Something Extra - Hungry Heart - Ch. 28 (Patreon)

Chapter One  / Chapter Two  / Chapter Three  / Chapter Four  / Chapter Five  / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten  / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve / Chapter Thirteen / Chapter Fourteen / Chapter Fifteen / Chapter Sixteen / Chapter Seventeen / Chapter Eighteen / Chapter Nineteen / Chapter Twenty / Chapter Twenty-One / Chapter Twenty-Two / Chapter Twenty-Three / Chapter Twenty-Four / Chapter Twenty-Five / Chapter Twenty-Six / Chapter Twenty-Seven 

Chapter Twenty-Eight – The Island of Forgotten Dreams

Duril swayed as he stepped on the deck of the Greed of the Sea. He had never been out on the water, not like this, and for a moment, he felt overwhelmed. From the height of the pirate ship, his eyes encountered no obstacle as he stared out over the vast expanse of water. The sea was a dark green, while the sky was grey and furious.

Around him, a harried crew was hurrying to and fro, while Margrave was shouting orders.

“It’s a big ship,” he whispered. He had thought that Margrave’s caravan looked impressive in the number of people and horses, but now he had a hunch that at least the beasts of burden must have been rented from someplace on land.

“And full of crazy bastards,” Claw added as he came to stand by his side.

Margrave instructed Varg to carry Toru to the captain’s cabin, so they followed.

Claw wasn’t far off in his assessment. Otis and Gefroy had to be high up in the ranks because they mingled with the rest of the pirates with authority, instructing them here and there before moving on to the next group.

While Margrave and his companions on land had been dressed in merchant garb, the same thing could not be said about the crew on deck. Their clothing must have seen better days, a century or so ago perhaps, and missing eyes and limbs were nothing out of the ordinary. Still, regardless of the degree of their physical challenges, they moved about like a colony of ants, each one well aware of his role in the workings of the ship.

“He’ll be fine here until we get that wench of the sea off his back,” Margrave promised them. “One of you can stay here with him, but the other two must come with me. No matter what way I look at it, I need all hands on deck for fighting that devilish creature.”

“Duril?” Varg said gravely to him. “Will you stay with him? Keep him safe?”

Duril nodded. “I get the cozy job,” he said with a quavering chuckle. “While you fight out there, I’ll be sipping tea in the captain’s quarters.”

Margrave surprised him when he landed a heavy hand on his shoulder and laughed. “Think no such thing, my friend. The she-devil will try to get him in his sleep, so you’ll have the toughest job of all. And I dare you to find a speck of tea herbs in this cabin. But, if you need to find yourself a tankard of grog, you might just be in luck.”

“Besides not letting him have sea water, what else should I keep an eye out for?” Duril asked, now sure that the pirate must have seen plenty of things during his adventures.

“Keep the door locked. Until we send her down to her true home, let no one, not even one of us come in here. She’ll be a tricky one while she’s trying to get him to drink from her cup. I put nothing past her. She might even try to disguise herself as a friend to achieve her aim.”

Duril felt a small cold chill coursing down his back upon hearing those words.

“And she might even attempt to get to you, too,” Margrave added. “No matter what she promises, you hear me, no matter what, you say ‘no’.”

“How will I know?” Duril whispered.

“Oh, you will. You have the eyes of a good lad,” Margrave said. “You’ll see right through her. Now off we go and into the fray, my friends,” he urged Varg and Claw out of the cabin. “Here’s the key.” He threw it to Duril. “Lock yourselves in here, and we’ll come get you when all’s over.”

Duril didn’t hesitate. He turned the key in its lock as soon as the others had walked out. For good measure, he slid the key into his breast pocket and hurried back to Toru and his sick bed. He was burning with just as high a fever as before, and he was mumbling in his sleep.

Duril touched his forehead, pushing away the sweaty strands and smoothing his brow. “Your destiny awaits, Toru. You’ll get well,” he said, a way of convincing himself even more than the tigershifter. “You cannot die,” he added, but in a much quieter voice. “You’d be too cruel to do that,” he whispered.

***

“Got your sea legs already?” Margrave called out as he moved quickly ahead of them, barking this and that at his crew. His laughter was carried back to them by the ghastly wind.

