Jonah stood at the quarter-deck, watching into the distance. The sea was calm today. Far too calm, and the hair on Jonah’s arms rose in anticipation. If Delia saw him, she would have droned on about static and charge and whatnot, but that didn’t matter. There was a storm coming. He could feel it on his skin as sure as he could feel the tanned leather by his waist.
Jonah had travelled this route ever since he was a little boy, and it was the first time that the journey had been so perilous. It was only on their second day at sea that the heavens opened their gates, allowing a torrent of rain to assault their vessel. It was only on the third day that they battled against strong winds which battered their sails. And it was only on the fourth day that they wrestled with the sea, struggling to stay afloat.
If that was all, then they would have managed. Their journey had no way of making it on time by that point, but a rough trip was within the realm of the expected. They would have survived. Now? Jonah wasn’t so sure.
They had been at sea for a week longer than they should have been, most of the first three a simple endurance test against the sea’s relentless onslaught; trying, praying, and failing to tame its fury. Whilst they did have small periods of peace, it seemed the sea was adamant in taking life this trip – a toll for letting them traverse it.
The period of respite was welcome - this one in particular, given its length - but Jonah knew that it was over now. Even if he was wrong, the longer the journey went on, the worse it would be. Morale was low, and their food stores lower. If they didn’t find land soon… he didn’t want to think about that.
Jonah climbed the towering mast, entering the crow’s nest, the highest point of the ship. Ordinarily, it would have been manned, but the barrelman had been beaten and bruised by the battles. Instead, every hour, a member of the crew climbed the mast in hopes of seeing land in the distance. It hadn’t been an hour yet, but with the premonition of dread, Jonah took the binoculars which lay on the ground and placed them against his eyes.
“Son of a bitch”.
Dark low clouds crawled in the horizon, heading in their direction. “SOUND THE HORN!”
The ship came to life as one of the crewmen did as Jonah instructed, and it wasn’t soon after that Jeremy joined him at the crow’s nest. “I swear to Poseidon, I hope you’re pulling my leg”.
“I wish,” Jonah said, shaking his head and passing the binoculars to the second mate. “There’s a storm coming”.
“Fuck.”
“Fuck, indeed.”
Jeremy sighed, returning the binoculars to him. “Someone’s cursed us or pissed off Poseidon.”
“It’s because you keep taking his name in vain”, Jonah replied.
“If we survive, then I’ll swear in Raijin’s name instead.”
Jonah understood cursing, but he could never get around cursing deities. “Must you swear by something that would swat us like a fly”?
Jeremey bellowed a laugh, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t even believe in the deities!”.
“No, I believe in A God. A Deity,” Jonah corrected. “It doesn’t mean I go out of my way to curse at other deities, false or not”.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Jeremy shrugged. “If we survive, preach to me then.”
“Jeremy! Jonah!” Captain Gregory shouted, halfway up the mast. “How long till we’re fucked!”
“It’s moving slowly captain”, Jeremy replied. “Ten miles out, so we should prepare for the worst. Half an hour max”.
“Knowin' our luck, it’ll be on us in ten minutes' time,” Gregory said back. As soon as he had finished, the wind started picking up and Gregory cursed his fate, practically jumping back down the mast.
Jeremy turned to face Jonah, the signs of amusement from seconds ago absent. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
* * *
The sky had darkened as the sun was swallowed by the shadows of death, raining hell onto the ship.
Jonah could barely see as he was pelted by the rain. The storm was unrelenting, hammering the ship with strong winds that would have knocked any normal man off his feet and heavy rain that felt like stones. The waves were enormous, crashing over the bow and pounding at the hull whilst the ship was tossed about like a toy. It seemed as though it would have capsized any moment.
“CHANGE COURSE!”, the captain barked. “ADJUST THE SAILS!”
The commands were barely audible from the thrashing on the deck, but Jonah could feel the boat shifting directions as the rudder moved, aligning the ship in the direction of the wind. It was that, or the ship really was capsizing.
Whilst Jonah would have given that command hours earlier, he wasn’t really a sailor, and he trusted the captain. The old man, with his wiry white moustache and balding head, had twice as much experience at sea than Jonah had on Earth. He had faith that the man would see them through.
Obeying the captains’ commands, Jonah made his way towards the sails which had been secured along with the rigging. The first thing the crew did upon hearing the horn was to make sure that everything was properly stowed and lashed down. They had intended to ride this one out. They already long deviated from their path, and if Jonah was being honest, he didn’t think the navigator knew where they were at that point. Straying any further, and they would be in uncharted waters. But if they stayed any longer…
Jonah let the thought trail off as he walked. The deck was slick with water and spray, and the ship was pitching and rolling as it struggled to stay upright. Ordinarily, Jonah would have been fine to cross the distance, even with the wind kicking him like a horse. But it had been several hours since the storm began, and those hours had felt like days to him.
As he made his way towards a mast, Jonah slipped, crashing onto the deck. He howled in agony like the cries of a Banshee. He thought he had broken his knee bone, given the pain that erupted.
“Are you ok!”, Delia shouted, clinging onto the mast as the ship pitched. “Jonah! Are you okay!”
Jonah could only groan in response. The ship jolted as another wave crashed into it and he slowly slid down the deck. If it pitched any more, he would be in danger.
Fighting through the agony and against the cold touch of sleep, he groped for something to hang onto. There should have been a rope nearby, strapped to the decking just for instances like this.
“JONAH!” Delia cried. “JONAH!”
A few other distant voices seemed to join her screams, but Jonah couldn’t tell by the crashing of the waves - It was far too loud. Even Delia, who was a few feet from him, sounded like a distant seagull. The only thing Jonah could hear clearly was the sound of an approaching reaper. For a wave to sound like this, it would probably engulf the ship. He imagined this was what a volcano sounded like. He had never seen one of course. But he had heard the horrors from those who did – refugees that abandoned their homes and asked the crew for safe passage.
Jonah eventually found the rope, clutching it in a death grip and praying he would endure the mother of tides that was to envelop him. The seawater made the rope feel like slime, the texture of course fibres absent. In fact, it seemed to writhe in his hands, trying to escape his grip.
“Jonah! Kill that fucker!”
Kill? That made Jonah return to reality, his eyes snapping open despite the pain. He pulled at the rope to help get him up, and then he paused. “Well, who do we have here.”
Sliding the sword out of the sheathe, Jonah stabbed at the tentacle that slithered in his hands. An ear-piercing screech filled the air, more intense than the distant crackling of thunder.
Jonah smiled.
Whilst he couldn’t physically attack the sea, a sea beast was a different story.
Jonah turned to see the beast that dared to attack his charge. They would regret the…
His mouth gaped open, as a squid-like beast almost the size of the ship stood before him.
A Kraken. Krakens weren’t real. By all rights, they were as true as Poseidon and his left toe. But in front of him, with a maw open, was a Kraken.
“JONAH!” Jeremy shouted. “KILL IT!”
“WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO TO THAT!” he pointed.