Ethereal

The Minnow

I was standing in the middle of the main hall back at the orphanage, the building burning around me. Screams echoed up and down the hallways as Matrons and the other girls called out my name begging me to save them. The horrifying echoes of their pain-filled cries followed me from door to door as I tried to reach them, but all of the doors were locked from the other side. The fire continued to burn around me, the smoke curling into my lungs and slowly suffocating me.

I thought I could smell singed hair and melting skin. The fire loomed closer around me threatening to swallow me whole. There was no escape; no one would make it out alive. Not even me.

The ringing of their screams still lingered in my ears as I shot up in the sand, my hand clutching my throat as through I was still amid the fire and smoke. I tried to swallow the rising sob that was crawling up the back of my throat, but my tongue was as dry as the sand I clutched between my fingers.

Something cold suddenly flattened itself onto my right palm, making a shiver go down my spine. I looked down to see a patch of fluffy white snow sitting beneath my hand, standing out against the dark tan of the sand that surrounded me. I blinked once, twice, three times, waiting for my eyes to stop playing tricks on me. All thoughts of my nightmare instantly vanished. What was a patch of snow doing here on the beach?

“Oi! Watch the oar! Ya almost smacked me upside the head!”

“Well what’s your head doin’ by the oar?”

“You could’ve given me brain damage, ya dope!”

“It wouldn’t make much of a difference, now would it, Carlo?”

I looked up to see two men arguing by a rowboat by the shore several yards away. The sun was already ascending high up into the sky, and in the distance, I could see several more rowboats heading out towards the cargo ships waiting on the horizon.

“Shit!” I said, scrambling to my feet. Before I bolted down to the water, I stole one last glance at the sand, but there was only an imprint of where I had been laying. There was no snow patch to be found. I must’ve been in dream haze from my nightmare. I shook my head and sprinted down towards the rowboat and skidded to a stop in front of the two men who were knee-deep in the water as they pushed their rowboat into the sea. They stopped arguing for a moment and looked over at me, their gazes confused and somewhat suspicious. I didn’t recognize these men from the bonfire last night – but to be fair, I didn’t stick around long enough to learn anyone’s names.

“Are you a part of Jax’s crew? Headed to Death’s Canyon?” I said, out of breath.

“Ah, I remember you.” Said the man with the oar. He was wearing a white cap over his silver hair, his skin riddled with liver spots. “You’re the newbie from last night.”

“The new guy? You didn’t tell me it was a girl, Stew.” Said the other man. He was standing on the other side of the boat with his brown pant legs rolled up to mid-thigh. He looked to be a couple of years younger than Stew, but still old. His hair still had a few strands of black in it, and his skin wasn’t nearly as leathery. They both wore a matching set of tan pants with black leather boots, along with torn brown shirts that were several sizes too big for them. They too, had the same matching ‘C’ branded into their forearms. Though their branding scars were somewhat faded from several years of healing, their haunting bone white color was unmistakable.

“You would’ve known that had ya not fallen asleep right after dinner, Carlo. What does it matter anyway?” said Stew, interrupting my thoughts.

“It’s bad luck to have a lady on board.” Said Carlo, his voice low. Stew rolled his eyes.

“Ya also say its bad luck to sneeze three times during a full moon. Just get in the damn boat before I actually smack ya with the oar this time.” Said Stew. He turned to me and held out his hand, “You’re in luck today, miss. Had ya slept for another minute you woulda missed the last boat off the beach. Now climb on in and we’ll be off.”

Rushing through the water, I thanked him as I took his hand, letting him help me into the boat. Carlo pulled himself up after me and Stew followed suit. I watched as Carlo picked up a second oar from the boat and helped Stew push off the sand bar and into the open water, the boat rocking hard as the current latched itself onto us.

“So then,” said Stew, “what’s ya name, miss?” He and Carlo were now rowing steadily out further from the beach, their movements in sync with each other as the oars moved in and out of the water smoothly. They must have several years of practice doing this together.

I glanced behind their shoulders before I answered, my unease growing as the beach was becoming further and further away. Being on the water was strange, the waves shifting the boat back and forth made my stomach churn uncomfortably. I’d be seasick if I had any food in my belly to throw up.

Just then my stomach chose to make itself known, rumbling loudly for everyone on the boat to hear. I smiled sheepishly at them. I haven’t eaten for nearly a day and a half – maybe longer depending on how long that train ride to Camp was.

“You haven’t eaten, huh miss? Carlo, the bags by your leg. Get her a biscuit or whatever you have.” Stew said. I felt a warm feeling settle in my chest at his kindness. Maybe I wouldn’t be completely alone at sea.