Both Varg and Claw swayed as the heaving waves rocked the ship. It wasn’t his first time out on the water, but Varg would swear he would be much better off on land. Margrave could joke all he wanted; he and the bearshifter really needed those sea legs and fast.

Otis was already at the helm. Margrave took a telescope out of his pocket and closed one eye as he squinted to look ahead through the tiny opening.

“Do you think she’d just come and say hello?”

“She will, don’t think she won’t,” Margrave replied and, this time, his grin was no longer there, splitting his face in two. “But first, let’s make sure she can’t get us.”

Varg took from Margrave’s open palm the tiny bits of wax and stared at them quizzically. “Should we sprinkle some on her tail?”

Margrave chuckled and shook his head. He demonstrated his answer by rolling the bits between his thumb and forefinger to soften them and then stuffing his right ear with one of them. Claw shrugged and followed the captain’s example.

“For now, just plug one ear, because we need to hear each other for as long as we can. But, when I give the signal later, plug your other ear as securely and quickly as possible. All the men on deck do the same,” Margrave explained. “Her song, if she is what I think she is, will bring us to ruin if we’re not careful. She can plant thoughts in your mind.” He tapped his temple with a finger. “Make you nutty.”

They were now yelling even louder at one another, to compete with the sound of the sea and wind and to circumvent the wax blocking half of their hearing.

Varg felt his stomach dropping as the ship slid down on the abyss’s slope. Above them, the next wave rose, but Otis seemed like a tough and wily navigator.

“Brace yourselves!” Margrave yelled.

The wave crashed against the upper deck, bringing a deluge with it. Margrave hooted as the ship lifted and plowed through.

“We might be heading straight to our deaths, and it might not be the she-demon that gets us,” Claw yelled.

Varg was sopping wet already and didn’t care about the bearshifter’s philosophical outlook on their situation. “Then maybe you should’ve stayed on land,” he replied through clenched teeth.

“And miss all this?” Claw replied with a large grin. “Nah, I’ve been fighting nothing but rats and lizards for centuries. I’m in the mood for fishing.”

Varg nodded. “I predict there will be plenty of that.”

Behind them, the shore was fast falling away into a rainy mist. Ahead, grey waves and grey clouds awaited. No fantastical creature seemed keen to emerge from the depths or take shape from the wave foam, but Varg scrutinized the water ahead with vigilant eyes. He could barely hear the crew fighting the storm and Margrave shouting orders, but his mind was already out there, with what was to come.

“What is that?” he asked.

He pointed at a strange wave ahead. Its crest was spiked, and it looked like no other wave. Silver speckles flashed and tumbled, turning the water from its dark grey-greenish tint into something out of a different world.

The captain used his pocket telescope again. “Ha! She must be sending her minions first! Crew at the ready!” he shouted.

Varg grabbed the small sword Margrave threw at him, while Claw shifted.

“Master bear,” the captain said, “make sure not to eat any of those fish or touch them with your mouth at all. We’d hate to lose you so early in our adventure.”

What fish, Varg wanted to ask, but the strange sound of thousands of small bodies hitting the deck answered him before anyone else.

“No time to gut them!” Margrave bellowed. “Spear them and throw them overboard!”

Varg pushed his blade through the body of a struggling fish. The smell of bad blood that rose from its body made him gag.

“Fast,” Margrave ordered and covered his nose. “Throw it back to her!”

Varg sent the dying fish flying overboard. In mid-air, it changed its shape, its scales turning into feathers. Then it lost itself in the mist surrounding them.

“Did you see…” He couldn’t continue. Around him, every living soul on the ship was hard at work sending the fish overboard, only to witness them transform into those strange things capable of flight.

Beside him, the bearshifter did a good job of clawing the demon’s messengers and throwing them back where they came from. Varg no longer hesitated or asked questions; he joined the others, as new fish hit the deck again and again.

“Don’t stop, lads!” Margrave shouted over the howling wind and rain. “She’s just trying to tire us out!”

A strange premonition that all was not well behind him made all his hair stand on end. Varg turned, the feeling of foreboding making his insides churn. One of the crewmen stood still, and the others around him were stepping on each other’s toes to get away from him. He was unnaturally stiff, and when Varg took a closer look, he noticed that his skin had turned as grey as the sky, while long gashes and cuts blossomed over his body. There wasn’t blood coming out of those wounds, though, at least not the blood of a living creature. They oozed pestilence and a nauseating algae-green slime.

