Salt and Silver

Brother Mateo gripped the railing as he retched over the side of the galleon Santa Luna de Nuestra Senora into the dark grey swell of the South Pacific Ocean. The bile burned his throat as it followed his last meal. He wretched until his stomach was long emptied. He hung over the side letting the excess drool dribble out. His tongue worked at piece of oat stuck in his tooth before spitting it out. He reached for a water skin attached to his hip and sipped at it. The cool fresh water tasted sweet on his tongue after the vomit he had fed the fishes with.

He gazed out into the grey murk, the sky was so grim he could barely tell where the ocean stopped and the sky began. Enormous rolling waves passed under the creaking hull as it cut its own path through the swell. The wind whipped the sails, the fabric snapping as the wind abated as the ship dropped into the lull between waves. Each wave made his stomach roll. He tried desperately to calm his stomach, breathing slowly in and out.

As waves larger than the ship rolled past the simple wooden railing was the only comfort Mateo had in this grim moment. The coarse wood bit at his cold hands somehow grounding him.

A heavy hand slapped his back startling him.

“Don’t worry my child. God will grant you your sea legs soon” said his elderly mentor, Father Fransisco. His warm voice soothing him further.

“Why did we have to come to Sea Padre?” Mateo asked as he wiped the snot from his nose.

“Brother Mateo, we are at sea to bear God’s word to these far shores. As the Lord and our king, Don Carlos of Spain, wills it”

“Padre, could we not have we not stayed in Panama and continued our good works in the mission there?”

“Where is your sense of adventure lad” he scoffed “Now go tend to Capitan Alonso’s horse he is in a foul mood today.”

“Yes Father” Mateo said, bowing before leaving the safety of the rail and heading to the other end of the ship.

The horse was a grumpy bastard, even by horse standards. The ill tempered grey coloured beast stood fifteen hands tall and absolutely detested Mateo. Every time he would go near him to feed him or muck him out he would stamp and bite at him. Every limb had a bruise or mark of some kind from that nasty horse.

Mateo snuck up to the horse, attempting to do his chores while the beast slumbered. Mateo suspected that had that horse not been tied to the post he would be hunting him constantly. His thin fingers grabbed an arm full of hay from the store, turning too fast he caused the hatch to slam closed.

The sudden noise startled the horse, his eyes opened wide staring at Mateo. He felt like they were somehow piercing through to his soul. The demon with hooves snorted heavily and stamped his front foot three times.

“Wooow there big fella, im just going to put this hay in your feeder” he said in his softest most soothing tone.

The horse snorted and snapped at the air, the rope attached to his bit prevented him from reaching too far. The horse narrowed his gaze following Mateo as he approached. He grunted and lifted his tail and unloaded his bowels heavily onto the floor.

“Great something else for me to do” he grumbled.

The horse stamped his foot right in the steaming pile sending manure skittering in all directions. Mateo felt speckles of faeces land on his bare feet and legs and shuddered.

The horse seeing Mateo slump his shoulders snickered and bucked with glee. Mateo threw the fresh hay into the trough and backed away quickly, horse’s teeth narrowly missing his arm.

He sighed looking at the fresh waste on the deck he now needed to clean up. Gathering the tools he began the arduous task of cleaning the small stable without dying.

Deep into his cleaning, his arms ached from the effort and the near miss of the horse’s kick. Even a glancing blow still hurt and left a deep bruise. Two sailors walked past muttering to each other.

“We need to find land now, that storm is going to tear the ship apart”

“Have faith, god will protect old Santa Luna, the piloto knows what he is doing.”

“I wouldn’t trust that drunk to puke over the railing let alone navigate this storm”

The other man chuckled as they walked out of range, their armor clinking as they walked.

The conquistadores on the ship scared him, they were rough brutish men that would always hit him. Despite their cries these men were frequently far from God. Father Francisco always tried to see the good in them.

“I must go tell Padre.” Mateo muttered to himself. The Capitan’s horse heard the mutter whinnied and grunted as he tried to kick Mateo in the head as he finished cleaning the stable.

