Episode 49

The Emperor

Tortoise woke, suspended in darkness. He heard the familiar, comforting creak of the Pegasus.

He’d had a strange dream during the night. He lay there in his bunk and thought over the dream. It was strange. The dream was about snorkelling on a reef on a hot sunny day. He was a child, and somehow he was able to swim. The reef was in shallow water and close to the beach and he felt safe: he was swimming with one of his friends, another tortoise.

The tide was going out and they came in to explore the rock pools. Somehow he had a glass jar in his hand, and he scooped out a tiny fish from one of the pools. He lifted the jar up to the sky to look. They were the colour of sand and glinted in the light. He decided to name the fish. He was proud of the name in the dream, but now it seemed odd.

Why had he dreamt about naming a fish?

Tortoise sat up and began meditating.

There were many changes on the Pegasus. The ship herself was different, for one. And with so many dead from the battle with the Black Remora, and many having settled square and retired to a quieter life in its aftermath, the ship’s complement had scores of new faces, with many of the younger members of the old crew in positions of authority. Ọya was First Mate now. One of the gang had asked about Molly the first day they were back aboard, and everyone had gone quiet and looked away.

“She went home,” someone said.

Tortoise, of all people, had been put in charge of the greenest lubbers, the ones who had signed up in Lagh. He’d protested, but Polly had brooked no disagreement and impressed upon the recruits that they needed to listen to his every word. He focused on teaching them the names for things, their first knots, and what they needed to know about safety and the general running of the ship, as well as making sure they were where they needed to be when they needed to be there.

He soon realised how much he’d learnt in his time aboard—he hadn’t even known what the stern was, or which was starboard and backboard, never mind the difference between aft and abaft, or tacking, gybing, wearing, and heaving to. It was strange going into his old room and seeing them all there around the card table. They were all so young and eager for action. And—surprisingly—they seemed to like him. They called themselves the Red Tails, even though none of their tails were red, and made lots of in-jokes that Tortoise didn’t understand. He oversaw their work as waisters, though they mostly trained and did chores. He felt protective of them.

The rest of the gang had new roles and old. Dee was teaching the Red Tails how to fight. Ibrahim took them for the principles of sailing, and Miguel for gardening and food preparation. Penny and Penguin initially weren’t given teaching roles, but after they protested to Ọya, who asked what they knew how to do, Penny decided on book-keeping, and Penguin chose science.

Gecko didn’t protest. He was spending less time with all of them, including Tortoise, and Tortoise felt sure he was up to something. He seemed to have changed since Ghustloch, but Tortoise wasn’t sure what exactly was different about him. He’d tried to ask him one day, but Gecko had been vague and said that he’d lost some money gambling in Lagh. Maybe that was true, but that wasn’t what Tortoise had meant, and he was pretty sure Gecko knew that. One day when he and Gecko were sitting in the sun and talking, Gecko asked him what he thought of Captain Polly, and why he’d returned to the ship. Tortoise thought it an odd question. He told Gecko that he’d returned to the ship because he trusted Polly, and his friends were all here.

On his time off, Tortoise took to reading in the library. Sometimes he wondered if he’d changed, too. He never used to remember his dreams.

It was a high-pitched ringing sound. At least, it seemed like it.

Tortoise was reading in the library when Dee knocked on the open doorway. He looked up.

Dee smiled. “Hey, Tee. Sorry to interrupt—just returning a book.”

“Sure,” Tortoise said, making some room as she squeezed past and reached up. Dee turned and plonked herself down in the opposite alcove.

“This is comfy! Can see why you spend time here.”

“Mm, it’s quiet and warm,” Tortoise agreed. “How are you? I feel like I see you but don’t see you. If that makes sense.”

“Totally! That’s how I feel too. I kinda miss being on the road.”

“The trees.”

“Yeah, the trees, the mountains. Rivers. Butterflies.”

“Me too.”

“Also not knowing what was going to happen that day. And being in it together. I mean, we are here too, of course. But it’s different. We don’t talk like we used to.”

