"So there was something under the water?" Captain Vex asked.
"Yeah," Will nodded, as he bolted down the last of the spotlight-lanterns on the railing next to the ship's wheel. The other three hadn't survived the fight on the prow. Captain Vex wasn't thrilled about that, those lanterns were expensive.
Will's hands hurt badly, but he still had a bit more to do before he could let the doctor look him over. Besides, there were a lot of crew worse off than he was. "I started to figure it out when the other ship started moving strangely the first time. Remember?"
"Aye. It seemed like it was pinned in the reef, and we were stuck on the ship, but it jerked back. Ships dinnae do that," Captain Vex nodded, then tilted her head in thought. "Unless something is pulling on them," she added a moment later, figuring out where Will's conclusion had come from.
"Exactly," Will nodded.
Understanding slowly dawned on the Captain's face. "It would have tae be huge."
"The only time I've seen a ship move like that before was a whaling vessel," Will agreed
"So ye were thinking a whale was using a broken ship as a hand puppet? Why would it do that?" Belita asked, shaking her head.
"Well, something as big as whale at any rate. I think it uses the broken ship for the same reason the grindylow call for help. To get our attention," Will shrugged.
"Crafty bunch'a freaky evil bastards." Belita sounded horrified and impressed. "I'm right proper pissed at what they did tae my ship."
"We should be glad we got away,' Will said. "There's not much known about Grindylows. I think most people who run into them aren't as lucky as we were."
"Guess there is that," Belita agreed. "Luck was on our side tonight. We're still floating after a reef, a storm, sea monsters, and bombs."
"How many did we lose?" Will asked.
"Twelve so far," Belita said sadly. "Might be another two before the night is through."
Will felt like the air had been pulled from his lungs. "That many?"
"And another two dozen wounded. Five probably crippled for life. I've never lost so many, Will. Those are warship numbers,' Belita shook her head, looking stricken.
Will didnt know what to say. He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze for reassurance. She took off her hat and laid her head on his shoulder for a moment. It wasn't like her to show that kind of vulnerability, but she was tired and raw, and no one else was watching. Will noticed, and wondered why she was willing to let him see her that way, but knew better than to ask questions. It was more important to just be there for her. Instead of talking he looked through the spyglass again. "Let's concentrate on finding a spot to make land. That's the best thing we can do for them right now."
__________________
There was no one left to stitch. Bella had been pinching a suture needle for so long that her hand didn't want to open. It spasmed as she spread her fingers and shook it out. Surprisingly, her hands and arms were the only parts of her that weren't smeared with blood. Doctor Kalfou had been absolutely adamant that she wash her hands between each patient. She'd claimed sharing blood caused sickness. Bella had never heard that before, but she wasn't a doctor.
The Captain's cabin was horrific. The bed was a bloody ruin. Wounded sailors leaned against every inch of the wall and were laid out on the entire floor save for a narrow path from the door to the bed. The puncture wounds were the most immediate problem, and she was glad that part was over with, but the doctor still had her hands full with all the broken bones. Besides their awful barbed tongues, the Grindylows' other favorite way to hurt people was to grab them and squeeze. They were frightfully strong. Half of those who hadn't made it died because their throats had been crushed. Many others had awful bruises where the grindylow's tentacles had wound around them and just constricted until bones popped. Doctor Kalfou's current patient was breathing shallowly and frothing blood on his lips. His ribs had been squeezed until they punctured his lung.
Quinn, Reeve and the Norths had just finished carrying the dead out to the midship and laying them in repose. The Kestrel was solemn. Everyone aboard understood that they hadn't won. They had survived.
"Danica, prepare to make landfall," the Captain's muffled voice echoed from the deck above them.
"Alright," Doctor Kalfou spoke up. "If you can walk under your own power, or with a little help, and aren't waiting for treatment, I need you to go back to your bunk."
"It's flooded," a crewman said simply. "That's where the hull cracked."
Doctor Kalfou's fatigue and frustration showed on her face, but before she could respond, Mister Reeve's hulking form darkened the doorway. He'd been leaning against the wall just outside. The cabin's ceiling was too low for him to be comfortable, and there wasn't enough room for him anyway. He was covered in drying blood that was beginning to crack on his skin. "You heard the Doc," he barked. "If you can walk, start walking. Where you go don't be her problem. Go find the Quartermaster."
With a chorus of groans and winces, the injured painfully made their way out the door. Those that remained were the ones who couldn't move on their own: the unconscious, those with severe blood loss or broken legs, and the two amputees.
"Thank you, Mister Reeve," Doctor Kalfou said with a tired smile. "Forgot you were waiting out there, I."
