, the group arises to finish their journey. Rickety's should only be a few hours away at most. They have a second helping of the alligator meat - still tart and tough - and fruit picked from the nearby trees. Aaron presents Doran with a simple wooden flute that he carved overnight, to aid in his songs. The flute is well-made, though basic in its musical design. Doran plays a quick tune for the others, pleased with his new instrument.
They set out towards Rickety's, crossing small rivers and climbing over the dense foliage. They cross over a waist-high (except for Doran and Vrunyar, who paddle furiously to stay above the water) river after another hour. The river's route doubles around to form almost a cove of sorts of slow-moving water with a copse of trees in the middle. The strange beauty of this place impresses them greatly, though they all remain focused on the prize of reaching their destination.
”Charcoal, sulphur, and saltpeter,” the dwarf says lowering his voice. He smiles, and his eyes sparkle. “I want to experiment with phosphorus and black powder. But the amount of urine involved is prodigious. I was collecting mine on the The Man’s Promise, but had to keep it quiet with Plugg around. Plus,” he adds with a quick glance to see who’s listening, ”I’m not too sure how the crew would like it. It’s surprising what people can take offense at, let alone involving the superstitions of mariners.”
Ollivor certainly prefers this island to the piece of hell they were once on, no matter how humid it feels at times. Cooking a croc is something he never imagined doing a year ago, but now he doesn't bat an eye at the notion.
On the 23rd, Ollivor is happy to help the shorter fellows cross the river. The sorcerer seems quite enthralled with the beauty of the place but tries to keep his focus as it is.
"Like this island a LOT better, yes sir."
Doran looks over his shoulder and nods happily at Ollivor, commenting, "Yes, indeed, Ollie. We're not exactly making twelve knots on a square-rigged ship with dolphins leaping at our bows, but it's better than our last landfall, eh?"
"I take it the flute was to your liking then, Captain Tidewrack?" The question is asked in a friendly tone, casual and conversational, as Aaron uses Doran's title from before. But before he gets an answer, he raises his arm, the gesture one of warning and caution. Despite any banter he may have engaged in during their trek, the Chelaxian has kept his eyes on the path, looking for any dangers coming their way and sure enough one such peril is closing in fast in the form of a huge snake.
"A snake, about ten feet long, swimming towards us," he calls out, pointing to where he sees the large creature. "About fifty feet away, but it is fast approaching." The words are spoken quickly, the urgency behind them unmistakeable. "If we hurry, we may make it to the bank."
"The flute is excellent, thanks," Doran says hurriedly, "as is your eye! Let's hurry to the bank!"
Doran looks over his shoulder and nods happily at Ollivor, commenting, "Yes, indeed, Ollie. We're not exactly making twelve knots on a square-rigged ship with dolphins leaping at our bows, but it's better than our last landfall, eh?"
"Good friends and good scenery," The young human concurs.
"A snake, about ten feet long, swimming towards us," he calls out, pointing to where he sees the large creature. "About fifty feet away, but it is fast approaching." The words are spoken quickly, the urgency behind them unmistakeable. "If we hurry, we may make it to the bank."
"Damn me, but you've got good eyes, Aaron," Ollivor says with no small hint of admiration, "And of course, I open my mouth about how well things are going, and it seems we have to have trouble pop up."
He makes for the beach, and tries to help Vrunyar, who if memory serves him well, isn't the best swimmer in the group.
As Aaron warns the others, the snake creature stops swimming towards them and instead rears out of the water. Water splashing in all directions as it hisses at them - but it does so from a strangely humanoid face with a long, forked tongue. The snake has glittering green scales and a long spined frill along its back. It (she?) opens its mouth to reveal long fangs threatening them. It rears back, seemingly ready to charge at them through the water. The crew half-runs, half-swims towards the banks of the shallow river through the murky brown water.
Doran darts for the riverbank, beginning to sing as he does so. He knows sailors work and fight best with a good tune to keep their minds on the job, so he does his best to oblige.
Thorn follows the party closely with his bow and arrow ready in hand raised just out of the water as they cross the river. The loud notice called out by Aaron gets Thorns attention as he scans to his left to see the oncoming threat that Aaron pointed out. Thorn makes haste and crosses the river quickly to gain the advantage of higher ground up on the river bank. As Thorn is passing by Olliver while he helps Doran and Vrunyar to swim to the bank, Thorn thinks to himself "I have got to buy them some more time!" Thorn raises the the bow to his waist and turned sideways before fireing a supressing shot at the Naga. The Nage stops and raises up from the water and the arrow splashed about 5 feet in front of the Naga. The aim was good but the unexpected stop by the Naga cuased Thorn's timing to be just off. "Damn clever serpent! I will not make the same mistake next time."
Drawing his twin blades, Aaron nevertheless opts to join the rest of his new comrades in moving towards the shore instead ocharging at the creature. Still, he keeps his eyes on this strange new foe as he does so, ready to defend himself and the others if -or when- the need arises.
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Standing on the vine choked banks of the river’s edge, John held his pistol firmly in one hand while his other griped the leather wrapped half of the boarding axe he had taken off of the Wormwood in the minutes leading up to the bloody boarding of the Man’s Promise.
Thanks to Aarons sharp eyes the rest of the group had been able to make it to the shores edge in time to avoid being ambushed by the giant snake like creature. The creature, whatever it was, with its strange human like face and wicked looking fangs was clearly hostile to the group and John was taking no chances. Work as a team, surround it and let’s put this thing down quick. John bellowed, while keeping his weapons at the ready.
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Ollivor was already heading towards shore, and that hasn't changed.
"Does that thing have a face?"
As Thorn's arrow deflects off its scales, the serpent chants something in a long-forgotten language. Several images of the serpent appear and act in unison, hissing with her. "This is my domain!" She shouts at them in Common, though it is a very foreign tongue. She - and her mirror images - dive under the water and swim towards John, using the water as coverage from those on the shore.
With Ollivor’s aid, Vrunyar speeds through the water and climbs onto the bank. His hands secure his crossbow and quickly load it. He holds the stock against his shoulder not sure which is the real water naga as the multiple images swim under the surface.