Chapter Text
CHAPTER IV:
Calm and Peace
A few days passed and with each night brought over sought peace to his once overwhelmed mind, no longer was Joseph hopeless at the sight of roof above him each morning — no longer was Joseph wriggling on the coffin boards with a vain attempt to distract his mind from wandering to its target. A target it had never missed.
This morning was different. He felt nothing, no happiness from the lack of sadness, no sadness from the lack of should be happiness. It was peace, the one he fought for. A peace half measured and itself a despair for others but for Joseph it was calmness.
His eyes closed. Peace.
Thud —Thud. Thud.
“Next time it will be less discrete” A voice that should be at this time a menace, a villain to the mind of the harshly stirred. Joseph pounced, fixed his hair, wiped the remains of slaver of his mug, and walked with a saunter that was quite alien to himself.
Each step on the ladder squawked with a harshness to the ears. The wood; decrepit and in similar condition to the patchwork hanging from Credish, began to bounce on the lifting of a foot. Joseph paused at the opening to gaze at the warmth of the bright yellow hue above, stopping in his tracks to remember as the clouds formed a contrast of pinks and fought against the blues of the ground, halting only for the sun rising, giving an unmatched and uncompromising painting of the morning. He could relish this as the only member of the morning crew currently ready and eager. A grin wasn’t showing but he was happy. It was fleeting but it was beautiful.
A squawk from Credish announced the beatings and later hangings for those “layabouts” and “scallwags” that insist on wasting the day. Suddenly Joseph no longer had a calm ascent up the ladder but was rather tossed upwards. The men with some impatience arrived on deck and formed a disorganised line of random gaps and closeness. Credish with facetious affection affixed a smile as he presented himself in front. The roles were to be given for the day, it was a rather boring affair as most duties were already etched in stone as the steering shouldn’t be done by a novice — there were too many tall tales about that were explained in great humour by his shipmates.
“Sonny, erm — sails” with a puzzled and later a distraught look, the older mate walked to his station. There was a general worry among the crew now, it was now foreboding the waiting for the name as if Credish were really awarding the gallows to those still waking up. With each name his false grin grew more wicked angles and complexion. To the crew as of that moment, Credish was Noavur, a horrible ignoble decrepit.
“Joseph — on watch, rear” An exaggerated wink from credish (so as not to be construed as a blink) caught the attention of them all, there were bitter remarks. A job for those who have earned it and gave themselves wrinkles. Joseph, unaware of the rather open discussion among his peers, peeled himself off his disbelief and walked with a pip up the ladder and gently relaxed his back against the mizzenmast to stare down the rest of the crew. The remaining crew dispersed each with a glance of malintent towards the crew with the preferred jobs. As the last one left, Credish with a beaming smile, that Joseph now saw as angelic and as beautiful as the picture he saw when arising from the lower deck, belted out a tune on a rather rustic and worn bell that usually sparked dread on Joseph.
“Change of shift!” with a great pleasure roared Credish. The pressing of the wood, the sway of the clothes, the coughing and snorting that grew gently became suddenly apparent to Joseph as he turned around and faced a man. The sea had peeled and scratched away at a once handsome man just as had to the colour of his clothes, a very faint blue shirt that had been creased and contorted to a degree that only it was a mockery of the proudness it once boasted of its wearer. The man glanced and looked around, quite unsure of the situation.
“Where’s Daniel?” he looked straight through Joseph as if he was an illusion of these high seas. He continued to peer through Joseph hoping that somehow the visuals would create answers.”What are ye doing ‘ere?”. “Change of shifts, I get the watch here” Joseph with a greatly noticed unease wondering what the man was pondering.
“Oh… Alright” the man followed Joseph's eyes with distrust. “Ere’s his.” He grabbed the wrist of Joseph and lumped a spyglass onto it. The man met away his glare and shot a snot of the side before clambering down onto the main deck.
Joseph, unsure of the device he grabbed with both hands and admired the bronze interwoven craftsmanship. There was glass on both sides, one larger than the other, he planted his eye down the large one and the world shrank and felt pushed back, it was unusual and a fun novelty but he thought rather pointless. He spun around until staring at the masts towards the bow before noticing a small sailor grappling onto the rigging staring right back. He peeled the spyglass of his eyes and stared with a serious look at Sonny. Joseph realising the errors and embarrassment strolled to the aft of the poop deck to stare out at the sea, gathering thoughts. After a brief moment of recollection he gathered his mental faculty and presumed that he would have to do the reverse and placed the small glass against his eye. The world grew closer as if he was a mile behind the ship. After toying with the spyglass against the scenery and placing his hand in front to see it in great detail, Joseph promptly returned to staring out at the sea to avoid a second round of embarrassment. Joseph paced for hours back and forth occasionally pondering the surroundings with the spy glass but otherwise stared longingly without.
The sky behind was becoming a very calming shade of blue but the wisps of the morning red and yellow were transforming and became dark clouds that had dancing blows of light piercing between ahead of them. And yet there were no barks from the captain and no damnation from the bell as panicked sailors grasped the sails and the rails, muttering from a catalogue of prayers. There was only silence interrupted by the sound of waves hitting hull and wind hitting sails. Joseph with the plan of casualness observed his crewmates' indifference. This provided steadfastness on a boat that became increasingly unsure of itself. The spy glass refocused on where it was bliss. The occasional microscopic bird that should be unnoticeable at that size but the barrenness between the two shades of blue provided a great sense of emphasis as it travelled its pilgrimage, its speed and direction were unknown to a casual glance but Joseph was dedicated to this bird, staring longingly as if to recognize a dear friend from that distance. He grew to wonder where it came from? And furthered that with questions of what food grew there? What language did the people speak? Were the people civilized? Are they savages, cannibals and heathens?
The bell rang. A simple chirp before a full rattling began as if it were getting torn from its post.
Joseph ran to the rail looking down at the main deck. He was alone as everyone else clambered with great exertion to form a disgruntled alarmed mass down below Joseph. Noises of “What's wrong?” “What's the meaning?” “Someone ought to be shot if it's a joke”. The group grew in size as the sleeping crew shuffled onto the deck even more perplexed, angry and worried than the day crew.
“Attention.” A man unseen in the rabble below.
“Attention!” A yell followed by more ringing of the bell.
The man proceeded with great dexterity to throw himself onto the steps proceeding to the wheel and Joseph. It was now Joseph noticed the wheel alone, manned only by a simple stop affixing it in place.
They grew out from the crowd revealing the crier to be Credish.
“Attention all!” went out to silence and stiffening of bodies.
“Our captain is dead! Murdered!” The group now statues, unable to move.
“We have a murderer, a villain, a deadman in our mist”
“We will pluck you and skin you.”
“We will find you and string you.”
Credish paused to recollect himself, adjusting his shirt and straightening his posture.
“The captain was dear to me and dear to us all. He was a great man in life and gave us nothing but fairness"
“And this to be his fate?”
“God is dead!” “He died with Captain Victor and will be buried with him”
“Woodsmaker Alister” Credish struggled with his own voice, hiding the trembling well. Masking it as a cough.
“Woodmaker Alister, please follow me for the measuremint” His current formal tone of speaking slowly morphing back to his old self.