“Quick!” Margrave hurled his order accompanied by hand gestures to make sure he was understood even if unheard. “He’s done for! Over the side with him!”

But the scared crew seemed to hesitate. The pirate captain drew his sword and marched toward his men, but Claw was faster, moving toward the wretched thing that had once been a human being. The bearshifter hugged the creature and dashed with it, throwing it fast. Water fountained up strangely as the body splashed into the water shortly thereafter.

At least that abominable thing didn’t grow wings like the fish they had slaughtered so far, Varg thought, although little comfort could be found in that.

“Move! Get rid of the stinking fish!” Margrave barked, flapping his arms for emphasis.

At once, the crew put themselves in motion, as if a spell had been broken. Their faces were grimmer now, or maybe the mist had just gotten thicker, making everything appear bleaker than before.

Several men grabbed buckets and began to collect the fish to speed up the work. The silvery bodies frolicked and lunged through the air as the sailors were getting busy. Everywhere the fish landed, traces of the same slime that had been coming out of the dead man’s wounds could be seen. A few pirates, armed with brushes, were scraping it off like mad men. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Varg would have thought some of that looked almost playful, like a prank pulled by a spoiled child splashing paint around.

“What happened to that man?” he asked Margrave.

The captain’s face creased for a moment. “They must have cut him with their nasty fins. They reached his blood, that’s what happened. Don’t you worry about it just now. We have bigger problems ahead. With each soul she claims, she’s getting stronger.”

“If she’s thrived so far on the souls of the people of Shroudharbor, she must already be a monster. Another soul won’t change a thing,” Varg said.

Margrave shook his head. “People without sea legs,” he murmured to himself. “What do you do with a rotten fish, I ask?”

Varg frowned. What was the sly captain getting at? “You throw it away, I suppose.”

“A-ha! So, all those souls she kept on devouring, they got stale. That’s why she needs fresh blood. The poor lives from before must already be nothing but mist by now.”

Varg looked around. The way the captain said those words made his skin crawl. Was the fog around them made from the souls he was speaking of?

“Yes. She’s already here,” Margrave said in a somber voice. And then he was shouting and gesticulating, “Now! The wax!” All hands hurried to comply.

***

For a while, the clamor of the fight taking place outside had kept him alert and wide awake. Duril watched the door, waiting for something of unknown origins to come crashing through. Albeit not a fighter, he was certain of one thing above all. No matter what that fight entailed, he would carry it till its bitter end.

Beside him, Toru was mumbling in a sleep that appeared to be plagued by unusual nightmares. Sometimes, he broke into laughter, but it wasn’t his usual, carefree guffawing, but something that didn’t sound quite like him. His face twisted with frowns and forced grins now and then, and Duril felt, rightfully so, helpless in the face of whatever was torturing Toru in those odd ways.

If only he could get to him, somehow, reach for him in that world of dreams and pull him back.

He threw a look through the small round window, although all he could see was the crew moving about, fighting with mysterious and faceless enemies. The sound was muffled and didn’t reach him, so just watching the scene in front of his eyes made it appear the amusing enactment of a play. What made it so, he couldn’t say, and it even made him feel guilty for finding the fight on deck some sort of entertainment.

“Duril,” Toru called all of a sudden, with unexpected clarity.

He turned toward his companion and friend, hopeful, but all that was dashed the moment he noticed that Toru’s eyes were still closed, and he was just talking in his sleep. Nonetheless, he moved closer and placed his palm on the tigershifter’s forehead. “I’m right here,” he said softly.

His eyelids grew heavy. A strange warmth spread from his palm that still touched Toru’s heated skin and up his arm. It was as if his soul in its entirety was engulfed in that odd yet pleasant sensation.

“No, I must stay awake,” he said, suddenly startled and pulled back by something drifting at the edge of his consciousness.

Toru moved and rubbed his head against Duril’s hand. It was a feline thing for sure, and one that was a proof of his affection, which was why anyone on the receiving end of such signs of trust could only feel flattered.

“Come here, too,” Toru whispered. “I want to see you.”

“Then open your eyes,” Duril said.

In his sleep, Toru pouted. “You must come here,” he said stubbornly.

