Hades's Revenge (4 page)

“You better or….” Day made a slashing motion
with his hand at his neck, though he smirked an odd smile as he did
so.

* * *

The air was brackish and chilly as Jessop
emerged from the middle deck where he slept. The wind was gusty,
and white caps were forming making the water choppy, but a month on
the
Victory
had made him an expert at walking despite the
rocking ship. He remembered a time not so long ago he didn’t think
he would ever get used to the rolling and heaving, but now he was
solid on his feet.

The sky was lightening, but the sun could
not been seen through the thick fog bank to the east. The captain’s
back was to him as he climbed the stairs to the upper deck. He
turned in greeting. “Mr. Aster—good day!”

“And to you, Captain.”

“Ready for your first lesson?”

“I believe so.”

“You must know so, lad. For learning to
wield a sword is hard work and requires great discipline. If you
are unsure, then you should not embark upon a path that requires
such great dedication.”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Good. I won’t start with the anatomy of the
sword since you come from a metallurgy background, you could
probably teach me a thing or two about what makes up a proper
sword, but I will tell you that everything you learned in fencing,
well, makes for a very pretty dance, but not necessarily the best
way to win a battle. First I’m going to show you a few disarming
moves. A foe without a weapon is much easier to kill then one
trying to take your head off.”

He handed him a beat up sword that had not
been edged or sharpened; he’d obviously used this to teach
others.

With the handle of his sword in one hand and
his other gripping the blade tip, the captain held his sword above
his head.

“What I’d like you to do is hit my sword in
a downward motion, this would be my defense.”

Jessop made a downward chop with his sword
to the horizontal blade. The captain twisted his sword to his right
sending Jessop’s sword whirling to the ground, then in slow motion
the captain made a backward motion as if to jab Jessop in the
stomach with the pommel of his sword.

“Use the whole of your sword. Consider it an
extension of your body. You’re fighting for your life, not to make
a score.”

“Right,” Jessop said standing in a more
defensive mode.

The next move he taught Jessop was a way of
grabbing his assailant’s weapon at impact, adjusting his stance so
his left foot was behind the right foot of the enemy then twisting
the both to the left knocking the attacker backward off balance
over the well placed foot of hero.

It was hard work and after the first week he
was more sore than the first week of being on the ship. Every
muscle ached, even ones he didn’t know he had, but with it, he
found himself stronger and more confident. He’d always been strong,
Big Tom had seen to that.

One of the things Big Tom said, “A smithy
who can’t pick up his own anvil is not a very good smithy.” This
had been a requirement he’d placed on Jessop and Tommy though he
gave the young boys a smaller anvil than his own. Everyday they’d
try to lift the anvil, for Big Tom wouldn’t allow them to learn the
trade until they were strong enough.

Tommy and Jessop competed to outdo the
other. If Tommy carried a bucket of iron ore for his father, Jessop
carried two. It was like that whenever the two were together.

As the captain had said, sword fighting was
very different from fencing, though the experience did give him an
advantage in his learning curve. The captain mentioned he was a
natural and within a month he was able to disarm the captain on
occasion, though he wondered if the captain wasn’t being kind to
keep up his confidence.

Swords clanked during Jessop’s lesson with
the captain one morning when an explosion came from below deck
along with the whistling of an ejected propellant. A puff of
lilac-gray smoke drifted upward past the deck then dissipated in
the breeze, but the screams from below did not.

The ship rumbled with footsteps running to
the gun deck. The captain made his way toward the screams, with
Jessop close at hand. The yelling died when three men rolled the
cannon forward and off the injured man—Rees. Rees had passed out
from pain when the cannon had been pulled back and he slumped to
the floor. Behind Jessop and the captain, Simmons was sporting a
half lathered face, still carrying the straight razor.

“What’s happened?” the captain demanded from
Day.

“One of the new men set down the lighter on
the cannon nowhere near the fuse, I might add, but there must have
been a small amount of gun powder on the gun. Next thing I knew, it
fired,” Day explained with large hand gestures and facial
animation.

