Second Chance Bird, Episode Two
Chapter Three: Out the Door
Grantville, near the end of May, 1635
How does one go about leaving on a year journey? A journey around Africa on a ship about as technologically advanced as the Mayflower?! Pam stood in her bedroom scowling at the things she had arranged on the bed and feeling very put out with the whole exercise. The clothes she had chosen were the most sensible and weather resistant she owned, she figured she would be facing extreme conditions so she had selected items for both hot and cold weather. She had gone through her medicine cabinet and put anything that might be remotely useful in one of her carefully hoarded ziplock bags. There were other things that she should bring; the flashlight from the bedstead drawer and some of her precious batteries, needle and thread for repairs... the list got longer and longer. She found herself gazing numbly into her closet, feeling confused and overwhelmed by the scope of the journey she faced. Shaking her head she blew out a long, plaintive whistle.
Well, I'd better bring along my good black dress so they'll have something decent to bury me in when I'm shot dead by savages with poison blow guns, or succumb to some rare tropical disease.
Enough was enough. This could wait. With a dramatic gesture she swept the closet door shut with a bang and stalked off to the kitchen to make coffee. Would there be coffee on the ship? There damn well had better be! She would mention it to the Princess' clerks.
Pam looked at her desk. She had hired some friends of Dore's as caretakers, a young couple who were new to Grantville and needed the work. She had written careful instructions in German (with a little help from Gerbald) telling them how to harvest the sunflower crop and how to keep the bird-feeder stocked. Pam's daughter-in-law Crystal would be their paymaster and check on things once in a while, which made her more comfortable with the situation. Once her young daughter-in-law had come to terms with Pam's looming absence she had proven to be a rock, helping Pam get ready in any way she could. Meanwhile Pam and her son Walt had been avoiding each other, which was sadly the usual state of their relationship.
Things had gone amazingly well when she broke the news at work, much better than she had expected. She had managed to nearly finish her latest round of research and smoothly pass what little was left to do on to her colleagues.
Pam had expected to resign but the director had insisted that she remain an employee, moreover an employee on official leave of absence drawing a reduced salary, which was quite generous to her mind. They asked her to document anything she found along the way that may be useful to their mission in Grantville and she vowed she would. In a flash of inspiration Pam asked them to look into the subject of artificially pollinating the vanilla orchid if they could find some live specimens, apparently it was a lost art and she wanted to revive it for use in her spice colony. They had even thrown a party for her! That had really helped her mood, she had been lonely since Gerbald and Dore had left a week earlier to supervise the loading of their ship, especially the stowing of the many pounds of coffee she had made it very clear were a requirement. Well, she would see them soon.
Now that it really was really getting close to being time to go Pam had to once again face the fact that she was at heart a homebody. Sitting at her window watching the bird-feeder was her idea of paradise. Chasing around Africa in a seventeenth century sailing ship had never been something she would have considered in her old life. She blew softly into the steaming cup to cool it down, making this peaceful moment last as long as she could.
The princess herself had called her the other day to let her know the issue of the colonists was finalized. "They aren't annoying religious nuts, are they?" Pam had asked her and was assured that they were nice, quiet Lutherans who were looking for a better life and willing to take a chance. They would travel in a fleet of four ships; one for Pam and her expedition materials, two for the colonists and one military escort. Once the business was done there was a long pause.
"You still there Princess?" Pam asked. She could hear a deep child sized breath being taken.
"Pam, I want to thank you for doing this from the bottom of my heart. I know it's not easy for you and I feel a little bad now that I talked you into it." Kristina's voice was freighted with emotion as if she might cry, enough so it made Pam wonder if things were all right at home for her.
"It's okay Princess. I wouldn't do it unless I wanted to. You see I was once a little girl who cried when I read the story of what happened to the dodo. This is something I need to do and in no way do I hold you responsible. In fact I'm glad you came along to help me out the door, I needed a shove. You are a real good kid and your heart is in the right place. I hope you will continue to work to preserve nature, it's going to need your help in the years to come. I've seen what a bunch of Americans can do the land, and it ain't pretty. You keep at it."
She heard Kristina sniffle away from the receiver. "Thank you Pam, I will try my best. Please come back to us safely."
"You can count on it kid."
"May God be with you!"
"He's welcome to come along, I could use the extra help. Is there a bunk for Him on the boat?" This made Kristina laugh, which assauged Pam's concern for the girl's emotional state. Pam laughed too, said good-bye and put the phone down feeling pleased despite her continued anxiety over the coming voyage.
****
The day had come. Pam took one last look at her beloved bird-feeder, full of sunflower seeds and currently hosting a pair of young uptime descended Eastern bluebirds, fellow immigrants through the Ring of Fire. She wondered where the transplanted bird species wintered now, in their former homeland it had been Central and South America. Here in Europe she wondered if they found the balmy southern reaches of Italy or Greece to their liking, or if they ranged farther, across the Mediterranean to Africa? Well, now maybe she would find out.
She became aware of an approaching noise out on the road, growing louder as it drew nearer. She peered out the front window to see just what the ruckus was. She could hear... cheering? And some kind of music. Rather irritated at the disturbance she went out on the front porch to gaze over the nodding heads of her hillside full of sunflowers to the road below. There was some kind of a parade coming.
"Oh that's just great. Now the road into town is going to be all jammed up and I'll be late for the train." She was about to turn back to saying her private farewells to her little pink house when an odd thing caught her eye. There was something large coming into view, what must certainly be a parade float. Today wasn't any kind of holiday that she could think of, but with all the different kinds of people living in Grantville these days it certainly could be somebody's holiday. It looked like it might be a chicken, or a turkey, or maybe a... Pam gave her sharp eyes a squint and cupped her hand across her brow.
No. It's a dodo.
Pam's eyes rolled briefly back into her head. She had said her good-byes to family and friends, not wanting a scene at the train station. Now she considered quietly slipping the door closed, sneaking off over the wooded hill behind her house, and then bushing her way cross-country to the station. As a dedicated birder she knew every secret path and hidden hollow in Grantville and figured she could go most of way without even using a road, or even being seen at all for that matter. Yeah, no problem, I could do that, the baggage has been sent ahead, just my rucksack left... She looked back at the road to see that the parade mostly consisted of a large group of children led by Stacey Antoni Vannorman, a teacher who often helped Pam with the summer nature program and who had kindly offered to take it over during Pam's absence, had stopped at the bottom of her steep walk bearing painted signs that said 'Our Hero, Pam Miller the Bird Lady of Grantville!' and 'Save the dodo, Pam!' Oh. Dear. God. Pam nearly swooned. I swear I'd rather be lost in the Congo than be the leader of a damned parade.
"We're here to escort you to the station, Ms. Miller!" one of her favorite girls from nature program outings cried out between giggles, beating her teacher to the punch. Stacey, knowing Pam's fluctuating moods pretty well after several seasons of working with her, grinned merrily at her current discomfiture without regret and said "I'm sorry Pam, but they insisted." She definitely didn't look sorry. Pam did her best to maintain the deadly look of bored disdain she favored disruptive students with during her planned activities but it broke into a really silly, grinning girl giggle of her own.
