5.6.16

In For A Penny - Part 17 - End

   If you have not already, please start here!

...Previous

   Weatherdecker hauled himself up over the lip of the platform, scrabbling on wet wood. It was dangerous and stupid to be up here, but he saw no other choice. He could make a stand from this height. He only had to watch the ladder and cut down whatever came up it.
   The captain settled with his back to the mast, and kept his sword trained rigidly on the ladder, just in case. Just in case Airedale was feeling reckless.
   He kept his eyes and his weapon focused on that same spot. Never once did he bother to check the rigging behind him. Though, he may not have seen Airedale anyway, in the dark. The first mate only appeared when lightning lit up the sky; crouched on the yard of a mast, or crawling on the ropes like a monkey. Dangerous and stupid. Two could play at that game, and Timothy Airedale played every game to win.
   Weatherdecker didn’t see the hand gripping the planks behind him, illuminated by a strobe flash of lightning. The sound of the wind drove out any noise that Airedale might have made as he pulled himself over the edge, a long dagger gripped in his teeth.
   The dagger was shortly at Weatherdecker’s neck. He jolted in fright as he felt the cold edge across his windpipe; Airedale’s hand slid under his chin and held it up, immobile. The captain tightened his grip on his sword, hard enough to make his arms tremble.
   “You could try it,” said the first mate, calmly. “But, you do not have a clear shot. You would be flailing like a fish and I would gut you as one. Drop it.”
   The captain did not make a move.
   “It is no good being stubborn, Richard. You are only delaying the inevitable. Drop the sword, and be sure to drop it over the edge.”
   It took only a tiny tear of blood nicked from the captain’s neck to spur him to action. He yelped and released his hold on the weapon; it shuddered like a leaping silver shark from the impact and tipped over the ladder lip, disappearing into the dark.
   “Good,” sighed Airedale. “That is the first good decision you have made in a long time.”
   “What’re you waitin’ for?” grunted Weatherdecker. “I yielded. I’m unarmed. Point me down the ladder so you can throw me in the clink, you traitor.”
   “I could. I could do that,” agreed Airedale thoughtfully. “And yet…I hesitate.”
   Weatherdecker’s stomach dropped as his first mate gripped him more tightly, pulling himself in to whisper in his ear.
   “You have given me such a grand opportunity, Richard, and I must consider it carefully, if you would indulge me a moment. We are forty feet off the deck. The rain is pouring, and we are slashing away at swords. You might not see the edge as you move to strike. Your foot might slip, it just might.”
   Weatherdecker swallowed precariously around the dagger.
   “I did not enter this fight hoping to kill you, but, I may never have such a chance again. It could look an accident this high up, could it not, Richard?”
   “You’re not the type, Tim,” quavered the captain. “You wouldn’t kill a man at your mercy. You got more honour than that, I know you do.”
   The world stood still for a moment; then, slowly, Airedale withdrew the dagger, tucking it back into the sheath. A few strands of his perfectly coiffed hair fluttered in the wind, illuminated in another lightning flash.
   “How kind of you to say, Captain,” said Airedale graciously. “I am flattered that you would think so highly of me.”
   After a pause, filled only with the sound of wind and rain, Weatherdecker began to turn.
   In a blink of fine cotton, the loop of an ascot tie fell over his head and hugged his neck. The ends were pulled tight.
   He growled and gasped as his head pulsed with trapped blood. He reached over his shoulder, clawing at the tie, but Mr. Airedale’s grip overpowered his. He tried to slide his fingers between it and his neck, but the cotton did not yield.
   “I apologize, Richard,” said Mr. Airedale quietly. “I wanted to end it peacefully. However, a sword spills evidence. A shove from a height may not silence, not always. But, throwing a dead man over the edge - the hard work is already done, is it not? An accident, a fall in the rain. Who will argue, Richard?”
   He wrenched his arms back, tightening the loop.
   “Who will argue?”