Day continued. “The cannon kicked back
pinning Rees to the mast pole. If the chain on the cannon hadn’t
been in place it would have gone through him and the mast.”

“Mistakes like this shouldn’t happen,
Day.”

“I know. I take full responsibility,
sir.”

“Simmons. How bad is it?” the captain asked
of the squatting man with a half shave.

“Not good. Shin bone has gone completely
through the skin and though I can’t see it, I’m guessing the
smaller bone is broken too. Very bad break. Looks like we might
have to amputate.”

“Amputate?” Jessop blurted.

Simmons gave him a disapproving glare, and
answered grabbing the towel around his neck and applying pressure
to the wound. “Yes. Amputate. He’ll bleed out and I don’t have the
capability to surgically stitch his veins back together, if that
would even work.”

“Cauterize the veins and set the bones,”
Jessop suggested.

“Doubt it would work. Open wound like this,
the soft tissue of the bone will most likely be infected. Infection
can lead to death. A man without a limb is better than a dead
man.”

“True. He’s so young to go without a limb.
Shouldn’t we at least try?”

“We can try, but how is a seaman going to
get around with such an injury. He’ll be bedridden for weeks,”
Simmons retorted.

“We are understaffed as it is, Mr. Aster. We
can’t support a man who does not pull his own weight,” the captain
interjected.

“I can rig something with Donovan’s help, if
he’s willing,” Jessop said looking to Jeffrey Donovan, Simmons’s
apprentice.

“I would like to try,” Donovan offered.

“And what if your plan doesn’t work?”
Simmons said looking to the captain for his support.

“Then I will take up the slack,” Jessop
said.

“You can’t do the work of two men,” the
captain said.

“I’ll help,” Donovan said.

“I’ll help too,” Brown seconded.

The captain looked to Simmons with a raised
eyebrow. “It’s up to you, Simmons.”

“Fine. But if he dies from infection or
complications, his death is on your hands, Aster.”

“Agreed,” Jessop said.

“Men…take him to the galley. Donovan, get
the medicine box, Phillip, bring as much rum as you can carry to
the galley. Aster, you’re coming with me.”

Young Phillip Schultz, the powder monkey,
took off like a bullet, followed closely by his best friend Marcus
Boyd, a cabin boy. Jessop had seen Rees and the young boys playing
games on occasion. They would do whatever was needed to help
Rees.

* * *

Men carrying the unconscious Rees scurried
past Jessop and Simmons. Others talked among themselves about the
accident and Simmons and Jessop followed behind Rees.

“I don’t appreciate having to defend my
prognosis,” Simmons said as they followed the procession.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to undermine
your abilities. I have the utmost respect for you and your craft,”
Jessop returned.

“Thank you. In the future though, please
keep your comments to yourself until we are alone.”

“I will do that, sir.”

“Good. Then what is your plan.”

“When I was repairing the casks, I came
across a barrel of gypsum. I think we could make a cast around the
leg, immobilizing it.”

“What about swelling? What about
infection?”

“We flush the wound the best we can after we
cauterize it. If swelling occurs we can recast it. That would give
us a chance to check the wound for infection.”

“That could work, but what about sleeping
and eating. How do you plan on getting him to the middle deck?”

“I was thinking maybe of rigging a
triangular erection over the hole, fixed with a pulley to hoist him
up and down, that is if Donovan can help.”

“Hmm…” he said, mulling over the idea. “Why
are you so set on helping this lad? I’ve never even seen you talk
to him.”

“It’s true. I wouldn’t exactly call him a
friend, but I don’t think anyone deserves losing a limb if it can
be avoided.”

“Well, that’s still out for debate,” Simmons
said as they entered the galley and the cook Morti Malloy looked
disheveled at being displaced and overrun by the men laying Rees on
the large table in the middle.

“Morti. Hand me the poker.”

“Sir? It’s red hot.”

“Exactly…That’s what we need. Aster, pull
the towel away,” Simmons commanded.

