ROTA FORTUNAE, by V. P. Chandler

Tim Brooks listened to the waves as they slapped against the wooden hull of the merchant ship bound for America and wondered if he had made the right decision to stow aboard the Rota Fortunae.

I can’t be a clerk for the rest of my life! I’m fourteen, old enough to make my own way. I’m sure Uncle Preston could find something for me in Charleston.

He shifted in his cramped hiding space and his stomach growled. He couldn’t stand being in the hold any longer. He tentatively poked his head above some barrels. To his left, a chain clinked and Tim let out a shriek.

A pair of bright green eyes caught the sunlight that filtered through the floorboards from above. The eyes stared at him, unmoving.

From above Tim heard, “Did you hear that?” followed by all sorts of lively curses. At that moment Tim doubted whether stowing away to America was a good plan. He didn’t know what was more frightening, the men above or whatever was in the hold with him.

The hatch flung open and men peered down.

A voice from somewhere on deck barked, “Well, Peters, what is it?”

A man with a hook of a nose, said, “Cap’n, we got us a young stowaway, a lad. Should we flog ’im?” Enthusiastic cheers answered and more eager faces crowded the hatch and looked down on Tim.

Tim looked around, frantic to find an escape or a weapon.

A voice boomed. “All right, all right, it has been some time since we’ve had a good flogging. Go down and get him.” Once again, cheers broke out among the men.

Peters turned his face to the captain. “Begging your pardon, sir, I’ll not be the one to go down there, not by meself.”

“Do as you’re told!”

Peters scurried down the steps and into the hold.

Tim froze like a mouse in front of a cat.

The chains on his left clinked again as a man stood. He was unlike anyone Tim had ever seen. He was at least a head taller than most and his bright green eyes seemed at odds with his dark brown skin. Tim had seen people with dark skin around London, but none that looked as strange and exotic as this mountain of a man. He was so tall, he couldn’t stand to his full height in the cramped hold and his long black hair matted together to make strange braids down to his shoulders. The man looked fierce and primitive. Even the chains on his wrists and ankles did not diminish his dignity. The man faced Peters and Tim saw, peeking above the man’s collar, a strange tattoo touching his throat. Tim shivered.

Peters looked at Tim. “Come on, lad, time to get on deck.”

Tim crawled over the tops of the barrels then stopped. “I… I just want to go to America. My uncle lives there. I’ll work for my passage.”

“Come on, step to it, boy! I don’t want to be in the hold with this heathen, and neither do you.”

Tim scrambled over and around barrels, staying as far away from the prisoner as possible. He scurried up the steps, uncertain of his fate.

His eyes adjusted to the light and he assessed the motley crew.

“So, you think you can steal aboard my ship with no consequence?”

Tim turned and faced a man of average height, well-groomed, who looked every part the respectable captain, even down to the knife strapped to his side.

“That’s right, lad, I’m Captain Claymore, and who are you?”

“Tim, Tim Preston, sir.”

The captain smiled. “Men, we have a lad here with manners. That’s good! But maybe he still needs to be taught a lesson?”

A dark man stepped forward. “Captain, I could use an extra pair of hands in the galley.” The man held the captain’s gaze. The crew became quiet.

“Can you now?” He broke the gaze and looked at Tim. “You’re lucky that Spoon needs an extra pair of hands.” He motioned to Spoon. “Take him and see to it that he doesn’t poison us. Back to work, men!”

The men grumbled and dispersed, but everyone paused when they heard a groan.

Tim followed the sound and saw a pallid-faced man emerging from the forecastle.

“Ohh, ohh, my head. Why am I on a ship?” His clothes were those of a professional man, maybe a banker, not a sailor.

Some of the men smiled.

“I shouldn’t be here.” He touched the back of his head and winced. “I shouldn’t be here. My name is Merrill, I was crimped!”

“Say hey!” replied Peters. “I’m the Boarding Master and I resent that.”

“I say, I shouldn’t be here! I need to be in London today! Don’t you see? I was celebrating at a tavern when I was taken. I start a new job today. I must be in London!”

Tim wished the man would be quiet. He watched a handful of sailors step closer to Merrill. Tim flashed back to years before, when he witnessed a pack of feral dogs surround a small starving dog in an alley. Back then, he ran away from the growls and yelps. Today he was stuck on a ship in the ocean with nowhere to go.

The captain feigned concern. “Oh, I’m sorry. Peters, this man says he shouldn’t be here.”

“Begging your pardon, Cap’n. But I got his signature there in the ship’s articles.”

The captain turned to Merrill and raised his hands. “There you have it. You’re in the ship’s articles, therefore you are a member of this crew.”

“I signed no such papers!”

“Are you calling Peters a liar?”

Merrill looked out upon the ocean. “Surely we’re close enough to England to return. I demand you sail back to England!”

Tim heard the crack of a whip and saw blood blossom on Merrill’s cheek. Everyone’s attention fell on the bald man with the whip. A man with a dark beard and a crooked grin that matched his crooked nose.

Merrill touched his hand to his cheek. He studied the blood on his fingers and didn’t move.

Spoon placed a protective hand on Tim’s shoulder.

The captain commanded, “Mr. Boggs, we have some new crewmen on board. Show them what happens when they don’t follow orders.”

