On Chinese New Year, wait, no it was another new Year, my there are so many nowadays, they come tumbling into the world, each in search of the universal truth, that this is a time to cleanse yourself, your life, of old ways, old happenings.
Be renewed each New Year begs. Come, gather around the rising sun, open your arms to the cleansing cycle of life, take this opportunity to be reborn, like the unfurling of a fern frond, like the unravelling of a marigold bud for tea, we are this moment reawaken.
We stand together as the sea washes the beach, all completely beside ourselves, within, with out memory, an infant of possibilities in this new moment, this new life.
So the acorn falls to the soil, so the leaf caresses the air and water feeds the soul, so I walk in this moment of this New Year of the Fire Monkey, and my tail swings desiring the acrobatics of joyful life.
Will you come with me little monkey? Will you too swing through this forest in search of golden sunlight and dancing peacocks?
It was dark as night as 11am. Thunder clouds crackled low against a tumult of waves, which crested like mountains, surging up, up, pressing so close to the clouds Caspian swore the two kissed, before the wave collapsed, and sent The Spry free falling to belly slap on the ocean's flux. Great conflicts of sea tugged at the ship's skeleton and The Spry groaned in metallic agony.
Caspian kept the prow pressing onwards, though he was lost in a bubble of water, above, below, and within the ship, washing around his boots, dripping onto his head. He placed full trust in the compass and his mutilated hands, one missing the small finger, the other the thumb and forefinger, kept tight hold of the wheel, directing The Spry westward in hope of some shelter closer to shore.
If he was lucky enough to see or sense a big wave arriving aft, he swung the wheel, powered the screaming engines, aimed at it's watery heart, and prayed.
The door to the cabin banged open and the violence of the storm sounded around Caspian in a vortex of wind and biting spray. Captain Erasmus leant his considerable weight and forced the door closed. His beige oilskin shone wet and he pulled off a blue knitted hat, wringing out a pint of sea and wiped the hat across his bald pointed scalp, then shouted above the storm. .
"Just holding." He'd been below, checking the crew, the bilges and the battening. He joined the helmsman and strained his neck to peer out the steamed window, across the poorly illuminated deck, his red beard dripping water onto the control panel.
"Another light gone?" Caspian nodded as the two were slammed into one another by a wave trying to barrel roll The Spry.
"What's 'at?" Erasmus pointed at the lifeboat, which swung and snapped against its tethers, the tarp, normally stretched tight, was flapping. Erasmus swore, "That better not come loose." The Spry reared up, riding a vertical swell like a bucking horse, the two men fought to keep their feet beneath them. As they descended the other side of the swell, Caspian caught Erasmus arm and pointed.
Someone was climbing out of the lifeboat. The dark figure was jolted about as it struggled to hold on. Erasmus swore a curse and exited, pulling the hat back onto his head, leaving the door banging. Caspian watched as the slender figure from the lifeboat was washed across the deck, arms grasping anything that might save it from the ocean. The stout figure of Erasmus, legs braced wide, leaning into the wind, his clothes streaming out behind him, marched over and grabbed the helpless man and dragged him like a sack of coal, back across the swinging deck, towards the ladder into the cabin.
Returning to the comparative safety, Erasmus dumped a young man, no more than 20 years old amid the spinning water on the cabin floor. The boy coughed and tried to catch a breath, while the gale roared in anger around the three of them, until Erasmus again forced the door closed. His hat was gone, snatched away on the thief winds and his scalp glistened with storm.
He pulled the stowaway to his feet, but the boy had no strength to hold himself against the pitching of the Spry and splashed back to the floor. He bent over, hawking like a sick dog, his stomach empty, phelgm hung around his mouth and chin.
Erasmus stepped over him and joined Caspian.
"A stowaway." He growled angrily, wringing out his beard. "We've no need of you boy." He threw the shout over his shoulder. Caspian whipped the wheel around as another wave pounded on the poop deck.
"He's one of yours." His french accent was difficult to make out over the roar of the waves, Erasmus held a hand to his ear, "One of yours." Caspian repeated and rubbed his head. Erasmus looked at the sagging figure and realised the boy had flame red hair. "One of your tribe." Caspian laughed. Erasmus kicked one of the boy's sprawling legs.
"Stowaway. You're nothing but trouble boy, brought this storm on us." The boy glared up at him, defiant green eyes glowing. Now Erasmus laughed and nudged Caspian.
"My tribe has fight, see that?" The boy twisted away and his body wretched in vain.
"Not been to sea before?" Erasmus guessed, "You need something to throw up boy." He went to open a cupboard, but Caspian stopped him.
"No, not there." He pointed to a different cubby and inside Erasmus found a bottle of brandy. It took a moment for the boy's hand to locate the bottle as the cabin span around him, but he drank long and hard, until Erasmus took the bottle back.
"That'll do." He took a swing himself and knocked the bottle against Caspian's arm, who took it and a long gulp.
"You got any money to pay passage?" Erasmus asked, he pointed at a canvas bag, strung on a leather belt across the stowaway's chest. The boy shook his head and wiped the phelgm off his face.
"Let's see shall we?" Erasmus leant down and the boy couldn't stop him taking the bag.
An empty water bottle, a wooden box, a compass, a wrap with jerky. All the boys belongings. Erasmus opened the box and a tune began to play, the Captain shut it quickly, such things have no place in a storm. He tucked it under his arm and continued to rummage in the bag.
"Which port you headed for?"
"Liverpool." The boy could hardly speak, Caspian thrust the bottle back to him and he drank again.
"Liverpool eh, a long voyage." The Frenchman said.
"I'll work." Erasmus eyebrow raised.
"Oh will you?"
"Yes." The boy's defiance appealed to the Captain, but he tolerated no rudeness and kicked the boys leg. "Sir." They all swayed to the the cabin's storm dance, while Caspian wrestled the wheel and righted the cabins equilibrium.
"What's in Liverpool?" Erasmus asked.
"Nothing, I'm going to Wales, My Mother's there." Erasmus and Caspian exchanged glances. Erasmus tapped the box.
"I'm keeping this as payment, in lieu of work, we'll see if you make Liverpool shall we?"
He open the cupboard Caspian had warned him off and the ship's cat, ensconced in a roll of blanket, hiss and spat at him, ears back, eyes wide and swiped a trail of bloodied claw marks across the back of her Captain's hand.
He swore, shut the door, gave The Frenchman a hard stare and tucked the music box away in the brandy cubby.
(For start of story see Madigan)
On Chinese New Year, wait, no it was another new Year, my there are so many nowadays, they come tumbling into the world, each in search of the universal truth, that this is a time to cleanse yourself, your life, of old ways, old happenings.