S.S. Vitae

I didn’t remember when I got on the boat, how old I was, or who was with me. All I remembered was opening my eyes and seeing the wooden planks of the deck, the massive timber spire rising from the center of the deck, and waves glistening in bright sunlight. I smelled salt in the air, tasted it on my tongue.

There were more people walking around than I could count on my fingers. They ranged from all ages, from young to old, and were both male and female. And I knew none of their names.

They seemed familiar with one another as they moved around with the hurried feel of people who had something important to do but couldn’t quite remember what it was. They sang and laughed and spoke, all with a lively air about them. But to me they were a jumbled mass of faces. I might as well have been trying to draw patterns in the stars for as well as I understood them.

As I took a careful step forward a wave struck the side of the ship. The massive vessel rocked in reply, both up and to the side. My knees buckled. I flung both my arms out as I fought for balance. Wood creaked and groaned as the boat recovered, and then I heard laughter.

It was the belly-filled chuckle of an old round man. Even standing a few feet away he loomed a foot or two over me, the sun casting a long shadow of his figure across the deck and upon me. I felt infinitely small in his presence, hid my face because of the laughter. I felt my cheeks going red.

“Easy there,” the man said. His voice was loud, like a wind moaning on an unsettled eve. “Don’t want you falling over, now.”

“I…” I paused, uncertain how to reply. I glanced at the deck, at my legs. “I think I’m alright.”

“What’s your name, lass?”

“My… name?”

“Yes. Your name. What do people call ya?”

What was my name? I knew the basic names of other things. Birds, water, wood, deck, boat, man, air, light, sky. But what was it people called me? “I don’t remember,” I finally admitted.

“Ah. Well. I wish I could say I’m surprised. Nothing against you, young lady, it’s just common for people to not remember their names when they arrive. But it’ll come around. Until then, why don’t we think of something that fits ya?”

I nodded, expecting a headache but feeling none. “I remember it had something to do with night.”

The man hummed to himself, the soft noise somehow breaking over the ocean winds. “Starlight?” he asked, then shook his head. “No. You’re hair is too dark for that, but too light for you to be a Midnight. Your eyes are bright and strong, but too blue to be considered flames.” He went quiet for a moment, and I felt my heart beat a little harder, a little stronger. “What of Luna?”

“Luna.” I repeated the word softly to myself. It had a nice ring to it. I gave the man a nod.

“Luna it is, then!” He laughed happily to himself, another belly-filled chuckle. 

I felt a smile tug on my lips, felt myself standing a little taller. “And what is your na—”

My question was cut short as another wave crashed against the side of the ship. We rocked hard with this one, my legs buckling as if they were no stronger than unfettered ropes. I took a staggering step, my shoes smacking hard against the deck as I fought for balance. My next step was somehow worse. 

Then there was a tightness on my arm. I glanced and saw the man’s had gripping my arm just above the wrist. He was strong, this fellow, tall and strong and tan. I stared at him, my body stiff and swaying gently with the steady rocking of the ship.

“Easy there, Luna,” he said. “You’d better get yourself some sea legs.”

“Sea… sea legs?”

“Aye. And you better get ‘em quick!” He nodded his head to the side. My eyes followed the gesture to spot a cluster of black, daunting clouds in the distance. Light flashed and took the form of a crooked finger that poked the water. My eyes were filled with wonder while my stomach tightened like a stone. Five seconds of uncomfortable stillness passed, ten, fifteen, then there was an explosion of sound that reminded me of rocks rolling down a hillside.

“What was that?” I asked, both frightened and astonished. The rumble had been so loud!

“Thunder,” the old man explained.

Thunder? The word had a familiarity to it, but I couldn’t quite think of why. Had I heard it before? Had I once spoken it?

“You’d better get someone safe,” the man told me. “There’s a storm coming.” He looked out at the clouds, then back to me. “And by the looks of it, it’s gonna be a mean one.” He turned and walked off, whistling a quiet tune to himself as he set to tightening some ropes.

How is he so calm? I wondered, glancing at the clouds in the distance. My stomach felt like cold stone as I watched light cross the distance from sky to water. Then the thunder rolled, deep and strong, a sound so loud I felt it in my bones. Did the man not hear the same boom? Did the others on the boat not feel the same fear?

Water splashed on my arm. I glanced at the railing, expecting to see the ocean reaching for me, expecting to see the boat rocking. But I was wrong on both accounts. Water splashed again, cool on my hot skin. Another blotch brought my attention skyward, and water splattered on my forehead. I laughed as the sky kissed me again. What else was there to do?

Thunder called again, nearer, louder. The sky answered by weeping. It wept for me, for my fear. It wept for the boat. It wept for all that was around: clouds, air, ocean, people. 

The tears were rolling now, wide and thick and falling hard. I lifted my hand to protect my eyes, to shield my head as water came down upon me. In seconds I was drenched in the same manner as if I’d fallen into the sea.

I heard wood groan, the overwhelming and distinct sound of a rushing wave. Turning, I saw the ocean punch the side of the boat with enough force to send us rocking. My arms went back out, stiffening as I scrambled for balance. I reeled sideways, my inner awareness of what was level thrown off from the rising of the boat. Then everything reverted—we rocked the other way, low and hard, and I danced the other direction.