Carlo huffed as he set down the oar and dug through the bag, pulling out a palm-sized biscuit and a few strips of dried jerky for me to chew on. I reached for them eagerly, wasting no time stuffing the food into my mouth, barely tasting it at all.

“Thank you,” I said. “do you happen to have any water? And my name’s Nor.” I added quickly.

“Nor? What’s that short for?” Carlo said, passing me a bota that was similar to the one I used to have. I took several long pulls, the cool water making me ease deeper into my seat. I handed the Bota back to Carlo as I wiped my mouth.

“Eleanor, but no one besides my brother called me that.” I said. I looked down at the oars in their hands. “I could take a turn with the oar if you want me to?” I offered them. We were steadily losing sight of the beach and gaining on the cargo ships. Maybe taking a turn rowing would take the edge off my growing anxiety of being on the water for the first time.

“That’s alright, miss. Carlo and I have a system, see here?” Stew said. I nodded my head, watching their arms move the oars in precise synchronized movements.

With food now settling happily into my stomach, I tried not to look over the edge of the boat and into the deep abyss of the ocean. It unnerved me to think of what could be swimming below me without knowing being able to see it. The rowboat settled into an easy silence, the only noise coming from the gentle laps of water against the boat.

I looked over my shoulder to see five cargo ships in the distance, and all but one was already sailing off to their various destinations.

“Captain’s gonna have a fit once we get on board,” said Carlo in a low voice.

“And who’s fault is it that we’re late?” said Stew. He looked over at me. “This one here wanted to go visit his lady friend before we set off. Had to get up in the middle of the night to meet her back at the Camp so he would make it back here on time, and we’re still going to be late.” I giggled despite of myself. It was cute that Carlo walked all the way back to the Camp to say goodbye to his girlfriend.

Jax’s ship was only a few hundred yards away now, the extensive wooden hull at least 100 feet long and the tallest mast sprouting 30 feet into the air from the deck. From the main mast I could see a bright blue flag waving lazily in the wind, but there was no distinguishing symbols or markings.

“Capt’n named her Minnow,” said Stew, nodding towards the ship.

“Minnow,” I tested the name on my tongue, the name sounding strange. I remember reading about different marine sea life several years ago during one particularly long winter when I had nothing else to do. My textbook described minnows as tiny fish that reside in freshwater streams. Jax’s ship resembled nothing like a minnow.

My mind began to wander elsewhere, and I wondered what kind of job Jax would have me do once I boarded the ship. Eli must have told him I’ve never been on a boat before; looking at all the complicated ropes and sails that hung every which way made me hope Jax was smart enough to give me a job more suited to my skill type.

The thought of Jax made my stomach twist in an odd way. Maybe I was getting seasick, or maybe it was the off-tasting jerky. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t seem to get the image of his eyes out of my head and the way the brown seemed to swirl in the heat of the fire from last night.

I shook my head to clear it of those kinds of thoughts. I had more pressing problems to deal with than to fixate over a man.

“We’re comin’ up to the ship now, miss. When we come up near the stern ya gotta pull the rope down so we can tie her off. Got it?” said Stew. I nodded my head.

Stew and Carlo dropped their oars once the rowboat was within a few feet of the Minnow. I craned my neck upwards, my eyes wide at how massive this thing really was. The sails were tied off and the ropes pulled tight as they zig-zagged in every direction. The side of the rowboat hit the ship with a dull clunk, almost making me lose my balance. I threw a hand out and touched the hull of the ship, the damp wood soaking my fingertips.

A rope was thrown over the ship’s deck, nearly hitting me as it landed over the rowboat and the end of it dipped into the water.

“Hand that over to Carlo now, miss. Someone should be getting a ladder sent down in a mo’.” said Stew. I pulled the rope over to Carlo, who murmured a thanks while avoiding my eyes.

I watched as Carlo smoothly tied the rowboat to the Minnow, his fingers still agile even in his old age. Another thud sounded from behind me. I turned my head to see that it was indeed the ladder, just as Stew said it would be.

“You’re gonna have to stand up and pull us over to it, miss.” Said Stew.

I nodded my head again, my legs shaking as I slowly stood up. Pausing a moment to steady my balance, I pivoted on my heel and reached out for the ladder. Weaving my fingers into the frayed rope I pulled the ladder closer to the rowboat, my muscles straining against the current.

“Alright, miss. Go on up now and be quick about it. Cap’s a stickler for tardiness, and we should’ve set sail well over an hour ago.” Stew said.