Reeve shrugged. "I can wait. Don't think I'm dying."
"In that case, need to get cleaned up, you. The captain's washroom. Go." Doctor Kalfou said, gesturing to the door near the bed.
Reeve nodded and hunched his way through the room. He had to turn sideways to fit through the narrow doorway, and even then it was a bit of a tight fit.
Doctor Kalfou began stripping the layers of bloody sailcloth off the bed, looking pained when she saw how much blood had soaked through into the bedsheets. "Might not be any saving the mattress," she sighed.
"Vex has running water?" Reeve laughed from the other room. "Well don't that be just decadent. Gonna be stealing that for my ship."
Bella moved to help Friday with the sails and the bedding. "I don't know what we would have done without you," she said to the Doctor.
"Had a few more casualties, but managed somehow," Friday said gently. "Did well, you. Thankful for your help, I."
"I'm not sure I would have gotten through my panic without you and Jack. I would have just hid in a closet," Bella laughed sadly.
"There be no shame in fear," Friday said gently. "It shows us the truth of who we are. If we can accept it, fears can become strength. If we reject it, we reject ourselves. That is the only shame."
Bella didn't know what to say so she just shrugged. "I don't feel very strong right now."
"Saved lives tonight, you," Friday said firmly. "If that is not strength, nothing is."
"There any towels left?" Reeve asked from the other room.
"No, they were used for triage," Doctor Kalfou answered over her shoulder.
"Well, you ladies are in for a show then." The big man awkwardly squeezed through he doorway again, concealing his manhood with both hands. Belita opened up her footlocker and pulled out a flowing yellow skirt. She passed it to Reeve with an amused smile. He took it and held it in front of himself, looking a bit less uncomfortable.
Doctor Kalfou began to look Reeve over. He was wounded in at least a dozen places. There were five puckered, angry looking punctures, and even more ragged scratches from claws. There were even a few ugly looking bite wounds.
Doctor Kalfou's eyes narrowed. "It seems you heal very quickly, Mister Reeve." Every one of his wounds looked like it was at least a day old, rather than an hour. The shallow claw marks were barely more than scratches. The swollen and inflamed puncture wounds were the worst of them, but they still looked significantly better than the other sailors who had them.
Reeve nodded and tapped his tattoo-covered chest. "My Animus." He paused and thought for a moment. "My, ah, guardian spirit? Mine likes blood. Makes me heal faster."
"Well that is... useful," Doctor Kalfou said, scanning her eyes over Reeve's intricate tattoos. The pale patches of vitiligo on Reeve's face, chest, and stomach made his tattoos very stark in contrast, but honestly Doctor Kalfou thought he looked a little like a patchwork quilt. From a distance he was just an odd collection of strange patterns and two-toned skin. This close to him, she could see how beautiful the ink really was. His body was covered in line after line of careful patterns. Waves. Islands. Shark fins. Overlapping diamonds like scales, or armor. At the center of it all, across his broad chest, was a pattern of triangles that looked very much like a shark's mouth.
Beneath it all were many pale scars. She knew from her own tattoos that scars could easily mar the art, but on Reeve every scar was beneath the ink. Including the fresh ones that were still forming. She leaned in and looked closer. It looked like the skin directly beneath the tattoos was actually healing a bit faster than the rest.
"So there is magic in them?' Doctor Kalfou asked.
"In all Akula tattoos. Most are not so strong. Mine is," Reeve explained.
"Can see why you did not come see me sooner, I," Doctor Kalfou said with a half smile. It was hard not to be impressed.
"My Animus is strong, but can only do so much. This is as much as I will heal with its help. For the rest, I come to you," Reeve said with a small shrug.
"Well, might not like it, you. Stitches are best on fresh wounds. These punctures that have already started healing look inflamed. Going to have to flush them, I, which means opening them back up again," Doctor Kalfou ran her curved stitching needle and a narrow-bladed knife through the flame of the candle on the nightstand. "Sit."
Reeve looked a little exasperated, but sat on the bed. Bella started dragging the bloody sails and bedding out onto the deck, leaving the doctor to her last patient.
The storm was still raging. Here, near the island on the inside of the reef, the waters were calm, but the rain and wind had picked up. It was a warm, southerly wind full of fat water drops that slapped the skin and splashed down so hard that the spray gave the deck of the ship a shallow haze. The last time she'd been out on the deck she'd been naked. The water on her skin had felt surprisingly nice. This time, her clothes began to feel heavy and clingy almost instantly. Her fatigue and worn nerves made the annoyance of wet clothes much more aggravating than it should have been. She didn't really know what to do about the bloody mess she was half-carrying, half-dragging so she just dumped it by the mast.