Beginning of a short story XXX part II

The hull was still capable of movement, and the sailors hunched against a gaping black wave for a second too long, as if out of brief, tacit amazement that the ship could stay afloat with only four of them remaining. Jenkins had somehow assumed that if the crew were to disappear, so would the boat, a body deprived of its brain – but here it was, right under their feet, lifting them up again.

The captain was the first to return to his senses. He braced his good leg ahead into the little pivot he had worn so deliberately and well into the wood and looked hard at the three sailors clutching at the ropes before him, his sopping, shaggy eyebrows almost blocking out his hard green drinking eyes.

“Not good, not good at all,” he roared and Jenkins could barely make out what he was saying though he was only a few paces away. “Not good but by God there still be breath of all of you, so we sail one. A hundred curses, Jenkins!” he barked even louder and pointed Jenkins to secure one of the riggings which he did.

“By God above the crew’s got to be here somewhere! Not a soul on deck in a squall like this and I’ll have their meat in chains if we survive the day!” He paused to choke on a little water that had sprayed him during the speech.

Jenkins stood by Boxer, who looked like some highlander out of Scott, the kind that climb a mountain with one enormous, sinewy hand while drinking and shooting out of the other. Next to him was Haven, dark and soaked and looking something like a rat with gentle beetle eyes. Boxer always swore Haven was almost his match in strength, but he somehow didn’t look it on the barren deck with his shimmering clothes clinging to his body. Jenkins was the youngest by almost five years.

“By God,” said the captain, finally regaining the ability to speak, “By God, men, it’s easy enough to sweep this ship and find where those cowards are and to the man who finds them by God you have the right to shoot first and ask questions later. Just leave man enough to man the top, but the rest can taste your steel and your fire, the unworthy scoundrels. Boxer, you take the storage and the mess. Haven, you’re in the cots. And by God and Heaven above I’ll take engineering, so,” he said, turning after he pronounced the word ‘engineering’ which left a ringing in Jenkins’ ears, “Jenkins, you’re at the helm. We’ll bring you friends enough to like but not enough to hate.”

Just as he finished the orders the ship coasted up a swell and then sank into a pocket of ocean, coming down, it seemed to Jenkins, not all in one piece and two of the seamen fell to the deck. The sky is muddy, Jenkins thought from his back with his hands on the slippery cold wood to avoid sliding starboard, and it’s hard to tell which way is up.