“Thank you,” I said, my appreciation genuine. “I’ll see you on deck!”

I pulled myself upwards off the rowboat and onto the ladder. Though I’d been climbing trees for years, ascending a twenty-foot long rope ladder over this blue abyss of an ocean turned out to be a completely different experience altogether. My arms burned as I kept moving upwards, resisting the urge to look down and see how far below Stew and Carlo were. I knew that if I looked down, someone was going to have to carry me the rest of the way up.

A forceful wind swept over the ship, making the ladder sway and bump against the side of the hull. I felt my legs moving with the ladder below me as I moved upwards. The motion made it feel like I was about to be carried off by the wind.

My arms were shaking far more violently now as the small muscles in my hands cramped up, but I couldn’t stop now. Everyone on board might not be hanging over the edge of the ship to see if I would make it, but I knew their eyes were on me, whether I could see them or not. First impressions are vital, especially in a place where you weren’t wanted. I had to make it on deck.

At long last my fingers felt the edge of the ship, relief spreading through me as I reached the end of the ladder. Throwing an arm over the thick slab of wood, I swung my leg over the railing and rolled onto the deck of the ship with what can only be described as a very un-lady-like thunk. I flipped over onto my back and took several deep breaths to calm my racing heart.

“Get a move on there, Mousey!” said a voice. I didn’t move. Surely they were talking to some other crew mate that was named Mousey – they all knew what my name was.

“I said move it.” A sharp kick to my side sent me rolling into the side of the ship. I tried to throw out my hands to lessen the blow but wasn’t quick enough. My head hit the wood paneling along with my elbows and knees, the sharp pain from the impact made me yelp out in surprise. I rolled onto my back and opened my eyes to see a disfigured face looming above me, the man’s mouth was curled up in a wicked smile as he glared down at me. Several of his teeth were missing and his face was adorned with long jagged scars that ran across the length of his face.

“And a hardy welcome to you too, sir.” I said under my breath, audibly groaning as I pushed myself onto my feet. From the corner of my eye I saw the man was barefoot and each of his toes was a different shade of purple and yellow with most of his toenails missing in action. Is this the typical physique of a crewmate?

The crewmate smiled down at me, his expression anything but friendly. Something dark tugged at the bottom of my stomach as my mind hummed with worry. With a parting bow, he stalked off towards the front of the ship, the shreds of clothes that hug off his skinny frame flapping behind him as he left.

I shivered, crossing my arms over my chest as I glanced at the crewmates that worked on the deck. Though some were busy tying off knots and carrying bundles full of food below deck, others passed me sparing glances or openly stared at me as though I were an exotic bird that had suddenly collapsed on deck. My gut told me that there were others like the scar-faced crewmate, and they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me – or worse.

“Pardon me, missy.” Said Stew from behind me. I turned my head to see him perched on the edge of the railing waiting for me to move, a small smile on his lips.

I moved away and watched as his leapt over the side with more grace than I had shown on my first attempt with Carlo following close behind. A small feeling of relief swelled within me. At least I knew I could trust Stew and Carlo – to an extent.

“Has the capt’n talked to ya yet?” Stew said. I shook my head no. “Well,” he said, “maybe he’s too busy to notice us late arrivals.”

There was a creak in the floorboard behind me, and Stew and Carlo immediately straightened and went silent. I didn’t have to turn around to know who was standing behind me. I tilted my head and caught the bright shine of his hair as it glowed in the sunlight. He was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt that bellowed out around him, tucked into a pair of dark pants that showed off his lean legs clad with black leather boots. A blush crept up my cheeks as I stared a moment too long.

“Thank you for finally joining us,” said Jax as he stood in front of us. If he had noticed me ogling him just moments ago, he made no sign that he cared. He motioned to a crewmate at the helm, who signaled to the men hidden in the tangled lines of the mast, who tugged at the ropes and let the sails descend to catch the wind. I peered over the edge of the ship and watched the waves crashing against the dark wood, telling me that we were moving. This was it – my first trip at sea. A small thrill of adrenaline shot down my spine at the thought of it.

Jax cleared his throat from behind me. I turned around to find him watching me, his eyes narrowing as though he smelled something pungent. He met my eyes for a brief moment before returning his attention to Stew and Carlo. I pawed at my hair, wincing as my fingers brushed against the large tangled ball of hair on top of my head. Was I really that bad to look at?

