FREE LANCE

I

“You there! Use care, young lad.” When Captain Godfrey opened his mouth to give a command, the wind itself ceased to blow until the order was relayed and obeyed. “Not a scratch on that equipment unless you wish to have your beloved captain drown alongside Mr. Davey’s locker.” He ended his statement with a truly unique laugh.
It was a cackle so wretched it sent chills down Mr. Clifton’s spine. The shrill sound made the whole scene even more confounding for Mr. Clifton because the captain was so accommodating to the eyes. His hair the golden color of sand, a strong square jaw, and eyes as piercing a blue as the waters of his home: Jekyll Island, Georgia.
The hastily assembled crew worked diligently to fit the Diving Belle with her specialized equipment. A retired warship, she was a bomb ketch and a remnant of Napoleon’s imperial fleet. Launched in 1815, she sat in an auction lot for nineteen years until the captain and his brother saw it as the perfect ship. A bomb ketch had no guns. Instead, it had a large-calibre mortar installed in the center of the deck. With Captain Godfrey’s investments, she was now fitted for underwater expeditions. The large section where the mortar once sat was a perfect spot for a crane to winch divers to and from the sea.
The Diving Belle, now a science vessel, and her captain, a passionate diver, had simple intentions. A wealthy cotton trader and cousin of Captain Godfrey experienced several losses after some company vessels ran aground in the Sound. Godfrey and his brother were hired as divers to map the sea floor in Jekyll Sound to prevent further such losses.
“What an excellent day it is today, brother James. Can you feel it? Our tides are about to change.” Godfrey’s brother, also a diver, acted as Godfrey’s diving assistant.
James answered in his usual dull tone, “I still don’t agree with what you are doing, Godfrey. We were hired to do a job. Our cousins would be displeased if they were to discover your plan. You know we could use the money from this job to finance your little ‘experiment’ when we are done. Besides, the artificial air, I am not certain the formula has been correctly balanced for…”
“Relax, James!” Godfrey interrupted. “If we can confirm that our bottled air is more effective than an air supply line, we will be rich! Besides,” Godfrey leaned in toward his brother’s ear, to avoid Mr. Clifton hearing his next words, “after this expenditure, we may hardly have enough to pay the crew.”
But Mr. Clifton had heard them, and knowing how sailors get when payment is not promised, he opened his mouth to confront them. Before he could say a word, the brothers simultaneously broke into that unfortunate howl of a family laugh that gave Mr. Clifton an uneasy feeling. Like the laugh was accompanied by bad luck. Mr. Clifton shuddered and, thinking better of it, made his way to the cargo hold, the laugh echoing behind him, a laugh like a shrieking crow.

II

The anchor was weighed, and the Diving Belle was off. While more glorious ships have been launched for more glorious deeds, the crew of the Diving Belle worked for pay, not glory. They were happy to stay close to shore and pleased to stay at anchor more often than not. The days were long while the divers were underwater, but the brothers, being from a wealthy family, had never served in the military. The crew was quick to exploit their leniency, and most nights unraveled into festivities.
“Tell me, captain. Just what is it that drives a man to do what it is ye two do?” Mr. Clifton asked one night with slurred words.
“Ah!” Godfrey retorted as drunkenly as the question was asked. “Glory, my dear fellow! My brother and I are walking into the history books as we speak.” He paused to grab his brother’s arm. “We are just walking underwater, that’s all!” James hesitated before giving in to his brother with a crooked smile. They started up their ear-splitting cackle, filling the small dining room with chills. “Why, Mr. Clifton? Do you disagree with science? Do you disagree with progress?”
“Aye, sir. I am a God-fearing man, but ye hired me, sir.” He answered with the confidence of an experienced sailor. “Which means ye can do as ye wish, as by rights. It is ye ship, paid in full by ye coffers, Mr. Godfrey. It just feels unnatural, like, ye know, like a bad omen. If ye ask me, sir, the only sailors who should be on the sea floor are the ones who will never walk home.”
The brothers allowed themselves another horrific bout of cackling before Godfrey slammed his open palm on the table. The silverware still rattling as he spoke, “You want to know of unnatural, Mr. Clifton? You would be wise to hold your tongue in matters which you know nothing!” The mixture of Godfrey’s anger and his brother’s queer laugh shrouded the room in an eerie darkness. “Divers themselves are unnatural. They face the unnatural head-on! Tell me, Mr. Clifton, have you ever heard of the Kraken?”
“Well, yes, sir, I have, but that be a sailor’s story, not a submariner’s,” the ship’s coxswain stammered. His confidence shook.
“Not when the sailor walks willingly into its home! I tell you, Mr. Clifton.” Godfrey emphasized each syllable of the name. “Many a diver has been lost to the deep, and all divers volunteer to be condemned! They know the last thing they may hear when the Kraken attacks is a quick SLAP,” Godfrey’s hand dominated the table once again as he rose with a wobble to his feet, “and the SHUCK of the great beast’s tentacles as it tears you, limb from limb.” He balled his hands into fists and shook them until he collapsed with a laugh back into his chair.
Mr. Clifton shifted uncomfortably in his seat and poured himself another drink. He knew when he had been beaten.

