“Sirens?”

“The monster things. Can’t you hear the singing?”

“I thought that was the crew!”

Delia spared the doctor a puzzled stare as she heaved at Jeremy’s leg again; the man was little more than 100 kilos but he felt twice as heavy.

“Since when did they sound like women?”

“I, uh… good point. I thought I was a little drunk,” Cassie said.

As they struggled to yank the second mate down the stairs, Delia's heart pranced. Her Pa was edging closer to the deck.

“Push his knees, keep your head down,” Cassie said, following her gaze.

Delia did as instructed. Within moments, she felt the weight of Jeremy pass over her hunched form, quickly followed by a loud thud.

Delia ignored it, eyes turning towards the entranced captain.

“Pa!”

She rushed over the stairs and jumped to grab Greg’s clothing. Fist clenched onto his garment, she jerked with all her strength, but her old man still marched forwards, not slowing.

It was like a child pulling an adult; that’s exactly what it was. For all the years that had gone by, her old man had always treated her like a one. She could refute through words, but now, when it mattered, she was no more effective than a child.

Tears welled in her eyes at the thought and her feet dragged across the landing, pulled by her Pa’s movement.

She gritted her teeth, nails digging divots into her palms as she tightened them further. Were it not for his thick clothing, she would've bled. Even now, her nails felt like knives. But that was just another feeling, blended with the fear and panic that coursed through her veins.

A soft sound of tearing fabric caused Delia to glance down, and she noticed the seams of her Pa's garments come apart, his shirt slowly sheared by the tug of war; the only apparent affect of her action.

He was right by the door now.

“Do the same thing!” Delia yelled in a panic.

“He’ll break his bones this high up,” Cassie replied, busy tending Jeremy.

The words distracted Delia with the thought of the second mate. She hoped the fall hadn't hurt him.

Her Pa capitalised the momentary lapse. Floorboards creaked and tha man sauntered onwards as if unimpeded by her pull.

“How in God's name... is he still moving?” she said through clenched teeth.

It didn’t make sense. He was perhaps 80 kilos, and she was somewhere in the region of fifty. There was no plausible way he could keep moving at this pace. It defied physics and logic, and yet, here was doing exactly that.

“Cass, he’s not slowing!”

“I’ll hold him,” she said calmly. “Go get Jonah.”

* * *

Jonah woke up to the pulling of his sleeves.

How was it morning already? He could have sworn that he fell asleep less than an hour ago.

His eyes shot open, a sudden pain in his ribs jolting him up.

“What was that for?” he said with a frown.

Delia had tears in her eyes, and her lips moved in a frantic tempo. She tugged at his arms, but he stayed lying in bed. If the captain wanted to complain about it — Jonah bolted upright and his hand reached for the blade that lay by his bedside.

They were under attack. Delia wouldn’t have been crying and pulling at him otherwise. It was the only thing that made sense.

Jonah picked up the Midnight Ode and used it as a cane to prop himself. He grunted with effort, a spike of electricity running up his injured leg. He began hobbling towards the door before Delia smacked his ribs again; the pain flaring once more.

“That hurts!”

He turned to her with a scowl on his face, only to be puzzled by the shaking of her head, her hand pointed towards the sword. Words spilled from her at a dizzying pace and Jonah couldn’t make much sense of it.

“Slow down, Del, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

She nodded, mouthing the words slower.

“Follow. Stop. Pa,” was what Jonah gathered.

He nodded. He didn’t know what she meant, but he could reason with Greg if he was doing something silly.

The threat of battle gone, he carefully wore his robe and slid his feet into slippers, before following Delia out of the room.

He still kept the Midnight Ode. It was a comforting companion, both by its sheer presence and its aid as a cane, assisting his healing limb by taking the brunt of his weight.

He had lost track of time, laying in bed all this time. It had been more than a month, perhaps two, and his body still hadn’t recovered; and that was with Cassie’s intervention. He probably wouldn’t have made it without her, not that it surprised him. It was a thought that sprung to mind often, every time an action he would’ve previously completed with ease strained him. Which was most actions.

Delia led him by the arms, tugging him to wherever the captain was. She advanced swiftly whilst Jonah stammered through the corridor, each of his steps shooting lighting up his leg. Whilst it had effectively healed, or rather, was no longer in two pieces, putting any weight on the foot made him want to scream.

The jerking motion of walking even electrified his ribs. He had supposedly broken most of them. Again, that didn’t surprise him.

