11 The Estrela do Norte
The Estrela do Norte
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Where the steam-ship trails hind-ways its long pennant of smoke,
Where the fin of the shark cuts like a black chip out of the water,
Where the half-burn’d brig is riding on unknown currents,
Where shells grow to her slimy deck, where the dead are corrupting below
― Walt Whitman
Sil-ver-fin... Sil-ver-fin...
THE SIREN SONG PIERCED through the dream veil even as Silverfin lay snuggled up into his pirate’s embrace.
Was it a Siren song, or did it merely toll six bells of the middle watch?
The sky outside was black, as Silverfin extricated himself from the warmth of Hawk’s arms and slipped his mangled leg into the heavy boot.
Sil-ver-fin...
No, no there was no mistaking it; that was definitely a Siren’s call.
He descended to the main deck as quietly as his wooden peg permitted, and lowered himself by the railing, using the ropes for support.
Where are you going, Silverfin?
Behind their stern, at a safe distance, he could make out the white sails of the Tempest. While in the moonlit water around the hull, Silverfin could spot the shimmer of the sleek tails of the other Mers.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied quietly, knowing that his kin did not need to hear his voice to feel his response.
Nor did he need to hear their reply. It was obvious what was happening around the Orca: Hawk’s ship had sailed right into a Mer-army headed the same direction as them.
Some swam along aided only by their own arms and fins, while others rode their mighty horses and wielded their tritons.
So much more beautiful than land-horses, Silverfin couldn’t help but think.
With their ridged brows and their curved tails, and none of those unsightly hoof things, that required metal “shoes.” How poorly was this land animal made to require such crude biped intervention?
We’re going to sink the Portuguese treasure galleon.
“Not if we get to her first,” Silverfin smirked.
Hubris, Silverfin, is what got you into trouble in the first place.
“I thought it was my vanity,” he replied, running his fingers through his hair. Yes, it was coming along nicely. Soon, at least, he would be able to compensate for his lost appendage with having his magnificent locks back.
For Mami Wata! rose up the cry all around him. Mami Wata! echoed the horses. Mami! Mami! came the dolphin cry of the rear guard.
FOR MAMI WATA! FOR MAMI WATA!
The din of the marine cacophony pierced Silverfin’s eardrums with its rising pitch, forcing him to cup his hands over his ears.
How unaccustomed he’d become to this! How used to the soothing, gravelly tones of Hawk’s voice as he murmured human sweet nothings into his ears.
No, he could never leave Samuel. He was his home now, not the sea.
“Ugh, go away!” he hissed to his kin below as he scrambled back up to his feet, swaying unsteadily against the railings.
The din of the merfolk died away in the distance as quickly as it had started up. They were lucky, Silverfin supposed, that they held nothing on board that the merfolk would deem of great value, or else they could have easily sunk the Orca on their way to shipwreck the Estrela.
He needed to wake up Hawk now and tell him about a shortcut that he knew towards the coast of Phallandia.
It was a good thing, after all, that he hadn’t written any of the schedule or course down: this way, at least, he wouldn’t have to explain himself.
There was no time to waste. They had to get to the Estrela before it followed the Siren’s call.
Even in the early morning light, Hawk could see the storm clouds that teemed on the horizon, black against the purpling of the sky.
Angry winds whipped at his coat as he stood on the forecastle deck of the Orca, the sea-spray cooling on his bare skin.
Despite Silver's assurances, there was no hint of anything on the horizon before them.
"Storm looks like a bad one, Captain!" Ruiz yelled from the main deck, voice raised over the sound of the wind. "Can't outrun her on this course! We need to turn aside!"
Hawk glanced at Silver. He gave the barest shake of his head, tight-lipped. Hawk leaned over the rail to call down to his quartermaster. "Steady as she goes, Ruiz! If we turn aside now, we'll lose the prize!"
"I hope to God you're right about this," he murmured, looking at Silver again. "If the Estrela's not there..."
"She'll be there," Silver insisted, eyes narrowing as the growing winds whipped at his hair. "We won't get another chance at this."
"I'm well aware of that, Mr. Silver." Hawk turned at the fall of Ruiz's boots as the quartermaster hurried to join them.
Moments later Ruiz was at his side. "Prize or no, even if we catch up to her we're not going to be able to take her if the storm catches us first. Our navigator is getting mighty antsy about this wind."
Hawk once again fixed Silver with a querying gaze.