Merrill understood too late. “No! I’ll—”

Boggs grabbed Merrill and with the help of other men, soon had him stripped to the waist and tied to the mainmast.

“Please, no! I have a family!”

The crack of the whip shattered the air. It was followed by another, and then another. Merrill’s screams and sobs followed each lashing.

Tears streamed down Tim’s face. Surely someone would step forward and stop this horror.

Boggs continued the whipping until blood flowed freely down Merrill’s back and legs.

Tim scanned the crew. They stood silently. Most looked down at the deck.

Tim whispered, “Mercy.” He moved to take a step, but Spoon squeezed his shoulder and held him back. Tim’s body shook.

When it was over, Merrill’s lifeless body sagged against the mast. Blood seeped down his back, between the planks, and into the hold.

Tim’s legs trembled, but he remained standing.

Captain Claymore addressed the crew. “Some of you are new. As you can see, on the ocean, on this ship, I am the law. I am like the lion of Africa, like a shark of the ocean! Do not cross me or First Mate Boggs, ever. If you follow orders, you will have the honor of serving on my crew. Just ask anyone, I am the best captain on the seas! Even pirates and privateers know to stay away from me. And, so I’ve been told, some sailors believe that God himself has a hand in guiding us. For the Rota Fortunae has never even struggled with foul weather.” He scanned the men’s faces, looking for antagonism. “Now get to work, I have goods to deliver to America!”

Tim stood still, wondering what they would do with Merrill’s body. There were no words of commemoration, or even sewing the body in a bag, as was the custom. They lifted him from the deck and threw him over to the ocean, like rubbish.

Spoon whispered in his ear, “They call Boggs ‘the Scorpion.’ His sting is deadly.” He gave Tim’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Come with me and be glad to make yourself useful.”

* * * *

Tim and Spoon sat on deck in the open air, peeling potatoes. “Are you going to save any potatoes for us?” asked Spoon. Tim looked at him, confused. Spoon motioned to Tim’s hands. “The potatoes, you’re peeling them down to nothing.”

Tim looked at the sliver of potato in his hands. He hadn’t been paying attention. He had been staring at the hatch, daydreaming about the heathen down below. Five days had passed since Tim had been discovered on board. He had kept quiet and made himself useful. And for five days he watched and listened to the men. Now he tried to brush aside his daydream and focused on his job.

Tim picked up another potato and watched Spoon’s dark hands deftly peel. “Spoon, may I ask you a question?”

Spoon picked up another potato. “Yes.”

“I heard the crew talking about the man in chains. Is his name Kala?”

“Kaula.”

“Why is everyone afraid of him?”

Spoon paused then continued his task. He casually glanced around to see if anyone was near. “Don’t be bothering yourself about him.”

“Is he dangerous? Why is he on board?”

Spoon stopped and looked directly at Tim. “Stay away from him, understand? You’re a good lad. Don’t cause trouble.”

“But what kind of name is Kaula?”

Spoon sighed and elbowed Tim to get back to work. After a moment he whispered, “Some think he comes from Far West, some think he comes from the East, like Egypt or India.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve been with Captain Claymore for four years, and Kaula has always been with him.” He looked around again. “There are things about him that just shouldn’t be said.”

“But—”

“Peel your potatoes, do your job, and mind your own affairs. Do not give Boggs any excuse to whip you, or worse. You’ve seen what he’ll do.”

“But I’m just a boy.”

Spoon peeled potatoes. “Boys can disappear just as easily as men.”

* * * *

The men sat at the table in the main mess and talked while they ate. Tim stayed busy refilling their cups and plates. “I say we’re halfway to America. How long has it been, more than a month? We’re halfway there.”

“Aye! To America!” Campbell raised his cup for a toast.

“Campbell, you drink to anything.”

“Aye!”

All the men laughed and toasted to America. This was Tim’s favorite time of the day. The captain took his meals in his quarters with Boggs and Peters while, down in the galley, the men could be themselves. The camaraderie was evident. Most had signed on willingly, some had been crimped while drunk in taverns, some were indentured to masters in America, but after a month, all were now comrades at sea.

Bales, an experienced sailor, said, “Good swill here, Tim. You did this yourself?”

He stood tall. “Yes, sir.”

“Spoon better keep an eye on you. You might have his job.”

“No, thank you, sir. When I get to America, I plan to stay there.”

Peters shouted from the deck, “Time to work, lads! Quit your yammering, there’s work to be done! Spoon, Cap’n wants to see you!”

The men stood and scrambled to grab a few last bites of biscuit. Some gave Tim a pat on the back as they passed.

Spoon filled a bowl and placed a biscuit on top.

Tim knew this was for Kaula. “I can take his food to him.”

Peters yelled from above, “Spoon!”

Spoon hesitated. “No, I’ll do it. I don’t want you near him.” He hurried up the steps.

Tim stared at the simple meal. How dangerous can he be? He’s in chains. Tim scooped up the bowl and went topside. He wondered if anyone would stop him. No one even glanced his way so he opened the hatch and descended into the dark. He was greeted with the clanking of chains.

There stood Kaula, just as he had seen him over a month ago. Tim knew Spoon kept him fed, but how did Kaula stay so big? Tim didn’t know how to approach him. “Do I put this somewhere or do I hand it to you?”

Kaula stepped forward and Tim almost dropped the bowl. Kaula lifted his hands to accept it and Tim gave it to him. He was close enough now to see the chains were pinned to the floor and side of the ship. He turned to go.