III

“Ho there!” Mr. Clifton gave the order to the crane operator. James was suspended in the air in his experimental diving suit. Glittering droplets of the Atlantic coast returned to their home in haste. “Bring him in, gentlemen.” Mr. Clifton’s next command prompted the line tenders to pull James and his heavy suit over the deck.
James had been pawing at his helmet fasteners since he was lifted from the water. Seeing that something was wrong, the crew hurried to lower him onto his special seat and started the unsuiting procedures immediately. As soon as the helmet seal broke, James fell to his hands and knees, coughing. With each heaving movement of his back, he spurted blood from his lungs onto the deck.
“By God, Mr. James, are you alright?” Mr. Clifton asked.
James recovered himself and nodded. “Yes, Mr. Clifton.” His eyes had a crooked look that matched his smile, and his cracked lips were adorned with black blood. “No need to worry for me. Please retrieve my brother at your earliest convenience.” James looked at the blood on his fingertips and hesitated before thinking out loud, “The mixture is off still. Must be some adverse effects.”
Mr. Clifton raised an eyebrow. He had noticed a change in James. He spoke more, laughed longer, and lately, wore that long, empty stare. Mr. Clifton shook his head. He was hired for a job. He didn’t need to know either of the brothers or even understand them.
Shhhhhuck!
A chill ran down the boat coxswain’s back as he turned around. Captain Godfrey had just been pulled from the water. He stepped swiftly to the other side of the deck so he could pay his full attention to the retrieval of the diver.
“What is the matter with you, Mr. Clifton!?” Godfrey was still suspended in the air, but his voice could be heard from inside his helmet. The crew exchanged looks, dreading the moment when they would break the seal. Godfrey had been getting more and more violent as the job lingered on. Mr. Clifton briefly considered lowering him back into the water, if only to see the Kraken with his own eyes.
“For goodness’ sake, Mr. Clifton.” Godfrey’s helmet was now off, and explanations were due. “I was down there much longer than needed. I could have run out of air! What was so necessary it demanded the neglect of your Captain?”
“Your brother, sir. He was ill. There was blood, you see.” Mr. Clifton replied.
“Nonsense.” Godfrey waved a gloved hand to dismiss the old sailor, and he shifted in his seat to face James. “All good, chap?”
James was halfway out of his suit by now, and his blood-soaked clothes had been discarded. He gave his brother a dismissive wave without looking back.
“You see, sir.” Godfrey continued to complain as the crew stripped him of his equipment. “Not a scratch on the man. If you are going to overreact with every drop of blood you see, Mr. Clifton, then maybe I did hire the wrong coxswain.” His cackle pierced the open air once again.
Mr. Clifton rolled his eyes and returned to his work. Aside from a few disagreements and a couple of personal insults, the expedition was, overall, a good job.
“Attention, everyone, attention!” Godfrey was now mostly out of his suit. “I would like to let you all know that, by my calculations, we are approximately four days ahead of schedule.” The crew gave a hearty cheer. Godfrey waved his hand. He wasn’t finished. “For your extraordinary efforts, I am extending a day off to all crew.”
“Three cheers for the captain, gentlemen,” Mr. Clifton shouted and a jolly “Hip, hip,” was followed by a triumphant “Hurrah!”
That night, the celebration was a combination of efforts and talents. The hold was raided for fresh fruit and candied nuts served with a fine selection of dried meats. The ship’s finest wine was uncased, and a fiddle was produced. The men filled the night with joy, singing and dancing till the wee hours.