"Gawd, you guys! I'm simply mortified! Okay, I can't possibly get more embarrassed than this so let's have a parade! Maybe no one else will notice if we move fast enough, I have a train to catch! Just give me a minute to grab my pack!" With one last look back she took in her little living room and her desk by the window, beyond which her bird-feeder stood stuffed with sunflower seeds. She felt a sharp pang of regret blended with a murmur of fear at her leaving this island of reason in a turbulent world, a world that all too often struck her as violent and incoherent. With an effort of willpower she pushed the uncomfortable feelings aside. It was time to go. She was ready to go.
Pam turned back toward the door, slipped her trusty rucksack over her shoulder and spied her grandmother's sturdy walking stick leaning in its usual place beneath the coat hooks. It had saved her and Gerbald's life once, she had nearly killed a man with it in their defense. She gripped it firmly in her hand, the solid oak weight of it was reassuring, lending its strength to her. If you could just see me now, Grandma! Pam stepped out her door, closed it tight with a twist of the lock and took her place at the head of her parade.
It turned out she was wrong about no one bothering to attend her departure, she having already warned her relatives off, being how it was going to be hard enough as it was. To her great discomfiture Pam found a host of noble types and local muckety-mucks waiting at the station, it looked like half of Grantville had turned up and her cheeks achieved a rosy red they hadn't known since high school. A stunned and thoroughly embarrassed Pam Miller was escorted by gentle hands up onto the train platform.
Stacey climbed up with her, clearly the master of ceremonies. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am very proud to present Pam Miller; champion of nature and soon to be rescuer of the poor, helpless dodo!" Cheers and clapping erupted, some of the town's original hillbillies shouting out "Go Bird Lady!" Pam inwardly cringed but resolved to make the best of it. This is all part of it, too. Smile, Pammie! and she did.
Mercifully, the train conductor blew a loud whistle and hollered "Alllll aboooooarrrrd!" with old-time American gusto, albeit with a slight German accent. Pam was ushered to the open door of the converted school bus that someone had repainted a Day-Glo lime green popular in the 1970's still found on several brands of construction equipment, apparently in a misguided attempt to make the thing look less like a school bus. It certainly didn't make it look like a train, to her it resembled a giant caterpillar.
Pam waved at the crowd one last time then stepped onto the ersatz 'train'. She made her way to the very back even though it turned out that this was a 'special non-stop express' just for her. Thank you, Kristina! She thought, grateful not to have any company but her own for the ride north.
She collapsed onto a dull green vinyl school bus seat as the converted vehicle rumbled out of the station, the festivities' noise diminishing behind her as they picked up speed. She didn't look back. Instead she studied the bright red and white up-time safety stickers. These urgent messages from another universe combined with the familiar smell of up-time plastics, metals and artificial fibers suddenly made Pam painfully nostalgic for her child-hood. This quickly grew into a longing for up-time life in general, filling her with an intense feeling of loss she hadn't felt since her very first years here in the 1630's. She watched as the landscape made its abrupt, unnatural change from West Virginia to Thuringea as they crossed the rim of the Ring of Fire, a round peg thrust into the wrong hole by forces beyond comprehension.
She began to weep silently as the now familiar German country-side with its thatch roofed barns and half timbered farmhouses sped by beyond the fingerprint smeared windows. She had spent many hours wandering its quaint to her eyes pastoral landscape in search of elusive birds. This, too, was home now, and it wasn't until she was leaving that she had come to realize it.
She knew she now belonged to both worlds, this Germany, this time and place, was a part of her as much as that lost USA had been. Once a soft twentieth century woman, she had been re-forged in seventeenth century iron. Pam found a handkerchief in her pocket and wiped away her tears, then blew her nose so loudly it made the conductor in the front of the bus-train jump. With professional courtesy he refrained from looking back to check on his only passenger, giving her all the privacy she might need. Pam smiled approvingly at his good manners. She opened the satchel containing her many notes, maps and copied pages of useful books and began to study the long journey ahead as they chugged their way toward the distant sea on the ever spreading rails of industry.
****
Chapter Four: Out to Sea
Port of Bremen, The North Sea
After the train ran out of track Pam enjoyed a variety of uncomfortable conveyances, including horse drawn carriage and river barge. She sometimes felt as if she were in a never ending historical reenactment, sure they would turn the next corner to find a visitor parking lot full of cars and tired tourists, but the bumpy roads of the seventeenth century just stretched on and on as did the days. She eventually arrived in Bremen on a windy, overcast morning, travel worn and weary. Dore clucked worriedly over her and sent her directly to a hot bath. The princess' agents had made arrangements for them to stay in a decent inn, nothing fancy but clean and well cared for. Pam slept most of that afternoon away, then joined her friends for a hearty dinner of baked fish fish from the North Sea which Pam declared to be divine manna from the gods. The next day they would meet the colonists, tonight was for good beer, a round or two of schnapps and an early bed.
The next day flew by like a whirlwind for Pam. She met so many people that their names and purposes became a hopeless blur. She put on her brightest smile and tried to look heroic, but inside she felt old familiar fears beginning to creep around. That evening she met with the colonists at an outdoor picnic style gathering in a wide meadow on the riverside. Everyone was very polite and deferential to her, the princess's agents had made it clear to the colonists that Pam would have a leadership role in the venture and should be treated with respect. They were mostly young couples, there were very few children or people over forty in the group, which she estimated to be about a hundred souls. Their pleasant demeanor put Pam at ease and when it was finally time for her to deliver her speech she was feeling pretty confident, aided perhaps by the numerous toasts she had engaged in during the party.
She spoke in German and kept it short, hoping that her translator (his name had already escaped her), a jovial merchant from Stockholm who had lived in Bremen for many years and was fluent in several languages, would at least get close to her desired meaning. She reminded them that their sponsor, the young and much adored princess, was very concerned for the future of the dodo bird as well as the many other unusual animals found on the islands and that it would be everyone's duty to act as stewards of the land, living in harmony with nature while enjoying its bounty. They would be growing many types of crops that would be new to them, and would have to learn new ways of farming, it would be surely difficult at first but ultimately very profitable.
The Swedes listened with eager expressions on their faces, Pam hoped this was because they were tired of their old ways and were ready to try something different, something she could definitely deliver. When she finished she gave them all a polite bow and was met with a deafening chorus of approving cheers, which caused her to blush and almost trip on her way down off the makeshift platform. Gerbald caught her with one strong arm and handed her a tankard of beer with the other.
"You have missed your calling I think," he told her with a grin, "You should be running for Prime Minister!"
"I'd sooner chew my leg off. Leaving on a creaky wooden ship for a long and dangerous journey tomorrow is far preferable to a career in politics." She tipped her tankard back, taking a long draught. Their were merry cries of "skol!" around her and she stood swaying happily as they all joined in yet another round of toasts.