“Thank you.”

Tim turned around. “You’re welcome.” They studied each other. Tim was bursting with questions, but didn’t know where to start, even if he dared. Kaula nodded. Tim felt as if he had been acknowledged and dismissed by a king. He walked up the steps thinking, how is it a man in chains can seem more regal than a captain of a ship?

* * * *

No matter what he tried, Tim could not fall asleep. He recalled Spoon’s words when he returned from the Captain’s quarters. “Where’s the bowl?” He turned to Tim. “You took it to him.”

“Yes, I gave him his food and talked to him. What harm can he do? He’s chained to the ship.”

Spoon studied Tim. “Sometimes things happen to people who’ve been around him.”

“Silly superstition.”

Spoon shook his head. “I believe there’s more to it, but if I told you what I know, what I believe, you would think me mad.”

“Tell me.”

Spoon stared at Tim then said, “No, just stay away from him.”

Tim couldn’t get comfortable in his hammock. The bright moon seemed more like the sun, beckoning to him. His restlessness took over and he swung out and landed quietly. He took the lantern and told himself he was just getting some fresh air, but he knew he was lying. It was bright on deck, but dark in the hold.

He made his way across to the hatch. There was no guard nearby. He opened the hatch and went in. He lifted the lantern to peer into the darkness. Kaula’s green eyes shone back. He sat calmly, as if expecting Tim.

In for a penny, in for a pound. “I’m sorry to bother you. I just wanted to ask you some questions.”

Kaula motioned him to come closer.

The hair on the back of Tim’s neck rose. He stopped just short of where he had given Kaula his food. “Why are you here? Why are you in chains? Did you do something bad?”

Kaula smiled. “It’s been some time since I talked to a child.”

“I’m not a child!”

Kaula put his hands up and motioned for Tim to calm down. “Sit down and I will tell you my story. I come from some islands far away.”

“Like India?”

“If you went to India, you would only be halfway to my home.”

Tim’s eyes grew wide.

Kaula smiled and continued. “When I was younger, I wanted to go into the world and have adventures! I’m big, so it was easy to get jobs on the big ships. And people liked me, I’m a good worker. And then the thing happened.” He slowly shook his head. “I was in port, drinking, laughing, having a merry time when a friend said, ‘let us get tattoos!’ Yes! Why not?”

Tim scooted closer.

“We walked and walked and found a place. It was a place with an old man who had tattoos all over, even on his face. I remember it was strange that he did not move like an old man and his eyes had a fire in them, intense.

“The man said, ‘Would you like something no one else has?’ Of course I did, I was young! Young men want to be like no one else.

“He reached up to a shelf and took down a very old book. He turned the pages and found a picture of a ship’s wheel.

“‘Perfect,’ I said. He burned a strange plant and began to sing strange words and then I fell asleep. I awoke to someone shaking me. I was in the shop, but the man was gone. Everything in the shop was gone, no inks, no man, no book. The man who woke me was a stranger. He spoke to me in a language I did not know.

“And then the pain. My back was on fire, my shoulders, my neck! I cried out, ‘What did he do to me?’ The stranger spoke softly and took my hand. This tiny little man understood and led me, like I was a child, through the streets. I saw people and heard whispers. I knew I must look like a monster. I followed the man because I did not know what else to do.”

Tim hugged himself and shivered.

“He led me into a little shop, a healer’s shop. She mixed powders and oils and made a paste and put it on my back, and covered it with wet cloth strips. Oh, the relief! I was very grateful. She and the man argued. I could tell she did not want me there. After a time, they showed me with mirrors what I had become. They said things to me I did not understand. The man gave me a shirt to cover myself.

“I thanked them. I offered them the one coin I had left, but they refused. I thanked them many, many times. I needed to look for my ship, but did not know where to begin. The old man called out to a young boy. He told him something and the boy took my hand. Once again I was led through the streets. The boy led me to my ship. I thanked him and gave him my coin.

“My shipmates were happy to see me. They said, ‘Where have you been? Was she worth it? It’s been two days! We almost left without you!’ I could not believe it, two days! I looked for my friend who had been with me, but he was not on the ship. Everyone thought he left for his home. I think the tattoo man did something to him. I know he did something to me.”

Tim tried not to stare at the tattoo of the tentacle that crept up Kaula’s neck.

“So now you want to know what I wanted to know on that first morning. What did the man do to me? Do you want to see?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“It’s fine.” Kaula held up his finger. “But do not touch.”

Kaula stood. He turned around and removed his shirt. Tim lifted the lantern and was amazed at what he saw. A tattoo of a ship’s wheel covered Kaula’s broad back. Inside each section of the wheel was a symbol. There was even a smaller wheel within the larger wheel, and it too had a symbol in each section. The four points of a compass were on the outside edges. The largest was the ‘N’ at the top marked with a scarlet chevron. There were also ocean scenes: a sea monster crushing a ship; a whaler, with harpoon ready, pursuing a wild-eyed sperm whale; and up on the right shoulder was a Kraken, its long tentacle reaching over and touching Kaula’s throat. It was a magnificent piece of art.

Tim looked again at the whale. Its eye seemed to be looking at him. Tim could almost feel the poor animal’s terror. He thought he saw the waves move. He blinked, then whispered, “What does it all mean?”

