Erath: Chapter 1

It was raining. Hard. Erath’s leather shoes were soaked from the muddy streets. He stomped through the old, rundown town with his baggy pants rolled down over his shoes as a vain attempt to protect the various and sensitive cuts along his legs. Once again, he had proved how inefficient he was with the fishing hooks today. His father had been boiling mad when Erath’s mistakes had made them lose a small swordfish. It could have made them quite a few silver coins. Erath knew his father would beat him again just as soon as he got home. But that would be in a long while, for he was trying to stay away from his house until his father would calm down.
Although Erath was only nineteen summers, his buzzed black hair, dark eyebrows, and striking blue eyes made him look much older. However, unlike others, he was never mistaken for his father, who was much taller – a giant of the town – and had mottled brown hair. Mottled, meaning there were patches of mud that had crusted into his locks because he never washed.
Erath decided to walk down an overshadowed alleyway. It was even darker in there than it was outside of it because of the overhanging rubbish. Footsteps echoed behind him, but he hardly noticed. Dozens of townspeople walked through alleys every day; they were much shorter than taking the rutted and muddy roads.
From that day forward though, he would learn to make sure he knew who’s footsteps followed him. A strong arm suddenly curled itself around his neck, and the next moment Erath felt a sharp blow on the back of his head. The arm released its hold on him and he crumpled to the ground, vision fading into blackness.

ж ж ж ж ж

Cold water splashed onto Erath’s face. He sputtered and his eyes flashed open.
“Wake up, you!” someone yelled. “You expectin’ ‘t’ sleep all day?”
Another splash of water was flung in his face. He sputtered again and got up on his elbows, staring bleary-eyed into the pockmarked face of a man. The water felt terrible. A horrible headache was all he could think about at first. Then he tried to ask a question, but his tongue seemed thick, tied down.
At last, he managed to speak. “Where am I?”
“On the Freedom ‘a’ course! Now git’ movin’ or cap’n will ‘ave your head!”
Erath was shoved out of what he took to be a hammock. The floor swayed beneath him, but he was used to being on the ocean. On the ocean! Where am I?
Darting up the ladder, he shot out into the brightness of day and spun round and round, his wide eyes taking in the scene. Three huge masts. White sails, deck, raggedy men. Beyond those and surrounding him on all sides was blue. He was on a ship out on the ocean. It was then that Erath realized he had been shanghaied.
The first sensation he felt was fear. Why had he of all people been shanghaied? He knew it happened every day in his town; men would disappear for years at a time and return as dying sea captains.
He held a hand up to his head, which was pounding now. Where was it from? Oh yes. He remembered. He had been given a smart hit to his head, and was now suffering its consequences.
Just then a monster of a man appeared on deck. His burly tall frame would have been enough to frighten one stiff. Not including his face. A smashed in nose, crooked black teeth, and sunken eyes filled his face. What unnerved Erath the most was that one of the man’s ears had somehow been blown away from its usual place. It looked as if it were sliding down his face. He was the captain. Erath could only tell that by the ill-fitting blue jackets captains wore.
He caught sight of Erath. “All hands on deck!” he bellowed. It was repeated by a middle aged, once-muscular first mate. Within twenty seconds, dozens of men were on the decks surrounding the captain.
Erath backed up a little.
“Boys, we got ourselves a newcomer,” the captain said, rubbing his hands.
A chuckle rustled from the men. Erath’s stomach knotted.
“Bring ‘im forward, men,” the captain said.
Two men from behind suddenly clasped his arms. Erath struggled, but eventually stood before the monstrous captain.
“Since ‘ee’s new, we ought’ta give ‘im a proper welcome. Give ‘im five lashes!”
Several whoops and hoots rose from the crew and two of them tied his arms around the mainmast. A few seconds later, he heard and felt a crack that sent waves of pain shooting over his back. He let out a cry that was almost a yell and tried not to show the tears that sprung up in his eyes. Even though he had been humiliated, his pride would not let him cry and scream like a weak girl.
Another shock of pain rushed into him. Another cry was emitted. Now it was impossible for Erath to contain his tears. There was a pause in the beating. Erath wished they would just keep going and get it over with, not drag it out so his pain could be more pronounced. He was struck again with the whip; three lashes, two to go. Erath bit his lip hard to keep it from trembling. A trickle of blood ran between his teeth. His pride broke as the fourth lash wrapped around his back and hit his chest. He cried out in pain, not caring anymore if the crew laughed. Then the fifth lash curled around him, drawing another cry. Erath stood, with arms hugging the mast, and flushed face, waiting for the men to untie him. But all he heard was a man speaking to the captain.
“Cap’n, he slept in this mornin’. I had to throw water on him ta’ wake ‘im up.”
“Cap’n,” said another man, “that be five more lashes.”
“Give it to ‘im,” the captain ordered.
Erath’s heart sunk, then blazed with hatred at the man who had ordered five more lashes for him.