****
Pam walked slowly down the Bremen docks flanked by Gerbald and Dore, escorted by a retinue of Swedish soldiers. Her head felt twice as large and three times as heavy as it should thanks to their frolics the night before, she had taken quite a bit more than the recommended dosage of that crumby Gribbleflotz aspirin, which was better than nothing and probably why she could manage at all. A sharp, salty wind whipped across the harbor, capping the waves in white and making Pam shiver even under her best wool sweater. A bit of winter was still hanging around Bremen this morning, even this late in the Spring. She felt as if she were trooping toward the gallows rather than leaving on the adventure of a life-time and longed for her little pink house in Grantville with a surprisingly sharp ache. Wrinkling her nose she pushed such thoughts aside, she had wanted this, she had gotten it and by God she was going to go through with it.
"There it is, Pam" she heard Gerbald say, a note of excitement ringing in his usually calm voice. She looked ahead to find a red painted sailing ship tied to the dock, with a group of sailors standing by the gang plank. One of them, dressed quite a bit better than the rest, stepped forward to offer his hand to Pam. He was tall, his angular, windburned face sporting a sincere looking smile. A length of red-blonde hair with a touch of grey in a pony tail rustled around his wide shoulders in the wind. All in all he was pretty much exactly what Pam had expected a Swedish sea captain of the era to look like.
"Frau Miller, it is such a pleasure to meet you. I am Torbjörn, your captain for the voyage. Allow me to present the Redbird, basically a Dutch fluyt, which has been refurbished to help make you more comfortable. We also renamed her, in your honor."
The captain had addressed her in an understandable but slightly odd sounding German, touched by northern dialects and spiced with the music of the Scandinavian tongues, but he said 'Redbird' in English. Pam looked up to see the name carved in an elegant looking font, the letters bright crimson with gold trim. As it turned out, the name and paint job were the most attractive aspect of the ship, along with some kind of lethal looking big gun mounted on her deck. The sight of its polished metal gave her a chill, and she hoped fervently its presence would prove unnecessary. Her gaze continued around the whole of a vessel that was not quite what she had imagined. It was shorter, stouter and despite the fresh coat of paint, far more used looking than the great old ships of days of yore she had seen in the movies. It didn't quite manage to be ugly but it was by no means a graceful schooner. She hid her dismay and smiled back at the captain.
"Pleased to meet you Captain, and let me say that I am honored by the renaming and modification of your ship. That was all very thoughtful and no doubt an inconvenience."
This obviously pleased the captain, who obviously saw something beautiful in his vessel that she didn't as he regarded the lumpy looking thing with pride.
"It is our pleasure Frau, merely a gesture to honor you and our beloved princess Kristina. We hope to make you and your staff as comfortable as possible during the long voyage. My usual small crew has been augmented by a group of volunteer soldier-sailors from the princess's own guard, you might call them 'marines' in your American English." With a confident smile he switched into heavily accented English "You will be protected by the very best during our voyage. Now, allow me to welcome you all aboard!"
The captain turned with a polite bow to his new passengers and beckoned them to follow him up the steep gang plank, leading the way with a spry and well practiced step. Pam followed slowly, holding on tightly to the rail ropes which she was pretty sure were not standard and looked to have been hastily rigged for their use. Making a point not to look down at the water below she stepped onto the decks of the Redbird with a quiet sigh of relief. Mercifully, her hangover was mostly gone, dissipated by the salt air and excitement.
Once assembled in an area of the deck relatively clear of casks, coiled ropes and sundry other nautical looking apparatus, the captain asked them to wait for a moment while he made sure their cabins were indeed ready.
As they waited Dore's face had grown paler than usual, giving her bright red cheeks the appearance of two poppies on a field of snow. Pam smiled and took her dear friend by the hand, hiding her own grumbling fear as best as she could.
"Don't worry Dore," she said softly to the older woman, "I think I like this captain and I feel we are in very capable hands."
"Of course, of course!" Dore replied with her usual confident tones, but there was no mistaking the tremble in her well calloused washerwoman's hands.
Gerbald for his part was grinning like a lunatic, looking around the ship as if it were the greatest thing ever to happen to him.
"Ah, the life of a seaman, braving the waves and winds in search of adventure!" he exclaimed, his exuberance bringing a dour scowl from his wife.
"Now he fancies himself a sailor-man, does he?" in a quieter tone, so as not to be heard by the busy crew going about their duties around them she continued "Well, from what I know of the breed, a scoundrel like my husband Gerbald will fit in well, although a pirate's life would suit him closer!" Gerbald merely grinned all the wider, smugly taking Dore's disparaging remarks as compliments.
"Do you think so? How fun that would be, the yo-ho-ho and bottles of rum! With luck, I'll have the opportunity!"
"We'll just see about that, you black-hearted fool!" Dore rolled her eyes and blew her usual puff of disgust filled air his way as the unrepentant Gerbald continued his happy inspection of their new home for the months to come.
The captain returned soon after, along with a ruddy looking fellow with a harried expression on his rather chubby face. "This is my first mate, Herr Janvik, he will escort you to your cabins. We shall be setting sail in an hour's time, I hope you will join us up on deck to bid farewell to Bremen."
"This way, please" the First Mate said in rudimentary sounding German. Pam vowed to herself that she would take the opportunity to add Swedish to her growing collection of languages during the long trip. Gerbald was still gawking at the sailors and their sails as they entered the dimness below decks. Pam gave him a quick whistle.
"Come along Smee," she scolded him jokingly "before you get in the way and they decide to make you walk the plank before we've even left the harbor."
"Ah, another pirate tradition! How grand! It wouldn't do much good though, I am quite unsinkable." Gerbald exclaimed, then chuckled, pleased with himself until Pam heard a dull thud and looked back to see him rubbing his forehead at the spot in which it had bounced off a low beam.
"I wouldn't be so sure my friend, all those rocks in your head might take you right to the bottom." Pam retorted. She and Dore then both had a laugh at Gerbald's expense. He gave them a sheepish smile and bent low to follow them to the waiting cabins. Pam and Dore exchanged a guilty grin; annoyance or not, Gerbald's boyish antics had served to alleviate the fear they shared, at least they were all together in this mad endeavor.
***
Pam looked down at her bed, which was a rectangular opening in the wall surrounded by storage cabinets and drawers. It was narrow and a touch claustrophobic, but the mattress and bedding had been shipped from Grantville, so it would be clean and comfortable. There was a foot tall wooden wall along the outer bedside that must be to keep her from rolling out onto the floor in heavy seas, it had an opening in the middle wide enough for her to sit in that would make exiting and entering much easier. Suddenly tired, she sat down to try it out. Turning behind her she lay her walking stick down between the edge of her thick wool blanket and the thick timbers of the outer hull, a good place to keep it safely out of the way until needed again.
Looking about at her rather a bit too cozy cabin she saw there was a thick glass porthole letting some of the day's bleak northern light fall on a fold away desk, she had requested both and was glad to see them. She could live without a lot of things, such as a private bath, but a desk she simply had to have and a bit of natural light was always a good thing. The heavy wooden chair accompanying it was ornately carved in a floral motif and looked fairly comfortable. She moved over to the desk and sat down, yes, not too bad. Time to get settled in.