The two walked in silence. No, perhaps she was talking; he was still fairly deaf, relying on lip reading to figure out speech. So when Delia turned to face him, his eyes focused on her mouth as it moved and repeated the same words over and over.

“Silence?”

She shook her head and attempted again.

“High… run?”

She held up two fingers, nodded, then held her index and shook her head. It was a system the two came up with to help guess Jonah guess more easily.

“Something run?” Jonah asked.

Delia nodded, then mouthed the word “Sky.”

The pair continued the guessing game as they approached the stairs to the deck, where Jeremy lay sprawled out, unconscious.

How much had the man drunk? The thought was quickly eclipsed by another worrying question. A notion that caused his heart to beat faster and his pace to quicken.

Did he and the captain get into a fight?

Concerned, Jonah looked at Delia for an answer. "What happened?"

"Stop. Pa," she said. "Help. Doc."

It didn’t answer the question, and it made the latter thought more likely. He supposed he would find out.

The two turned the corner, having arrived at the base of the stairs. Jonah looked up and saw Cassie holding the Captain whilst Greg struggled against her, trying to leave for the deck.

Jonah turned back to Delia with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Hold. Him."

Though questions raced in his mind, he said nothing, limping up the stairs to do as instructed. When he arrived at the landing, he noticed Greg’s shirt torn by the seams. The chances of infighting only spiked.

What was he on about, there was no chances, Cassie was twisting the man's arm right Infront of him! And like a guilty man fleeing from his crime, Greg was adamant to leave, teetering forward, even with Cass driving his momentum in a different direction.

Trusting Del and Cassie, Jonah resolved himself for mutiny. He clenched his teeth in anticipation of pain before grabbing the captain, placing one hand around the man's waist and his head on the opposite side, flush against the captain's ribs.

The old man didn't seem to care; as though in a hypnotic state, his sole aim was to go to the deck.

The ship guard spared a glance up to look at the captain's face. It was blank - void of expression. Eerie.

Jonah would have asked what was wrong, but he faced the opposite way to Delia and had no way of lip reading. He could ask later, he supposed.

Happy with his hold on the man, he pulled Greg, using all strength and distributing as much of the weight to his good leg.

Then the captain burst forward a step.

“Cassie?” Jonah yelped. She must have let go.

Instead of focusing on her response, Jonah changed tactics as Greg took another step. He pushed the man. Using his good leg and the wall to his advantage, he pinned Greg, halting his progress.

Jonah was parallel to the ground, one leg walking along the wall, his shoulder gorging Greg's stomach.

The old man didn't react. Jonah could still feel him try to move, but he didn’t react like any normal person. If the captain had any sense in him, he would have punched Jonah in the ribs. He would have sworn at him and smacked him in the head.

Perhaps he was swearing and just conscious about hurting him.

That was one of the two. If only Delia shared the same sentiment.

Jonah continued to pin the man despite his rising curiosity. It frustrated him that he couldn't hear.

Whilst It had been fun playing the guessing games with Del, it was moments like this when the value of what he lost shined.

Life would have been too simple if he could've asked and been told what was going on. Jonah had to rely on guesses, and he didn’t like the answers his mind proposed.

It wasn’t the first time a man became crazy at sea.

Jonah was also concerned about Jeremy, knocked out cold on the floor. Did the captain do that? Was he pushed down the stairs?

As the thoughts raced through his mind, he adjusted himself, the captain's centre of mass seeming to have changed.

Delia hadn't punched him yet, so he figured he wasn't doing anything wrong by continuing to pin her old man.

Then, as suddenly as the man bolted forward, his body became lax. Jonah held steadfast until a sharp pain throbbed in his sides, Delia stabbing him as though reading his mind.

He untangled himself from the captain and spotted Cassie hanging from the captain's neck, arms wrapped around in a chokehold.

The ship guard unsheathed his sword on instinct, and Delia punched him once more.

“That hurts!”

He stared daggers at her, but Delia ignored him and turned to Cassie, who gently positioned Greg on the ground.

The two ladies spoke to each other whilst he stood there in pain and confusion.

Cassie was still in a white nightgown, black hair in a frenzied mess, and feet bare. She clearly had just gotten out of bed, which meant it was still night.

Jonah was aware the crew spotted land. He knew the shipmates were drinking the night away in celebration. But he also understood the monster of a drinker Greg was. There was no way the captain was drunk.

So what had happened? Why was Jeremy knocked out cold and the doctor strangling the captain?

“What is going on?” Jonah asked, finally giving in.