The Blizzard

  ***

  When he awoke in the small hold, Zarius’s bulky frame was heaving in the bunk next to him. The undulation of the room and the wild how of the wind exclaimed they were now at sea. Jack lay back and tried to recount his movements since leaving the school. For some reason, he felt a pang of regret for the elderly curator of the pitiful, dusty museum – his despair at the loss of his prize exhibit.

  Suddenly there was a sharp cry from the cot. His cousin’s eyes were open but stared blankly at the ceiling.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Yes, I know the rules” the bulky man spoke as if addressing someone not in the room. Jack heard an unfamiliar tone in his companion’s voice. Was it fear?

  “No, no, not dishonest, Sir. Don’t want to overload the boy, that’s all. No food will touch my lips, Sir. Furthermore, I shall drink nothing but ink until we get there.”

  Slowly, the rotund face resumed its infant-like composure and turned towards the startled Jack.

  In a clearer voice, he said: “I’m sorry my dear boy, what were you saying? Was talking in my sleep? A terrible habit which I will try to cure myself of during our voyage.”

  Jack crept beneath the gorse-like covers of his cot with some trepidation. Zarius lapsed back into sleep. The sounds of water crashing and falling, the cry of the wind was omnipresent. He remembered what he wanted to ask.

  “Zarius?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why can’t we buy new bracelets somewhere closer than Media? There must be somewhere else we can get them.”

  “The ones you can get in Media are the best, dear boy. Now go to sleep.”

  But Jack’s brain was too busy. His bruised skin felt raw against the thick covers. Easing himself to the floor, he pulled on his shoes and walked onto the deck.

  The banks of cloud had lifted, revealing the crescent moon and stars he had never known existed. The silvery light reflected on the shifting water like a hundred thousand little mirrors. The chill of the wind cut through his shirt like paper but Jack was too distracted by the beauty of the scene to pull himself away. He watched the white trail of foam the doughty ship left in its absence.

  Along the deck, a solitary figure could be seen on the observation platform. He held a pair of viewing glasses to his face, scanning the waters they would soon be passing through. Curiosity brought Jack closer. He leant over the railing and after a few moments held out his hand, silently requesting the use of the field glasses. The sailor smiled as he complied with the request. In the starlight Jack could just make out the port wine stain on his face.