Mateo tidied away the tools and headed down below to find Father Francisco. The two of them had been given a small cabin at the stern. The small room was packed with books and relics that Father Francisco brought everywhere with him.

Mateo slowly creaked open the door to the small room. The dark room stank of sweat and bilge water but it was dry enough. Four hammocks swung idly in the swell. Mateo stumbled as he walked forward, forgetting that he was sailing on the ocean for a moment. His hands grabbed at the ropes hanging from the ceiling and steadied himself. He staggered over to the large snoring mass that was in Father Francisco’s hammock. Reaching out he poked what he thought was his shoulder. The snoring continued.

Mateo’s eyes adjusted to the dim light. The sun had set, the grey sky had subtly shifted to a darker shade. Thankfully the dim lantern cast a faint orange glow giving some illumination. There was an empty bottle clutched in his hands. There was no chance he would wake him for the coming storm. He would try none the less.

“Father Francisco, there’s a storm coming, Father Francisco!” he said as he shook the hammock.

One of the sleeping conquistadores in the other hammocks grumbled. And rolled over.

“Shut up boy, if there was a storm coming the Piloto would have told us, now go to sleep”

A swift movement and Mateo felt a shoe strike him in the face.

He slumped to the floor holding his face. He knew if he cried out the other shoe would follow.

Pushing the tears back, he wiped his eyes, cursing his own weakness.

Tentatively he collected the shoe and returned it to its place before climbing into his own hammock. The gentle swaying of the hammock and his weary muscles sent him straight to sleep. The darkness overcame him seconds after he wrapped his sheet around him.

Mateo woke as the wood smashed into his face as he fell. Shouts and screams filled his ears as he came too. He was groggy from lack of sleep and the blow to the head. Everything felt wrong. Something had happened. His hands began to search for something familiar. Even the deck felt wrong somehow. His fingers found rough metal bars, it felt like the window, but it was below him..

His senses came back to him at this revelation, the ship was on its side. His eyes focused on the door as it swung open, dark water billowed in.

He screamed. He looked for Father Francisco and the conquestadores were nowhere to be seen, he was alone. The water slammed against him, its icy grasp had him now. He inhaled sharply as the cold overcame him.

The one silver lining was the cold woke him up. His mind instantly sharp and aware, he needed to get out, NOW!

He pushed against the swirling dark water. The lantern fizzled as the water snuffed it out, the room went black. He hoped his memory could guide him free. The dark sideways world was quickly filling with water. He held his breath and pushed through. Praying to himself as he felt his way to safety.

He surfaced breathing the cold night air. The sky assaulted his face with icy shards of water. The wind whipped the salty sea into blades that made his eyes sting. Men shouted and screamed all around him.

The screams of the Capitan’s horse were loudest of all. Mateo took pity on the beast and swam towards it. His loose robes, thankfully not thick enough to hold much water only impeded him a little.

The icy water was a far cry from the sweet summer sea of Spain where he grew up. A sudden thought filled him with fear, what if he never saw Spain again. He pushed on, he had to survive, God would light his way.

As that thought entered his head he heard a lantern smash, its oil spread over some of the deck lighting his way. He could see the extent of the damage now. Santa Luna was lying on her side, all three masts were snapped. Cargo and flotsam was drifting all around. Crew and conquistadores paddled and gripped what they could. The ship was lost, now they fought to survive.

Mateo made his way to the horse, it was only his head that was above the water as he squealed with fear. He ducked under and found the rope and released it from the beam. The horse whined in delight and lurched away, glad to be free. The beast’s eyes glared at Mateo, its eyes narrowed before it turned away.

The muscular frame of the horse pushed away from the sinking ship and began paddling at great speed away from the sinking ship. Lightning cracked across the sky, lighting up the water around him. He saw the rope from the horse snaking past him and he grabbed it. The horse plowed away from the ship and the screaming men, either driven by fear or by some higher power Mateo didn’t care. The horse seemed to know what it was doing. He tied the rope around his wrist in a simple knot and tried his hardest to stay afloat.