There was a sudden noise that could have been a wave, could have been close thunder. At its passing I found that I had fallen. I slid on my side down the length of the wet deck, the wood scraping the exposed skin of my arms and legs. I scrambled, flailed, as I fought for a grip. My heart beat crazily inside of my chest. Am I going to die?

My back hit the railing. The hardwood didn’t so much as budge. My innards lurched in reply, threatening to shift their positions inside of me. My head whipped backward, the back of my skull hitting the railing with enough force to blur my vision. All control was lost; I went limp, my head lulling to the side.

Thunder, deafening and frightening, brought my attention back. I got to my feet as quickly as possible, balancing myself on the rail as the boat rocked backward. The wind moaned and beat against me as it tried to push me over. I fought back, remaining upright. 

Shouts somehow rose above the noise of wind and thunder. With one arm wrapped around the railing I glanced at the wheel. An old man stood there, white-haired and many scarred. The smile spread across his face showed teeth whiter than pearls. He shouted something I didn’t understand, and it was answered by an arousing cheer from the men and women spread around the deck.

Who are these people that not even this worries them?

Then I saw it. Such a great ocean wave rose up behind the man at the wheel that my heart practically froze. I expected the wave to level out and hit us, but it just kept going up and up and up. The nose of the boat went with it, the entire vessel tipping backward as we rose high onto the dark water. We didn’t go high enough.

Water flew over the front of the boat, over the sides. It got me in the face, ripped my arm off the railing. Sliding I went, coughing as I slid down the length of the deck. People stepped past me, around me. Why didn’t they help me? They were certainly strong enough.

I came to a stop facing the front of the boat, and I watched as we levelled out. Then we rolled forward onto the backside of the wave, and down, down, down we went into the depths of the sea. There was high and loud noise. Could’ve been the wind. Could’ve been my screaming.

The nose of the boat hit the ocean’s surface. Wood creaked angrily as it fought to stay together. It fared better than I did. The sudden impact threw me against the deck with enough force to sprawl me completely out. I went sliding toward the back of the boat, too disoriented to do much more than claw at the deck for grip.

Up another wave we went, then down the backside. Up and down. Up and down.

I was dead. As I coughed mouthful after mouthful of cold, salty water I knew it. I was going to die.

Then the waves got gentler. Still strong enough to throw us up and down with relative ease, but we no longer rode them as high as we did before. The thunder, though still loud, had gotten softer, the rain modest.

I forced myself onto my feet and stumbled a few steps before I slammed into the railing of the ship. I knelt and wrapped both arms around it, twisting my body around the railing as I hugged it as tight as I could. Sounds fell from my lips. They weren't words. Words have meaning, purpose, a rhythm to be understood. This was just sound.

“Well, you fared better than expected,” a gruff voice said.

I turned to see the old man I’d seen earlier, the one who’d been at the wheel, standing a couple feet away. The sun shown behind him, making him appear as just a large, scary shadow. Sounds came out of my mouth.

“What’s your name?” he asked, leaning down to meet me where I was.

“L… Luna.”

“Luna, is it?” He glanced at the sky for a second, then back to me. “A wonderful name.” He reached out a hand, waited for me to take hold, then helped me to my feet. “I’m glad to see you made it through your first storm.”

I was still too shaken to give a worthy reply, so I said nothing.

“I’m known around here as Veni. I’m captain here.”

“Captain Veni,” I mumbled. “Is that… the storm. Is that normal?

He looked at me for a second, one eyebrow raised. What was he thinking? What was he doing? How much did he know about me? Then he smiled, those pearls making his face look ten years younger, and said matter-of-factly, “Welcome to the S.S. Vitae.”

***

The days passed slowly; the years passed swiftly. I didn’t know exactly how old I was. It was impossible to tell. Every day the ocean rolled the same waves, every night the stars burned the same bright, and we never, ever spotted land. But my skin was darker, my hands calloused and firm and many-cracked from hard physical labor. I’d had my hair cut four times and it still fell to tickle my neck, and I’d gone through three separate pairs of outfits.

I’d taken many things to memory during this time. I knew starboard was right and port was left. I knew what the rigging was and how to spot fraying sections of rope that were prone to snapping during particularly violent storms. I knew how to tie various knots—the bowline, the figure eight, the clove hitch and the cleat hitch—and the uses for each. I knew how to batten the hatches.

I knew how to discern a coming storm by the sudden coldness in the air and the increase in wind. I knew which clouds were too dark for comfort and which meant a simple rain was on the horizon. I’d even learned how to swim.

The wooden handrail was cool and damp against my arms as I leaned against it. A heavy fog hovered low today, completely concealing the ocean and the other ships that accompanied us on our voyage. They sailed beside us but not near us. A lantern hung from a metal hook nearby, its steady glow meant to signal others of our location.

The boat itself rocked leisurely upon waves unseen. I’d gathered my sea legs, as I’d been told—I’d gathered enough wit and familiarity to no longer be thrown off balance by the waves. The air was still, but I heard the occasional ripple of canvas sail as it swelled from higher ocean winds.

