All Aboard the Fern for Gold- Chapter Four of Neighbor

All Aboard the Fern for Gold

By Sarah Witham 

October 23, 2018

“All aboard the Fern for gold!”

That’s what they were screaming, that’s what they were shouting. The last calls that day before voyage. Men were pouring aboard. It was too good to be true, surely. They’d found an island, rich in gold, dripping in it. All the good things of the Earth abounded there. It wasn’t a far trip, sailable in two weeks time. There would be so many riches there, they wouldn’t be able to haul it all back home in one go. 

That’s what they’d told them, that’s what they’d promised the men. That’s why they boarded. They kissed their wives goodbye, kissed their naked little ones goodbye, and set sail on the open waters with the captain aboard the Fern. They needed to bring the riches home. They needed to save their naked babies. They needed to pay back their debts. 

But the captain miscalculated. He hadn’t anticipated the troubled tides. He hadn’t anticipated the mists and the clouded nights and the changes in the sea salt as they neared the island. And he hadn’t anticipated the mutiny. 

Four weeks they’d been sailing. Four long weeks they’d been cramped together in the musty innards of the Fern. They had food enough for two weeks’ voyage. Three days before it ran out, they started rationing. Then came the riots. 

It wasn’t enough. They didn’t have enough food or water or space or leadership. 

“Rat!” 

“Did you hear that, Thomas?” Henry asked. They were huddled under the eaves of the cabin on top deck as lookouts. “Do you think they really found one?”

Thomas was already running across the deck and bounding down the stairs. He slipped on the putrid stairs as he ducked in the stairwell. Henry was behind him and slammed into Thomas’s back. Both men joined the chaos below. 

“Rat! Over there!” 

There was a flurry of men throwing barrels and boxes aside, running after the rat. Thomas was shoved against the wall in the madness. He shoved the man who threw him back. The scuffle was interrupted by the hoard, rushing past them toward the ship’s corner. Thomas scanned the room looking for more nooks a rat might be hiding in. 

Oh gods, a rat. This was what it’d come to. He didn’t care. He was so hungry. It was eating him alive. 

There were so many men there wasn’t space to move. There were so many men there wasn’t even space to breathe. Thomas felt his head swell and swoon. Someone behind him pushed hard against him, he turned around and shoved. The man started shouting, Thomas joined in. The man swung at Thomas and connected with his head. Thomas would have fallen with the blow, but the bodies around him kept him up. He threw his arms around the other man’s waist and dragged him to the ground. They scuffled, they hit. Thomas didn't know why they were fighting, but it felt good to take a swing at someone.

Someone picked the other man up and the whole room screamed and ran towards the other corner.

“It’s in the corner! It’s trapped!”

Thomas was still prone. He watched the scene in a daze. How long had it been since his lips tasted anything besides the bloodied, cracked skin on his own lips? 

And then there it was. A rat. A flesh and blood rat. And it was staring at him. It wasn’t pleading with him. It didn’t perceive him a threat. It barely registered that Thomas was even alive.

He barely was.

Thomas threw his body at the rat and caught it in his hands. He squeezed the rat so hard the blood burst through its skin before his teeth bit down into its flesh. Warm blood gushed across Thomas' chin and the warmth of the rat's muscle and fat in his mouth tasted sweet. Thomas tore at the rat's body only once before he felt the blow on the back of his head and the light backed away from his eyes.

The rest of the men tore at each other, ravenous for fresh meat, kicking and clawing at each other, until the rat was no longer, and Thomas' body began to get cold.

Henry resumed his position on the deck, huddled under the eaves. He was shaking from the bloody scene he'd crawled up out of. It was horrifying, this predicament. His best friend Thomas lie 15 feet below him, ripped bit by bit apart and devoured by hungry men, the piece of rat leg still in his mouth as his own leg became the feast.

Henry peered out, willing land to meet his eyes. Willing death to strike him down. Willing a storm to sink the boat. Willing anything to end this misery.

He thought he saw land, it looked a bit darker up ahead, on the horizon. He could barely see through the mist. He knew his mind was playing tricks on him. It tended to do that even more these days than it used to. Without Thomas here to keep him steady, who knew?

Henry felt sick. He looked down at his clothes, covered in blood. He told himself it was only rat blood, but it wasn't. He wiped at the spots of blood. It was Thomas' blood, and he'd been the first to take a bite.

Henry ran to the bow and spewed overboard. He threw up for so long, and so violently, it was only bile coming up for a long time, and then he was dry heaving. Blood spots formed in his face from the pressure. He sank down on his elbows and peered again into the mist, heaving from the effort of the day.

He saw it clearly now. It was land.

They'd make it to salvation.