Episode 52

The Kraken

The recruits descended like sloths along the thick scramble line from the stern of the ship, mostly two at a time, one behind the other, the rope and the big boat rising and falling with the stormy swell, the rain and the wind buffeting them. Conditions were worsening rapidly.

Akar, who had reached the boat with Tortoise, was helping him brace the line, which was wrapped firmly round the bow bollard, and shouting at the others to hurry up. The ones who’d made it grabbed the others as they reached the boat and hauled them over the gunwales. Most of them hadn’t done it in rough seas before and Tortoise could see a few of them were shaky. Cadge half-fell into the ocean when he got to the boat but was quickly seized and dragged in by his crewmates. He wasn’t wearing any wet weather gear so was completely soaked: he would be a risk for hypothermia during the night. But the first principle is to stay afloat.

Tortoise realised they had stopped coming down. “Number off,” he ordered.

Akar: “One.”

Mahogany: “Two.”

Stone: “Three.”

Mfoniso: “Four.”

Jing: “Five.”

Jonah: “Six.”

Cadge: “Seven.”

Talulah: “Eight.”

Brigid: “Nine.”

Alinta: “Ten.”

They were aboard. A couple of them helped Tortoise with the line while Akar went forward and bent to slip the bridle—Tortoise and the others let go and the line vanished into the water. They were on their own now.

Tortoise stumped his way aft and took the tiller. The towering bulk of the ship was already moving away. “Make ready to bail,” he said, struggling to get the boat back perpendicular to the swell. Akar repeated it loudly to everyone, and they all reached for their pots and bowls. Tortoise felt a tightness in his chest. Everything was happening very slowly all at once. They were all there. Had he forgotten something? He kept a firm grip on the tiller, trying to watch all of them as well as the swell as they rose and fell in the rain, and the sea began to slop into the boat. The tiller was almost useless. They needed to—

“The sea anchor!” Akar and Tortoise shouted to each other through the rain. Akar nodded and pulled the anchor out from a locker near the bow. He quickly deployed it, the anchor disappearing into the water, and the bow slowly swung round until the boat was at right angles to the waves.

Their course had barely steadied when the boat lurched, suddenly out of time with the rhythm of the troughs. They looked to backboard.

“A cross-sea,” Akar shouted. The wind was shifting. This was dangerous. The bow of the boat needed to face toward or away from the swell to limit the risk of being swamped or overturned. But the cross-swell meant that whichever way they turned, a wave would hit them broadside. The question was which way was worse. The boat rose up with the swell and they strained to get a good look to backboard and then to the fore before they fell into the next trough. The sky was black and the wind was up, white foam scudding across the waters and leaping from the caps. The rain lashed them. “We have to turn!” Akar cried.

Akar had better eyesight. But they needed the right moment. The boat rose and Akar and Tortoise looked again. Alinta shouted to the others: “Stand by to trim!” On the third wave, which was smaller, Tortoise waited until they were mostly down the wave then slowly leaned into the tiller; the boat groggily turned to backboard, but they didn’t quite come round before the new wavefront was upon them—they crested and fell roughly down into the trough. Then came the first cross-swell, which hit awkwardly, sloshing their lifeboat with water and foam and drenching them in salt. The ocean wanted them. They bailed frantically. Tortoise was gripping the tiller so hard he thought he might break it. The ocean and the rain was closing in around them, some of the recruits—several of whom couldn’t swim—close to utter panic. With quick wordless breaths, Alinta and Brigid shipped an oar and Brigid sculled while Akar adjusted the anchor line, and they turned some more. Tortoise craned anxiously for a view of the next wave as they rose up and fell again, fearing the worst. To have escaped only to drown! For the moment at least, Fortune favoured them, for within a minute or so the wind had swung round and, though they still had to bail on the cross-swell, it moderated a bit. The boat fell into a rough new rhythm, rising and falling with the crest and trough of the waves, which began rising again with the reintensifying wind. The rain poured. They continued bailing. Somehow in all this they must’ve drifted closer to the Pegasus, for someone suddenly cried: “The ship!”

The boat swept up and crested the wave, and Tortoise looked back into the cold, driving rain and the darkness of the storm. For the rest of his life, which was going to feel very long and be full of adventure and love but was probably going to be shorter than he would’ve liked, Tortoise would remember what he saw when lightning struck the Pegasus and lit up the Kraken, and the crew, fighting for their very lives.