Suddenly a pale, feeble light appeared in the fog. It spread out from a central point very slowly, gradually gaining an orangish tint. I glanced around to see if anyone else saw what I was watching, but the fog also covered our ship. I basically stood alone. When I turned back the light was bright orange and red, a perfect mirror of the lantern by my side.

Then the waves broke, rippled, whispered hushes as the wooden hull of another ship soared along. My eyes went wide, my heart cold as ice. The boat came directly at us. I opened my voice to shout but someone beat me to it, the source of which I didn’t know.

The oncoming boat broached, heeling so far sideways I thought it might capsize as it slid along past us, narrowing missing the side of our ship by mere feet. Waves from its wake splashed against our hull, up into my face. I spit salty water, watching in terror as it passed. The ship seemed to go on forever, plank after plank after plank of perfectly curved wood. Then the fog wrapped completely around the ship and swallowed it whole.

I stood there, dumbfounded. I’d seen some things on this boat. People trip and stumble during storms. People clinging to supports after falling overboard. I’d even seen sharks so big they’d swallow a grown man in one gulp. But I’d never seen a ship come at us like that.

“Strange sight, wasn’t it?”

I turned to see Veni standing beside me, his captain’s coat billowing in a nearly silent wind. He wore a strange three-pointed hat on his head. “I don’t understand. Why were they going the opposite direction?”

“Must have gotten turned around during a storm.”

“Have we ever gotten turned around in a storm?”

Veni smiled as he stared intently into the fog. “I’d say so! More times than I can count.”

“Then… How do we know we are going the right way?”

“The celestial bodies.”

I shook my head at him. “What’s that?”

Veni wrapped a strong arm around my shoulder. I felt safe, snug against his side. With his other hand he pointed at the sky. I traced his fingers to find a hole in the fog that revealed a sea of glistening stars. They were so beautiful. I don’t know how long I stared, I just knew I couldn’t look away.

When my thoughts eventually returned I said, “I still don’t understand. The stars tell you the destination?”

Veni smiled warmly, his eyes locked onto the vastness of the night sky like mine. “They do not tell of the destination, only that we sail for it.”

“Then how is it you know where to go?”

“Come with me,” he said, then turned and disappeared into the fog. I scurried to keep up, afraid of losing him on the ship. I knew all too well how confusing fog could be, and though I’d memorized the ship well, I knew I’d be lost in the thick mist. I found him quickly, and he wrapped an arm around mine as he ushered me across the ship.

We passed many of the crew. They were a busy lot, strange too, always bustling to and fro with things to do, always singing or humming or laughing merily. And they were always so friendly, as if they were actually happy to be on this boat. I hadn’t caught that contagion yet.

Then we passed a group of newcomers, five men and women who looked completely dumbfounded to be where they were. Had I looked like that when I first saw S.S. Vitae? A jovial laughter caught the spirits of two of the women, and they entered into a strange jig, dancing to the beat of a tune I couldn’t hear. I cocked my head at them as Veni pulled me along, then they were engulfed by dense fog.

Through a doorway we went, down a set of stair, through a wooden door, into a narrow and short hallway, and through a final door that opened into a relatively large room given the size of the boat. A pair of men sat at a table of heavy wood that cut the room in half. Starlight poured from a circular window and fell upon a map of the stars. Someone had drawn lines between some of the stars, connecting them together to form various shapes—some almost looked like humans, others were types of animals.

There were peculiar items on the desk, more than I could count on my fingers. Why did you need a small ship inside of a glass sphere that floated on water? What was the point of two needles fastened together at a single end? And who had wasted their time binding papers together and wrapping them in leather?

As Veni pulled me closer to the table I noticed a wide piece of paper was littered with so many strange symbols that I’d never be able to count them all. I got the odd impression just by looking at them that they were somehow related to one another, like the stars.

One of the men glanced up from the map of stars as we reached the table. He was an old man like Veni, but he didn’t appear as kind. His dark eyebrows were thick and harsh, his eyes sharp as a knife. He glared at me. It made me uncomfortable. I pulled closer to Veni, the solace of his large presence wrapping around me like a cloak.

“This is how we know where we are going,” Veni said. He removed his arm from mine and pressed his hands against the table as he leaned forward. I noticed how intensely he stared at the stars on the map. I glanced at them myself but found only confusion.

“I don’t understand.”

“The stars run together.” He traced one of the patterns with a finger. “You see? They mean something. They give us an image to follow.”

“Oh please,” the old man said curtly. “You waste your time. Navigation is beyond this one.”

“Is that so, Syyta?” Veni asked, but it didn’t feel like a question. It seemed more like an idle comment.

“She’s barely worked her hands, barely understands the fundamentals of sailing. You expect her to understand constellations, coordinates, and elliptical patterns? She’d be better off tying knots or making meals.”

I opened my mouth to speak but Veni beat me to it. “Who decides when one is ready to learn, Syyta? Is it you?”

Syyta didn’t respond. I saw his jaw flinch.

“You see this map?” Veni asked. 

After a moment of silence I realized the question had been directed at me. I nodded.