"We're going to catch her," Silver insisted, an undeniable ferocity in his eyes. Hawk’s cock stirred disobediently, forcing him to bank down his arousal. He'd kiss Silver silly for it later - if there was a later.
Then, a cry came down from the crow’s nest that was music to his ears. "Sails!"
Hawk searched the horizon. There - a hint of white. He lifted his spyglass, trying to focus. The galleon was big, flying the Portuguese colors. And riding low in the water. Undeniably fat with gold.
"It's the Estrela!" He called, and a cheer went up from the men. "Signal the Tempest, Ruiz! Raise the t’gallants!"
"In this weather, Captain?"
"Can't be helped, we have to catch her before the storm does!"
"And before they do." The words Silver murmured were so low that Hawk wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly. But there was no time for questions. The battle would have to be fast and sure if they were to secure the ship's surrender before the storm hit.
In the distance, the Estrela’s sails grew larger as they gained speed. She was traveling under full sail, but the weight of the treasure would slow her down. Hawk eyed the approaching storm clouds, trying to judge their speed.
Then, from the crow's nest, came another cry. "Land ho!"
“She’s heading for the harbor!” Hank’s voice shouted over the wailing of the winds. “That storm is a ship killer, Captain! We’ll never outrun it by chasing the Estrela.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Silver cut in, his hand gripping at the ropes as he attempted to valiantly keep his balance. “Either we take her, or the sea does!”
There was not a moment to waste - time to strike the fear of Captain Hawk into the hearts of the men on the Estrela. There was nowhere for them to run. "Raise the black!" he commanded, as the pirate banner of Captain Hawk unfurled above their heads.
The sight of his flag snapping dark in the hazy dawn sent a thrill through Hawk.
There was something primal about abandoning himself to the hunt.
Something pure. The cold salt spray of the sea in the growing winds became invigorating.
He didn't have to think about the past or the future, what had been or might be.
There was only the moment, the thrill of the chase, the bloodlust of battle.
The uncertainty that any moment might be his last.
Soon they were close enough that he could almost see the fear in the eyes of the Portuguese. The Tempest, with Henry Pane at the helm, peeled away towards the open sea to flank her. The shore approached. It would be close. But they could take her. They had to.
“Gun crews at the ready! Open the gun ports!” His command echoed across the ship as the crew relayed it. The flags went up to signal the Tempest, but Hawk had little doubt it was necessary. Pane, for all his youthful swagger, had piracy in his blood. They'd take this prize together just fine.
"Cannons ready, Captain!"
Hawk raised an arm to shield his eyes from the rain, satisfaction thrumming through his veins as they slid neatly into place alongside the Estrela. "Fire!"
The roar of the cannons was almost deafening, but they were the least of Silverfin's worries.
He clumped past the helm and up the stairs to the poopdeck as a cannonball crashed into the rail behind him, sending a shower of cracked and splintered wood through the air.
He cast his gaze down into the swirling waters in the wake of the ship.
In the angry, storm-rough water, the army of his mer-kin raised their arms as they caught sight of him, their voices an angry snarl on the wind.
Traitor! Traitor! Sink the ship! To arms!
Shit. He hurried across the deck to where Hawk stood, yelling orders. "Captain! We have to run her aground!"
"What? Are you crazy?"
"Guns at the ready!" They heard the call from below, and Silverfin raised both hands before Hawk could open his mouth.
"Don't fire! You'll only help them! If they sink the Estrela in this water we'll never get the gold!"
"We're not going to sink her," Hawk shot back. "Why the hell would we run her aground when we have her?"
Silverfin glanced back towards the darkening skies in panic. Surging with the supernatural power of his kind, the clouds overtook them and the full fury of the storm unleashed itself around them. "We won't take her!" He yelled back again over the whipping winds. “The storm will!"
The heavens opened as if his words had bidden them.
Blinding lightning cracked down, hitting the mast of the Tempest in a flare of bright flame.
Silverfin couldn't say if the water spraying over him was from the clouds or the sea, but it didn't matter.
His kind had a target, and they clearly weren't fucking around.
"Get below deck!" Hawk hollered at him, before striding away, shouting commands at the crew.
Below deck like a coward? With an army of his people surrounding him? He couldn’t! But he couldn't very well remain, could he? Silverfin had never been the most agile seaman even when he'd had two feet. Now with the ungainly wooden appendage weighing him down, he was more liability than help.