Pam started unpacking her books and writing supplies, which she had insisted on carrying herself in her rucksack along with other precious and irreplaceable items such as her field glasses and birding scope. After a moment's thought she stopped. Considering the inherent dangers of the sea voyage to come she decided to adopt a policy of keeping her most important things in the rucksack at all times, only fishing them out when necessary and then putting them back as soon as she was done with them. If things went wrong she could grab that bag and be gone, quickly, well worth any inconvenience in the mean time.
During the voyage she intended to work on finishing some of the text for her 'Birds of the USE', and upon arriving in the Mascarenes begin writing about the species she would find there. The thought of this sent a wave of happiness through her. Yes, it was likely to be a hard journey, but the prospect of seeing the unusual birds of far off lands held a current of electric joy. And then there would be the dodo, a creature out of legend, the bird that she was coming to save. The very thought of it made her feel dizzy.
As she put her books and papers back into the rucksack she noticed the stiff corner of a photograph protruding from a dog-eared notebook. She pulled out the up-time style publicity shot the princess had given her on their last meeting, a black and white glossy of a bright eyed Kristina smiling shyly out at her subjects. On a whim Pam stuck it into the crack between the wall and the low ceiling, a bit of decoration in the otherwise featureless cabin and found that she liked this strange little ship better now that there was an echo of home in it, her things were here, she was here, this was her place. She was brought out of her reverie by Dore's knocking, time to go up on deck.
The trip up the Weser River toward the sea was pleasant, they watched Bremen harbor's stolid buildings recede, replaced by farms and villages vibrant in spring colors despite the brooding skies. Behind them followed the colony ships, the fluyts holding the colonists, Annalisa and Ide, with their military escort the modest sized but well armed Muskijl bringing up the rear. The Muskijl had been a captured Imperial warship, it was now close to retirement and apparently the best the princess could do. When the bosun, a cheerful seeming fellow who had some English told her the name literally meant 'muscle' Pam laughed.
"That's good, we might need a little muscle." she grinned at her jest but only Gerbald, well schooled in up-time slang, got it.
As they came to the end of the bay the unsmiling first mate came to ask them up to the wheel as the surf would be getting rough and it would be somewhat drier there. Standing behind the pilot and chatting with the captain they got their first look at The North Sea, a dark, brooding mass topped with white spray. The wind picked up and was reaching what felt to Pam like gale force as Redbird bounded over the rollers.
"Refreshing, isn't it!" the captain shouted over the wind to his guests, who were beginning to turn alarming shades of green.
"Maybe we should go back to our cabins." Pam managed to shout back, she had never been in high seas before and felt that her internal organs were jumping into the air and landing back in new and uncomfortable configurations.
"No my friends, it is better if you stay here for now, keep your eyes on the horizon and breathe deeply, you will get used to the movement soon enough." he told them, smiling kindly but with a crinkle of amusement around the corners of his eyes at the landlubber's plight.
"I hadn't expected to be tossed around like a doll in the hands of an angry child." Gerbald muttered, trying to keep his balance as the deck moved beneath his feet. He was struggling mightily to maintain composure, but his face nearly matched the sage green of his many pocketed long coat. Pam looked at him and started to laugh, which turned out to be a mistake as her breakfast rushed up to join her chuckles. The captain nodded at a nearby young sailor, who gently escorted Pam to the back rail, where she was shortly joined by Dore and then Gerbald in a chorus of retching and spitting.
"Speaking of 'tossing'..." Pam said nonchalantly to her friends before another round of vomiting came over her.
The captain, politely declining to observe their suffering, called over his shoulder, "There, you have it out of the way. It happens to us all at least once, and now you shall begin to feel better. Pers, kindly escort our guests below decks and get them cleaned up."
The young sailor dutifully tugged on Pam's coat sleeve and the three of them meekly followed him down the stairs, nodding at the captain on their way but too ill and embarrassed to manage eye contact.
"Loving the life at sea yet, Greenbeard?" Pam managed to croak at Gerbald.
"Having sacrificed our breakfasts perhaps the sea gods will be appeased and provide us with gentler waters."
"May merciful God help us, he has been out here less than an hour and is already becoming a heathen." Dore muttered irritably.
****
Chapter Five: Getting to Know You
The North Sea and the Atlantic Ocean
After a miserable night of suffering with each roll of the waves, the North Sea had calmed somewhat by dawn. Pam, her sea sickness in remission at least for the while, spent the morning wandering around the decks, trying to stay out of the way of the sailors and practicing her sea legs. The sailors were all very polite to her. Several of them could speak a form of German she could mostly understand and Pers could speak a little English, albeit with a very potent accent.
The cheerful young fellow explained that he had lived some of his youth in the Faeros Isles which were part of the British Isles but shared close ties with Scandinavia. He was a bright and friendly kid, not much older than her son Walt. Pam soon determined she would try him out as her Swedish language coach for the voyage. During what seemed a relatively idle hour for the crew she began going about the ship with Pers in tow asking how to say things in Swedish, or Svenske as she must now think of it.
"What is the sky called?"
"Himmel" Pers happily told her, enjoying the attention of the 'foreign lady from the future'.
"And the sea?"
"Hav"
Pam wrote the information in one of her notebooks. It's pretty close to German, She thought, that might make this go even quicker. Soon, other sailors became interested and fairly tripped over themselves to point at things on the deck, repeating the Svenske words for them slowly and loudly to aid in her studies. Many of the items were nautical gear that she didn't even have a a name for in English, and so found herself scribbling descriptions such as 'rope and tackle thingie' and 'looks kind of like a winch'. Eventually the first mate came along and without saying a word directed the men back to their work with an exceptionally hairy eyeball. Pam smiled sheepishly at him to which he nodded politely enough before turning his attention to a sloppy line, his growled order to set it right made young Pers jump into action as if lit on fire.
Pam decided it would be a good time to go below-decks to check on her friends, who still hadn't been sighted. She found them milling about their little cabin, in an attempt to make themselves presentable. They were both still green tinged but some of the color had come back to Dore's cheeks and Gerbald was wearing the stony expression that so expertly hid the impish joker within.
"My Pam, I am so sorry we are up so late." Dore apologized.
"It's all right Dore, you needed the rest. I'm really sorry I got us into this, I never expected we would get so seasick."
Dore clucked such nonsense away. "Think nothing of it, the captain says that it shall pass."
Gerbald added in a wry tone "It reminds me of the kind of hangover one gets after mixing too much whiskey with beer, there was definitely a spin to it."
Seeing the daggers in the eyes around him he made his escape to the door. "I think I'm well enough now, shall we go up?"
"I'm feeling pretty good, too." Pam said "Being out in the fresh air helps."
Dore, narrowed her eyes at her husband. "The fresh air will do nothing for this oaf's foolishness I'm afraid, the good Lord knows he's had plenty of fresh air in his time and it hasn't helped any yet!" She shoved past him to head to the stairs, followed closely by a chuckling Gerbald. Pam smiled at the warm familiarity of their familiar banter.