“The stars always take the same design, the pattern, if you will. And they always appear next to one another. So take Aieta,” Veni pointed to a grouping of stars with lines drawn between them to form a bull. “Aieta will always be here next to Kuuma,” he pointed to a fish. “And Kuuma next to Wegda.” He tapped on a cat of sorts.

“Ah,” I said, understanding. “So as long as you keep the nose of the ship pointed at the right figure, you know we’re going the right way.”

“Not quite,” Veni said gently. “The stars move through the night. They appear one place at dusk and another place at dawn. But they always follow the same path.”

“So how do you know where they will be?”

Veni looked to Syyta. The old man stared back, then turned and motioned to a set of weird bottles that sat on the edge of the table. They were perfectly square glasses, with some sort of strange sloping setup inside. Near the center of the glass the slopes ran so tight together that water had to drip to pass through.

“We use these,” Syyta said begrudgingly. “We compare the amount of liquid remaining with our previous calculations and our known coordinates,” he pointed to the paper with all the weird scribbles.

I… I don’t understand,” I mumbled.

“I told you this was a waste of time,” Syyta said to Veni.

“And how long did it take you to learn this?” he answered.

Syyta said nothing. His cheeks gained a little heat. The younger man next to him who hadn’t said anything since I’d arrived hid his face in his work.

“Okay. So you point the ship at the coordinates, as he called them.” I pointed to Syyta with my chin. “Where did you get them? I mean… how did you figure all this out? It all just seems very confusing.”

“We were given to them from a man who came from Taivas.”

“Taivas?”

“The island where we are going. It’s a lush place, filled with every flower you’d ever want to smell, every breeze you’d want to feel, all the shade from the sun you’ll ever need, and every kind of fruit you’d ever want to eat.”

“Wow. Sounds amazing.”

Veni smiled. “Yes. It is that.”

“So this man just came and told you how to find the island?”

“He gave us everything we’d ever need.” Veni pointed at the bound pieces of paper. Veni started coughing. Then didn’t stop. He pulled out a scrap of white cloth and covered his mouth as he tried to breathe. The coughing fit passed and the white cloth came away with blotches of blood on it. Veni tucked the cloth into his pocket.

I thought back to the other boats I’d seen, the ones that sailed alongside us. “Is that where everyone else is going too?”

“It’s true we all seek the same destination,” Veni said, his voice rough from the coughing. “Though some may never think as such.”

“What do you mean?”

Veni paused for a second as he thought of how to answer. “Some people just let the wind take them where it pleases.”

“Then how will they ever reach the island?”

Veni’s face went serious. I’d never seen it like this before. It was like a sinking stone or the gathering clouds of rain. He looked sad. “They won’t.”

“Can’t we show them where it is? Give them the points?”

“We have and we do,” Veni said as he stepped to the other side of the table. “We send them notices by bird, but they choose where they sail, which boat they call home.” His eyes went distant. “I’ve heard the tales of how every ship left the same port. It’s hard to believe that by looking at how far we’ve spread from one another.”

“What happened?”

“Do you see this?” He pointed at the boat in the glass orb. As I stepped closer I noticed there were notches marked on the side of the glass with black ink. “This tells us exactly which direction we are sailing. And before you ask, it’s not as easy as always pointing the same way the whole time.”

“The storms…” I said, beginning to actually understand.

“Yes. The storms. They throw us around. Throw everyone around. Afterward we have to run our numbers again, check the books, then rearrange our course accordingly. Everyone thinks they are going the right direction. Some are correct while others are only slightly off, slowly drifting away from us and off course. But what happens to that with enough time?”

“They put more distance from us.”

“That’s right. And do that long enough, and you’ll never see the island. You’ll miss it by miles.”

“So what do we do? What about the boat that was going the wrong direction?”

“To them,” Veni said, “we are going the wrong direction.”

“Will they ever correct course?”

Veni gave a smile that lacked part of his heart. “We can only hope.”

***

Syyta was not kind to me as the days passed. He didn’t like me for some reason, and made this completely evident by giving me all the chores no one wants on the ship. I had to scrub the deck many times and scrape barnacles off the side of S.S. Vitae and from underneath. On more than one occasion I had to empty the pantry of all the rotten fruit that hadn’t found a belly. The worst was cleaning the bird cages. They smelled unbelievably bad, and it didn’t matter if you covered your nose and mouth. You had to gag.

As teeth-grindingly horrible as the chores were, I never did them alone. There was always at least one fellow crew member with me, and they weren’t ever aggravated to be working these jobs. They seemed happy to contribute. I tried to be like them, whispering “ All for them” to myself over and over as I remembered what Veni had said. If it was true that we were all searching for that island, then my gain was their gain, my work was their work.

But with every passing stroke of the bristled sponge, every wide sweep of the mop, every rising and setting of the sun hatred grew within me. Hatred toward Syyta. He should have been the one cleaning. He should have been the one laboring. Instead he sat comfortably inside a room, staring at a map.

One day as I was on my knees scrubbing the deck, Veni came over to me. “Looking good,” he shouted. Warmth filled my belly. It felt good to be recognized. “Take a break.” I felt even warmer.

I looked up at him in time to see him nod at the aft. “Go help feed the newcomers.”