Kaula put on his shirt and turned around. “I do not know. I think only the man who did this knows.”

“I think a few of the symbols are Egyptian, like some I saw this year at the new museum in London, but I have no idea what they mean. I recognize some animals, like a lion, and a crab.” Tim proudly added, “I know those are constellations.”

Kaula finished tying his shirt. Telling his story seemed to have tired him. “That is enough for tonight.”

“But wait!” Tim raised his lantern. “Why does the captain keep you in chains?”

“Go on now, and listen to Spoon, he’s a good man.” Kaula sat down. Once again, Tim had been dismissed.

* * * *

Tim lurched up the steps from the galley, carrying a bucket in each hand. The choppy waters made it difficult as he fought for balance with each step, but a month ago he would have only been able to carry one bucket at a time. He paused and assessed the weight on each arm and liked how it felt. He thought about how much he had changed and wondered what his parents would think if they saw him now. He felt a twinge of regret that he hadn’t had time to leave them a note. The moment we land, I’ll send a note home on the next ship to London. Maybe they’ll be so glad I’m alive, they’ll let me stay in Charleston. He smiled, continued up to the deck and threw the scraps over the side. He turned and watched the crew.

Peters, standing nearby said, “Morning, Tim. All’s well?”

“Yes, thank you.” Over the last month Tim had gotten to know the crew. Tim thought Peters wasn’t as bad as the captain or Boggs, but he seemed to be stuck between them and the crew.

Peters barked orders at the men. “Come on, ladies! Step lively!” The men, focused on their work, scrambled like mice over bags of grain. A shout from the bow chilled Tim’s blood. It was Boggs.

“Oi! Watch yourself! You think you can knock me down? Do you think I don’t know what you’re about?” He raised his voice. “What you’re all about? Mutiny, is what this is!” He grabbed Tom Green by the shirt. “I’ll have to teach you a lesson!”

Green pleaded, “No! No, sir! It was the waves, sir! It was the waves. They made me bump into you!”

“I don’t think so.”

“Please, sir!”

The captain called down from the quarterdeck, “Boggs! What is it?”

“Nothing short of mutiny, sir!”

“No!” exclaimed Green.

“Mutiny? We don’t have time for such nonsense! Deal with it!”

The men grumbled. Some began explaining.

“It were just an accident!”

“It was the waves, sir. The waves made him bump into Boggs.”

“Green don’t mean no harm, sir!”

Peters chimed in, “Green’s a good man, sir.”

Claymore stood with his arms crossed, legs wide apart. He looked down at the men and then out over the ocean.

The men resumed their work. Boggs seemed disappointed.

Then Claymore inquired, “Mr. Boggs, how shall we resolve this conflict?”

The men stopped and looked at each other. They liked Green, but didn’t dare anger the captain or Boggs.

Tim was frozen to his spot. He wanted to stay on deck out of curiosity, but was afraid to draw attention to himself.

Captain Claymore raised a hand as if directing a ceremony. “Let the wheel decide!”

Some of the crewmen gasped and crossed themselves.

Mr. Bales spoke up. “No need for that, Captain. There’s no problem here.”

“I believe there is a problem, Mr. Bales. It’s decided.” The newer crew members watched the others with questioning looks. “Mr. Boggs, retrieve him.”

Boggs smiled, let go of Green, and headed to the hold. He descended the steps and disappeared.

A few of the men pleaded. “No, Captain! Please, no!” They became silent and all eyes were on the hatch as they heard the clanking climb up the steps. Kaula emerged into the sunlight, both wrists and ankles bound. He squinted from the bright sun.

Boggs poked the back of his legs with his long knife. “Get a move on!”

“Easy now, Mr. Boggs,” warned the captain.

Kaula stood there, eyes closed, as he took in the fresh salty air. He opened his eyes and appraised the crew. None of the men would look at him. His eyes found Tim and he let out a sigh.

“I said move!” Boggs poked him again.

Kaula shuffled across the deck to Claymore, who was now standing on the main deck. Kaula said, “Hello, John.”

“It’s ‘Captain Claymore’ while you’re on my ship!”

Kaula stood in silence.

The captain smiled. “You men are going to see something you will never forget!”

Tim’s fingers turned white from squeezing the ropes on the buckets.

The captain pulled a large key from his vest pocket and held it up to Kaula. “No problems from you. Hold out your hands.” He unlocked the chains and sprang back.

Kaula massaged his wrists.

The captain ordered, “And now your shirt.”

Kaula hesitated, then untied his shirt and removed it.

Some of the crew gasped. Tattoos were common among sailors, but they had never seen anything like his. Tim noted the colors were much more vivid in the sunlight.

Claymore nodded to Boggs and said, “Rope.”

Boggs had the rope ready. Within minutes he had Kaula’s wrists bound above his head and fastened to the mast. Boggs moved aside and stood next to Green.

Forgetting his fear, Tim took a step closer.

The captain paraded in front of Kaula, whose head hung in defeat. His long locks covered his face. The captain turned to the crew. “On this ship we have an exceptional way to answer questions.” With a flourish of his hands he presented Kaula’s back, like a magician in a show. He placed the palm of his hand on the tattoo and said, “And now you will see why I’ve named my ship the Rota Fortunae, which means ‘wheel of fate!’ O great Wheel of Fate, tell us what should we do? Does Mr. Green live… or die?” He stepped back and sneered at the crew.

