Voyage of the Basilisk : A Memoir by Lady Trent (9781429956369) (5 page)

“It is not breath,” he agreed. “We have killed sea-serpents before, and in their stomachs, we find water. But only in the south. Is this because they are different?” He shrugged. “Perhaps it is only because the water in the north is colder.”

This was precisely my theory: that the variation in behaviour was due to environment, not species difference. Filling one’s stomach with icy arctic water would be a tremendous shock to the system. But that did not prove migration one way or another; for that, we would need better observation of the creatures themselves.

Achieving this was no easy matter. We had no difficulty finding the serpents; among our equipment was a set of very good telescopes, and during those first weeks Tom and I spent hours staring through them, our hands going cold inside our gloves, watching the great coils rise and fall through the chill blue waters of those northern waves. The men in the rigging soon developed a habit of bellowing down to us any time they spotted one—which became tedious when we were engaged in other, more pressing work. But that was in movement, at a distance, and we only ever saw bits at a time. This was the sort of data upon which the current theories had been founded, and it was not enough. To establish anything for certain, we needed to do as we had done before: hunt one of the creatures, like mariners out of a tale.

THREE

Luring serpents—Sharks—The battle is joined—Seaborne dissection—Jake and the head—Pronouns—I consider taxonomy

Much like sharks, sea-serpents can be attracted with chum. To do so is a risky business, however, if there is more than one serpent in the neighbourhood.

We had to choose our spot carefully, in waters that, according to the Svaltansk sailors we questioned, were less haunted by the beasts. This meant it took us several attempts to attract our prey, but it was a sacrifice all were willing to make, if it meant not attracting four at once.

The sailors took in fish, chopped them up, and filled a tarpaulin with the stinking results, which the jolly-boat carried some distance away before tipping it over the side. Then those aboard rowed with all haste back to the
Basilisk,
for the entire purpose of that part of the exercise was to make sure the bait was not too close to the ship. This having been done, several lookouts were posted in the rigging to scan the waves for coils, telltale wakes, or dark shadows moving beneath the surface.

The first three times we did this, our watch was fruitless. Countless other predators and scavengers came to enjoy the bounty—and in fact they, not the fish, were our true bait, for while sea-serpents will swallow any meat they can get, no matter how small, they prefer to eat larger creatures such as arctic sharks. Despite the lure, however, we saw nothing draconic in the water.

Our effort was not entirely wasted, for the hides or meat or teeth of various predators will fetch a good price in the right places. We had a good hunt of our own. I keenly felt the need for our expedition to turn a profit whenever possible, though. Much discouraged, I told the captain we should abandon the effort and move on; but he was not a man who abandoned anything without great cause. He insisted on trying once more.

The day was a bright one, the sky an intense blue that only seems possible at sea. The air for once was warm enough that I was prepared to call it “bracing,” instead of complaining that I could not feel my fingers. We caught and butchered our fish, cast our bait, and waited.

A few sharks became embroiled in a conflict over the bounty. One was enormous—surely at least six meters in length—but even slower than most of his breed, and two others were attempting to take advantage of that fact. Their quarrel drifted toward the port side of the
Basilisk,
and many of us were engaged in watching the fight. Jake, who had permission to remain topside until a serpent was sighted, was standing on a crate with one hand wrapped tight around the rigging, observing the whole thing with eyes so wide, you half-expected his eyeballs to fall right out of their sockets. “Mama,” he called out to me, “is that the biggest shark in the world?”

Even when one wishes to foster intellectual curiosity in one’s offspring, it can be vexing to be asked a question to which one hasn’t the faintest clue of an answer. I was racking my brains for what I knew of shark breeds when a frantic bellow came from above:
“Port beam!”

Perhaps the lookouts had been distracted by the fight. They later claimed, and I believed them, that the fault was not with their vigilance, but with the serpent, who came up from deep waters completely without warning. Directly off to our left—which is what “port beam” means—a shadow came surging upward. The sharks attempted to scatter, but they are not quick beasts; an instant later, one was in the serpent’s jaws.