I turned to see eight men and women standing upon the aft. The wind made the frayed edges of their clothing flap like tiny flags. Michael, one of our crew members, was walking across the deck toward them with a wooden crate filled with fruit. When I looked back Veni was gone.

I tossed the bristled sponge I held into a bucket of soapy water and hurried to catch Michael. I thought of Veni as I ran, remembered the blood on the white cloth. Was he alright? By the time I reached Michael he was already at the top of the steps and on the aft. I followed beside him and we worked together, me retrieving and handing out the fruit he held.

My heart churned inside me as the first woman took hold of the apple I presented her. Her hands were rough, fingers spindly and skin pale. The shaking of her hands spread into my arms. The wind whipped her blonde hair out of her face to reveal eyes so wide I thought they’d fall out. She moved her mouth but I heard no words.

Had I been like that when I’d first eaten on the boat? I didn’t remember that day at all.

The next person in line was a man. I saw the veins that ran through his skin, tiny roots of blue. His ribs bulged against his chest. No, they didn’t bulge against it, his skin sunk around them, between them. When did he last eat?

He reached out indescribably slow, and when he was inches from the apple I held he jerked his hand away. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “Take it.” I wanted him to take it. He had to take it! After a moment he did, pressed the coarse skin of the apple against his teeth, and took a loud crunch of a bite. His eyes lit up with pure delight.

A similar scenario played out for each and every one of the new members of the crew. Where did they come from? I wondered as I fed them. Why hadn’t they eaten there? Why did they wait so long to hop on S.S. Vitae? How long had I waited?

As we handed out our last handfuls of fruit, the boat suddenly shook, rocking hard to one side. I bent my knees immediately in reply, distributing my weight the proper amount to keep my balance. The newcomers weren’t so skilled.

They hit the deck so hard it was audible. Arms and legs scrambled as they tried to regain their balance, but the boat rocked hard on another wave. Water splashed over the handrail, bathing the newcomers in cold salt, seafoam spreading around them. They sputtered, brushing drenched hair from their visions.

Then I heard it. A crack of thunder so loud it reverberated through the ship, bringing the the boards to tremble. My spine rattled. I looked to the horizon and saw only darkness in the clouds. The fellow members of S.S. Vitae near me snapped into action as they hustled to attend the duties needed to withstand a storm. And what a storm it was going to be.

“Get up!” I told the newcomers. I glanced to the horizon again, catching sight of a bolt of lightning as it cracked the world from sky to sea. “Hurry!”

They looked at me for a second with confusion painted on their faces. Then they kicked into motion, scrambling along the wet deck for a footing as they tried to rise. A pair of women got their arms around the handrail and pulled themselves upright.

Then the rain began to fail. There was no warning, just a sudden downpour of nails. The wind moaned and harmonized with the rain. They sang a duet so loud nothing else could be heard, except for the rushing torrent of charging waves.

“Get into the galley!” I shouted. “You’ll be safe there.”

It wasn’t apparent whether or not my advise had been heard. The newcomers had been struggling to their feet before I’d spoke. I spotted a wave rising in the side of my vision, a dense wall of rolling water. I looked to the nearest newcomer, a middle-aged man with long black hair and a short, well-kempt beard. I reached out to take his hand, knowing he’d never get to his feet before the wave hit, and as I did the boat leaned hard, sliding down into the deep lull between two gigantic waves.

The wave slammed into us. It blanketed the boat. I’d braced myself for the hit, and as I wiped water from my eyes I found myself still standing. The black-haired man, however, was gone. I turned as the boat rocked heavily to port-side and found the black-haired man sliding on a crash course to the thick timber of the mast. Even as I began to cross the wet deck he slammed into it so hard that his head snapped forward and bounced off the wood. He went down onto his back, limp. The lean of the S.S. Vitae brought him him to slide toward the port-side railing.

I fought to keep up, to reach him before he hit the railing. He was gathering speed at a substantial rate. By the time he hit the railing he’d be going so fast he’d flop over the side of it.

There was a sudden, sharp crack like a snapping wood. It didn’t roll through your bones like thunder. This hurt the ears, rang distinctly in your mind. I ducked instantly, knowing the sound had come from a fractured rope.

I looked up to see a long strand of rope flapping violently in the storm winds. The other end was fastened to the edge of the mainsail. The large stretch of white canvas twisted and rustled overtop itself, useless. Without the rope keeping the sail under control the S.S. Vitae would lose valuable speed it needed to remain buoyant atop the massive waves of storm.

My eyes fell upon the black-haired man who slid without guidance. I couldn’t just leave him. He’d go overboard and drown! But no one else seemed to notice the problem with the sail, and if I didn’t fix that then the entire ship could capsize.

I clenched my fists, hating myself as I ran to the aft, took hold of a rope in the ship’s rigging, and began heaving myself up to the central mast. The wind whipped against me fiercer and fiercer as I climbed, desperately trying to break my grip. But I held firm, defiant against the storm as I followed the rigging to a small platform near the base of the sail.

