Into the Deep (Working Title)

Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
  Rode the six hundred.-

“The Charge of the Light Brigade”



Chapter 1
The sea spray burned cold against his hands and face, making his desperate work tying down the sail harder, but not slower. He hardly noticed it as he sprinted across the wide deck, the ship tilting heavily as the crosswaves crashed into the side. Out of the flurry of moving people and shouting, he heard Charles yell out for help, and rushed over, skidding slightly on the soaked deck. Without a word, he grabbed the rope of the high mast, and together with eight other men they pulled the wide sail out, watching it with relief as it caught the forceful wind.

“You think it will be enough?” he said in between heavy breaths.

“Of Course, I’ve never seen such a wind on such a beautiful, clear day!” Responded Charles, slapping John on the back, “God’s clearly rooting for us! You should thank me, all those prayers from adoring women no doubt saved us!”

They shared a brief laugh, looking out across the crystal blue water, and watching their sister ships catch wind and pick up speed next to them. They waved at their fellow ships, the Venerator towering over the smaller transport ships, giving a wide view of their decks. Like on the Venerator, there were men hurriedly working across the deck, yet with children milling about, their mothers calling them and crowding around the sides.  A young woman cradling a baby and leaning over the side waved back excitedly, blowing a kiss.
Charles made an exaggerated motion of catching the kiss and placing it on his heart.A small boy, jumping up and down, waved a wooden sword in the air next to the woman.

“Or those girls are cursing Diana for being the one to finally nail you down.” Said John, laughing and waving back to his nephew, brother Matthew, and sister, Diana,” You’re lucky we’re such good friends.”

“No, you are the lucky one! How often do people get to already know and love their brother in law before he even becomes your brother in law!”

“That was the problem,” responded John, chuckling,” I knew too much already.”

“We don’t have time to stand around yet, boys!” bellowed the captain, seeing them from the elevated deck of the galley. “Climb up there and help secure the crosswind sail!’

They both nodded and, moving quickly, they dodged around the mass of other frantically moving men and began climbing the nets to the upper sail. Dipping under the boon, they began their well-rehearsed work, high above the decks. The view from this height was only beat by the lookout post about 8 feet higher. The waves beat strong and rocked the Venerator heavily, but they were making good speed out of the cove. Just around the peninsula, and they were all home free. The sky shone blue and the water clear in the light of the early morning sun. The land of the starboard bow overflowed with lush, green flora, not a trace of humanity to be seen.

We are gonna make it

With the thought, John ended his idle gazing and continued with his work, securing his section quickly with a satisfying clack of the pulleys. He moved across the netting to Charles’s side, eager to get back down. Climbing over the massive sail, he found Charles staring into the distance behind the ship.
“Come on, you bum, I already –“John stopped, noticing Charles’s stern face and clenched jaw, and followed his gaze.

He heard the call of the lookout just as he saw the bulbous dark shapes moving into view, coming around the cape.

“WARSHIPS OFF THE STERN”

There was a sudden pause in the movement of the men below, a sudden silence that enveloped the ship.
“John,’ Said Charles, turning to him,” Get down there, I’ll finish this. Go!”

John hurriedly scurried down as the silence ended as soon as it began, the men rushing to their work with renewed energy. He dropped to the deck a little too soon, buckling a bit from the height as he hit the wood, recovering quickly and sprinting the captain’s deck.

The Captain stood tall, his dark uniform kept clean and sparse of medals, simply a few rank patches. Just how he preferred it. His firm jaw was covered in a well-trimmed beard, and even on a day like this, the captain looked as steady and clean cut as a tin soldier.

“Sir, how does it look?” John asked, panting.

Captain Foreman stayed quiet, holding the telescope to his eye as he studied the ships before he spoke.
“Not good,” he said, handing the telescope to one of his officers. If he was afraid, he didn’t show it, simply a look of firm determination in his dark eyes.
“It’s the Chatirce”
The First Lieutenant let out a gasp.
“But sir, it cannot be!’, Cried the First Lieutenant,” She’s at the Cladian front!”

“It seems our information was wrong,” responded the Captain.

“But there is no way we can outrun the beast!”

“Indeed,” responded the Captain, looking out over the men rushing about the Venerator, then to the sister ships next to them. For the first time since he had known the Captain, he saw sadness in his eyes. The Captain somberly took his hat off the oak stand, putting it on and standing tall at the helm.
“Lieutenant, TO ARMS!” He bellowed and the lieutenant rushed forward, swinging the bell. The men ceased what they were doing, moving below deck to their stations at the cannons or passing out rifles and swords. Signal flags began being waved, communicating the situation to the other ships who no doubt already knew.
John spun around and began to move his way to his station, in a daze at the sudden change of events, before the captain stopped him.
“John, wait,” He said calmly,” Come here.”

The lieutenant, frantic, rushed to the Captain’s side.
“Sir, we couldn’t take the Chatirce on one on one, she is an 80 gun ship to our 64, let alone with 3 warship escorts, and the women and children-“

“We will buy them as much time as we can.”

The lieutenant’s eyes went wide, realizing what the captain had the second he set eyes on the ship.
“But sir….”
A cabin boy moved quickly forward, handing the Captain his sword and pistol. The Captain took the weaponry with a curt nod and a pat on the shoulder before turning back to the Lieutenant.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” he said calmly, looking him in the eye,” I don’t believe we will be going home this time.”