After a tour around the deck and introducing her friends to Pers and his mates, the three of them stood watching the waves pass by. This seemed to suit Gerbald and Pam, who were practiced observers of nature, but Dore grew restless and fidgety.
"I don't know how you two can stand there and gaze at nothing! I'm going to go down to tidy up our cabins."
Pam and Gerbald knew that their cabins were already as tidy as could be since there had been hardly enough time to clutter them yet, but kept mum as there was no point in trying to stop Dore, who with shoulders pulled back in stiff determination marched below decks to rejoin her never ending battle against dust, dirt and germs, real or imagined.
"These may be the luckiest sailors ever." Gerbald remarked.
"How's that?"
"The next thing you know Dore will be up here swabbing the decks and polishing the brass for them. They might as well go on holiday!" The two friends laughed, their voices swiftly carried away by the North Sea's bracing breezes.
****
That evening they were invited to dine with the captain. The fluyt was not a large vessel and the captain's cabin was a little more than twice the size of Pam's own, also serving as an office and dining room. She, Gerbald and Dore joined the first mate and Nils, the ship's bosun, a red cheeked fifty-ish gentleman who was an old friend of the captain's, all squeezing in around the cramped yet carefully set table.
The captain poured wine from an odd round bottle, which Pam recognized as a signature of Franconia's wineries.
"I hope this will make you feel a bit more at home" the captain said to them graciously, "Now that Thuringia has joined with Franconia I assume you share wine as well as borders. To a successful voyage!" he raised his glass in toast, being sure to meet everyone's eye one by one in the Scandinavian style. A chorus of 'Cheers!', 'Prosit' and 'Skol' came from the diners, bringing a cheerful mood to the slowly swaying cabin.
"It's lovely!" Pam remarked having sipped the dry, but still slightly sweet, white wine. "Thank you for your thoughtfulness Captain. You have made us feel so very welcome and we do appreciate it."
That brought a pleased expression to the captain's windburned and sun lined face. Pam smiled inwardly to herself, it was hard to believe that she, a former recluse, had somehow learned to function so glibly in public. She tried not to think about the fact that the captain was not only charming but also rather handsome.
After another round of wine a harried looking crewman arrived at the door bearing the first of several covered trays made of solid looking pewter. The fellow looked to be in his late thirties and had the demeanour of one who strongly wished he were somewhere, perhaps anywhere else. After bringing all the trays in he leaned over to whisper to the first mate and then made a hasty, bowing exit.
The First Mate's expression was less than cheerful as he leaned to whisper to the captain. The Captain frowned and looked around solemnly at his guests.
"At the risk of spoiling our dinner before it has even begun I must make an apology to our guests. It seems the ship's cook that we hired for this voyage, a very capable fellow, had been suffering from an extreme case of the gout and had to resign at a very late hour. I am told there was no time to find a replacement before leaving port and so Mr. Janvick here assigned the job to a less experienced man. And now I am made to understand that this man is even less experienced than hoped for and wishes to extend his apologies that his cooking may be quite a bit less savory than desired. Mind you that ship's fare is never very fancy at the best of times, but in any case I must extend my apologies in advance."
There was a murmur of "Never mind" and "Don't trouble yourself over us" from around the table as the meal began. All put on a brave face but the truth was that the food was supremely awful. The potatoes were only half cooked and needed to be cut with a steak knife while the meat, which may have once been beef, had been charred to a crispy lump. Everyone did their best to eat some of the ruined meal, but in the end their plates were hardly touched. Pam looked over to see Dore poking at a bowl of soggy salted cabbage with her fork, a thoughtful expression on her wide face.
The captain sat back in his chair and sighed. "Honored guests, I have spent most of my life at sea and I shall be blunt- I have eaten things that even a pig might pass on and this is is one of the worst. I can only offer my sincerest apologies. Tomorrow we shall signal the other ships to see if they can't spare someone with at least a rudimentary knowledge of the culinary arts for our new cook." His face was bleak, this was the kind of captain who took a personal responsibility for all that transpired on his ship. Pam found herself admiring him all the more and suddenly felt a rush of relief; seventeenth century sailing aside, they were in as good hands as could be found.
Dore looked at Pam with a questioning eye that meant 'May I say something?' in the nonverbal communication they had established over their years of friendship.
"Dore, what's on your mind?" Pam asked, hoping it would be what she suspected was forthcoming from the doughty German.
"I don't wish to to speak out of turn Captain, but perhaps I can be of service."
The captain raised his shaggy eyebrows at the woman who thus far had been as quiet as a mouse in his presence.
"Yes Frau Dore? Please, you may speak freely at my table!"
"Well, there's really no need to take a cook from another boat. I could do the job myself, I have a lot of experience."
The captain looked at Pam.
"She sure is a great cook, Captain!" Pam exclaimed "I can vouch for that!"
"My wife is the best cook in all the USE!" Gerbald chimed in "I'll wager in all the Kalmar Union as well!" he added with a husband's pride, making Dore blush and elbow him in the ribs.
The captain smiled while the usually dour first mate looked on with great interest. He had barely touched his food yet by his shape was a man who thought much of dinner and missed few.
"Your offer is very kind Frau Dore, but surely I cannot prevail upon you. You are a member of Frau Pam's personal staff and it wouldn't be right to put you to work on a voyage in which you are a passenger."
"Just try to stop her!" Gerbald countered wryly, earning himself another, harder blow to the ribs.
Dore straightened in her chair, casting aside the meek act she sometimes put on in front of strangers. "The truth is Captain, I would very much like to do the job. Please understand that I am a woman accustomed to work, I've worked my entire life and when I pass on to the next realm my sincerest hope is the good Lord will have work for me there. Spending the next few months lolling around in the confines of this ship with nothing to do would bore me to tears. Please, I need to work! Again, I offer my services as ship's cook for the voyage with the hope that you will accept." She fixed her gaze on the captain with determination in every inch of her robust frame.
The Captain laughed and threw up his hands in mock defeat. "Very well then, if Frau Pam and your husband have no objections, I don't!" Pam and Gerbald both nodded their approval enthusiastically. "The galley is yours."
"Good! Then I shall start immediately! If you would all be kind enough to amuse yourself for an hour I shall make what repairs I can to this dinner as well as a simple dessert."
"Mr Janvick, by all means, escort Frau Dore to the galley and send some men to bring along the trays!" The portly first mate nearly leaped from his seat and Pam thought the sour fellow might actually be attempting to smile. They exited the captain's cabin at a speed which must surely be hazardous in such narrow confines.
Pam and Gerbald were left behind both grinning like alley cats picking their teeth with feathers from the bluebird of happiness. The captain laughed heartily.
"I see from your faces that I am going to be most grateful for my new cook!" The four remaining diners passed the time in conversation, the Grantvillers telling the Swedes of life in their most unusual town and the Captain and his bosun regaling them with tales of high seas adventure; the time passed by quickly and pleasantly.
One hour later to the very minute a rich stew of fully cooked potatoes and pieces of meat salvaged from the center of the burnt round of beef came to the table seasoned with onions, caraway seed and thyme. It was of course excellent, and as the diners scraped off the last molecules from their plates Dore and a very relieved former ship's cook brought in the dessert, a soft and chewy spaetzel in a sugared cream, simple and delicious.