What was the worst that could happen if he closed his eyes for just one moment? The more Toru rubbed his head against his palm, the more that sensation of calmness overtook him.

Duril fought it and tried to pull away. He looked outside, hoping that the fight Varg and the others carried on would distract him enough to resist such perilous thoughts.

He blinked in confusion. The deck was empty, or at least so it seemed since his field of vision was so narrow. But it wasn’t only that. The sounds of battle were no more, and instead, a silence like a warm blanket covered everything. Duril tiptoed to the door and tried to see more. Tones of blue welcomed him, and what was that? A fish?

What was a fish doing moving through the air like it was water? Duril stood in front of the small window and peeked outside. Tall seaweed grew everywhere, and there were banks of fish moving about, at home as if they were at the bottom of the sea.

Something moved fast, passing by, and Duril gasped. He was almost touching the glass of the window with his forehead when a face appeared right in front of him. Startled, he took a step back.

It was a young woman’s face, but she looked like no other young woman he had ever seen in his life. She was astonishingly beautiful, and her hair was green. Her eyes were enormous and striking, a different shade of green, lighter and luminous. She blinked and then he noticed what he found so odd about her. He couldn’t separate the white of her eyes from her irises, and while that should have made her repulsive, it added to her allure.

She smiled, showing rows of pearly white teeth, small and sharp. And then she playfully knocked on the window, while batting her eyelashes.

Duril reached for the door and right away, a glint of malice appeared in her strange eyes. He shook the knob to ensure it was still locked and let out a deep breath. Then he turned his back on the apparition and went to sit by Toru’s side.

Knocking started right away. First, a one-two, staccato rhythm, playful and discreet. But soon enough, it turned into something frantic, and the doorknob shook under the assault of a foreign fist on the other side.

Duril caressed Toru’s forehead. “Don’t worry,” he whispered into his ear. “We’re safe here. She cannot enter, and I won’t ever let her do anything to you.”

***

“I don’t like salt water,” Toru said and splashed some water with his leg, his face twisted up in disgust.

“But I told you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever tasted,” Narissa insisted. “You don’t believe me because you don’t want to be my friend,” she said and pouted. Then she set her chin high and turned away from him.

“You’re just trying a pull a nasty prank on me,” Toru insisted. “Everyone knows salty water is no good. Isn’t there a stream or something around here? We could drink from there.”

The water surrounded an island of sorts, so maybe, just maybe, there was water they could drink there.

Narissa seemed pleased with her two feet. She splashed around and giggled happily. It appeared as if she had already forgotten about her insistence that he should drink the sea water. “We could go look,” she said and rushed toward the shore.

Toru followed. Ahead, the water barely moved, but behind him, when he turned to look, the waves were growing. Tilting his head, he inspected the infinite arch of azure sky above. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, so why were the waters moving as if they were driven by a violent storm?

“I think I’m seeing someone,” Narissa said in her crystalline voice. “Let me check. They might know something of a stream to quench your thirst.”

“Wait,” Toru called and hurried after her.

However, she was as fast on land as she was in water, and soon she seemed like an apparition at the edge of horizon, a morgana of sorts that one couldn’t tell if it was real or just fantasy.

A feeling of profound loneliness washed over him. He didn’t care about the woman-fish who seemed to be able to transform into a human if she wanted, but now he felt truly lonely. “Duril,” he said, although he knew his friend couldn’t hear him, “come here, too. I want to see you.”

***

Duril felt a pressure behind his eyelids. Alarmed, he tried to open them, but doing so appeared impossible. Had he fallen asleep? But when? The last thing he remembered was rushing to Toru’s side while someone was knocking on the door. Who had it been? Had it been Varg, or Claw, or the captain? He struggled with that shifty memory. He couldn’t remember. And why hadn’t he opened the door?

“I wonder the same thing.” A strange voice startled him. It was melodic and pleasant, and seemed to belong to a young woman.

He turned his head in her direction.

“Open your eyes,” she said gently.

Just like that, he did, the pressure from before gone. He looked around, surprised to find himself on a sunny beach. Above him, a woman hovered, smiling. She reminded him of someone, yet he couldn’t quite recall who. His memories were all addled, it seemed.

She offered him her hand and he took it. To balance himself, he propped his weight on his other hand.