The poker hissed against the man’s flesh.
Bystanders grimaced and the patient woke long enough to scream
before passing out once more. Two more sizzles and he handed the
poker to Morti.

“Boys? Where’s the rum?”

Two cracking voices returned in stereo,
“Here, sir,” as Phillip handed over a bottle. Simmons uncorked it,
took a swig, offered it to Jessop, who declined, and upended the
bottle over the exposed bone and wound. “Another bottle,” he
demanded.

Again he took another swig then poured it
over the wound. “Help me move him to the end of the table,” he
ordered Jessop.

Rees’s lower legs dangle over the edge.
Simmons sat on the floor in front of the leg to use his upper body
strength to maneuver the bones into place.

“Hold his thigh at the edge of the table.
Keep them steady. I’m going to pull his foot and try to set the
bones.”

Jessop grabbed the rum, took a swig, then
held Rees’s leg tightly. It took two tries, but Simmons was able to
set them. The heat from the stove and the hard, stressful work had
him sweating like a pig. When he was done, he lay on the floor arms
outstretched and took a deep breath.

“Whew. Okay, Phillip, take Marcus with you
and roll up that barrel of gypsum Aster says is in storage. We’re
going to need some old rags and an old bucket and water too. We’re
going to be making a really big mess,” Simmons said with a smile,
grabbing the rum bottle once more and handing it to Jessop.

Morti t’sked at his kitchen being overrun by
hooligans and dirtied up by bodies and plaster.

* * *

Simmons stitched the open wound with a
needle and waxed thread. A little more rum, an herbal poultice and
a bandage gingerly attached to prevent movement of the bone. By the
time he was done, the out of breath boys returned with a bucket of
gypsum, water, and a bunch of rags.

Jessop and the boys mixed the powder and
water into a soupy concoction. First they loosely wrapped the leg
with fairly clean linen then laid strips of plaster soaked strips,
building upon one another. They slathered the thickening soup until
it was at least a half inch thick.

In the heat of the galley, the plaster
hardened quickly. Once they were done with the lower half of the
leg, they made another batch and extended the cast to Rees’s
mid-thigh making sure to angle the leg a bit keeping it off the
ground if Rees was in a standing position.

The young boys were enjoying their messy
work and were insistent in covering Rees’s toes in an attempt to
make the foot cast into a dragon head. Though it did sound fun,
Jessop made them refrain, reminding them how long the cast would be
on and how irritating it would be not to at least wiggle his toes.
The boys reluctantly agreed and instead made a pattern of dragon
scales in the hardening plaster.

When done, Rees was carried to Marcus’s bed
in the officers’ quarters until Jessop and Donovan could build the
hoisting contraption over the hole of the middle deck. In the
interim, several of the other men chipped in and took up the slack
in Rees’s chores and duties until Donovan and Jessop were done and
could take over his duties.

Marcus and Phillip did their part in the
milder duties when they could, and kept Rees company when they
weren’t working. Simmons checked on him dutifully, noting any body
temperature changes, swelling of his foot and color of his toes.
The first couple of days Simmons gave the injured man an opiate for
pain, but when there looked to be no infection brewing, he resorted
to willow bark and chamomile.

After a week of bunking with Marcus, he was
given a set of crutches that Jessop had made from scrap wood they
found. Jessop didn’t visit Rees. He let the boys deliver the
crutches and announce the pulley system for pulling Rees in and out
of the middle deck. At first Jessop thought he might have to rig
something up for a bed, but miraculously the hammock worked out
pretty well, though the boys had to help him in and out of the
hammock the first week.

How he found time to still do his lessons
with the captain, along with his duties and most of Rees’s, Jessop
wasn’t sure, but he did it nonetheless. And he gained the respect
of most everyone aboard except Rees who had no inkling how much he
owed his life and limb to Jessop. This was perfectly fine with
Jessop, in fact, he preferred it that way.

No one was sure who was more excited to have
Rees’s cast coming off—Rees or Marcus and Phillip, but the day
finally came when, lo and behold, Simmons got out his medical saw
and slowly and carefully made a cut down one side and then the
other.