"So, that's why you had so much luggage, Dore!" Pam laughed 'It was full of ingredients!"
"Well, I didn't know what to expect and I needed to make sure you two ate properly on such a long trip. As it turns out it's lucky I thought of it." Dore sat back in her chair with her quiet kind of pride, dutifully accepting the rain of compliments. After the party ended with a round of minty schnapps they made their way up to the deck for a breath of fresh air before retiring. There by the lantern light the sailors all cheered when they saw Dore emerge, shouting praise in German and Swedish. Dore simply waved and told them to shush, there was more than her usual rosy blush on her cheeks.
"Well, you certainly are a hero tonight Dore!" Pam gave Dore's arm a happy squeeze.
"I fixed up the sailor's dinner for them, too. It seems they liked it well enough." Dore making light of the subject was belied by the extremely pleased crinkles at the corner of her mouth and eyes. The cheers went on until well after they had gone below decks. Pam fell asleep smiling at the improved prospects of this crazy voyage.
****
The next day as Pam tried to get used to working at a desk that felt more like a carnival ride, one of the sailors brought her a pot of tea at Dore's instruction. His name was Fritjof and Pam thought he was likely the oldest of the crew, seeming to be in his sixties yet still hale and hearty, which was sadly not always the case amongst down-timers. Tall, thin and sporting a long graying beard, Fritjof was a serious old fellow not given to talk much. He set the tray down gently where she motioned him to and shyly mumbled a reply to her thanks. As he was about to leave though, something caught his eye, and his face lit up in a very surprising way.
"The Princess!" he said in halting German. "Princess Kristina!" Pam raised her eyebrows at him, then remembered the photo she had put up the day before.
"Yes that's right. It's a photo of Princess Kristina."
The older gentleman's eyes were moist with adoration, they never moved from the photo which he studied as if to commit it to perfect memory. "We love The Princess." he told her, "She is our light."
"Yes, I think I can understand that. She's a wonderful child and she has a lot of heart." Pam watched Fritjof stand there entranced and wondered how long he would stare. After a very long moment he came to his senses and began to leave hastily, apologizing profusely for having disturbed her work. Pam gave him an understanding smile, he seemed like a real sweet old guy.
"Think nothing of it Herr Fritjof. Say, wait a minute." Pam stood from her chair and reached for the photo. She pulled it carefully off the wall and studied it for a second. You imp she thought this is all your fault, bless your too big for that skinny body heart. With a broad smile she held it out to Fritjoff. "Here, I'd like you to have it. I can get another easily enough when we get back, and I can see you think so much of her. Please, take it."
"Frau Pam, I can't..." Fritjoff said, but his eyes were fixed longingly on the glossy image of his adored princess.
"Yes you can, in fact I insist. I have had the honor of meeting the princess in person and I am sure she would want you to have it."
Pam gently opened the old man's trembling hands and placed the photo on his palms. "Only pick it up at the edges or it will smudge, and don't get it wet! Now take it, its yours now!"
Fritjof's long fingers closed gently around the edges, moving carefully to grip it as she had instructed. He looked at Pam as if she had gifted him with eternal life, then bowed his head deeply to her.
"Thank you Frau Pam, I shall never forget your generosity. I am in your debt." and with that he backed out of the cabin quickly, closing the door behind him. Pam could hear him nearly running down the narrow hall to show his mates his new treasure.
"Well, looks like I made a friend." Pam laughed to herself as she went back to work. That evening on her way to dinner she saw that the photo had been hung carefully in a place of honor near the stairs. Several of the sailors were looking at it with worshipful expressions. They grinned at Pam merrily as she went by and thanked her repeatedly for sharing her wonderful photo. Yeesh, that kid is a superstar to these people! Pam rolled her eyes a bit once she was passed the giddy sailors but was secretly pleased at the reaction to her little good deed.
****
Chapter Six: Salt Tears and Sea Legs
The Atlantic Ocean
The days passed by slowly as they made their way along what would in another universe have one day become a clipper ship route. Pam had studied everything she could find regarding her intended voyage before she had left Grantville and found the age of the great clippers fascinating. Alas, the heyday of the tall ship won't happen here, Pam mused in her cabin. Those magnificent constructs of rope, sail and wood were destined to be passed by all together in favor of bluntly effective engine power, an almost naturally evolved technological butterfly crushed by the gritty steel and soulless plastic of technology from the future.
Sometimes the Redbird came in close to the other vessels in their small fleet and were able to wave and shout brief conversations to each other. Pam's Swedish was still clumsy but the voyage worn yet stoic Swedish folk on the Annalisa, Ide and watchful Muskijl congratulated her on her growing fluency, which pleased her greatly. She found that by God she liked these civilized scion of the Vikings, there was something about them that attracted her. Sometimes she would watch the captain going about his duties and would find herself blushing, there was definitely something about him that attracted her, but she pushed such thoughts aside sharply. No time for that, idiot! Get back to work!
One afternoon she and Gerbald walked the deck for some exercise, the stiff breezes of the Atlantic a refreshing respite from the confines of their cabins. There was something moving in the water about ten yards off the prow so they paused to see what it was. Two large seabirds swam along the waves, chasing fish, calling to each other. Pam was pretty sure they were flightless, their sleek wings looked thoroughly adapted to swimming.
"Are those penguins?" Gerbald asked, having seen them in the movies and taped TV shows he enjoyed so much.
"No... no, penguins only live in the southern hemisphere, we aren't to the Equator yet." Pam looked closer at the pair of large birds swimming away from the ship. They certainly looked like a penguin, about thirty-three inches long, their markings black and white with a prominent white spot on the top of their heads. Still, their beaks seemed rather big for a penguin... Suddenly she remembered, another page in the sad little chapter in the back of Birds of the World shared by the dodo.
"Oh my. I know what they are. They're great auks. They were extinct up-time, just like the dodo was." Pam told him in a very small voice, her eyes staring at the sight of the unique creatures, one of the classic cases of convergent evolution, yet another species destined for extinction.
One of the sailors paused from his work to join them in watching the great auks.
"I haven't seen those things for a long time, not so many as there once were. Good eating!"
Pam just blinked at him, feeling her face grow hot and her eyes fill with moisture. Suddenly it was all much too big for a bird loving West Virginian stuck in the wrong century and she couldn't stop the hot tears from coming, blurring the sight of birds that were surely doomed, wondering if she could somehow save them as well as the dodo, or if it weren't too late already. She mumbled an apology and fled back to her cabin, burying herself under her blankets for a long cry.
On the deck the sailor, a pleasant enough fellow called Helge, turned to Gerbald, his face filled with worry. "Herr Gerbald, I did not mean to offend the lady!"
"It's all right friend, it wasn't you. The world grows narrower and crueler with each year and Pam's heart is too big for it."
****
The long days at sea rolled on. And on.
