Trouble At Sea
North Yulkshire, The Departure
There it was at Brantford, Old port, standing almost at 236.2 ft tall Durkheim, the 2nd cruise ship, a marvelous beauty and an excellent source of income for a striving town like Brantford. The men and the young lads came early at the doc, it was time to load the ship, and they wanted to get hired for the day. The captain and two other guys stood at the pier. They handpicked the daily workers to carry the passengers’ belongings, food bags, and other goods needed for the trip.
“Ted, how are you, my lad,” asked Sir Winston to the captain as he boarded the ship.
“Never better, sir. Everything is ready. We should be okay to leave the port soon and on the way to Lenchester.” The captain answered, slowly steaming off his tobacco pipe.
“Excuse me, sir. You dropped this.” Said a bright-eyed and happy young fellow to Sir Winston, who had a bit of pickle picking up his music note sheets up the ramp. “Are you a composer?” He asked, looking at the music sheets. “Cecil, that’s a lovely title.
“No, not that one. That’s my most precious possession,” Sir Winston said, grabbing the scroll from the young man and holding it against his chest.
“Here, let me give you a hand with these.” The young lad said spiritedly, resting the heavy-loaded leather case with the music sheets on his shoulders.
“After you,” Sir Winston said, watching the young man turn drudgery into pleasure going up the ramp.
“Easy, easy, be careful with that.” Sir Winston insisted as the young fellow set the music sheets’ case down on the cushions in the room. “Thank you, young lad! I don’t think I got your name...”
“Branson, my name is Branson, sir,” he replied.
“Well, Thanks, Branson. My name is Sir Winston Reggie.
“Sir Winston Reggie, as in the famous composer from Lenchester!”
“I see my reputation precedes me,” Sir Winston nodded.
“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Branson replied with a firm handshake, “I’ll see you on the upper deck soon.”
Then came the boat whistle as a final warning for the late passengers. Those who stalled at the ice cream parlor with their relatives diligently boarded the ship, and it was time to leave Yulkshire’s port.
The men, and the young lads, ran down the pier and waved goodbye to their families and friends as the boat sailed into a faint silhouette toward the horizon.
After resting a bit, Sir Winston made his way from the hallways to the avant-garde upper deck to enjoy the view. He inhaled sharply, looking at the beautiful clear sky and the majestic royal blue sea. The smell of the ocean was something he was familiar with, and he would call it his second home sometimes.
He spotted a couple of dolphins arching in and out of the crystal-crisp water on the ship’s side. To his surprise, Sir Winston heard someone playing a familiar tune on the piano. He walked near the ballroom’s entrance, and Branson sat on the ebony stool. It was a complex piece, but he played it beautifully.
“Ah, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to acknowledge the presence of the great Lenchester composer, Sir Winston Reggie.” Branson pointed in his direction at the main door. The crowd was astounded to know that the acclaimed and favored by the crown was on board the ship.
“Would you like to play a piece for us, sir?” Branson asked before Sir Winston could exit the room. The other passengers cheered and Praised him as he made his way to the piano.
“You didn’t strike me as a pianist,” Sir Winston said to Branson after playing his piece.
“I taught myself how to play from when I was a young lad; reading is what I find the most difficult,” Branson replied.
“You never had training. Fascinating. How well will you do with proper training? Have you ever been to Lenchester, Branson?”
“This is my first trip there, sir. I’ve heard a lot about the city. I hope it is as exciting as they say.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will love it, my young lad. I’m sure you will.” Sir Winston replied.
The weather changed without a twist that day. The captain and the crew were unaware of the approaching storm. The air became chilled as angry dark clouds rolled in, chasing the sunny clear blue sky away. The crystal-crisp royal blue sea turned black and tumultuous like the abyss as the crashing waves rocked the ship from side to side. The whistling wind and the rain mixed with hail battered against the boat’s upper deck floor as Branson, Sir Winston, and the crew tried to keep everyone safe.
Lenchester, Sunday evening, brewing storm.