There, safe behind a wooden railing fastened firmly to the mast, I reached out, took hold of the frayed strand of rope, and pulled it down under the railing. I slid the length of coarse rope against my palm as I reined it in. The canvas sail went taut, the storm winds filling it full as I pulled the rope through a hoot. I twisted the end of the rope into a loop, then ran a section of itself through the hole as I formed the appropriate knots—two half hitches atop a clove hitch. Thunder rolled as I worked, lightning striking dangerously close to the ship but always missing.

My fingers hurt by the time I finished the knot, as did my eyes from the wind and rain. My breath was heavy and surprisingly dry in spite of how much water I’d inhaled. My eyes scanned the deck for the black-haired man. I did not see him.

There was a sudden splash, the same crash that resounded when a large stone or an anchor is thrown against the surface of water. I turned to face the sound, squinting as sharp raindrops nipped at my face.

Someone was caught out there in the ocean. They waved their hands as they treaded water, and I thought I saw their lips moving, the words themselves lost in the greatness of the storm. I took hold of the rigging and shimmied my way closer to the edge of the boat to get a better look. Was it the black-haired man? Did I have a chance to save him? No… the shirt was different. Too white for a newcomer. It was…

Syyta?

What was he doing out of the cabin? Didn’t he know the storms were dangerous, or had his life of studying erased that memory from his mind?

I found myself grinding my teeth as I stared at him, clutching wads of rope in my hand so I did not fall. Syyta had been unbelievably cruel to me over the passing months, possibly years. He deserved this for all he’d made me go through. There was a strange type of warmth within me, as if the sun broke through the clouds to shine upon my breastbone, as I thought of him perishing.

No one would miss him if he were gone. I’d never heard anyone else express any displeasure toward the man, but I knew they didn’t care for him. Syyta never showed himself useful, other than figuring out patterns within the stars. But anyone could’ve done that.

My gain is their gain, I thought. My loss is their loss. My struggle is their struggle.

I drew a deep breath, accepting my fate, and let go of the rigging. I fell, tipping over in the air. I lifted my hands over my hand and positioned them into the shape of a harpoon, and pierced the water in kind.

Immense cold swallowed me. It bit into my skin, flooded into my bones. My mouth fell open to gasp, but the breath was met with a wash of salty ice water. I coughed, bubbles of air puffing out of my mouth and drifting toward the surface.

The surface.

I threw wild slaps and kicks as I fought the dense water. It moved gracefully around me in rippling waves. My chest became tight. My lungs cringed. Still I fought, kicking and slapping and screaming. My vision started to blur. Thunder rolled, muffled and distorted.

I’m going to die!

Just as I thought I unconsciousness was coming to claim me for the final time my head burst through the surface of the water. Rain greeted me, cold and painful and somehow comforting. I drew a sharp breath and spit salty water.

I kicked myself into a spin barely in time to see Syyta’s hand fall beneath the surface. “No!” I shouted even as I frantically threw myself in his direction. He was gone by the time I reached his location. But he deserved better than to die here, choking to death underwater. Everyone deserved better than that.

Under the water I went, salt burning my wide eyes as I searched for him. The ocean was unbelievably dark in the height of the storm, but I spotted motion below me—pale skin listing lazily downward.

I dove, paddling and kicking as hard as I could. I reached to grab Syyta’s outstretched, limp hand but he was too far. I kicked harder, more desperate, more frantic. I went far enough to tickle his fingertips with my own. Come on! Then I got hold of his hand and pulled him toward me until I could get my fingers firm around his wrist. Then I swam upward for all I was worth, my lungs screaming for relief, my mind doing the same.

I broke the water first, erupting out of it for a much needed breath. Then I pulled Syyta up to do the same. He didn’t react; his head bobbed lifelessly to one side.

“No!” I shouted. “No, no, no!” I punched him in the stomach. He didn’t react. I pressed my lips firmly against his and blew in time with a normal heartbeat—ignoring how fast my own beat. Then I pulled back and punched him hard in the chest again.

Water spilled out of his lips as he coughed. He choked, then spit up more, his eyelids opening as life rushed through him like a tidal wave. His eyes widened when he saw me, his grip tightening around my hand. “How…” He started to say, then the words choked off as he looked past me.

Curious, I followed his gaze to see S.S. Vitae sailing away from us as it rode atop a massive wave. I turned back to him. “I couldn’t leave you.”

“But now we will both die!” he cried out.

“What do you care?” I snapped back. How could he act like that, after I’d just saved his life? “I should have never bothered.”

“I…” He trailed off, his eyes lifting to stare blankly at the sky. Rain pelted his face, my face, the surface of the ocean as a giant wave slammed into us. We went up with the arc of the wave, riding it like a piece of driftwood.

“I’ll get you back,” I said.

“You’ll never keep up with the ship.”

I looked to S.S. Vitae and knew it was true. I’d never keep up with a ship like that. A one sailed vessel was beyond my capabilities, but a three sailed one that had the strength of storm winds behind it? Never.

Then I caught sight of a hollow-out circle soaring through the air. It looked like a shadow in the gloom of the storm. “Maybe I don’t have to.”

***

Hours later I stared at the small waves of a calm ocean, wondering if I’d made a mistake. I didn’t regret saving Syyta’s life. The old man had needed help. Without it he’d have perished. If the waves didn’t get him, the sharks would’ve.