"Does that hat ever come off?" young Pers asked Gerbald as they stood watching the increasingly sunny skies of their southwards course. He spoke in Swedish; Gerbald and Dore had soon joined Pam in the effort to learn that musical tongue of the far north and they were all picking it up fast, especially since there was not much else to do. Pam chimed in, also in Svenske, the words now coming swift and sure.
"I would have sworn that it's sewn to his head if I hadn't seen him take it off for dinner." Pam laughed.
"I insist on that much. He would take it off in church as well, but his shadow never crosses that doorstep." Dore added, with an admonishing look at her confirmed black sheep husband.
"But what about the wind? Herr Gerbald, Do you not worry that the sea breeze will take it?"
"No my friend, it troubles me not. If nature should take it from me it only means that it is time for a new one." Pam and Dore both looked at each other with wide eyes, which then narrowed into the slits of hunting cats.
"Nature nothing! Get it, Dore!" and with that both women lunged at Gerbald in a bid to tip his ridiculous hat off into the wind. He dodged them both easily of course, reflexes honed to avoid the jabs of deadly pike and sword being no match for such innocent sport as this. Laughing, he gently kept his assailants at arm's length until they gave up, the offending headgear still safely in place.
"Oh well, it was a good try." Dore grumbled, her cheeks flushed and slightly out of breath. "I have thought to burn it while he sleeps many times, but oh the fuss! Men are such children about their things."
Pam shook her head in resignation "Well, I guess he wouldn't be Gerbald without that stupid hat. It's like his trademark or something."
"There are still a few men in the Germanies who fear the sight of this hat, you know." Gerbald remarked matter of factly, adjusting the dirty mustard brim to no visible effect; the felt remained warped and ragged.
"A few men?" Pers asked, still in awe of the ex-soldier but curious.
"Yes, it is so. I had some notoriety on the field, long ago."
"Please excuse my forwardness, but with prowess such as yours, why only a few?" The young fellow's question held just a note of teasing, trusting in the good nature of his new friend.
"Most such are dead of course young fellow. Some got away, but only a few." allowing himself one of his very rare proud as a lion and twice as dangerous smiles Gerbald sauntered away, every inch the conquering warrior, boots to ridiculous hat. Pers grinned after him, in full blown hero worship.
Pam and Dore looked at each other with eyebrows raised. Gerbald seldom spoke of his soldiering past, much less bragged about it.
"Check out Rambo! Must be the sea air?" Pam asked wonderingly.
"He rarely speaks such words. Perhaps it is the close company of other fighting men." she nodded toward the Swedish marines drilling further down the deck rail. "He is still proud, you know."
"Glad he's on our side." Pam said, and meant it. Meanwhile Gerbald had sauntered over to the marines. Shortly they watched him join in their drills, stepping and swinging his deadly katzbalger short-sword right along with the rest. Not long after that they saw that Gerbald, an experienced combat veteran, was giving the younger men some pointers.
"Oh, here we go now." Dore switched back to German, frowning deeply as she pointed at her husband with her chin "The great soldier will teach these Swedish boys how it's done. He will be full of himself tonight." With a long suffering roll of her eyes she headed back to her galley.
Pers had been standing with them quietly watching the drills until the ever surly First Mate walked by and cuffed him lightly on the head, causing the lad to bend himself back to the nearest task at hand in embarrassed haste. Pam turned back to the view over the rail with a smile and watched the gulls swoop and cry alongside the ship, her heart filled with a sudden and surprising contentment with life at sea.
****
Chapter Seven: Under Southern Skies
The Equator and the South Atlantic Ocean.
The days were growing warmer. They were headed for one of their way-markers, The Saint Peter and Saint Paul Archipelago, near the Equator and roughly halfway between South America and Africa. Darwin had stopped there and described two species of bird, a booby and a noddy so Pam was anxious for a sighting. She prowled the decks peering through her scope and binoculars, but so far had been rewarded with only common gull and tern species. The area was known for storms but the breeze that bore them along was sultry today, the men had taken off their shirts to work in an effort to keep cool. Panning around to the bridge with her binoculars Pam saw to her surprise that this included the captain!
Unable to stop herself she paused to study the man; his chest and back were a bit hairy, but it was of a fine red-gold color and not too long, maybe even attractive. He was definitely in good shape, he regularly drilled with the fighting men and could sometimes be seen pitching in at the ropes, he was the kind of leader who would get his hands dirty if need be, and the men loved him for it. Pam admired his lean physique, that of a much younger man. She was just about to turn away when he noticed her attention and flashed her a smile and a friendly wave. Ack! I've been caught! Pam gave him a feeble wave in return then pretended to be interested in a handy seabird flying by, hoping he couldn't see the scarlet tone her face had taken on at that distance. Gawd Pam, you are acting like a teen-ager! She chided herself. Still, she thought with a tiny smile, he is pretty hunky.
Later that day Pam declined a stop at the rocky atoll, she had read Darwin's notes on it and there wasn't much of anything she could add, might as well keep going. It made her feel depressed, here she was risking her life on an expedition in a world where someone else had already discovered almost everything in a future that wouldn't even happen that way again. Deep down she knew that any research she did would have value, but the feeling of being a dwarf following along in the footsteps of giants, even ghostly ones who would now never even be born, made her feel insignificant.
Pam was quiet through dinner that evening. After dessert the captain asked everyone to join him up on the bridge for a toast. Pam looked at Gerbald but her friend only shrugged, the bosun however had a knowing ook about his ruddy face. The night was cooler than the day and very clear, the stars were so thick and close they seemed about to land right on their heads. Once Dore arrived from the galley the bosun passed out a cup to everyone into which the captain poured a very fine French brandy.
"I've been saving this for a special occasion. Today we passed over the Equator, we have come a long way on our journey. I would now like to direct your attention to the South." he pointed with his brandy glass. "Do you see those bright stars there, low on the horizon, in a group? They are, I am assured, the Southern Cross and it is the first time I have ever seen them, perhaps it is so with some of you. They are as beautiful as their reputation states and I hope for their blessing. And so, we have arrived at an excellent time and a place for a toast," he raised his cup as the others followed suite, "Here's to the good ship Redbird and all who sail on her!"
A chorus of 'skols' followed and Pam found herself feeling better as the warm night and the fiery brandy worked to soothe her soul. While Gerbald joined in the second round of brandy Pam noticed Dore had drifted off to the rail by herself, where she gazed solemnly out at the southern sky. Pam joined her friend, giving her a friendly bump which made Dore smile.
"Penny for your thoughts, Dore?"
Dore smiled again, Pam could see that the usually doughty woman was quite moved and needed to gather herself before speaking. Eventually she turned to her younger friend.
"I never thought I would see anything like this Pam. The Southern Cross, the great oceans; these are sights for men of adventure, for the brave and the mad... I'm just an old washer-woman, a simple soldier's simple wife. I never thought I'd be seeing anything like all this..." Her voice trailing, Dore looking again to the winking lights of unfamiliar constellations, slowly shaking her head in wonder, her face having taken on a child-like cast.