Cecil heard a soft knock at the door at dusk. She looked out the damped window as it was late and wasn’t expecting company. It was her aunt Beth and her sons. She had heard about the storm and wanted to check if Sir Winston had come back from Yulkshire,
“Hi, Aunt Beth. What brings you about this late?” Cecil asked as she opened the door.
“Well, is, is, is, is your father back yet? I overheard the lad talk about a big storm at the doc and gi-gi-gi-given your father’s condition, I worry about him. Will you be alright, dear? The rain will be here soon, and it’s going to get w-w-windy. Maybe you should come and spend the night with us.” She suggested, still standing halfway through the door.
“I’ll be alright, Aunt Beth, don’t you worry,” Cecil replied.
“Well, the boys will help you board up, and I will come to check on you first thing in the morning.” She said, shaking her head and watching the dark clouds roll by.
Things got complicated aboard Durkheim, the 2nd. Water was leaking on the lower decks, something had damaged the ship’s side, and it was sipping in fast. The captain and the crew patiently moved the panicked passengers to the upper deck’s cabins while the lightning and thunder roared around the boat. Unbeknownst to them, two stowaways were left stranded in the lower compartments. Someone had smuggled them in, unaware of who or what they were, but Branson immediately knew as soon as he heard the growl.
“Captain, there’s a dead man in the water,” a crew member shouted.
The captain turned the body over with a hook and shuddered in horror, “Goddamn it, that’s Milo. How did this happen?” They’d been sailors for a long time and had never seen anything like this. His face was scraped off, and his jugular veins were all torn. A great fear took over them, but they’ve got to keep it together for the sake of the passengers. He quickly dispatched a small armed crew to check on the lower compartments for any survivors. “Fire only if you must,” he said to them. They looked down the hallway and saw chewed limbs floating. They became frightened with unbidden thoughts as they continued down the hallway.
The door and frames shook. Something was trying to force its way into the passengers’ cabin. Then came a sudden thump. The screws became undone as the door flew off and knocked Sir Winston against the safety bag. A werewolf barged into the room where he, Branson, and five other passengers had bunked down. It looked fierce, with drooling jaws, wet furs, and sharp canines. They were still small pups and not scary for Branson, but Sir Winston and the others might have never seen a werewolf up close. Sir Winston threw a bottle of alcohol and threatened to set it on fire.
Branson grabbed its neck with a rope, pulled it with all his strength, and forced him out. It attempted to put its head in as the passengers pushed the door back, but unfortunately, Sir Winston’s foot got caught in the net at the end of the coiled rope, and the untamed beast ran off into the corridors.
Adrenaline rushed in Branson’s veins, and the golden circle around his pupil glowed as he went after the wolf. The waves in the water intensified as he sped up his movements and leaped in its direction. The wolf looked back, shifted its weight, and pivoted toward the small metallic staircase to avoid his attack. Sir Winston got thrust and hit his head against the wall as the wolf clambered up the stairs, and the last thing he saw before passing out was Branson shifting into a werewolf.
Branson came back half naked with Sir Winston in his arms. The two stowaways were unlucky. The crew only found pieces of them awash in the water. The storm still raged on, and the captain and the remaining staff had too much to deal with. Thankfully, the nearby cities sent out ships to help anyone stranded at sea came the morning, and they found the struggling Durkheim the 2nd and his crew.
The mayor and the doctors were at Cecil’s door, and the men carried two persons on stretchers. They’d brought Sir Winston and Branson home,
“Oh my God, what happened to my father?” She asked with flooding eyes.
“There was a leak on the ship, and your father was soaked and wet for too long. The doctor has given him some penicillin, but he’s still feverish.” Said the mayor.
“And who is that?” Cecil asked, pointing at the young lad on the stretcher.
“Your father said he was with him before they both passed out. I believe he said his name was Branson.
“Will they be okay, doctor?”
“The young lad should be alright within a few days, but your father may take a while to recover.” The doctor replied, putting his equipment back in his bag.
“Thank you, mayor, thank you, doctor.”
“Ah, don’t thank me, miss. Your father is a good man and would have done the same for us.” They replied.