I regretted losing the black-haired man. He was so much younger than Syyta with so much more of life to live. The sea shouldn’t have swallowed him like it did. He should’ve been able to fight back! I sniffed at how ridiculous I sounded, even in my own head. Listen to me, bickering like an old, bitter woman.

Someone coughed behind me. The noise made me jump, and I spun to see Veni holding a bloodied rag over his mouth. He coughed a couple more times, then stuffed the rag into his pocket.

“Forgive me, Luna,” he said as he approached the handrailing beside me. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I accepted Veni’s apology by offering him a smile. He was always so nice to me. He took the smile and returned it in kind.

“You might want this,” he said, extending a thin strip of blue cloth to me. I suddenly realized how much the wind was whipping in my face and how intently I kept pushing it aside with a hand. I took the cloth and wrapped my hair back in a tail. Then we both stared at the water in silence.

Sunlight danced across the surface of a perfectly pleasant ocean. It was as if the storm had never passed through. The occasional raindrop broke the charade as we rode out the riddens of the storm. The wind blew steady and gentle.

“It’s difficult, isn’t it?” Veni asked.

“Yes,” I said, knowing full well that he was referencing the loss of a crew member. “What will happen to him?”

“Him? Which one?”

“Which one?” I asked, incredulous. “How many fell overboard?”

“Nearly everyone from the latest group. We recovered two of them, and you.”

 I shook my head, my eyes falling to the ocean as my own water trailed down my cheeks. “I should’ve been able to save them.”

“You did all you could.”

“I could’ve done more. Should’ve done more. I was weak.”

I heard Veni take a deep breath beside me, and he let it out real slow. “In case you don’t remember, you just dived into an ocean during storm. Not many have that kinda courage.”

“But I failed. I…” My words broke off as I took a hollow breath. I coughed, then started sobbing.

“Oh, there there,” Veni said, enveloping his massive arms around me as he pulled me into a tight hug. “There there.”

“I tried, Veni,” I said, my voice hoarse, broken. “I really tried.”

“I know you did, dear.”

“Why couldn’t I save them?”

“You did save someone.”

“Yeah. Syyta.” I practically spit his name.

“Well, he’s certainly thankful about it. He’s been talking real highly of you.”

I sniffed sharply as a tear fell from my chin.

“It’s true. He’s been saying it in passing while he works. I ain’t heard him speak this kindly about anyone in… I can’t remember when. You really left a mark on him.”

We were wordless for a time, Veni holding me as I released the sharp pain in my gut out into tears. I don’t know how long it was before the crying stopped, but it had been a while. Veni released me from his soothing embrace and we looked out at the ocean once more. It seemed infinitely deep and equally dark.

“What will happen to them?” I eventually asked. Veni knew I meant those who had fallen overboard and were lost in the storm.

There was a few seconds of silence before Veni answered. “Some will be washed away. Others will find other vessels to ride.”

“What do we do? How do we help them from the ocean?”

“We rescue those we pass.”

“And those we don’t?” I asked urgently.

“We pray another boat passes by and rescues them.”

“But how will they know if they’re on the right ship? Didn’t you say that not everyone faces the right direction?”

“It’s true. We have some that sail in time with us toward Taivas. But not all do. Those who board those vessels will have to warrant for themselves what they ride.”

“And how do they do that?”

“You look at the crew.” He must have seen my uncertainty, because he pointed behind himself as he explained. “You see how the crew acts, how they behave. Are they happy? Not smiling and laughing, but genuinely happy. If so, then you’re probably in the right place.”

“But Syyta… he wasn’t happy.”

“That happens sometimes. It’s easy to forget how we once were as we get older. The skills of today often make us forget the struggles of days passed. But I think failing to swim made him remember.”

I nodded, watching as the crew of S.S. Vitae attended to their chores. They whistled and smiled, sang and danced, and worked hard. Very hard. “And what do we do for those who are on the wrong ships?”

Veni smiled a warm smile. “We pray they awaken.”

***

The days were slow and the years swift. Not an hour passed that I didn’t think of the black-haired man that I’d lost to the sea and all those that had been with him. 

Our crew had grown since the day of that dreadful storm. Every couple of days new members arrived on our deck. I never noticed where they came from, they were just there. Perhaps they caught hold of a rope as we sailed past. Perhaps a life saver had been tossed to them during storm. Perhaps another ship dropped them off. Whatever the reason they were there, and they’d learned the ways of S.S. Vitae as well as anyone had. As well as I had.

But the storms continued to rage upon the open ocean, and not all our crew survived the encounters. It was toughest on the newcomers and the elderly. I remembered them all. They were painful memories that wove together to create a horrible tapestry no one would see. The memories were mine, the pain a secret.

As awful as the losses were our crew grew over the years. We’d tripled in size since I first stepped onto the long deck of S.S. Vitae.

I was older now, stronger and wiser, but time hadn’t hardened away my emotions. The storms still rattled me, frightened me. Lightning on the horizon always brought concern to the forefront of my thoughts. I’d just accepted that that would never leave.

