Chapter 4 Commissioning

CHAPTER 4: COMMISSIONING

Restless, Morgan lay awake listening to the sound of Piper making noises in her sleep. A need to be comforted had sent her into the cabin. Morgan had instinctively made space, resting a hand upon the child, leaving it there even after the little one had drifted off to sleep. She found herself pondering if the connection was more for Piper’s benefit or hers. The sound of comfortingly peaceful breaths sending her back six years, to the fateful day that Piper had lightened her chaotic life.

  

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Morgan was trying to keep it together. Staging an attack on the most heavily fortified ship in Crewtown was apparently an impossible task. The discussion with her cohorts was going absolutely nowhere. Worse still, she had a splitting headache, although a sharp smack against a headboard would do that to anyone. Nia had given her a foul concoction to help lessen the effect of a muddled brain. It was amidst that perfect mix of strained happenings that she exercised forceful control, “ENOUGH TALK! We will use our strengths. Bella can cover us while Meena and I sneak aboard. Once the deck is clear Bella can come aboard to protect our exit. Are there any questions?” Bella held her hand up, “Bell, you don’t need to raise your hand, just ask.”

 “Ah, just one question. Why are we doing this again?” Bella stammered.

Morgan had known the subject would arise sooner or later, she opened her mouth to explain but was cut off by Meena’s overly harsh retort, “Because if we don’t, they will come here and murder every single one of us. And guess what if we run, they will seek us out, they won’t stop at us though; they will also kill everyone that we know.” Bella’s expressive eyes blinked worriedly under Meena’s onslaught. Morgan once again wondering whether her meeker friend would be able to do what was required. The thought like most filed away for later, or never, survival came first.

“Some of these will need stitches when you get back,” Nia signed, as she finished tending to Meena’s cuts. Nia had been at the Brothel for a month; it was the only place in Crewtown with a spare room. The Bosom’s proprietor Rena was happy to do anything for gold; she had even used the rumour mill to say that Nia was a virginal chocolate-skinned goddess ripe for the picking. She was, however, a nun, with all the normal hang-ups and clearly not for sale, although why she wasn’t back at the sisterhood healing untoward diseases, singing hymns, and tending to herb gardens, no one knew. Nia had taken a vow of silence. Morgan had been the first to pick up the hand language required to successfully communicate with her, and she was helping others to learn.

Meena sucked in her breath as she rose, clutching her side, “Careful,” Nia signed. They would be far from careful in the hours to come.

“Pray to your goddess for us Nia,” Morgan said. Taking one last look at what was at stake she stepped out into the evening.

Icy air greeted them; the sun newly set. The irony that they were pretending to be a gaggle of young girls, not lost on her. When the shape of the Dragon’s Tooth blocked their view, they sidled over to a stack of crates and moved into a circle to talk, all the while checking for watchers. Assured, as they could be, that no eyes were upon them, they bent low, hiding themselves from further sight. Morgan connected with her friend’s gazes, feeling like a fish out of water, she uttered hushed instructions, “We will wait here for full darkness. Bella, note the sentry in the crow’s nest, he’s yours, as soon as you hear the sparrow you let fly, no more talking beyond this point.” Bella nodded in affirmation. The sparrow was one of Meena’s bird noises, it was common, therefore, best for night-time skulking.

When darkness was complete, she tapped Meena’s shoulder. Quietly they crept in the deathly silence. Morgan placed the newly acquired cutlass in her mouth the act freeing her hands up to climb the nearest mooring rope. Legs wrapped around, hand over hand, before long and without fanfare she made it onto the deck. Meena drew her swords, and they inched forward listening intently for any sign of alarm, the lack of such soon explained, when the sounds of two rowdy crew members assaulted her senses. Instead of patrolling they were past the point of drunk and close to being legless, worse still they were singing bawdy songs loudly and off-key. The drunken crew members were using the mainmast as a leaning post of which to produce their musical butchery. She tapped Meena on the right shoulder blade indicating her target. Morgan crept as close as she dared, on a knife’s edge, she waited.

