Captain's Log: Through the Tempest I

[Thomas Karver]

Captain’s Log, Querencia
Course: NbNE
Weather: Choppy waters and a strong wind
Souls: 16
Watch Officer: T. Karver
Date: 40th Ymiden, 721st Arc

“Reef those sails, steady salts!” Tom yelled. He heard Jori’s booming voice repeat his order almost at once from the foredeck. It had been a fortnight and a half since they left Ne’haer and Tom still caught himself expecting orders to come down the line. Is someone going to correct our course? Is the watch officer going to assign watches? No, those and many other duties belonged to him now.

“Harper, steady on that sheet.” He said, his voice hoarse from the yelling he had done that morning. Chrien’s bloody sport they had been all up the Rhakros coast. Tacking into the wind for nigh on three breaks before the wind turned seaward and they caught a full sail. Now the spiteful Orm’del had thrown these rocky waves at them. The Crew of the Querencia braced and stutter stepped with every other violent roll. The storm immortal was keen on testing his mettle.

Tom made his way up to the Quarterdeck where Lytara, his first mate, stood with a frown on her smooth, dark face next to Skarp, a catch of a helmsman. Tom had been delighted to find Skarp in need of work in Ne’haer. The man was skilled at the wheel and by all reports salty to his bones. He just had a history of tomfoolery and trouble. Tom had never seen the man wear shoes either, even on their brief mooring in Strosdyn. Lytara on the other hand was clad in leather armor over linen with her rapier hugging her hip, tall black boots reached near her knees.

Her dark eyes flitted towards him and then to watch the green line that was the Rhakrosi coast far to port.

“Mornin’ Cap’n.” Skarp said with his usual jovial air that always left you wondering if you were the butt of some joke unseen. Lytara said nothing. Tom glanced at her, a mild edge of concern creeping up within him as he returned Skarp’s greeting.

“North by northwest, Skarp. Take us out into the deep a bit.” Tom said. Skarp nodded and repeated the order. He turned the spoked wheel that stood about half a head taller than he and hissed through his front teeth.

“You sure that is a good idea?”

Tom turned to find Lytara had turned her attention to him. His spine straightened and Tom looked at his second. “Absolutely.” He answered. He then turned an already practiced ‘Captain’s scowl’ on Skarp, who had been eyeing the exchange with the critical eye of a sailor watching a potential problem unfold on his ship. Sailors had keen senses when it came to problems with leadership, and that was just what Tom needed on his first long distance voyage as captain. Under the ire of his captain, however, Skarp turned casually back to the wheel.

Tom lowered his voice and stepped a half step closer to Lytara. “Querencia has been hugging the coast for trials now. She’s a deep hull gal and can take the open water. I plan on- that is to say we are going to cut out to avoid these choppy waters.”

“Tommy Karver, the Ki’nar gift to the sea, eh?” Lytara smirked. “You know the open sea is a different breed. No points of reference, no telling when-“

“Thank you, First Mate. That will be all.” Tom cut her off. Once again Skarp was watching them. “I think I have a grasp on the sea.”

She bristled at his retort and the side of her mouth curved down in a scowl. Tom was at a loss, because this was not the behavior of a first mate who disagreed, but of a first mate with a grudge. What had happened between them that had caused such a divide without him noticing? He had never seen old Woodrow have such troubles.

“Right you are, Captain.” Lytara responded mechanically after a moment and walked off the quarterdeck. She shoved past the imposing figure of Jori Redbeard as she did so. Even her woven braids bobbed angrily as she stalked off.

The big man raised a brow but made no other reaction to the hostility. Skarp was staring towards the prow resolutely, no doubt cataloguing the entire exchange for scuttlebutt.

Tom sighed and nodded to his massive Quartermaster as Jori approached. “Cap’, got a moment? There’s a question about cargo stowage I need yer ear for.” Jori muttered and jutted his large red beard at the rear of the ship.

[Thomas Karver]

Tom was grateful for a reason to move on from that undermining of his authority. Witnessing his supervision of another task would do well to smooth over the debacle and distract Skarp. But Jori walked to the gunwale at the far stern of the quarterdeck and gazed down at the wake of the ship. The hulking man’s shoulders slumped over the gunwale as he rested elbows on the smooth, still new rail.

Tom leaned against the gunwale next to him and crossed his arms. “So what can I help with, Jori?” He prompted after a moment.

“Botched tha’ one up a bit with the Mate, Cap’.” Jori said after a moment. His hooded eyes shifted to his Captain for the first time. His tone and stare both were full of careful calculation. “Gotta be careful here.”

Tom felt his pulse quicken and his face flush hot. He stood quickly. “I am more than able to choose the course of my own ship. I have arcs of-“

“Aye, aye. Cap’, far from judging’ yer experience am I.” Jori held up a meaty hand casually. “Calm yourself, Cap. Skarp be a keen and observant little gull of a fellow. Just lean back an’ give me yer ear a moment.” Jori tapped four fingers against the rail of the gunwale.