This was entirely too close to the ship for comfort. The men had their guns and harpoons ready, and began to fire. “Jake, get down,” I said, reaching up for him. “You must go below,
now
.” I did not fear him toppling overboard, for his grip upon the ropes was firm; but with that many firearms about, it was much too easy to imagine a bullet going astray.

Abby joined me, and together we got him down (though not without many protests) and headed for safety. I was climbing to the poop deck for a better view when the guns fell silent, and I turned to see what had happened.

The waves off our port beam were sloshing restlessly, but there was no sign of the serpent.

Aekinitos was a few feet away, standing next to the helmsman, Mr. Forde. “Has it fled?” I asked him—and then I had my answer.

The ship
staggered
to one side. I have no better word for it; the entire frame lurched, quite out of its usual motion. The men shouted, and a few more fired shots. Aekinitos bellowed for them to hold fire. The serpent had struck us below the waterline; on the lower decks, men raced to stop the leaks that began spraying water into the hold. Silence fell again, ragged and broken by the occasional call. Guns in hand, the crew scattered to the railings on both sides, looking for their target.

“Two points off the starboard bow!” came the cry, and Aekinitos bellowed again for his men to hold. He knew the behaviour of sea-serpents well; an instant later the creature was curving around our bow and back to port, and had the men all rushed to shoot at where it had been, they would have missed where it was. More gunfire, but no one had yet gotten a clear shot with the harpoons, and only those can be trusted to penetrate a sea-serpent’s tough hide deeply enough to do it any true harm.

All bullets generally do is anger the creature.

Sailors tell exaggerated tales. So far as I have seen, this is true the world over; and so one easily grows into the habit of discounting anything one hears from a sailor as being more than the reality. A four-meter shark becomes six, or eight. A bad storm becomes a hurricane. A narwhal sunning itself on a rock becomes a beautiful maiden combing her hair.

I am not a sailor, and I tell you with utter and scientific honesty: a sea-serpent can and will come hurtling up out of the sea like a geyser, just as the stories say, a column of grey-blue scales five, ten, fifteen meters high, streaming water from its length—and then curve itself midair so that when it falls, its head enters the water on the far side of its prey.

The lighter ropes of the rigging snapped like twine. The great stays that held the masts, cables as thick around as my arm, gave it more trouble. The serpent’s head dove between two of these and splashed into the sea once more—but stays are meant to withstand the worst storms the ocean can devise. The shining coil of body was suspended from the mainstay, sliding forward as it tightened, until halted by the foremast.

The serpent did not know what transpired above. It knew only that there was a great beast in the water, as big as the largest whale, and that the beast was the source of its wounds. Had we been hunting in southern waters, our mark might have struck us with a jet of water, and the
Basilisk
might have taken a wound from which she could not recover. But this was the icy northern sea, and the serpent therefore aimed to crush us to death.

Men rushed forward, howling. One fellow at the starboard rail put the barrel of his gun right against the serpent’s scales and pulled the trigger; gore exploded outward from the wound. Others followed Aekinitos’ shouts and concentrated their fire together, chewing ragged holes in the creature’s side. These then became targets for the men with harpoons, who hurled their spears with all the force they could muster, hoping to strike something vital within.

But all the while, the coil was tightening. The mainstay groaned in protest; then, with a dreadful tearing sound, it snapped. The serpent’s body crashed into the deck, splintering the railings on both sides. With the
Basilisk
now properly in its grip, the beast settled in to crush us.

The one advantage was that the serpent’s body was now within better reach. With cutlasses, a few of the men hacked away enough scales to make a good opening. Then, roaring, a knot of sailors threw their weight behind a harpoon, driving the point deep into the creature’s side.