Expected, yet the sound of a sparrow made her jump and by the time she came up behind her target, he was swaying forward to check on his suddenly silent friend, his inebriated state making him an easy target. Panic fuelled her action, bringing her cutlass to his throat, one clean movement enough to finish him. A mere second spared for the understanding that she had taken another life, yet necessity dictated that it was buried so she could move onwards. Morgan glanced up to confirm the lookout was dead then taking stock of her surroundings she waited for Bella to come aboard. Although the Dragon wasn’t the biggest ship it had some clear technical advancements. Drawn to the beauty of the ships design, it took her a second to realise that Bella was in position at the bow, it was her job to cover their escape or end any crew stumbling back from shore leave. They skipped the captain’s cabin, apparently Rorg killed anyone that stepped foot into his domain. Cutlass held aloft Morgan followed Meena into the bowels of the ship, her friend indicating to the left when the passage branched in twain. Meena had chosen the more difficult task of checking the crew’s sleeping quarters, leaving Morgan the forward cabins. She moved onwards, assuring herself that she would never again let Meena take a more dangerous option because of her inferior sword skills. Knowing that her friend was gone was the same as stubbing a toe, it was done, she just needed to ride the waves of discomfort that followed. Morgan’s heart staged an escape when she inched open the first door. Thankfully, an empty cabin greeted her and door after door she was met with silence. Morgan was starting to relax when it happened. Seemingly on cue, a startled cry emanated from the bowels of the ship, the sound coinciding with the opening of the final door. A wiry pockmarked pirate dropped out of his bunk, his welcome a rusty looking cutlass brandished as he rushed in her direction. Morgan let out a squeal before slamming the door, the instinctual act working in her favour. The assailant’s hand caught between door and jam, resulting in enough pain to free him of his sword. Morgan found her wits, after shoving her cutlass through the gap in the door she was rewarded with a resounding yelp. She found her foe writhing in agony, clutching his belly, “Do you want to wake the dead,” she growled angrily. Driven by fear, she swung her foot back before following through, her action sending the pirate towards a satisfying loss of consciousness. The element of surprise was lost yet she had a more pressing issue, a warm sticky feeling followed by a sharp stinging sensation sent her eyes downward. Morgan emitted the most colourful words that she knew. The Pirate had managed to cut her abdomen, blood seeping through the hand she had instinctively used to apply pressure. A sense of her own mortality came to visit, the urge to find Meena heightened.

Morgan’s efforts to search were simplified by a trail of bodies. An uplifting sight was her searches reward; she held back laughter for as long as was possible. Her shoulders the first to disobey, then mirth escaped freely. Unfortunately, mirth was followed by gasps of pain. Pinned by a dead and very rotund sailor, Meena was trying to inch out from underneath like an overturned turtle. Still giggling Morgan grabbed Meena by the arms pulling with all her might, eventually helping to free her. Meena brushed herself off, stationing herself at the door before offering stern words, “Rip a bandage from your shirt and apply some pressure to your wound.”

Complying, Morgan applied as much pressure as pain allowed before following Meena towards the only place left to clear: the hold.

Each step downwards stole vigour from her body, and she desperately sent an internal plea towards Nia’s goddess, “Please if you are real, give me strength to get through this, if only to defend Meena.” They made it halfway down the stairs before a large sailor stepped into the lamplight at the base of the stairs. The sailor easily as big as Rorg, menacingly holding a cutlass in each hand, he grinned a toothless grin as he started his ascent. Fear was unable to bloom however because after a loud crack was heard the advancing pirate collapsed, disappearing from view. In his place stood a very tall, slightly balding, half man, half giant. The newcomer holding a chamber pot aloft, the very weapon he had used to take out the pirate. The gaze he levelled in their direction was stern and over the top of his glasses. Cuddling his calve was a small girl, ringlets were framing her adorably innocent face.

“Marlooooo up,” the small child asserted, her chubby hands held aloft. The man dropped the chamber pot before bending down to pick up the child, then he spoke, “This is Piper, and I am Marlo, we are both prisoners of Rorg. Either you have come to rescue us, or I need to go back to designing this new hull.”

Clutching her side, Morgan found herself leaning against Meena, speaking through gritted teeth, “Welcome to Crewtown, Marlo and Piper, you are now free. I’m Morgan and the bristly one is Meena.” No longer able to stand, she slumped groundward, Meena attempting to slow her decent.

“Burly fella, will you help me out here?” Meena growled.

Marlo lifted Piper onto his shoulder, and hurriedly took the stairs, then he gathered Morgan in his arms. The small child smiled down at her as she found herself relaxing into the comforting situation. “Well, hello, aren’t you adorable,” she mumbled, the world started to spin as Piper’s toothless grin delivered her into darkness.