The Shantyman by Rick Spilman

Author:Rick Spilman [Spilman, Rick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Old Salt Press, LLC
Published: 2015-02-02T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Now, some are bound for New York town

And some are bound for France.

Heave away me’ Johnnies,

We’re all bound to go.

I must have fallen asleep. I awoke with a heavy weight on my chest. The wind still howled, but the motion wasn’t quite as violent. I pushed with both arms, shoving aside the coiled rope that had tumbled over on top of me, and pulled myself up. I warily opened the cordage locker door and looked out on deck. It was hard to see through the rain, but the ship was more or less upright, wallowing in the waves, perilously low in the water. The Alhambra was still just barely afloat. I didn’t see a soul.

Warily, I stepped over the threshold and out onto the deck. The rain pelted me in torrents, making it hard to see, but what I saw was ugly. The deck of the lovely Alhambra was a shambles. Her three proud masts were stubs, broken off above the hounds. The bulwarks were shattered, and splintered dunnage littered the deck.

Was I the only one left alive on the ship? And for how long? Would I be the only one to see her finally slip beneath the waves as I sank with her?

I was worn out and almost resigned to dying right there on deck when the ship sank, as at that moment it seemed she surely must. But as long as she held on, so would I. I grabbed hold of the port lifeline and slowly made my way aft. With so little freeboard, the deck was almost awash and waves broke through the shattered bulwarks.

The fo’c’s’le cabin was canted over strangely. Both boats tied to the cabin top were shattered, their gunnels all that remained, the planks and frames splintered and carried away.

As I passed the cabin door, I heard someone call out, “Georgie, son of a bitch. You’re still alive.”

I jumped, startled and surprised, yet pleased to hear another human voice. I looked over and saw Archie sitting on a sea chest, braced against the bulkhead as water washed back and forth across the cabin sole. He stood and stepped out into the downpour, joining me at the lifeline.

“Good to see you, Arch. Where are the others?”

“Don’t know. Aft, I ‘spect,” he replied with a shrug. “I dove for cover when the storm slammed us. Where’ve you been?”

“Got buried in the rope locker.”

He snorted, and together we made our way aft.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.