His other hand? He let out a small gasp as he noticed that he had both arms whole.

“Do you like it?” the young woman asked.

He got to his feet with her help. “How…” He was too astonished for words.

That wasn’t the only thing that was different about him. He brought his hands to his face and noticed right away that his tusks were no longer there. “What did you do to me?” he exclaimed.

“Nothing.” She gave him an innocent smile. Her long brown hair fell in waves on her shoulders. “We’re on the Island of Forgotten Dreams.”

“I don’t remember dreaming of…” He stopped, unsure of what he wanted to say.

“Haven’t you already dreamed of it, though?” the woman asked, inspecting him with curious eyes.

Now he knew why she seemed so familiar. The same eyes stared back at him each time he looked in a mirror. “Of…” he echoed.

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want,” she said and pouted. “But you’re so handsome,” she added and laughed.

“I don’t have my tusks anymore,” he pointed out.

She shrugged. “Humans don’t have tusks.” Her words were followed by a scrunching of the nose. “Only wild beasts do. And you’re not a wild beast, right?”

“I suppose I’m not,” he replied. “Who are you?”

“I’m Narissa,” she replied as if she was expecting him to have known that.

“What are you doing on this island? Are you its spirit?”

She stopped for a moment. A small frown creased her forehead, but only for a brief moment. “Yes, I am. I can grant any wish. What do you wish, besides your arm back and being human?”

Duril wanted to protest against that, to say that he didn’t want those things, but, at the same time, he thought she would be within her rights to call him a liar. They were forgotten dreams indeed, and so much time had passed since he had last thought of such hopeless desires. “I wish to see Toru,” he said while looking at his left hand as if it was an estranged thing. It didn’t feel like it at all. It felt like it belonged to him.

Narissa wrapped her arm around his. “Then let’s go see him.”

“He’s here, too? What did you give him? Lots of meat?”

Narissa laughed. “Meat? Why should I give him that? He’s thirsty, not hungry. You must tell him that he should drink the water.”

Duril nodded absentmindedly. He was still staring at his hand in disbelief.

***

“Where is she?” Varg shouted as he clasped the blade in both hands.

Margrave raised one arm, and the crew suddenly stopped all their activity. Claw turned into his human form and waited, just like him, with bated breath.

“Make some noise!” the captain suddenly yelled at the top of his lungs.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the pirates produced tin cans, daggers, and small utensils, and began to tap them against the deck. Varg was about to ask what was the point of all that clamor, when an unnaturally beautiful voice rose above the ruckus. Even with his ears covered with wax, he could still hear faint echoes of that alluring trill.

Come to me, oh weary traveler,

In my world there is no pain,

Stay with me forever

Shake off your torturous chain.

What is that you want?

Your heart’s most ardent wish?

Everything I can grant,

If your pain you relinquish.

Come to me, forget the world,

She’s not beautiful like me,

She builds a prison’s scaffold,

Come to me, and you’ll be free!

A few men dropped whatever they were holding and began walking toward the gunwale. Margrave pulled his sword and dashed in front of them. “Go through me if you dare!” he shouted.

That seemed enough to sway the sailors from their path. Varg hurried to help Margrave by pushing the deserters back and placing the forgotten tin cans and whatnot into their hands. The demon’s song sounded muffled in his ears, but he could still hear it. It held a strange allure, and Varg found himself thirsty for no reason. He tipped his head back and opened his mouth, letting the rain cool his tongue.

“Brace for her!” the captain bellowed.

The ship rocked violently as something hard hit it from one side. Even Varg had to brace himself to remain on two feet, but not all of the men were strong enough. At least half of them rolled down the deck like barrels.

Then he saw her, her long sinuous body covered by silver and green scales as she jumped through the air in an arc above the ship. Her song from before turned into a banshee’s scream, and again, Varg was thankful for Margrave’s idea to have their hearing protected from her voice. One of the sailors began thrashing on the deck, as blood came pouring out of his ears. His struggle lasted mere seconds and in a few moments he was gone, his eyes wide open and covered by a white film, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, swollen like a drowned man’s.

As her body hit the water on the other side, the ship rocked in the opposite direction and swayed dangerously, almost threatening to tip over. Margrave’s crew was well-trained and hurried to tend the sails, while Otis held the helm with a firm hand.