“You’ve both been under Eli’s service long enough to know that tardiness is not permitted. Next time this happens the ship will leave without you, and you will be reassigned to the Camp.” Jax said. Stew and Carlo gave him a curt nod in understanding, and Jax waved his hand at them in dismissal. Stew gave me one last wink before following behind Carlo down below deck. I gave him a smile in return, my stomach twisting as they left me alone with Jax.

Only as I finally looked back over to where he was standing, I realized with a jolt that he too had left. Sputtering, I looked wildly around the deck searching for his golden hair within the sea of fast-moving crewmates. Did he forget about me already?

“Over here, Mousey.” I heard him call from above. Did he just call me a mouse? I looked upwards towards the stern and met his eyes. They glowed with mischief and something a little bit wicked. I followed him up the short stairway, my hands gripping the railing firmly as the ship suddenly rocked to the left. The motion made my stomach churn uncomfortably. Was it going to be like this for the entire trip?

I stopped at the top of the upper deck, keeping one hand on the wooden railing as I looked out at the blue horizon. Pushing away any thoughts about the looming sea sickness that was growing in my belly, I focused instead on the sea. I had never seen so much blue – the sky and the sea seemed to melt together in the far-off distance where the world blurred into a thin line. Jax cleared his throat from beside me.

“Follow me,” he said, going back down the staircase and opening a doorway leading to the decks below. I followed suit, carelessly letting the door behind me shut closed. Immediately the darkness enveloped me, making it nearly impossible to see what was in front of me. I heard a shuffling sound down below me, and with slow, cautionary steps I continued downwards.

I bumped into something hard, and believing it to be Jax, mumbled an apology and quickly stepped away. I heard him chuckle from the different side of the room, and I realized that I had bumped into a wooden post and not an actual human being.

“This is where you’ll be working.” He said. Jax rigged the oil lamp to a hook above our heads, illuminating the tiny kitchen that sat tucked in front of us. I could make out half a dozen tables sitting on the edges of the room. This must also be where the crew ate as well. “Grouch-o is the head cook on deck. You’ll be assisting him with whatever he might need. There’s no reason for you to ever go into the lower decks of this ship.” Jax’s voice suddenly turned hard. I looked over at him to see he was already staring at me, his eyes filled with a cautionary warning. I thought of the scarred crewmate from earlier, and how his eyes swarmed over my body. Going into the lower decks would not only be stupid but might end up getting me killed. Or worse.

I nodded my head in understanding, not wanting to continue the conversation further. My nerves were already buzzing with fear and unneeded adrenaline. Anything more would send me spiraling into a panic attack.

“Good.” Jax said, grabbing the lamp before turning and headed towards a long hallway to the right. I followed close behind, not wanting to be left alone in the dark. Especially after Jax’s warning. “The crew sleeps in the deck below us, and the very bottom deck is used for storage of food and trade goods. You will be sleeping here,” Jax stopped as we reached the end of the hallway and opened up a thin doorway.

It was a storage closet.

“I’m sleeping here?” I said, my voice high-pitched. The room was barely big enough for me to stand upright in. A make-shift bed composed of two bales of hay and a blanket thrown over it was pushed against the wall. Several buckets with mops and other cleaning supplies were stacked up against the surrounding walls, barley making a path to reach the hay bed. There was no port-hole window, and no hook for a lamp. A leak in the ceiling floorboard dripped seawater onto the blanket, forming a large dark patch.

“It’s either here or below deck, with the rest of the crew.” Said Jax. I held back a snide comment that was forming on the edge of my tongue. It was just for a few weeks, I told myself. I can sleep here for a few weeks. Hopefully.

“Where do you sleep?” I asked him, turning away from the storage closet. The question came out before I could stop it, and I couldn’t help the heat that rushed into my cheeks as Jax’s eyebrows lifted at the question.

Jax considered me for a moment before answering, his gaze never leaving mine. For a moment I thought he wasn’t going to tell me for the fear that I would try and show up to his room in the middle of the night, and by not telling me was his way of gently letting me know he most certainly not interested.

“The captain’s quarters are beyond the kitchen, at the very end of the ship.” Jax said. He leaned down so close that his lips brushed the soft shell of my ear, “But don’t plan on making any unexpected visits.”

“What? I –“ I stuttered, jumping backwards at his comment. My worst fears had come true. He must have seen me ogle him on the top deck, and now he plans on humiliate me for my far-too-obvious interest in him. Jax flipped his head back as he roared in laughter, his eyes twinkling in the light of the flame. He leaned back down, but this time I pulled away so that his lips wouldn’t touch me again.

“You’re nothing like I thought you would be.” He said, taking me by surprise. Before I could muster up a response, Jax was already moving down the hallway and back towards the kitchen. My mind raced as I scrambled to catch up with him, my ears ringing as I replayed his words over and over again.

