H.M.S Valor: Treachery And Triumph: A war time adventure on the high seas by Cal Clement (best contemporary novels txt) 📕

floors trembled; seawater seeped from the ceiling while the deck above was in a constant wash of wave upon wave. Lanterns swung precariously, threatening to spill their flames out and engulf the storm-tossed ship.

A slamming knock came on the door, Dr. LeMeux got up to answer it stumbling slightly with a heavy pitch of the ship. Lemeux opened the door to find one of the sailors, soaked from head to foot and holding a lantern,

“You better come wit’ me doc. It’s the Captain, he fell in his cabin,” the sailor said.

“Ok, let me grab my bag.” Lemeux replied, he turned to Omibwe, “I need you to stay here, young man.” Omibwe struggled to get up, fear plagued across his face.

“No friend, no don’t go, don’t leave me,” said Omibwe, grabbing at Lemeux’s arm.

“I must go Omi, you will be fine here, I won’t be long. Stay here.” LeMeux answered, pulling the boy’s hand from his arm. He grabbed his medical bag and followed the sailor out into the passageway, stealing one last glance at Omibwe as he shut the door. He could see the pain of fear wracking across the young man’s eyes. Lemeux whispered a silent prayer to himself, hoping his companion would stay put.

He followed the sailor up the passageway, both men unsteadily making their way as the ship continued its violent roll side to side. On their way the two passed numerous cells including the one containing Omibwe’s family. LeMeux nearly gasped looking through the cells, the numbers had dwindled severely. Where once each cell barely afforded its captives room to sit with legs pulled to chest, the imprisoned Africans numbered far fewer. He knew this would happen from the last trip he had to endure, but this time was far worse. If they kept losing captives, they would arrive with only a very few still alive at their destination. LeMeux cared not for the profit of their endeavor, only in the toll of human life lost.

They climbed the stair up the companionway to the main deck, where the sailor heaved up a weather hatch creating a rush of seawater that slammed into both men nearly washing them back down the stairs. Step by step, they worked their way through the hatch and above to the deck steadying themselves wherever they could. Although LeMeux had been at sea on the Gazelle for months now he was far from experienced on ship during storms and his legs were unaccustomed to the challenging conditions. They reached the door to the Captain’s Cabin in the aft castle as a wave broke hard over the rail of the ship, washing sideways it took LeMeux’s legs out from under him and pushed him helplessly across the deck. He reached out for something to grab onto, thrashing against the water sweeping him towards the blackness overboard. Lightning flashed and illuminated the ship for a fleeting moment, LeMeux looked frantically for something to grab ahold of, clawing in vain at the deck to stop his perilous slide. From what seemed out of nowhere, the sailor who had retrieved him from below grabbed the back of the French Doctor’s collar and wrenched him up onto his feet.

“Thank you!” LeMeux said, gasping for air.

“Don’t mention it Frenchman, really, if Sprague finds out I didn’t let you wash overboard, he and I’ll be for crossing blades. Now quit flopping about the deck like a fish out of water, the Captain needs your attention,” the sailor grumbled, pushing LeMeux back toward the door to the aft castle. LeMeux opened it and flung himself into the cabin, closing the door just as another wave crashed over the deck. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior, but when they did, he could see the ship’s Captain sprawled into a hammock. Mr. Sprague stood next to the hammock, watching intently while the hammock swayed, stopping only as it came to rest against Sprague’s steady stance. Sprague, an unquestionably experienced sailor was steady as a rock against the motion of the ship, not even the impact of the hammock seemed to sway his stance.

“Come have a look at him Frenchman. I’d be surprised if there’s anything you can do for the old man, but you’d better see to it.” Sprague grumbled.

“Yes, by all means. Can you tell me what happened? Did anyone witness it?” LeMeux asked.

“What do you mean did anyone witness it? Why would you be asking me what I know? Can you help the man or not?” Sprague snapped, his questions too rapid for LeMeux to process, much less answer.

“Let me see him and I’ll have a better idea.” LeMeux responded, his tone becoming as icy as he dared let it. Sprague had left no question about how much he disliked the doctor and now that he was laying unconscious in his hammock LeMeux knew he’d best tread carefully. He examined the Captain’s head, a split in his scalp was deep enough to reveal a band of skull near as wide as LeMeux’s thumb. He was still bleeding profusely and completely unresponsive. LeMeux carefully bandaged the man’s head, stemming the blood flowing from his scalp. He sat on the edge of the Captain’s desk, looking at the injured man intensely.

“His skull was cracked in the impact. It’s difficult to say if he will survive, even if he does there’s no telling the condition he will be in after such a blow to the head,” said LeMeux, his eyes unmoving.

“What do you mean, condition?” Sprague asked, his tone a bit softer. Softer than LeMeux had ever heard.

“A head injury like that can, well, it can change a man. He may survive, he may be completely normal, although, he may not. Sometimes men are shades different, sometimes they can’t even remember who they are and sometimes they survive but never truly function again. It’s hard to say, we will need to watch him closely.” LeMeux said solemnly.

“Who’s this we, doctor? You are the doctor.