A few moments of silence followed, and they presaged nothing good. Varg only managed to exchange one brief look with Claw before the ship was suddenly lifted into the air.

“Man the harpoons!” Margrave shouted.

The ship descended even faster than it had been raised by the demon below, and after a brief respite, Varg saw the giant half-fish, half-human body undulating by as the ship rocked. The crew launched their harpoons from their cannons, but the honed metal tips bounced off the silver scales as if they were made of adamantium.

“Do you really think you can beat me with your puny bodies and your useless weapons?”

The demon’s voice was no longer melliflous. It no longer sounded human, either. It came from the abyss and roared with the power of a thousand storms. Margrave didn’t appear impressed. “I have something that might not be to your liking, you filthy demon!”

Varg was wondering what it was. The demon splashed about and suddenly hovered above their heads. The upper half looked female, but the skin had an unhealthy green tinge and was broken in places. The water-soaked strands of its hair were coarse and had no shine.

“What is it?” she asked and cocked her head. “Give it to me already!”

“Ay, ay, patience,” Margrave replied.

The captain’s fearlessness in the face of danger had to be awe-inspiring for the crew. From the corner of one eye, Varg noticed the sailors rolling down several barrels. The tallest of them all kicked open one and dug into it with both arms, up to his elbows. Something akin to tar colored his hands black, and then he grabbed the harpoons by the dozens to dip them into the strange concoction.

“Here comes your meal, demon!” Margrave shouted. “Crew at the ready!”

The harpoons flew through the air again, at the captain’s signal. The sea demon laughed, dodging them and jumping through the air like a circus beast.

“Is this all you’ve got?” the demon taunted them.

One look at Margrave told anyone that the captain still had other aces up his sleeve. “Up to the crow’s nest! Stick it in her eye!”

A few of the youngest crew members began climbing the shrouds to get to the main mast. Up and up they went, while the others cheered them on. Above them, they could barely see the sky now, as it had turned black. The profile of the sea demon projected against it was a monstrous shadow they could make out little of now. Only her eyes, large and green, made perfect targets, so it was obvious that the captain knew what  he was doing when he had crafted his plan.

Nevertheless, she continued laughing and taunting them. It was as if she was waiting for the pirates to make their next attempt to take her down. So far, they had seemed helpless in front of her power, but Varg didn’t want to think that was the case. He walked to a harpoon cannon and, using all his strength, dislodged it from its place. Holding it under one arm, he jumped on the shrouds, determined to bring this fight as close to the enemy as possible.

The tar on the harpoon made him gag for a moment. Whatever Margrave thought efficient for fighting a sea demon, it could be just as deadly for humans, too, by smell alone. He reigned in his revolted stomach, especially since none of the crew seemed affected by it.

“Do you believe you can win against me?” the demon boomed above them.

Varg kept his eyes on her and only her. He didn’t look down and continued his climbing instead. When he reached the crow’s nest, the young pirates helped him in. “Steady now, sir,” one of them said, and they hurried to hold him as he aimed the harpoon at the demon’s right eye.

Without a doubt she would dodge it, but trying to win against all odds was in his blood. The shiny eyes were taunting him just as much as the demon’s voice. At the highest point of the ship, they stared at each other.

Varg held the large harpoon cannon, propping it against his shoulder. The demon smiled, showing off her teeth, sharp like blades. “Catch me if you can,” she said.

Varg fired, expecting his first effort to be wasted. One of the young pirates was ready to arm the cannon again, his hands clasped on the next metal spear. The demon made a move to dodge, but she suddenly let out a scream and tipped her head back. Varg’s harpoon went straight through her under-chin.

A pained bellow followed and the demon dropped on her back, splashing the water hard. Varg looked down and then noticed that the crew below had taken advantage of his drawing the monster’s attention, so that they were able to spear her tail with their harpoons.

Whatever Margrave had planned, it seemed to have worked. Varg stared at the waters closing above the demon’s body, and for a moment he wondered if that had been enough to kill her.

“Harpoons at the ready!” Margrave shouted from below.

This time, the demon emerged from the abyss with a bone-chilling scream. Her tail crashed hard against the main mast. Varg lost his balance, and soon he and the young sailors in the crow’s nest were falling.

TBC

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