The Emerald Storm (The Riyria Revelations #4)

“But what makes you think this ship will go to the same place?”


“I take it you haven’t ventured down to the waist hold yet?” He paused a second, then added, “That’s the bottom of the ship, below the water line. Ship stores are there, as well as livestock like goats, chickens, and cows. Sailors on report get the duty to pump the bilge. It’s a miserable job on account of the manure mixing with the seawater that leaks in. It’s also where—right now—they have more than a hundred elves chained up in an area half this size.”

Hadrian nodded with a grimace at the thought.

“You and Royce gave me a break once because of my daughter. Why was that?”

“That was Royce’s call. You need to take that up with him. Although I wouldn’t do that for a while, he’s sicker than I am. I’ve never seen him so miserable and this sea business is making him irritable.”

Wyatt nodded. “My daughter’s the same way on water. Pitiful little thing, she’s like a cat on a piece of driftwood. It takes her forever to get accustomed to the rocking.” He paused a moment looking at the candle, then said, “I got the impression the two of you might be sympathetic. Maybe, if you finish this job, you might be willing to help me a little—a turn for a turn?”

“I thought you got us aboard to pay off a debt.”

Wyatt sighed.

“I don’t know—maybe.” Hadrian glanced at the mass of men around him and lowered his voice to a whisper. “The job we’re on is important, and we can’t afford to be distracted, but if the situation presents itself, we might be able to help. Something tells me I won’t have much trouble convincing Royce to stick his neck out for this one.”

Hadrian felt the nausea rising in his stomach once more. His face must have betrayed his misery.

“Don’t worry. Seasickness usually only lasts three days,” Wyatt assured him, as he put the cards in his breast pocket. “After that both of you will be fine.”

“If we can stay on board that long. I don’t know anything about being a ship’s cook.”

Wyatt smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered. Poe will do most of the work. I know he looks young, but he’ll surprise you.

“So, how is it that I get an assistant?”

“As ship’s cook, you rank as a petty officer. Don’t get all excited though. You’re still under of the boatswains and their mates, but it does grant you the services of Ordinary Seaman Poe. It also exempts you from the watches. That means so long as the ship’s meals are on schedule, the rest of your time is your own. What you need to know is that breakfast is promptly at the first bell of the forewatch,” Wyatt paused. “That’s the first time you’ll hear a single bell toll after eight bells is rung just after the sun breaks above the horizon.

“So have Poe light the galley fires shortly after middle watch. He’ll know when that is. Tell him to make skillygalee—that’s oatmeal gruel. Don’t forget biscuits. Biscuits get served at every meal. At eight bells, the men are piped to breakfast. Each mess will send someone to you with a messkid, sorta like a wooden bucket. Your job will be to dish out the food. Have Poe make some tea as well. The men will drink beer and rum at dinner and supper, but not at breakfast and no one on board will risk drinking straight water.”

“Risk?”

“Water sits in barrels for months, or years if a ship is on a long voyage. It gets rancid. Tea and coffee are okay ’cause they’re boiled and have a little flavor. Coffee is expensive though, and reserved for the officers. The crew and the midshipmen eat first. After that, Basil, the officers’ cook, will arrive to make meals for the lieutenants and captain. Just stay out of his way.

“For dinner make boiled pork. Have Poe start boiling it right after Basil leaves. The salted meat will throw off a thick layer of fat. Half of that goes to the top captains to grease the rigging, the other half you can keep. You can sell it to tallow merchants at the next port for a bit of coin, but don’t give it to the men. It will make you popular if you do, but it can also give them scurvy and the captain won’t like it. Have Poe boil some vegetables and serve them together as a stew, and don’t forget the biscuits.”

“So, I tell Poe what to make and dish it out, but I don’t actually do any cooking?”

Wyatt smiled. “That’s the benefit of being a petty officer; sadly however you only get a seaman’s rate of pay. For supper, just serve what’s left over from dinner, grog and, of course, biscuits. After that, have Poe clean up and like I said, the rest of the day is open to you. Sound easy?”

“Maybe, if I could stand straight and keep my stomach from doing back-flips.”

“Listen to Poe. He’ll take good care of you. Now you’d best get back in your hammock. Trust me, it helps. Oh, and just so you know, you would have been wrong.”

“About what?” Hadrian asked.

“About thinking saiing was a safer line of work.”





***




It was still dark when the captain called “All hands!”

A cold wind had risen and in the dark hours before dawn a light rain sprayed the deck adding a wet chill to the seasick misery that had already deprived Hadrian of most of his sleep. During the night, the Emerald Storm passed by the Isle of Niel and now approached the Point of Man. The Point was a treacherous headland shoal that marked the end of Avryn Bay and the start of the Sharon Sea. In the dark, it was difficult to see the shoals, but the sound was unmistakable. Somewhere ahead there came the rhythmic, thundering boom of waves crashing against the point.

The below decks emptied as the boatswain and his mates roused all the men from both watches with their starter ropes, driving them up to stations.

“Bring her about!” shouted the captain from his perch on the quarterdeck. The dignified figure of Lieutenant Bishop echoed the order, which Mister Temple repeated.

“Helm-a-lee!” shouted the captain. Once more, the order echoed across the decks. Wyatt spun the ship’s great wheel.

“Tacks and sheets!” Lieutenant Bishop barked to the crew.