Patchwork Universe

Captain Isobel DeRainault · Good Joined: 20 Jan 2004 Posts: 94 Location: HMS Justice

Captain’s Log, HMS Justice – Moahu, South Pacific – January 25, 17--

Having weathered a heavy storm that caused damage to the mizzenmast, we anchored just off the Island of Moahu for repairs at two bells in middle watch. According to reports, the island is uninhabited, but should provide ample provision of fresh water and green stuff. Estimate three days to complete repairs and continue with the next leg of our journey.

***

With a sigh of relief, Isobel DeRainault put down her quill and closed the log. She strove to keep an accurate log, but last night the business of negotiating the small bay, anchoring the ship, and planning the schedule of repairs had taken up most of her time. Still, it was early in the morning yet, judging from the scrape of holystones on the deck above her, and there was plenty of time for a cup of coffee and perhaps a swim before breakfast. Quickly gathering and twisting back her unruly chestnut hair with a leather thong, she reached back with both arms and slid on her uniform jacket with a practiced move as she stood up, calling for her steward.

“Samuels! Where is that creature? Light along there and ask the good Doctor if she will join me for a cup of coffee on deck.” The inaptly named Temperance Samuels, whose grim visage and dour demeanor had earned her the epithet of “Old Temper” from the hands answered with her usual aggrieved mumble – “Your coffee has been getting cold, ma’m, which it’s four bells already and the Doctor is already having her morning swim.”

“Well, just bring it up.” Isobel headed up the stairs and out onto the quarterdeck, just in time to see Maria Domenova, Ship’s Surgeon clambering up the ladder at the waist. The morning sun was just beginning to burn off the heavy mist of the night before, and the Doctor’s dark hair released glistening droplets of water as she shook her head and began to towel off. “The water is wonderfully warm here, ma belle – and from all appearances, the island is a absolute jewel. It seems a pity that it has no inhabitants.”

“I am sorry about that, Domina – we shall have to see if we can’t stop in Tahiti or Melanesia on the way back, so that you will have a chance to make a study of the natives there.” Isobel raised a fond eyebrow at her friend as she passed over a small china cup and saucer. "I am sure that such a visit would produce a sufficiently learned treatise that would convince the Royal Geographic Society of the worthiness of your project."

“I am not merely making a “study” of them, ma belle!” There was a mild exasperation in Maria’s voice, “It is important that we Europeans understand native society and attitudes before we -” But the latest diatribe was interrupted by a cry from the rigging, as First Lieutenant Stafford rushed up with a hurried salute. “Captain! There’s something you need to see . . .”

Captain Isobel DeRainault · Good Joined: 20 Jan 2004 Posts: 94 Location: HMS Justice

Captain’s Log, HMS Justice – Moahu, South Pacific – January 29, 17--

Repairs on the mizzenmast have been completed, as of three bells in the afternoon watch.
Re-watering and provision of green stuff is scheduled to occur following dinner. Some concern that heavy fog and mist in the vicinity may make navigation difficult upon departure. Sailing Master Henry Baker has been consulted as to the likely duration of these weather conditions.

From the Personal Log of Captain Isobel Anne DeRainault, January 29, 17--

I am much disturbed by the mysterious fog bank that has settled around the ship. Its presence amidst the sunny and mild weather of the island itself is uncanny, and has caused concern amongst the crew. Naturally, sailors are a suspicious lot, but my consultation with Master Baker has left me troubled, as this phenomenon is unlike anything he has seen or heard. Extending across the entire horizon, from sea to sky, the bank obscures everything beyond it. I have allotted a further day to provisioning, and we will then rest on Sunday, in the hope that it will lift. If there is no change, I am contemplating sending out a boat to investigate further, as I mislike the idea of proceeding blind.

***

From the quarterdeck, Isobel DeRainault watched as the boat approached, heavily laden with lemons, bananas and other fruit. Third Lieutenant Erickson sat stiffly in the bow, looking both young and earnest, while Doctor Domenova, crowned with a large, flat straw hat, leaned forward at the stern, peering into the water. Coming aboard, the Lieutenant was complimented on her fine work and dispatched to oversee storage of the green stuff, while a slight disturbance of the rigging overhead indicated the presence of Lethargy, swinging down to greet his mistress’ return and curling himself around the big straw hat.

“Was your exploration of the island successful, Doctor?” The Captain’s voice was cheerful, but the underlying note of concern betrayed the true purpose of her inquiry, which the Doctor answered directly. “I’m afraid that your mysterious curtain of mist extends all the way round the other side, my dear.” Maria’s voice was low, and somewhat regretful “After all, it is not a very large island.”

At this, Isobel’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she shook her head slightly. “Well, it could be worse, I suppose. At least the island seems to have decent supplies of fruit and water, and our stores are sufficient for the time being. Still, I can’t wait the weather out indefinitely, and the crew is getting restless. I’ll give it another day, and then take out a boat. It’s just – all of this feels *wrong*, somehow.”

“Humph. *I* think you worry too much.” The tone was teasing, but the Doctor’s eyes radiated gentle concern for her friend. “Try not to concern yourself too much, ma belle. You’ll find a solution in the end.”

“Well, if I could figure out what to do when close-hauled on the port tack, beating up-channel with a nor’ easterly wind blowing hard, Dover bearing north two miles and the wind about to veer four points and to take me flat aback…” Maria rolled her eyes at the resurrection of this hoary chestnut of a naval problem. Isobel grinned. “…I suppose I can figure this one out.”

Captain Isobel DeRainault · Good Joined: 20 Jan 2004 Posts: 94 Location: HMS Justice

Captain’s Log, HMS Justice – Moahu, South Pacific – January 31, 17--

Weather conditions unchanged. Following consultation with officers, I have decided to lead a boat containing Second Lieutenant Staves, Doctor Domenova and various crew members to observe the phenomenon at close range. Bearing in mind that this may be some enemy gambit or pirate’s trick, I have left First Lieutenant Stafford with orders of how to proceed in the event of our death, capture or extended absence.

***

Noise and movement stilled as the Captain appeared on deck. Dressed in full uniform, with sword and pistols at the ready, she was a stern and fearsome sight. “Mr. Stafford!”

“Aye, ma’am.” The First Lieutenant snapped to attention. Reaching into her uniform jacket, the Captain produced sealed packet. “Mr. Stafford, the ship is yours. The boat will veer north, to investigate the fogbank. Should we become distressed, we will light the flare, so that you may locate us. If we fail to signal or return within a reasonable time, you are to open these orders,” she said, gesturing to the packet “and proceed with the mission.”

Leaning in closer, Isobel added in a low voice. “As well as that, Stafford, I’m concerned that this may be some kind of trap, so be on your guard. Do not hesitate to engage any enemy vessels you sight, and be sure to detain and thoroughly question any castaways that may ‘conveniently’ appear.” Settling a rather magnificent three-cornered hat on her head, she added, “Oh, and be sure to practice the gun crews – I’m concerned that we’re taking too long to load and fire, and I want to be sure the ship is ready for action.”

“Boat ready, ma’am!” Approaching, Second Lieutenant Staves saluted. “Good. Lieutenant Staves, see us off. Hay, Rodgers, Brewer, Simpson and Habakkuk, with me. Doctor, if you will?” Armed sailors boarded the boat in an orderly fashion, coiling rope and taking their places at the oars, while the Doctor tucked her small surgery kit in the stern.

As call of “Boat away!” faded behind them, the only sound the small group could hear was the soft plash of the oars as their vessel neared the edge of the fog bank. Then, with a sudden thud, they ran aground.