The air grew heavy and Tim felt static prickle his skin. He watched the crew and they felt it too. The sun dimmed behind clouds. Tim thought a storm was approaching, but the waves became still. He looked out and the water around the ship was smooth while the waves farther away were choppy. How is that possible?

Spoon had come up from the galley and now approached him. “Come on down, Tim. You don’t need to be near this.”

Tim watched Kaula and whispered, “I think I do.” Spoon stayed by his side.

The captain looked around and bared his teeth in a smile.

Kaula’s hands grabbed the ropes and the muscles in his arms bulged, bracing for what was to come.

The air crackled with static. It grew louder and blue fingers of electricity danced across the deck and crew. Tim watched it run up the masts and play along the lines. It gravitated toward Kaula and, in a flash, it entered him. Kaula stiffened and his skin began to glow blue. The light grew brighter. He trembled and quaked. He threw his head back and let out a primal roar.

Every hair on Tim’s body stood on end.

The glow faded and Kaula stopped shaking. His head hung down, limp. Then the tattoo came alive. The waves on his back flowed. The whaler, armed with a harpoon, moved back and forth, trying to gauge a perfect throw at the whale. The whale’s tail pumped up and down, but didn’t move forward. Its wild eye rolled around, looking for an escape that would never come. The Kraken’s tentacles explored Kaula’s neck and disappeared under his hair.

Tim and the crew gasped. Some of the men fell to their knees in prayer. Boggs smiled, poised and ready with knife in hand, beside Green.

The captain approached the tattoo again and asked, “O great Wheel of Fate, what is to become of Mr. Green? Let your compass guide us.” He reached up and with a flick of his finger, he spun the wheels.

Tim whispered, “How can this be happening?”

The wheels slowed and then stopped. The symbol in the outer wheel, below the North chevron, was a green tree. The symbol chosen from the inner wheel looked similar to a cross.

Mr. Bales declared, “He lives! Surely the green tree means life. Mr. Green lives!”

“Aye!” said Campbell. “And that there is an Egyptian cross. I’ve seen ’em when I sailed north o’ Africa.”

The captain stared at the wheels and then he faced the crew. “Don’t you see? It clearly means that Mr. Green is the tree and the cross represents God. Mr. Boggs, send him off!”

Boggs, quick as a snake, stepped behind Green and slit his throat. Blood sprayed in an arc and Green collapsed on the deck.

The men cried out in dismay. Boggs held up the bloody knife, ready for any reprisal.

The crew stood in shock. They watched Green grab at his throat, trying to staunch the blood that sprayed through his fingers and onto the deck. Bales rushed to his side. He took off his shirt and pressed it against the wound. Green looked at Bales, grasped his arm, and gurgled. A minute later he was dead.

Bales moaned, “No, no, no, no.” He gently closed Green’s eyes then clenched both of his fists. He rose and faced Boggs.

Boggs smiled.

Bales turned to the captain. “Captain! I’ve served with you for some years now and neither you nor Mr. Boggs has ever gone against the wheel. Now I don’t like the thing, it scares the devil out of me, but it has always had a kind of logic to its answers and we have always followed them.”

Boggs sneered. “You want to be next?”

The captain said, “Down, Mr. Boggs. Mr. Bales has always been a valuable member of this crew, even though he is replaceable. You have enough to do with Mr. Green and Kaula. Peters, help Mr. Boggs take him down before Kaula wakes. And clean this mess off my ship.”

The sky cleared and the ship resumed its normal rocking. But Tim knew nothing would ever be normal again.

* * * *

That night Tim volunteered to take Kaula’s food to him. Spoon asked, “You still want to go into the hold with him, after what you saw today?”

Tim nodded. “I want him to explain what happened.”

Spoon handed him the bowl. “Good luck. He’s never talked to anyone about it.”

Tim stopped at the door and turned around. “Spoon, does the wheel ever pick something good?”

“Yes, once we argued about which course to sail. Some said we should go north around a storm. It was a faster route, but dangerous. Others said we should take the safer route to the south. We spun the wheel and it told us to go south. We went south.”

“How do you know it was the right decision?”

“A fleet of ships were in the north and were caught in the storm. All were lost. I think the wheel knew and saved us.”

“What is it?”

Spoon shook his head. “I have no idea. Some men think it’s from the devil, some think it’s God’s instrument.”

“What do you think?”

“I think the wheel wants to survive.”

“Why is that?”

“I’ve been watching and I think it doesn’t allow any mortal harm come to Kaula. He’s a nice enough fellow, but death surrounds him. I believe that at least three men have died because of it. Bigelow fell overboard and was taken by a shark before we could reach him, Hudson caught a fever and died, and Davidson was struck by lightning. Later I learned that Bigelow and Hudson hated and feared Kaula so much that they planned to kill him. I don’t know about Davidson, maybe it was chance that lightning struck him. But I do know that he and Kaula had an argument and the next day, out of a clear blue sky, lightning struck him. After that, no one will talk to Kaula or go near him.”

“Do the other men think the same?”

“We don’t talk about it, but I think so.”

“I don’t think anything will happen to me.” Tim picked up the bowl and grabbed a lantern. He walked to the hatch and stared at it, as if trying to see what was on the other side. He was afraid, terrified, but he had to know more about the blue light and the wheel.

