The Messenger left port on a strong southerly wind that guided the ship away from the docks and into the English Channel. Murmurs of discontent and uncertainty hung over the assembled crew after learning of their destination, the sea already contained enough unknown entities without venturing into yet unexplored lands. The few Portuguese sailors among the crew were glad to be visiting their homeland, even if it was only scheduled to be an all to brief stop over to resupply and get permission from the royal family to sail in the region.
“Captain Shaw, I am ready to report” entered the vice-captain, saluting as he entered the captain's quarters. “At ease, any issues with departure?” “No, Captain.” he officer replied, moving up to the main table. “What of the weather?” The subordinate pointed to the outstretched map on the old wooden table, gesturing to various points. “Cloudy sky with moderate south-easterly winds, the waves are mostly consistent with manageable peaks. The birds seem to be flying low on the cliffs, there likely is a storm coming.”
“What is the feel of the crew?” enquired Arne, still examining the map. “Permission to speak freely, Captain.” “Granted.” “The sailors aren't too happy with the clergymen on board, many are calling them Jonah behind their back.* Their leader, Arnold?” Started the vice-captain, faltering on the largest clergyman's name. “Arthur, continue.” “He has attempted to built up some good will and is keeping the others in line, to mixed results. The others have been received well, assisting the departure by following commands or taking on duties such as taking shifts in the medical room. Some of our men have already began to think up reasons to see the female doctor.”
Moving aside various charts from his desk the Captain found their letters of introduction, reviewing specific letters endorsing Victoria, as well as a few merchants from the Carpenter Guild who managed to finesse their way onto the journey. The church's backers were less in number, but were sourced from people considerably higher in society, notably high-ranking clergy and from with-in the king's court. “Keep an eye of them, continue to draft them to help with upkeep if required.” The second in command saluted, leaving to attend to the duties given.
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It had been less than three nights and Captain Arne Shaw already had formed opinions on the passengers on his ship. The accompanying merchants had readily volunteered to help with the ships operations and could be quickly summoned in the event of heavy weather. Unlike his colleagues the priest Arthur, and the sell-sword he regularly sparred with, proactively volunteered their labour when required to assist with the sails or clean the deck. The woman, and her often disappearing aids, usually hid below deck to help with the ship's doctors tasks and only emerging once the moon was out or on overcast days. The sailors attempts to service their lower decks were quickly shut down, ranging from polite rejections to a casual description of procedural castration for one particularly assertive sailor. When she was moving about above deck, she usually took watch claiming to see uninhibited under the twilight veil of night.
The only blemish on the self-less attitudes of the passengers were the four priests whose poor attitudes only serve to continue to damage their own reputations. Fortunately they isolated themselves pouring over some documentation and scriptures, refusing to interact with anyone else on board. Murmurs of bad omens had largely died down, although the the moniker of disciples of Jonah hung over the devout cluster's head and refused to dissipate.
Only Crispin, who was designated as the intermediary, had any contact with the crew going so far as to collect rationed meals for his colleagues. Their superior gladly took over any tasks which would've been assigned to him, preferring physical labour over whatever 'research' occupied their time. In a sense the assembled crew was thankful, as their clumsy incompetence would only increase their own work load or send one of their own overboard.
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Arne felt the warm sea breeze blow through his white-salt crusted hair, drinking a well aged mead gifted to him by the merchants. Tonight's weather was such that the ship could gently rock back and forth, unaffected by waves landing a mile away on shore. The captain could make out the various guiding constellations in the clear night's sky, even sighting a quickly fading falling star off the port bow.
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Placing himself on the railings, the captain watched the regular night-time sparring that occurred between the Doctor's assistant, Julianna, and either Leo or Arthur, depending on who was able to. The woman had rapidly grown in skill during the combat sessions, learning to wield a bow-staff to a reasonable proficiency. He had learned, over-hearing the judgemental conversations of the priests, that she was some kind of vampiric being along, with the woman living in the doctor's quarters. It mattered not, she contributed her share and didn't take what wasn't hers. An ideal passenger in his book, which many of his crew could take a page from her book. Some spent a cold night in the brig after pilfering a stash of one of their comrades, a mistake few dared make the same transgression twice.