You’re nothing like I thought you would be.

What the hell did he expect me to be like? Was he expecting a mild-mannered milk maid?

Questions bounced across my mind as I followed behind Jax, staring at the rigid planes of his back muscles from beneath his shirt. I frowned. He was teasing me, taunting me, testing me. What did it all mean? What was he really trying to say?

“Grouch-o is probably getting dinner ready. Do whatever he says and he won’t be too awful.” Jax said without turning around. We turned the corner and entered the kitchen, now completely lit up from lanterns that hung from the ceiling. Without so much as a goodbye, Jax bolted up the stairs and back out onto deck, slamming the door shut behind him. For some reason his abrupt departure stung – he couldn’t have even spared a wave goodbye? Then again, he was captain of the ship. He could care less about the feelings of a single crewmate.

My eyes settled instead on the cook who had magically appeared behind the kitchen counter. I don’t remember seeing him on the beach, and had I not been purposefully looking for him I might’ve glanced right over him. Grouch-o was a thin wisp of a man who was far too tall to be working on a ship with cramped, low ceilings. His back was arched downward as though he had a hunchback, his violently blue eyes were draped by a curtain formed from his unibrow. He had a thick mustache to match, but his head was completely void of hair save for a handful of long threads of hair that dangled past his ears. The man looked more like the moles that used to burrow in the Matron’s gardens than anything else.

His eyes glanced at me for a moment, long enough for me to see the disapproval in his eyes as he glowered at me, and then turn back to whatever vegetables he was coarsely chopping up with a butcher’s knife. His torso and arms were terribly long and made him look like a daddy long leg spider, while I noticed that his fingers were rather short and stubby, as though he had been chopping too fast one day and accidentally took off a few inches from his fingers.

“Hi,” I said, stepping closer into the light. Grouch-o didn’t turn. “my name is –“

“Already know your name, Mousey. Get to cleanin’ those plates in the sink, then start peeling the potatoes in the sack below the table.” Grouch-o said, his voice like splintering wood despite his slight frame. It was plainly obvious why he had earned the name Grouch-o.

I thought about correcting him and telling him my name was not in fact Mousey, and to ask who was telling everyone my name was Mousey. Was it Jax? Scar-face? Stew? I needed answers. The fate of my social status hung in the balance.

I withheld an eye roll and moved over to the sink filled to the brim with dishes caked with a mysterious brown substance and water colored a flat gray. I was used to doing chores like this back at the orphanage, but the Matrons at least supplied us gloves when we were assigned kitchen duty. There were no gloves to be found now.

I picked up a plate with the tips of my fingers, finding a sponge dotted with mold spots, and began to scrub. At this rate, I’d rather eat my meals out of my own two hands.

The pile of plates began to stack up by my elbow as I progressed with my work. I had no idea how long I had been scrubbing for, but by the sound of Grouch-o lighting the stove and dumping water into an oversized pot as he prepared to make a stew, I could only guess it was nearing the end of the day. The number of dishes that were still in need of a good wash was nowhere near a foreseeable end, however, and to my utter disgust the remainder of the plates were now submerged beneath the murky dish water. I tried to use a bent fork to fish down into the sink’s dark depths, but Grouch-o had quickly apprehended my tool with the warning that eating utensils were to only be put into mouths. I wanted to ask what kind of mouth that spoon had been subject to for it to be bent at such an angle, but kept my mouth shut.

With a deep breath I dunked my hand into the water, holding back a gag as my fingers brushed up against something that was most definitely not a plate. Praying that nothing would latch onto my hand and try to bite it off, I snatched a handful of plates and almost threw them onto the counter. Grouch-o shot me a dirty look but said nothing and returned to chopping a greenish purple vegetable I had never seen before.

An eternity passed before I finally finished. I wanted to wipe the sweat off my brow but held myself back at the sight of my browned hands. I never wished for anything more than to wash them, but ironically the only place to wash them was exactly where I had gotten them dirty in the first place.

Grouch-o gave me no words of affirmation about a job well done. Not that I expected any, but a girl can dream. Maybe Grouch-o had a soft spot, and I’m nothing if not known for my charm and wit.

Without a word Grouch-o pointed to a large sack by his feet – the potatoes. My shoulders sagged, my water-soaked fingers already aching at the sight of all those unpeeled dirt rocks. Grouch-o was kind enough to give me a blunted knife the length of my thumb and a bucket for the discarded peels. I took a seat at one of the tables and put the bucket between my knees and set to work.