One of the crew, a man named Tanner, asked him, “You ain’t afraid?”

Tim was so lost in his own thoughts, Tanner’s voice sounded far away. Tanner shrugged, then opened the hatch for him.

There’s nothing for it. I have to know. He walked down the steps. The lamplight illuminated Kaula, standing in his chains.

Tim placed the bowl on a barrel and held up the lamp to study him.

Kaula didn’t move. “So what do you think of me now, young Tim? You must be very brave to come see me. Spoon is the only person who will come down and even he won’t speak.”

Tim mustered his courage. “I have to know what happened. Is it you? Do you control it?”

Kaula closed his eyes and shook his head. “No, I have no control over this… evil thing.”

“How did you come to be on this ship, in these circumstances?”

Kaula picked up his bowl and sat heavily on the floor. He took a bite of food and then continued with his story.

“I told you how I awoke to find this monster of a thing on me. It healed. I never removed my shirt. I tried to hide it until one day, many weeks later after a long heat spell, it rained. Everyone was happy and dancing in the rain. I forgot about it and removed my shirt.

“I got many stares and then some of the men laughed. They said I must have been really drunk. How could I tell them the truth? So I smiled and agreed. What else could I do? I was glad it was not a secret anymore. We went back to work.

“But the men talked about me and one man said he didn’t like it. He said it looked like dark magic, and since I came from unchristian islands, maybe I was dark magic too. I faced him. He had a cruel smile. I could tell he was going to cause me trouble.

“He was a man who liked to hear himself talk and soon all the men stopped work to hear him. He had them grab me and turn me around. He was mocking me and when he touched my back, I got a bad feeling, like an itching on my skin.”

Tim thought he knew exactly what he meant. He wondered if it was like the static he had felt.

“He liked the attention and said, ‘Wheel, show us what you do.’

“I heard the crackle and saw the blue light. I thought the storm has returned but then I felt like my whole body was on fire. I thought I was dying, and then all went black. When I awoke, I was in a dinghy with a crewmate rowing. He told me what happened. He told me about the blue light, and how the wheel spinned and the tattoo moved. Lightning struck the big talker and killed him. The men wanted to kill me, but the man in the rowboat saved me. He convinced them to give us a boat and set us adrift. I thanked him and told him I was in his debt forever.”

“I’m glad he was there to save you.”

Kaula finished the food. He placed the bowl on the barrel. “I wish they had killed me. That man was John Claymore.”

Tim whispered, “Captain Claymore.”

“Yes.”

“Begging your pardon, but you’re so much bigger than he. How is it that you’re here in chains?”

“He tricked me. He told me I’d be his first mate and we’d make a fortune in shipping. Just before we left on our first voyage, he told me to check the cargo and Boggs and Peters and another man were waiting down here with the chains. I fought, but I’ve been down here ever since.”

“But why?”

“Because he thinks it keeps me safe. As long as I’m on board, nothing will happen to the ship. I remember he said, ‘We will be the most celebrated and trustworthy vessel in all of Britain.’”

Tim pondered that a moment, then asked, “Kaula, how many years have you been down here?”

Kaula squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. Tears streamed down his face. This surprised Tim that a man of his size and demeanor would cry.

Kaula raised his manacled wrists, palms up in defeat. “For eternity.”

On impulse Tim said, “I’ll free you. I don’t know how, but I’ll free you.”

“No, Tim, you must not. Do not try.”

“Who would suspect me? I can get the key.” As soon as he said the words, his skin crawled at the thought.

“No. What good would it do, out here in the middle of the ocean?”

“But I have to help you!”

“Let me think on this.”

And just as before, Tim was dismissed. He took the bowl but left the lantern. It wasn’t much, but at least he could give Kaula some light.

* * * *

Tim rushed around the table, trying to keep the men’s bowls and cups filled.

Bales asked, “Is Spoon feeling any better?”

Tim was too busy to even look at him. “No, sir. His fever just seems to get worse.”

“Well, I’m grateful that your cooking has improved. I’m sure the other men are too.”

“Aye!” exclaimed Campbell. The other men laughed and concurred.

Tim couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to be appreciated and to feel a part of the crew. He had proven himself to be a hard worker and a decent cook. It was no surprise to Tim that when the food was good, the men were happier.

After he filled the bowls, Bales drew him aside. “So Spoon’s no better?”

“He’s worse. The surgeon has never seen the likes of it.”

Bales stroked his chin. “It’s been two weeks. Surely if it were catching, one of us would have it by now.”

Tim shrugged. “I don’t know, sir.”

Campbell joined them when Bales asked Tim, “Do you recall when it struck him?”

That was easy for Tim to recall. He remembered the night that Kaula had told him about Claymore. Tim returned to fo’c’sle, eager to share the story with Spoon. When he approached him, Spoon was delirious with fever. Tim whispered to Bales, “It’s been two weeks. It struck the night right after Mr. Green.”

Bales sighed and nodded. Tim wondered if Mr. Bales was thinking the same thing he was, that Spoon’s illness was connected to the wheel. Was it because Spoon talked to Kaula? Did the wheel see Spoon as a threat?

Campbell chimed in. “It’s that heathen. You haven’t talked to him too, have you, boy?”

“Yes.”