Tom glanced at Skarp’s bare back. The tattooed sailor had not seemed to be listening, but he hardly knew the man. He leaned back and stared at Skarp’s back as he muttered. “You don’t trust him?”

Jori laughed. “Course I trust him for what he is.” The Quartermaster smiled. “That’s the point though, Cap’. You’re a new Captain, it’s a new crew. Chrien’s spittle, it’s a new damn ship. I know ye are worth yer chops as a sailin’ man on account of my own time on one of old Woodrow Ki’nar’s ships. But Mate don’t know ya from any other salt in port. Same for Skarp an’ the rest of these hands.” Jori said slowly. “Ya got to earn a crew’s trust. An’ a Mate like Lytara has a weathered eye out for a bad captain, more like than not. She won’t tolerate an incompetent or bullheaded captain.” Jori pointed a finger at him to punctuate the point.

Tom shook his head faintly. “But what have I done to make her feel that way? I just gave Skarp an order to take us out further from the coast.” Tom explained, he could hear the exasperation in his voice. He continued more evenly, acutely aware of Jori’s advice now. “I can’t see where I offended her.”

“Ya undermined her in front of the crew back on Strosdyn.” Jori said pointedly. He continued as Tom struggled to recollect what he had meant. “When ya told the men to load the cargo different than what she said.” Jori explained.

“What? My grandfather has-“ Tom began in his own defense. He was acutely aware of how pathetic the attempt sounded even as he began it.

“Probably at least fifteen arcs of experience with his Mate at the time. Not to mention a whole gold-plated reputation in every port from Scalvoris to Melrath. You have some reputation as a Mate and an able bodied sailor, Cap’. But ya aren’t him. And Lytara don’t know ya.” Jori said gently. The Quartermaster was taking pains not to come off accusing, or hostile. His tone was that of an older sibling explaining something rather simple to his younger sibling. The words still beat red hot at Tom. “So ya got to earn it.”

Tom turned and faced the choppy waters in their wake. His eyes drifted off to the Rhakrosi coast. He could just see the dark line of it disappearing as Skarp cut further out to sea in preparation for their crossing to Rharne, what would probably be an eleven trial journey. “I thought I was ready for all this, Jori. I may no-“

“Bah, flotsam, Cap’. You’re a young one yet. Every trial has it’s lesson.” Jori interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. “Just got to make it right.”

Tom continued to watch the coastline disappear. “I could have taken her aside. Should have made the new order come from her. You’re right Jori.” He saw it from Lytara’s perspective now. Proud and trying to establish her own authority over the crew on a new ship. Her first stint as a First Mate. The young, fresh Captain had gracelessly come and undermined her in front of the crew. Tom saw how her image of him could have soured in that moment and the trials following. Now only were they all fresh to the sailing life together, but she was also a woman in the second spot on a ship. Another layer of challenge he could not know.

[Thomas Karver]

“I’ve been foolish.” Tom finally muttered.

“Aye, but that’s no crime anyone else is free of.” Jori barked a laugh. “And the foolish man is only a fool if he is ignorant of his foolishness. You’ll make it right, Cap.”

“Did you really have a question about the cargo, Jori?” Tom asked, eyeing the big man shrewdly. Jori gave a sheepish smile and shook his head.

“Oh no, but it was a subtle business. And Skarp be a sharp-eared devil if I ever have known one.” Jori grunted, frowning at the helmsman’s back.

“I owe you one, Quartermaster.” Tom said finally. “Thanks.” Jori just shrugged and tucked his thumbs into his thick leather belt. He sidled across the quarterdeck and began his descent down to the main deck.

“Quartermaster!” Tom heard his voice come out calm and firm, and he was grateful. When Jori turned with a faint smile Tom tried to keep the quiver out of his voice. “All hands on deck!” He yelled. Then the captain turned and pointed a finger at the black cloud edging up from the southern horizon.

Jori’s face fell as his eyes found the storm. He turned and bellowed Tom’s order again, even as the crew rushed about repeating it themselves. Skarp had turned and spat in the direction of the storm. He was now muttering curses under his breath. Tom moved up to join him and gave the man a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He stood ramrod straight and unbent. He might have sailed astray in his handling of Lytara, but he would not run aground with this storm.

“First Mate to the Quarterdeck!” He yelled into the chaos of his crew scrambling to the sheets and sails. “Skarp, due north, if you please. Let’s run with the wind.” Tom was surprised to hear his voice was calm. He was even more surprised when Skarp nodded and stopped his cursing.

“Aye Captain. Due north and we running.” The helmsman said. He grunted as he turned the wheel and Querencia creaked with the sudden shift.

The storm was raging closer. It was a looming cloud on the southern horizon now, with flickering flashes of white hot light. The first clap of thunder sounded across the empty expanse of sea like a challenging canon shot.

“We running.” He heard Skarp mutter over his shoulder as if in prayer.