The primary vampress in question soon joined him, carrying a sealed bottle of wine in her dexterous hands. “Good evening, Captain” she greeted moving towards the western side of the boat, her heavy black outfit softly blowing in the gentle breeze. “You are not on watch duty yet” observed the ageing captain “anything catch your attention?” She simply nodded, proceeding to throw the bottle into the ocean waves. “You may wish to order your men to stand down, we have a visitor.”
From the depths of the ocean a brightly coloured fish rose from the depths, its form rivalling that of the largest whale he had seen. The translucent scales constantly shifted between the various colours of the rainbow, while the lining of the creature's fins appears to be as smooth as the finest of silks. “Her name is Nasha,” the vampress commented. “As long you don't aggravate her, she will leave shortly. The wine was a gift for safe passage.”
The dancing lights from the aquatic deity brought many folks from below deck to view the majestic figure that appeared before them, rubbing their eyes as they stumbled up from their somewhat comfortable beds. Even the self-absorbed priests arrived to check out the disturbance, only to be rendered speechless by the creature before them. “Men!” Arne commanded, “Stand down! Anyone who tries to harm it is spending the rest of the trip in the brig. Gomes, fetch a spare barrel of mead!” The second in command saluted, before grabbing two astounded sailors to grab the marked alcohol. If the doctor had placated her with drink, it would not harm him to follow suit.
The captain watched as the sailors and merchants lined up on the deck of the ship, taking in the ambience whilst the people from the church conversed with the beast and took ample notes. The sight of the creature reminded him of the sea folk he had seen when he was a young lad on his first journey. He didn't know if they were Mermaids, Selkies, Scylla or Sirens, only that their supernatural beauty had captured his utmost attention. Only the steady hand of his captain had held him steady, his words bearing the knowledge of generations: “Beware of what lurks beneath the waves. They can be beautiful and charming, but like the sea beauty can change to peril in a matter of minutes.” One unfortunate soul failed to heed the advice of the veteran sailor, falling into the water and be suddenly taken below only moments later.
When the barrel was brought forth from the bowels of the ship, the command was given to place near the helm. The captain made his way to the beast, a stony cold stare transfixed on his face. From the forward most point, he could look directly into the enormous creature's eyes. He gave the barrel a solid thunk with his fist, “Take this for our safe passage.” His gruff tones and temperament were clear, he did not trust the fish but had enough sense to placate it's desires to avoid any trouble. “Thhhhaaaank you” drawlled the fish, it's tantalising voice failing to move Arne's resolve. “Your gift is muuuuuucccccch appreciated.”
Streams of water then danced their way onto the deck, swarming the Messenger with the snake-like tendrils playfully moving across the wooden surface. A few bold observers reached out to touch the serpentine appendages, only to feel the water softly flow past the obstruction like a calm mountain stream. They eventually coalesced around the barrel and lifted it overboard to the alcohol-loving fishes' awaiting mouth. The aquatic deity remained for a time, graciously answering questions proposed by the clergy present and toying with his sailors using the caressing flow of water. Her presence was ultimately short-lived and Nasha descended beneath the tides as suddenly as she appeared. Her form barely creating a ripple as to not disturb the boat.
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Even with the mostly blind navigation given to the crew, the Messenger arrived at the destination ahead of schedule. It seemed that Nasha enjoyed the liquor enough to grant safe and swift passage to the new lands, with the captain later finding a translucent scale attached to the figure head, providing a noticeable guiding push with strong currents. While he served no master, at least in the religious sense, he did make a note to keep an additional cask of liquor on hand in case Nasha, or another of her ilk, ever appeared before the ship again. He did not trust the beast, for it's world and true-nature lay beneath the waves, but placating it's greedy desires was far more desirable than drawing it's wrath.