Campbell and Bales looked at each other and then at Tim. Bales patted Tim on the back. “Good meal, son.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Bales said to the men, “Let’s get back to work! We still have an ocean to cross and you lot aren’t getting any prettier. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to set my feet on land!”

The men chuckled and headed up the steps.

Campbell patted Tim on the back. “Good meal.” He gave Tim a weak smile and he looked like he wanted to say something else, but turned to leave. As he approached the steps he wiped his eyes and muttered, “Damn sea salt, makes me eyes water.”

* * * *

The next morning Tim awoke to the bellowing of the captain on deck. “Spoon! Spoon! Get up here!”

Tim wiped the sleep from his eyes and checked on Spoon. He was still the same, unconscious and feverish.

A handful of men entered the fo’c’sle. Campbell said, “Cap’n wants to see Spoon.”

“But he’s still ill.”

The men clustered around the hammock. “But the Cap’n wants to see him. I’m sorry, but what choice do we have? We wish it weren’t like this. But we do as we’re told, or it’s Boggs for us.” The men grabbed Spoon against Tim’s protests. They carried him up to the captain as Tim followed.

The captain ordered, “Bring him to me.” The men laid him at the captain’s feet. He poked Spoon with his foot. “Get up, Spoon. Enough is enough. I’ve given you plenty of time to recuperate.”

Spoon didn’t move.

Tim stepped forward. “He’s sick, Captain.”

“Not too sick to work.”

“It’s fine, sir. He can rest. I’ll continue to do the cooking.”

The captain studied Tim. “Then I suppose if we don’t need him anymore, we should throw him overboard.”

Bales stepped forward. “Begging your pardon, Captain. He’s no trouble.”

Claymore’s mouth pursed. “He is most assuredly causing trouble! Are you arguing with me?”

“No, sir…”

“Mr. Boggs!” Boggs appeared by his side just like the lap dog he was. “Mr. Boggs, fetch the wheel.”

Tim groaned, “Oh, Lord.” He knelt by Spoon and cradled him. “Wake up, Spoon. Wake up!”

The men milled around and muttered amongst themselves. Soon Boggs appeared with Kaula.

The captain never seemed happier than when he had the chance to torment Kaula. “It seems we have a stalemate as to old Spoon’s fate. He’s probably just as good as dead anyway. We’ll let the wheel decide if we should throw him overboard.”

Tim looked up at Kaula, searching for help.

Boggs poked Kaula with his long knife. “C’mon, you know what to do.”

Kaula refused to move forward and Boggs slashed at his thigh.

“Steady there, Mr. Boggs!”

Blood seeped through the fabric as Kaula moved to the mast. Boggs removed the chains and fastened the ropes to Kaula’s wrists.

Tears streamed down Tim’s face and he shook Spoon. “Wake up! Wake up!”

Captain Claymore paraded in front of the wheel. “O great and wise wheel. What shall we do with old Spoon? Should we throw him to the sharks or let him go back to his soft hammock?”

Once again the air crackled with static and blue electricity played along the ship’s lines. It ran across the deck, found Kaula, and flew into him. He stiffened, glowed blue, and then shook uncontrollably. The shaking stopped and the glow faded. His chin dropped to his chest and the tattoo moved.

It was just as Tim remembered it. The whalers in their boat pursued the whale whose eye searched for an escape.

“What is Spoon’s fate?” The captain reached up and spun the wheel. Everyone grew quiet and stepped closer.

Tanner whispered to Campbell, “What is it? I can’t see.”

Campbell answered, “I don’t know what it means. It’s a lion and a scorpion.”

Claymore announced, “A lion! Sharks are the lions of the sea. Throw him to the sharks!”

Tim’s mind raced frantically for an escape and he seized upon an idea. He stood and shouted, “No!”

The crew gasped.

The captain sneered. “We must do as the wheel says.”

Tim walked up to the captain and stood four feet in front of him, legs apart, and tried to be as intimidating as he could be. “That is what you always do? You do what the wheel says?”

Claymore laughed as if the child amused him. “Of course.” He turned to the men, expecting support. They looked at him in silence. His smile wavered.

Tim challenged, “I think the wheel means you, Captain, you and Mr. Boggs. More than once you’ve called yourself the lion of the sea and Mr. Boggs is called The Scorpion. I think the wheel has chosen you!” He was full of fire and couldn’t stop. He pointed at the captain. “And I also think that you were supposed to let Mr. Green live! That is why Spoon is sick. He got sick the night after you and Boggs murdered Mr. Green! Spoon is paying for your mistake!”

Claymore’s face blossomed red. Boggs sheathed his knife and removed the whip from his belt. “Should I teach him a lesson, Cap’n?”

Tim’s entire body shook, but he stood his ground. “It is you, Captain! The wheel has chosen you!”

Claymore roared, “Kill him! Kill the boy and that stupid lazy cook! Make them pay! I want this boy’s blood to wash across my deck!”

Boggs raised the whip and with a flick of his wrist there was a crack like a gunshot. Tim felt the sting on his neck, then the growing fire from the cut. He felt the blood trickle down his neck. He watched Boggs lift his arm again and Tim raised his own to protect himself. His mind flashed back to Merrill’s death. He wanted to run, his mind raced to think of a hiding place, but he knew it was hopeless. There was no place to hide on a ship. He fell to his knees then heard a roar deeper and more primal than the captain’s. He expected the sting of fire from the next lash of the whip, but it didn’t come. He peeked through his arms and saw Kaula standing and facing them. Kaula was awake and his left hand was free. It was dark red with blood that flowed down from the wrist to the fingertips and dribbled onto the deck. His right wrist was still bound, but the rope was free from the mast and pooled around his feet.