After what seemed an eternity, Erath was finally untied from the mast. He slunk to the bottom, his shirt torn and bloody. With head leaned against the mast, he let out great sobs of pain while the crew scattered about the ship. Then a gruff hand gripped his shoulders and yanked him up.
He broke away from the man, his shoulders feeling like they were blazing with fire.
“Git’ to work, man,” the first mate said. “Up in the riggings with you! Mainmast! Cap’n wants ya’ to ‘elp Nicksin with the sails. And,” he added, “how good are you with seein’ things?”
Erath did not want to talk to this man, this disgusting, dirty sea rat. But at last he answered the question. “Pretty good.”
“Then Cap’n will want ya’ to go to the crow’s nest and relieve the man up there.”
Erath had a general idea what the crow’s nest was, but he was not about to ask for more clarification. He turned and walked toward the rope ladder going up and started the ascent. His back and shoulders protested loudly against any movement or straining of them, and Erath had to stop several times as he climbed to the highest mast where a thin wiry man was.
“There you are!” he shouted. “Had a good wakin’ up with that eh?”
Erath’s face seemed to be plastered into a scowl by now. “What am I supposed to do?” he said gruffly, still clutching the rope ladder.
“See that down there?” he pointed.
Erath leaned as much as he dared out to look where Nicksin pointed. There was a line in the sail, but it was not a seam line.
“That there is a rip, and you ‘n’ I got’ a’ fix it. I ain’t goin’ down there though. Pricked myself so hard last time wit’ a needle that I hit me bone. You’re goin’ down to sew it up right while I hold the rope steady. Now ‘ere,’” he said, holding up a noose, “you put this around yer’ waist, and I lower you down on it. C’mon, put it on.”
Erath edged out across the beam where Nicksin was sitting. They must have been at least ninety feet above the deck, but Nicksin sat there as nimble and at ease as a cat. He scooted across the timber and tried hard to ignore his pain. When he was sitting next to the thin sailor, he picked up the noose with one hand and slid it over his head. Rays of pain coiled around his torso as the rough rope rubbed against his open wounds. Then after receiving the thick needle and thread, he gingerly lowered himself down the sail. Nicksin anchored himself to the beam and held onto the rope.
Once he reached the hole, Erath realized this would be much harder than it seemed. He looked back up at Nicksin. “I don’t know nothin’ about sewing up a hole this big!” he shouted up. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to just cut the whole thing loose and do it on the deck?”
“No!” Nicksin shouted back. “How could we put it back up with cut ropes?”
That was definitely not a satisfactory answer to Erath, and he told the man so. Just then he dropped several feet. This startled him badly, but he could not scream. Then the rope went taut again.
“You obey what I tell ya’!” Nicksin yelled. “Or I may just drop rope entirely!”
Erath was pulled back up to where the slit in the sail was. By now his back was a little better, but hardly. Normally when he had been beaten by his father, he was allowed a day of rest to recover from it. But here, where work was constant, he did not know how he could manage it.
The hole looked harder to mend than it was, and Erath soon had the job completed. Then he was slowly lifted back to the royal yard and was heaved onto it. The only way Nicksin could help the weakened young man was to grab his shirt from behind and pull him up, which only aggravated the agony in Erath’s back. He gritted his teeth, trying not to show any of the pain he was writhing in.
“NICKSIN!!” a voice bellowed from below.
“Aye, sir?” he shouted down.
“Git’ down here, and bring the boy with ya’!”
“Aye, Cap’n! C’mon lad, let’s go.”
Nicksin gave Erath a shove. Erath tried to ignore the burning pain and scooted his way to the mainmast. Once he had gotten to the decks, he looked up after Nicksin who was rambling down the rigging as nimbly as a rat down a sewer. He made it to the deck as well, but in half the time Erath had taken.
“What d’you think you were doin’ up there, Nicksin?” the captain spoke loudly. “You could’a taken half that time if you’d a just cut the sail loose and fixed it down ‘ere.”
“I know that, sir,” Nicksin answered, jamming his hands into his holey pockets. “But it was much more fun when I had the lad here do it. You should’a seen ‘im, all red in the face with that rope clutching at his back and makin’ ‘im bleed all the more!” He laughed a second, then remembered his place and ceased, looking down at his dark feet.
But instead of correcting, the captain threw his head back and laughed. “I did see it!” he said. “It was a sight I enjoyed so much I ‘ad to hear it from you!”
There was absolutely no sense in what the captain had just said, but the men around the captain started laughing too – all fake laughs Erath could tell.
It was not so much that he noticed that forced laughter, but he realized he had been made game of. It infuriated him.
“What right have you to kidnap me from my village, whip me for no good reasons, and make fun of me?” he shouted. “I am not to be laughed at, do you hear me?”
The captain sobered a little. After a brief pause, he said, “Boy, I don’t know whether to laugh or have you put in the brig for such language to a captain.” Then after another silence, he decided.

It was nightfall. Erath had been sent to the hold – under guard – and had been given a short chain to attach his right hand to the wall. At first he struggled against it, trying to pull the chain from the wall, then thinking it might burst a hole and drown him, he thought better of it.
This chain had an instant fear in him. He had never been clapped in one before; it was something unpleasantly new. It caged him in, restrained, forbade: all things Erath could not stand. He loved the freedom to do what he wanted and never be told no. But liberty was exactly the opposite of what he would get on the Freedom.
The only bright side was that his left hand had been left free of chains. But he hardly noticed it. All he was concerned about was getting himself away from first the chain, then the ship. But how was he to escape the captain and crew and get to land, wherever that was? He considered stealing maybe a dory, but then his problem was how to get to land? He had no idea where he was going.
Just then his thoughts were broken by an impossibly loud grumbling from his stomach. He had not eaten since two mornings ago.
Erath sat down to stew in his anger. Facing the wall so he could cross his arms, his face contorted into a scowl, he angrily listed all the rotten things about the ship. Its crew was disgusting, the captain was a monster in disguise, the sails were so yellowed and old they hardly looked like Navy sails, and the list went on.
And here, though he did not know it at the time, Erath would stay for several weeks.

Here it is...

Well, here it is! The first chapter will be coming soon. Shae and Amber, feel free to post your first chapters so we can criticize =). I need to work on mine, but I'll post it when it's ready!

Chariss