   Mr. Vesco burst through the hatch onto the deck, leaping immediately to his feet. He held his lantern high, though its light did not go far into the stormy night.
   “Tim!?” he shouted as he ran along. “Tim! Captain!”
   He looked frantically around the dark boards, searching the orange shadows, ignoring the water dripping down his neck. He didn’t know who he was worried for; he just knew he did not want either of them to do anything they’d regret.
   Nobody. The deck was barren. Perhaps they’d gone below through the aft doors. He hurried along, lantern bobbing in time with his steps, eyes and ears searching the darkness.
   As he passed the mainmast, his foot nudged something heavy, and he shied back in a panic, tense as a violin string. Skirting around it, he extended his lantern, and stopped.
   A sword, clean as anything. Not a drop of blood anywhere near it. He exhaled. A good sign, he supposed, but the owner was nowhere to be seen. Where could it have…
   He looked up just in time.
   “By the gods!” he shouted, staggering backwards. He slipped and fell hard onto the deck. His captain followed his lead a second later, only much, much harder.
   The sounds. There were so many sounds, sharp and clear in the constant patter of rain, all ringing at once. The dry tearing of skin as the deck met it at speed. The slimy burst of muscles and organs on impact. Bones shattering, vertebrae crunching. Teeth rattling across wood as they split from seeping gums.
   The silence lasted longer than the sounds. Vesco stared, unable to take his eyes away. He’d seen gore, and blood, and he’d even seen a neck twisted that way before, but it had never been his captain.
   The rain diluted most of the blood, helping it spread through the wood of the decks. It washed oozing organs clean. There was orange. There was purple, and blue. Vesco finally looked away, and up, and paused.
   Mr. Airedale was climbing down the ladder. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Calm and collected, as ever.
   Vesco stood himself up on shaky legs, trying not to look at the wreck of his captain. He glowed in his lantern light, pale and sickly.
   The first mate set one boot on the ground, and the other. He turned, with his usual stony indifference, to study the body of Richard Weatherdecker.
   When he finally looked up, he saw Vesco staring at him, gaping in shock. Rain ran down their faces, dripping through sodden hair. Mr. Airedale didn’t blink the water from his eyes. When he spoke, he spoke softly, in a sad choking whisper.
   “He fell.”
   Mr. Vesco did not argue.

   The next day, Mr. Tiller said goodbye to Damian on the Port Nichols docks. The crew of The Ship said goodbye to Captain Weatherdecker, though this event was surrounded by less pomp and circumstance. The ship’s doctor did his best to gather the captain into one piece, wrapping him in linen to hide what he could not fix, and then a dinghy of crewmen rowed him out to the deeps. The cannonball roped to his ankles quickly dragged him from sight. Mr. Airedale watched from the deck of the ship - his ship. From that distance, he could hardly see the splash.
   Adam was readying the SS Cartleblat to pull out and head home. Tiller met Susan on the dock, next to the berth of the hardy little tugboat. She held Damian in her arms. Mr. Tiller held the large rucksack he’d packed last night.
   “You should take this,” he said, offering it to her. “Got some extra clothes for the kid. Snacks and the like.”
   “Oh, Mr. Tiller, thank you,” said Susan. She let him drape one of the straps over her arm, and she hefted it onto her shoulder. “That’s so kind.”
   “Some toys in there too, just in case you want ‘em. Figured he might like ‘em for the trip home.”
   “I’m sure,” said Susan, smiling, “but, are you? How much did you spend on all this?”
   “It was nothin’,” said Tiller. “Don’t worry about that.”
   “I’m going to, you know. I hope you didn’t put yourself out.”
   “Not at all. It went to a good cause.” He was suddenly unable to look at her. He stuck his hands in his pockets, and studied the dock boards underneath his feet. “I should get goin’, I suppose. Let you folks on your way. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime, eh?”
   She lunged at him as he turned to go, seizing him by the wrist.
   “Mr. Tiller, you did me a favour I can never repay. You know where I’ll be. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, anything at all, let me know.”
   He had stopped, but he kept his head down. He turned towards her the tiniest bit.
   “I s’pose…there’s maybe somethin’ right now you could do.”
   “Anything!”
   “Can I hold ‘im one last time?”
  A tear fell from the tip of his nose onto the dock. Without a word, she turned Damian around in her arms and offered him up onto the boatswain’s shoulder. Tiller squeezed him tight, crying silently into the boy’s soft curls. Susan dove in and wrapped her arms around the both of them, her head on Tiller’s other shoulder.
   In that quiet moment, she thought, and thought, and thought some more. About all the things that had happened. About this kind, gentle man. About how much he cared for her son.
   In the next quiet moment, she began to whisper in his ear.