“Ye- yes sir,” stammered out the Lieutenant, gulping quickly and composing his resolve,” I understand.” He stepped back and accepted his own weapons from the returning cabin boy before turning and walking off the helm, yelling defense orders.

John admired the lieutenant’s control over his fear. He himself felt like collapsing, barely able to hold in the realization he wasn’t going to be with the rest of his family again. The captain turned to John, putting his hands on his shoulders.

“John, I’d love to tell you to go-“Began the Captain.
John composed himself as much as he could, yet he could feel his voice about to crack.
“But they need us, sir. I understand, I’m ready.” Responded John.
The Captain looked into his eyes as a tear fell down his face, disappearing into his beard.

“Son, I’m so proud of you.” The Captain said, hugging his son. As he embraced his father, John felt his fear fade away to the back of his mind, his resolve strong, his face stern.

“We’ll send the bastards straight to hell.”

The Captain nodded, pulling away, his face once again a stone wall.
“Indeed.”

He turned back to the helm, accepting a paper from one of the officers.
“The other sips agree, sir.”

The Captain nodded.
“Lower the full sails, hard to port!”
The command was echoed by the officers and sergeants throughout the ship, as John turned away. John sprinted down the galley, looking up as The Venerator’s great white sails fell slowly down as the worship turned into the wind. The four transport ships continued on, the so recently exited civilians looking on in confusion, Captain Arman of the Montres and his officers standing at salute as their deck sailed quickly past, only thirty feet away from the Venerator’s.

John accepted his rifle, ball, powder and sword from the somber quartermaster, a burly, gruff old sailor whose sleeves and end of his long beard were stained black from oil and powder. Stepping back for the last few stragglers who were not yet armed, he watched the ship float on, looking for his sister, or younger brother in the crowd of faces as they passed.

“Looks like they haven’t told the civilians yet.”

John turned to see Charles behind him, in full uniform and equipment, pistols and bombs hanging from bandoliers across his chest. He looked on to the ships, tears welling in his eyes.
“For the best, I guess. Wouldn’t look good having a mutiny of women and children,” he said with a half hearted chuckle,” Maybe they’ll make little Matthew the captain.”

“I’m sorry, Charles,” replied John, putting his hand on Charlie's shoulder, feeling similar pain.

“Don’t be,” he responded, waving and smiling at his suddenly very concerned looking wife who had just pushed her way, child in arm, through the crowd of people to the side of the Montress.
“I just wish I could have left them more. Wisdom, money, anything. It’s gonna be a hard life on their own.” He said, still smiling at his wife as tears fell down freely.

“Take head, you’re leaving them something better.” said the quartermaster, standing up and hefting a large blunderbuss,” A chance.”

The enemy ships could clearly be seen on the horizon now, and it wasn’t long for realization to spread throughout the crowd. Women cried out for their husbands, sons, and brothers, trying to push up to the command deck as the crew held them back. They ships distance was speedily increasing, but the begging could still be heard clearly, the beginning to jump overboard and come home. Not a single man moved a step.
To John’s surprise, he saw another ship break off from the convoy, a small gunnery ship of 220 men and 27 guns. They had been signaled to stay with the civilian fleet, but it seemed the crew of the Bowtwell wouldn’t let their brothers go into the abyss alone. The quartermaster made a crisp salute, and started to loudly sing.

“Oh Through the twisted road we march ahead,
Across lands we forged with our dead,
Over great seas into which we have bled,
Our good lord watches over us.”

The man’s voice was loud and deep, carrying the song across the boat and water, and John felt the words fill his lungs as he joined in. Soon, the voices of every man on the ship merged into the old battle hymn, standing at salute to those they were leaving behind.

“For he gives strength to my arm, that when I defend myself I may not be weary,
He gives me power in my legs that in darkness I do not tarry.
He gives power over those that seek to by my enemy.
Our good lord watches over us.”

The song spread across the waves, to the other ships, and they too, began to sing.

“For through the suffering of the course, violent road,
He guides us all safely, to the eternal home.
For those brothers who fall in defense, their paradise is prepared.
And for those who stand against the just, none shall be spared.
Our good Lord and brothers watch over us.”

As the song ended, the voices of the civilian ships died out, lost to the strong winds that pushing them away and their enemy closer. There was a somber quiet as the men got to their positions, cannons loaded and pistols cocked, boarding ropes held tight and swords drawn.

Captain Forman waited a few moments as the great purple and blue flag of the royal navy could clearly be seen above their enemy’s ships, the Chartirce speeding ahead of her slower allies, eager to meet her victim. Suddenly, he addressed his men with a loud, booming voice.

“We all know what we are going into, but few men throughout history can claim such a valiant stroke as we! For we go into the abyss for our wives! For our children! And for a great future for all! I consider myself the luckiest man alive, for no other man since history began has had the honor of diving in next to such great men as aboard this ship.”
The Captain swiftly drew his sword, raising it high and jumping to the ledge of the galley, grabbing a boarding rope. The faces of the crew of the Chatirce could be seen as the ship moved swiftly to their port side, grimaced and eager for slaughter, all experienced soldiers and privateers. The immense length of the ship and its cannon’s dwarfed the Venerator, but John felt no fear.

“God is with us, my brothers, and we have been chosen to personally escort the king and his men to hell!” With a loud cry, Captain Robert Forman pointed his sword forward, pushing off and swinging into the mass of enemy, followed by the harrowing cry of a five hundred noble souls. With the simultaneous boom of 146 cannons and a crack of a thousand muskets, the 518 men of the Venerator descended into hell.