Tortoise thought about it.

“I remember talking with Gudge about that,” he said. “About not knowing what was going to happen.”

“What did he say?”

“He said it was okay not to know what to do, as long as you’re sure of something. I wish I’d written it down. I’ve kind of forgotten the way he said it.”

Dee was quiet for a while. “I miss him,” she said. She huffed a little, and when she hurriedly wiped her face Tortoise realised a sudden rush of tears had welled up.

One day Tortoise and Gecko were on the afterdeck when the ship sighted a prize, their second since leaving Lagh and returning to their old hunting ground. It was mid-afternoon, with storm clouds brewing on the horizon.

The captain had decided that there was enough time to capture the ship, and so they made chase.

Tortoise felt restless. He’d never liked battles, but he liked them less and less. Especially since Ghustloch he’d been trying not to think about some of the things he’d seen. The ship was still some way off. The Pegasus had the weather gauge, and would catch up with them, but it would take hours.

Tortoise and Gecko were leaning against the taffrail watching the waves.

“I’m thinking about going home,” Tortoise said suddenly.

“What?” Gecko said.

“I’ve been thinking about going home,” Tortoise repeated.

“Why?” Gecko seemed genuinely surprised.

“I miss the island.”

“But there’s nothing there,” Gecko said.

“My house is,” Tortoise said. “I miss the garden.”

“I know, but I thought that this was your home now. Isn’t it? What about all of us?”

“I don’t know,” Tortoise said. “I don’t think I’m really a pirate. I’ve been wondering where Song and Mole are now. They were my friends too. Haven’t you thought about leaving the ship?”

Gecko looked taken aback. He looked away. “Maybe,” he said. “Once or twice. But not to go home. Just for something different.”

Tortoise didn’t know what to say. Neither, it seemed, did Gecko. They stared into the ocean.

The prize was closer, but still a couple of hours away. Tortoise’s stomach was squirming, but he couldn’t stay seated for long. He wandered about, this way and that, then went below deck. He knew he should be with the recruits. But he just wasn’t ready to put on a brave face.

It was only when he was almost there that he realised he was making his way to the galley.

Polly and Ọya were discussing plans on the quarterdeck.

“I don’t like the look of that storm,” Ọya said. “He’s on the move and in the wrong direction.”

“I agree, sir,” Aberra said from behind the wheel. The sailing master and his antlers towered over both of them, even Ọya.

“We’ll see,” Polly replied briskly. “It’s good to shake out and put the new recruits through some paces. Maybe this one’s a smash and grab.” Polly turned. “Ah Gecko, just the hand I wanted to see. A quick word.”

It was getting darker, the clouds thickening, and the wind starting to pick up. The prize was much closer.

They were passing Gibbet Island, little more than a rocky peak, and on the other side came upon another ship hove to. It was a whaler processing a large whale carcass floating alongside it, some of her crew on its back flensing the blubber. They were working quickly.

“Captain?” Ọya asked, passing the spyglass.

“We’ve missed our chance with the other one, at least before the storm,” Polly said. “But I doubt this one has more than food and oil, and we’re fully stocked. Time to batten down the hatches and heave to. Let’s have a closer look on the way past. I don’t recognise her.”

The Pegasus began battening.

“She’s fresh out of the dockyard by the looks,” Ọya said. “Laudanese.”

“Sir,” Aberra said with sudden alarm. “That’s two dogwhales they’re flensing. This far north? Ai! Have they lost their minds?!”

Polly raised the spyglass again. She tensed. “Dogwhales. Fools and damn fools. Aberra, get us out of here now.” Polly raised her voice. “Deck and marine officers and mates to me. Where are Modura and Tortoise?” Bells rang.

“What’s wrong with hunting dogwhales?” Ọya asked.

“Dogwhales aren’t the problem,” Polly said. “It’s what eats them.”

There was a commotion on the whaler, and their bells began ringing as well. Something was surfacing near the whales.

Ọya frowned. “What’s that?”

“I think we’re about to find out,” Polly said.

Next episode: An Ice Kraken