   The new captain insisted on seeing the SS Cartleblat home as a security escort. He knew the Benefactor would have something to say about it, but he was not troubled in the least, as he knew what to say back.
   They anchored in the bay, and rode a dinghy to the docks. Acting Captain Airedale and his first mate Vesco met the young family, and the boatswain that had joined them for the trip home, by their tugboat.
   “Miss Carruthers,” said Airedale, taking her by the hand, “I must apologize for this brief farewell. I regret we must take our leave as soon as we may.”
   “I understand, Mr. Airedale. Oh! I mean, Captain Airedale. Thank you for all your help.”
   “You were most welcome to it, Miss Carruthers. My crew and I remain in your service whenever you have need.”
   He released her hand, and took up the hand of Captain Cartleblat.
   “The same is true for you, sir. I hope our paths across the seas may intersect again.”
   “Sure,” said Adam. “Here’s hopin’. Thanks, Cap’n.”
   Mr. Vesco shook the hands of Adam and Susan in turn, as his captain had done.
   “I’ve seen folks crazier than you two, no doubt about that. What I ain’t seen yet is anyone braver. Your kiddo’s gonna have a hell of a time keepin’ up with mum and dad.”
   Susan laughed and hugged him.
   “I can never thank you enough, Mr. Vesco. Any time you’re in Port Victor, please, come see us!”
   “Any time an’ every time, miss. You give junior my best, eh?” He turned to Adam. “Cartleblat, let’s make a deal.”
   “A…deal?” said Adam, confused.
   “What’s say the both of us give up cards for a while? Seem to be more trouble than they’re worth.”
   This cheekiness earned him a half-laugh.
  “Don’t have time for cards anymore, man,” said Adam. “I got a kid to look after.”
   Vesco grinned and clapped Adam on the shoulder. Captain Airedale offered his own polite little smile, before addressing his boatswain. Tiller held Damian in his arms.
   “I apologize for our haste, Mr. Tiller, but we must be on our way. Have you any farewells left to say, say them now, and we shall set sail.”
   Mr. Tiller looked nauseous. He clutched the boy tightly, and glanced briefly at Susan. She smiled and nodded encouragement. Tiller handed the boy to her, and took a step forward to face Mr. Airedale.
   “Uh, Cap’n…” said Tiller quietly, “…permission to take shore leave?”
   The captain’s eyebrow twitched upwards, ever so slightly.
   “On which grounds, Mr. Tiller?”
   “Well, y’see, Tim, there’s a home for foundlings an’ orphans, here, and Susan’s one of the Misses, there, an’ they’re gonna be short-staffed soon on account of a new baby on the way, and since, well, I really felt like I was doin’ good by lookin’ after this little guy, more of ‘em would just be better, right? Susan says I have the knack for it, and I ain’t had the knack for many things in life so I figured I had to take the chance while it was here for me.”
   The Captain studied him for a moment, thinking. Mr. Tiller’s stomach tightened all the while.
   “I-I know it’s short notice, Tim. I’m sorry. I just don’t know when we’ll be back here again!”
   “Mr. Tiller,” said Airedale, “I don’t either. No one can say when we may return. Though, I take comfort in knowing that you will be here, with the people that need you most.”
   “Is that…was that yes?” said Tiller nervously.
   “Jeremy, I am not a father. If I were, nothing would put me more at ease than knowing, were something to happen to me, you would be the one to look after my children. Go with my blessing. You are discharged with full honours, Mr. Tiller, from my service.”
   He didn’t think about it; he just hugged his captain, the same way he breathed, or blinked. The message went straight from his brain to his muscles. Airedale was too tall to hug around the shoulders. The Captain patted his former boatswain’s head a few times as his waist was manhandled.
   “Thank you, Tim! I’ll never forget you boys!”
   “Nor we you, Mr. Tiller. May your land-legs find you swiftly.”
   When Tiller finally let go of his captain, Vesco dived in and grabbed his hand. He didn’t shake it, he only squeezed it tightly in both of his.
   “Good on ya, Jerry. Stay outta trouble, eh?”
   Tiller grinned back at him.
   “I’ll try, Vesco. Thanks.”
   The three (four, if the sleeping baby was counted) left on the dock watched the dinghy bob away, watched The Ship raise its anchor, lower its sails, and cruise out of the bay. It was late afternoon when they made their way back home.
   Mr. Tiller carried the sleeping Damian on his shoulder. Adam and Susan walked behind him, hand in hand, enjoying the quiet. Their son’s face was peaceful.
   “I think he’ll work out just fine,” observed Adam. “With the kids.”
   “I know he will,” agreed Susan.
   “Great stroke of luck to find someone so quick, before you’re down a hand. Who’s expecting? Anyone I know?”
   They walked on in silence. After a few seconds, Adam looked to Susan. She looked up at him and started to smile. He slowed his pace, and she fell back with him.
   “You’re kidding,” said Adam blankly.
   “You weren’t, when you said your cot would do the trick.”
   He smiled and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.
   “Sure wasn’t,” he agreed.
   “Are you going to stick around for this one?” she asked.
   “Sure am.”
   She hugged him around the waist as they walked home.