Syyta had lost his bitterness toward me and exchanged his sharpened spear for a bright rose. Every encounter with him was simply delightful. He smiled and laughed and taught me things I never thought I needed to learn, like reading. And math.

I brushed a strand of greying hair from my face as I watched the ocean roll by. Water slapped against the side of S.S. Vitae, splashing up over the handrail and into my face. I welcomed the cooling touch.

A bell rang staccato through the air. My heart chilled colder than the ocean as I spun to find the problem. The bell only rang when there was trouble. Being carried out of the captain’s cabin on a long plank of hard timber was Veni. He lay motionless, arms crossed on his chest, no hat on his head. 

Not Veni! I screamed in my head. I ran to him, meeting the rest of the crew that thronged to Veni’s side.

We parted as two members carried Veni through us. It seemed like the right thing to do. Tears swelled in my eyes as I watched Veni pass. Veni was taken to the front of S.S. Vitae, where he was lifted to full arm-extension into the air.

Tears trickled out my eyes. 

“There’s a sullen wind on the ocean today,” a thick man said as he stepped before Veni. I recognized him as Alto. Aside from Syyta, Alto was one of the oldest members of the crew. He was also among the strongest and most polite. “Our great leader Veni has gone to be with the stars.”

Alto turned to face us. Sunlight backed away, bathing the burly man’s clothes in soft shadow. “Though sorrow claims our hearts, let us not weep for him. For he would not want us to. Aye, he was sick for a time, but that time has now passed and he’s no more sick than I am a moonbeam. Let us rejoice, for now he is more himself than he ever was.”

A gentle rain began to fall, an echo to my own heartbreak.

“Veni’s lineage ran three generations with the wind in these sails, but he was the last of that blood. Let us remember Veni and his family by the glimpses of eternity he gave upon us. He taught many of us all we know—how to sing, how to sew, how to knot, how to swim. He taught us courage in violent storm, the way to bring flame to board, how to smile in great pain. He taught us what we needed to know to face this life, to make it to the end.

“He may not have made it to the isle of Taivas before he died, but he got us all a whole lot closer.” Alto bowed his head, closed his eyes, and waited a few respectful seconds. We joined him. “May we see him upon the warm sands.”

Syyta stepped out from the crowd, a lantern in hand. He knelt before Veni with the utmost reverence. It felt like the world had paused it went so silent. Even the wind paid its respects. Syyta rose, held the lantern over Veni, popped open the latch, and inserted a scrap of cloth into the lantern. When the cloth took heat, he brought out a small flame, laid it upon Veni’s chest, and took a careful step backward. A moment passed and the flame caught the oil that had been spread upon Veni. The flames covered him.

The two men holding Veni ushered him to the side of the ship, fastened a rope to each end of the plank on which he lay, then very carefully lowered him to the ocean. They dropped the strands of rope, and the waves took Veni backward.

I watched him go, a flaming figure growing smaller and smaller as it was taken out to sea. He blurred as distance claimed him, then Veni was gone completely. I stood where I was, sniffling as tears stained the deck. Those around me joined in the mourning, their own tears mixing with mine. The tears from the clouds added a third mixing.

What will we do without him? What will I do without him?

Ash danced above the boat as the wind carried it through. I watched it go.

I sniffled, brushed a finger along one nostril to dry it, and wiped a strand of loose hair from my face as I turned to distract myself with a chore. I came up short. Syyta stood before me.

“Luna,” he said, inclining his head a respectful amount. I matched one in reply. “The boat needs a captain,” he said, then lifted Veni’s old tricorne to me.

I stared at the oddly shaped hat. “I… Why me? Surely someone else—”

“We took a vote earlier,” Syyta gently interrupted. “It was unanimous.”

“I…” I extended a shaky hand. I rubbed a finger on the old, worn leather. I felt the scratches, the rows of stitches, the frayed edges, and the hat’s wonderful curves. I met Syyta’s eyes, and he smiled at me. I nodded and took hold of the hat.

“Please,” he said, tugging the hat gently so my fingers slid off the edge of a fold. “Allow me.”

My vision blurred as I stared at Syyta, then I knelt and lowered my head. He placed the tricorn upon me. It fit like a crown. I rose and Syyta beamed like rays of sunshine. He turned sideways and extended a hand to the helm.

I cocked my head at the wheel, accepting the decision in my heart. My steps were slow, methodical. A hundred eyes fell upon me as I stepped up to the helm. Each one carried a weight, their strings of life ready to be woven into a painting, words ready to be added to a story.

I took hold of the wheel. The smooth wooden prong fit perfectly in my palm. I closed my eyes, inhaling the cool, salty air as I took in the moment. I opened my eyes and looked to my new crew. They stared back, eagerly expecting the orders of my first command.

I looked to Syyta for help. He nodded respectfully at me, though said nothing. I looked back to the crew. “Full sail ahead,” I said weakly. No. I can do better. My gain is their gain. My efforts are their efforts. My loss is their loss. “Full sail ahead!” I shouted, to myself and to the crew.

As everyone scurried to their stations and to attend to S.S. Vitae’s needs, I set my eyes upon the horizon. Like Veni, I may not see these people to the island, but I’ll get them as close as I can.