The captain screeched, “Mr. Boggs, Peters, secure him!”

Boggs faced Kaula. They bellowed and ran at each other, colliding like sparring bulls. They fell to the deck and rolled around, punching, and grasping for the best hold.

Tim felt the vibrations of each blow travel through the deck, up his legs, and into his stomach. He stood in awe of the size, strength, and ferocity of the men.

This spurred the crew to retaliate. Peters jumped out of the way as the men grabbed what they could use as weapons. They pulled Boggs from Kaula. Years of anger spilled out and were unleashed upon Boggs.

Tim was still too stunned to move. The men who had been his friends were now wild and uncontrollable beasts. Tim ran to Spoon and pulled him aside to safety. Kaula was on his hands and knees, gasping for air.

Boggs fought back, but it was useless. He dragged himself to the edge of the ship, leaving a bloody trail. The crew watched as he pulled himself up. He pointed at them and said, “You sorry sons o’ whores, you think you can kill me? Come on! Come on!”

The men ran at him again. They hacked and chopped. Within seconds he was dead and, without any guilt or remorse, they threw him overboard.

“Nooooo!” screamed the captain, staring at the spot where Boggs went over.

The men looked at Peters, who held up his hands in surrender.

Kaula rose to his feet. “It’s over, John.”

Claymore clenched his fists. “You’ve never been good luck. You’re a curse! I regret the moment I saved you!”

“So do I, but I’ll never go down below again. I would rather die.”

“So be it.” The captain pulled out his knife and charged.

Kaula readied himself. He met the attack by grabbing the captain’s right wrist with his bloody hand and pummeled Claymore with his right. Captain Claymore took blow after blow while landing a few of his own.

The crew cheered on Kaula.

“Watch that knife!”

“Captain’s got a hard head!”

“Mind the rope!”

The two enemies struggled on the deck, crashing against crates and equipment. Kaula fought with a pent up vengeance while trying to keep the fight away from Spoon and Tim. He pinned down the captain. Claymore slipped his hand free and slashed Kaula’s chest.

Kaula slapped the knife from Claymore’s grip. It clattered and skidded across the wooden deck.

The captain squirmed around and got enough room to roll over and crawl away, but Kaula grabbed his feet and pulled him back. Claymore grasped around. His hand landed on the rope that led to Kaula’s right wrist. He grabbed it, kicked free of Kaula’s grasp, turned over and launched himself against Kaula’s chest for a last attack.

Kaula fell backward, his arms behind him to break his fall. He landed in a gap between stacked crates and was wedged between them, his arms trapped behind him.

The captain sat on Kaula’s chest and cackled as he wrapped the rope around Kaula’s neck. “I want you to die and go to the devil that made you.”

Kaula wriggled like a fish on a hook.

Tim cried out, “Someone help him!”

Mr. Bales stepped forward but Peters put out an arm to hold him back.

Tim laid Spoon on the deck and stood up.

The captain pulled tighter on the rope. Suddenly he screamed, “No! No! God, no!”

The crew couldn’t see what was happening. The sounds of Claymore’s screams were so horrible, the crew rushed to the opposite side of the ship. Tim ran to Kaula. The captain’s screams had turned to gasps and choking. Kaula’s arms were still pinned behind him and his eyes were wide with horror. Tim looked at the captain to see what Kaula saw.

The Kraken’s dark tentacles trailed from Kaula’s neck, up the captain’s arms, and covered his neck and face. Tim stood transfixed, watching the captain’s skin move and tighten. Claymore’s lips turned blue and he became still. The tentacles withdrew and returned to Kaula’s shoulder.

Tim pulled the Captain’s lifeless body off Kaula. Kaula was visibly shaken, but steadied himself. He looked down at Claymore’s contorted face. Kaula picked him up, and threw him into the sea.

The men slowly returned to the middle of the ship. Tim retrieved the captain’s knife and cut the rope from Kaula’s wrist. Tim wondered if the crew knew what really happened. Better to let them think he did it with his own hands than the truth.

An uneasy silence filled the air.

Finally Campbell asked, “What do we do now? Who’s to be captain?”

Tim asked Kaula, “How about you?”

“No. As soon as we dock, I’m staying on land. I’ve had enough of ships.” He looked at the men who couldn’t return his gaze, except Mr. Bales. “I think Mr. Bales would make a good captain.”

The men brightened at the idea and patted Mr. Bales on the back. Even Peters seemed to agree.

Mr. Bales nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

Tanner asked, “What’ll we tell people when we reach port? We could hang for what we done.”

Campbell offered, “A storm carried them overboard?”

Mr. Bales shook his head. “No, let’s say they killed each other. Both were known for their tempers. It’s believable.”

Spoon moaned.

Tim exclaimed, “Spoon!” and rushed to his side. He cradled Spoon in his arms. The crew gathered around them.

Without opening his eyes, Spoon whispered, “I’m so thirsty. Am I on deck? How did I get here?”

Tim smiled and said, “We have a long story to tell you.”