Pam nodded slowly. "Neither did I, Dore, not in a million years. I'm just glad you're here to see it with me, it makes it a lot easier to cope with. Thank you for coming along on this crazy voyage, it's a lot to ask from even a friend as wonderful as you."
"It's nothing Pam, of course I would. I just didn't expect such beauty, such thrills. I am glad I saw this, I am glad we are here, doing these things. It's fun."
At that revelation it was Pam's turn to have her words catch in her throat, so she just looked back at Dore with wide eyes and grinned her biggest grin.
****
As they continued South and then Eastwards the weather got cooler. It was still winter in the Southern hemisphere and the warmth of the Equator was fading with each passing day. One chilly morning Pam got up before dawn to make her way to the deck rail. She hadn't been able to sleep for several hours and figured she might as well get some fresh air. Looking out to the north she gasped- the flat horizon had been replaced with a purple rise of distant land: Africa.
"Cape of Good Hope, Frau Pam." the bosun told her as he leaned up on the rail near her. "A lovely sight, isn't it?"
"It's like I'm in a dream sometimes, one incredible thing after another. I really never thought I would see a place as far away as this. None of us did."
They watched as the sun rose, bands of light and shadow lent the continent the appearance of some vast, enigmatic monument fashioned of gold and ebony. Shortly the bosun gave the scene a pretty little whistle before he ambled off to his duties, but Pam stayed there, mesmerized.
A few minutes later Dore, always an early riser joined her on the deck with two mugs of hot coffee. She gazed at the red vastness of morning painted Africa for a time and then spoke aloud in a reverent tone:
"'And God called the dry land Earth; and the gathering together of the waters called he Seas: and God saw that it was good.'"
****
They were getting close now. The weather turned from fair to foul and Pam felt she was back on the North Sea again, day after day they bounded across hair raising swells. That morning the Captain had told her that they might sight Mauritius that afternoon, maybe even be able to land if all went well. Pam had become increasingly anxious over the last few days of unpleasant pitching and rolling, the rough seas had dampened her mood, even though the sailors said they should be happy they had such strong winds to push them along.
Feeling cooped up in her cabin and frustrated with what had come to seem a never ending journey she decided that cruel waves and wind or not she would spend the day keeping watch with her binoculars, she really couldn't just sit and wait any more. After a late breakfast from an ever sympathetic Dore, Pam bundled up in her best water resistant gear to go stalk the decks, binoculars ever at the ready. She even trusted young Pers with her precious scope in order to have another set of eyes on the task, he had been eager to climb into the crow's nest and help her keep vigil. The bosun had allowed it and the first mate had apparently elected not to interfere, despite surely considering it a shameful waste of the lad's abundant energies. She looked up at the bridge and gave the captain a hopeful smile, which he returned when he noticed her there. He had dressed in a fancier than usual coat today and cut a fine figure.
"Come on up here, Frau Pam!" he called down. She climbed the steep ladder-steps carefully, grateful to be that much higher above the bitter cold, splashing seas.
"I see you are eager to get there, Frau. One hopes you have not grown unhappy with our service?"
"Oh, no, not at all! You're wonderful, I mean, you and your crew, all wonderful!" Gawd, you sound like a total dork! The captain laughed amiably, he had only been kidding and fully understood her desire to reach their destination.
"Of course, of course, it's been a long voyage! I must admit I'm looking forward to some time on shore, maybe have some fresh fruit- not that what your friend does isn't delicious, it's the best ship's fare ever! I don't imagine you would let me keep her on?" he asked, grinning in jest.
"No way buddy, she's mine!" they shared a good laugh and Pam began to feel the knot of tension that had been forming in her shoulders ease. We really are almost there! I can hardly believe it!
"Dodos, here I come!" she said to herself as the captain turned back to his duties.
The hours passed by slowly. Behind them the weather from the South promised to turn surly, black clouds were building and the wind had dropped a few degrees. Ahead of them the Muskijl tread solidly along, the Annalisa and Ide just ahead of her. Their fleet may be small and made up of small vessels but Pam now understood that they were also tough, the product of years of shipbuilding know-how in the wintry north, they were made for weather like this and took it in stride.
"That's a real demon storm brewing down there." The bosun said when he came up on the bridge to confer with the captain.
"Looks no worse than a North Sea squall." the first mate said, his voice full of tedium.
"Now it does, but this is the south and the weather's different down here, meaner. I've seen it like this before down near Cape Horn. When she hits us tonight she'll be full blowing all right, let's hope we're in the lee from it, behind the island."
As the weather worsened Pam did her best to go unnoticed, hoping the captain wouldn't send her below decks. He and the pilot both held the wheel steady, their eyes were only for the waves. The sky behind them darkened, in stark contrast to the bright skies to the North. The afternoon was slipping by, the descending sun's rays slanting across Redbird, casting her in bronze as the shadows grew longer on her decks. Pam's eyes were aching from straining to see over the horizon and she began to feel tired, regretting the foolishness of her long watch. She was just about to go find some tea, and maybe pour a little whiskey in it when Pers' excited call came from above.
"There it is! The island! The island of the dodos!" Pam ran to the rail, fumbling to get her binocular straps untangled, the ceaseless rolling of the sea had a way of tying them up in knots. With her naked eye she saw... something to the North, a blur of color above the sea's distant curve. Focusing in carefully she saw it clearly at last; pastel smudges of lavender and green, the volcanic mountains that soared up from the islands interior.
"Mauritius. At least that's what I'll call you until we give you a new name to go with your new destiny." Pam grinned up at Pers' pale face high in the crow's nest and waved crazily at him. Not letting go for a second even to wave he grinned back and let out a loud whoop of joy. They were moving fast with the blustery wind and the mountains grew larger and higher above the horizon. The captain deemed it safe enough so Dore and Gerbald were summoned to come join them on the bridge, where they all milled about grinning like children at the county fair, about half out of their minds with excitement. Gerbald had remembered to bring a long a bottle of schnapps and was passing it around merrily, careful not to let the waves ceasless rocking spill any.
The captain soon caught their joyful mood and told them in a very pleased voice "Our colonists may be able to set foot on their new home this eve after all, if we can find a safe anchor before dark. We'll head up the East side, the storm is blowing from South by Southwest so we'll have more protection there. Your maps from the future show several suitable harbors, let's hope they are right." The man turned back to the wheel, well earned pride in his every move. Pam made herself stop staring at his broad shoulders and returned to the impromptu party at the rail. That was when Pers called again from the crow's nest.
"Sails in the East! A ship is coming around the island's East side!" The revelers quieted themselves, they hadn't happened on many other ships on their journey since leaving the North Atlantic and the presence of another vessel here and now seemed a surprise. Pam held her binoculars to her face, hurrying to find the ship, which had now turned southward, headed directly toward them.
"It's BIG." she told them calmly enough. "And it's got guns. Big guns." She lowered the binoculars, then quickly handed them to the captain. After he found his focus he was quiet for a moment. He handed the binoculars back to Pam, his face ashen.
"It's a French warship. Their crew is readying her guns, we are about to be attacked."
****
To be continued in Grantville Gazette, Volume 34 . . .