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asked as the man in near waist deep water took a measurement.

“Two feet eight inches Sir, we were holding around two feet for a while, but we took on quite a bit of water through the last hour. I’m afraid the bilges won’t be able to keep up if this storm keeps tossing us about the way it is Sir. We could be in real trouble,” the sailor admonished, a cautious look on his weary face.

“They’ll have to. This storm isn’t likely to just vanish, and we won’t be near enough land to make a run for calmer water until dawn at least. Keep the bilges running, relieve them with men from the resting watch if you must.” The Captain replied curtly. He gave the sailor a knowing look, it was a difficult task but crucial to the survival of the entire ship and crew.

“Aye Sir. We’ll see to it.” The man said turning back to his pump crew.

The ship’s surgeon, Doctor Crowsner, was seeing to the sailor who’d fallen onto the deck when Grimes opened the door to the doctor’s cabin.

“How is he Doctor? Will the lad survive?” Grimes asked.

“Not sure yet, though time will tell. It’s not likely I’m afraid and even if he does a blow to the head like that can leave a man a fool for the rest of his days. If he survives, but like I said,” his voice trailed off.

“Right. Ok, as always Doctor. Thank you for your services. Please, if the young man expires, do come inform me immediately.” Grimes said, his tone betraying the heaviness he felt at losing another sailor. It was not the first man the Captain had lost under his command and there would undoubtedly be more. Grimes carried in his mind the face of each perished sailor, men he’d come to know well. Serving in cramped space and austere conditions had a way of bringing men together closer than brothers. Each one surrendered to the sea or lost to the enemy was a family member gone, yet the journey continued in their absence. Relics were often left behind, a set of initials carved out in an obscure spot aboard ship or a possession taken up by a particularly close friend. These brought some comfort to the remaining crew, as if their shipmate carried on as part of them while their relic was still aboard. A stocking cap or a looking glass, a sailor’s favored mug, a song or a tale of a girl in some port somewhere. Each man left his mark on the crew as a whole and even after their deaths, their impact remained.

Retiring to his cabin Johnathan crossed paths with Will on his way down from the quarterdeck.

“Any show of relief from the storm Will?”

“No, Sir. Unfortunately, not. I’ve never seen seas this fierce before.” Will said, wiping his face with his sleeve.

“The seas will calm; the storm will subside. We must keep the crew about their wits, first and foremost. When everything is hell out there, your best place to focus is right on deck lad,” the Captain encouraged.

“Yes Sir.” Will replied.

“We should have a sighting of land shortly after five bells, so long as we haven’t drifted off course too far. I’m going to get some rest Will, wake me before dawn and see to it extra lookouts are posted around four bells,” said Johnathan.

“Aye Sir,” Will answered, “Does the Doctor have any news of the sailor who fell to the deck Sir? He was alive when he hit, the crew on deck have been inquiring.”

“Nothing good. The doctor is seeing after him now, though he may be waking me before you get the chance to, I’m afraid. We’ll see to arrangements for him when we know more lad.”

“Sir. There’s something bothering me about the circumstance. It was Timmons who validated what Mr. Shelton claimed happened during the engagement last month.” Will extolled hurriedly.

“Aye, what of it?” Grimes replied with a confused note playing across his look.

“Sir. Timmons validated Mr. Shelton’s story, Cobb was derated and flogged and then Timmons falls from the rigging? Cobb was aloft with him, though I don’t know how close the two men were working. Timmons was, er, is an experienced hand. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, even with the coincidence of other circumstances involving Cobb. But it wasn’t a landsman who fell from the rigging and that makes me suspicious.” Will rattled, barely able to get the words out fast enough. Grimes could see his second in command was severely troubled by his suspicions. But too many questions remained for anything to be done about it at the moment. Had Cobb done something aloft to cause him to fall? Would Timmons survive his condition? Would he be right in the head if he did survive? An ache filled Johnathan’s temples.

“We must watch the man. See to it that Cobb is not left alone, least of all with Shelton. There isn’t proof enough to place the man in irons, let alone hang him, though I’m beginning to suspect, Will, it won’t end until we do just that,” said Grimes. His look was weary, even more so after Will bore out his suspicions. The Lieutenant regretted sharing his suspicions. The Captain went into his cabin, as Will returned to the quarterdeck to find the winds subsiding slightly. The ship still heaved and rolled with the swells, but gradually over the next two hours wind and wave both lessened. Rain still drizzled, keeping the soaking sea hands aboard from dryness or comfort.

As the eastern horizon began to show the early glow of coming dawn, William called for a sailor from the watch.

“Pass my compliments to Captain Grimes and inform him it is half past four bells, dawn is neigh.” Will instructed.

“Aye Sir.” The sailor replied, snapping to his task. Will turned to the quartermaster’s mate at the helm and began to reckon their heading. They had been holding steady on a westerly course for the last couple

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