IV

Mr. Clifton snorted, then burped hard enough to wake himself. He blinked and took a long breath, trying to focus on the stars above. Now that he was awake, he had to relieve himself badly. Weary-eyed and groggy, he rolled out from under the ship’s dog and made his way to the bow. He slung his arm around a taut line and closed his eyes. The sound of cascading water echoed through the still night. Not a thing stirred after that celebration.
Shhhhhuck!
Mr. Clifton’s eyes opened wide as saucers at the sound. Were they night diving?
Slap!
Mr. Clifton tilted his head. That sound was new.
Shuck!
There it was again.
Slap!
Was it getting quicker? Closer?
Shuck!
Mr. Clifton stuffed the rest of himself into his trousers and turned to observe the deck. He was trembling now and hanging onto the line for his life. The deck of the old ship was deserted. Only a light fog lingered across the polished planks.
Slap!
It was coming from the stern. Had something gotten onto the ship? Through the portholes?
Shuck!
Mr. Clifton climbed back onto the deck, “Captain Godfrey would know what to do.” He thought to himself. Despite their differences, he was the most valiant, unless… “He is volatile at times.”
Mr. Clifton tried to reason with himself as he sorted the thoughts in his foggy head. “He is a gentleman, he would never.” Clifton wagered on the possibilities of a sea monster over a madman. He had witnessed many peculiar things in the far reaches of this world.
The rigging creaked along with the ship’s roll as he crossed the deck cautiously, but still. Not a soul stirred. Mr. Clifton looked up toward the tiller. There was no one on watch. He guessed that Captain Godfrey had given them all the night off, for tonight, the only presence at the helm was moonlight.
He reached for the door handle to the captain’s quarters but recoiled at the feeling of something unusual. A thick, dark slime was covering the brass knob. He rubbed it between his fingers. It was sticky and “Warm?” He whispered as he held it to his nose, but all he could smell was the brine of the sea.
SLAP!
Mr. Clifton’s head snapped up so fast he felt like a criminal at the end of the gallows pull. The sound was coming from inside the cabin. He wondered again if Godfrey had lost his mind. “Wait,” he thought. “James will know what to do, no matter the case.”
Shuck!
As if the beast had decided for him, he stepped back from the door and made for the other side of the ship. Relieved with his clever thinking, Mr. Clifton confidently opened the door and pushed into the room where a single lamp swung on a hook.
The scene was that of a mad butcher. Limbs were strewn about the cabin. An arm sprawled across a dresser; a detached foot stood on the dining table; in the corner, a head rested comfortably in a lounge chair, its mouth frozen open in a silent scream. The crew had been dismembered. The Kraken was real. The Kraken was here.
It was too late. Mr. Clifton was already too far into the room. His heart pounded in his chest as he held his breath and listened for the sound of slithering tentacles. He muttered the prayers his mother taught him, certain of his damnation until… he heard it.
That cackle. That terrifying cackle that could split a chalkboard in two.
“Captain?” Mr. Clifton called out. “Mr. James?”
The cackling grew in volume as the lamp swung like a metronome, counting time to the horrific laugh. A metallic clinking rumbled from the dark, and Mr. Clifton squinted into the shadows. “Mr. James, it’s your brother, he, he is ill. He needs your help.”
The shrieking monster continued to laugh as something dark was lobbed from within the room. Mr. Clifton jumped as he caught the projectile. It was heavy and it was wet. He turned the object around to discover another head. With a shout, Mr. Clifton reeled back against the wall, dropping the decapitated extremity. The ship rocked again, and it was then that Mr. Clifton recognized the handsome square jaw of Captain Godfrey, his cold blue eyes staring back at him, bound in eternal shock.
The shrill laugh was interrupted by James’ voice, “It would seem like tonight, Mr. Clifton, we have both walked into the unnatural.” The laugh started again as light reflected off something in the dark, but the coxswain was not quick enough.
SLAP!
The axe head drove directly into the center of his chest.
SHHHHHUCK!
Mr. James pulled the axe head from Mr. Clifton’s chest and reached back for another swing.

END