It reached vital organs, and the serpent spasmed. The movement nearly threw Tom off its back, for he, along with two others, was climbing atop the coil. They too had cutlasses, and began chopping with desperate ferocity at the scales. Blood and bits of scale flew, while the decking below creaked and bent. Their blades finally exposed their target: the creature’s spine.

By then the beast was trying to escape. Its length slithered across the deck, doing more damage as it went; two of the men atop it lost their balance and fell. Tom, the last of the three, followed a moment later—but his cutlass did not. It remained lodged in between the vertebrae, and when the serpent slipped free of the
Basilisk,
it was apparent that the front half was dragging the dead weight of the back.

Though it still moved, the serpent was finished. Half-paralyzed, a harpoon in its vitals, and bleeding from the great rents in its sides, it tried to swim away, but soon it floated lifeless atop the waves.

*   *   *

And what did I do, while this epic battle raged?

I crouched in front of the helm and took notes. Not on the fighting, you understand, but the creature itself: its movement, its behaviour. It is exceedingly difficult to observe a sea-serpent at close range, and as this might be my only opportunity, I did not want to squander it. I would not have been any use in the fight regardless, as my last (and only) experience with a gun had been when I was fourteen.

In some ways I think it might have been easier had I thrown my lot in with the men after all. When one is in a fight, the hot blood of the moment overwhelms many other considerations. Watching from a slight distance as I did, with my mind set to record every detail, I could not help but be sickened by the butchery. We had dissected dragons before, but that was clinical, conducted after the beasts were dead. As for the killing itself, it had always been done neatly, with a few shots fired from a rifle. Never had it been this sort of mêlée, with swords and spears and men howling to give themselves courage. Nor, for that matter, had the lives of my companions ever been in such direct danger—as I had no doubt that, given a little time more, the serpent might have broken the
Basilisk
’s back.

All things considered, we escaped rather less scathed than we might have been. A few men had been injured by falling debris and the recoil of snapped ropes, but none of the rest suffered more than scrapes. The burst stay was a serious concern, but our mast had not been broken, nor our hull too badly ruptured. We could afford to stay for a time and enjoy the fruits of our victory.

I could also release my pent-up feelings by chastising my son. Fixed as I was upon the battle against the serpent, I did not realize until afterward that Jake had not gone below with Abby as instructed. He had instead climbed the rigging up to the “top”—the platform where the lower section of the mast met the one above. He had taken with him a knife concealed inside his shirt, which he intended to use against the serpent by diving heroically on it from above. Fortunately for both his safety and my own sanity, common sense had prevented him from following through with this plan when he saw the bloody reality below him.

He was not as much daunted by this as I should have liked, though, nor did my reprimand leave much more of a mark. Mine was not the only tongue-lashing he received, though—Abby had already delivered one, as did the sailors in the top, several of the ship’s officers, Aekinitos himself, and Tom—and in the aggregate, they did have the effect of making him promise to be more obedient in the future.

In the meanwhile, we had other tasks to which we must attend. The crew lowered the ship’s boats and used them to tow the beast back to our side, as they do with whales. We had to work quickly; already the carcass was drawing attention. Gulls flapped down to consider it, but disdained the meat after a few pecks; as with terrestrial dragons, the flesh of a sea-serpent is rather foul, owing to the chemical composition of the blood. There are scavengers in the sea, however, who do not mind its taste, and many of these came to investigate as we conducted our studies.

This at least was familiar work, although I had never before carried it out while straddling the carcass with my feet turning to ice in the sea. (I was, of course, wearing trousers, and had been since we left Sennsmouth.) I had to sit atop a piece of tough sailcloth, for the edges of the scales are viciously sharp; their serration had contributed to the destruction of the mainstay. Tom and his two allies had suffered numerous cuts, though that did not prevent him from joining me in the dissection once bandaged.

Those scales were the first focus of our interest. We had studied a few specimens donated to museums, for they are sometimes kept as items of curiosity by the sailors who kill the beasts. Without detailed information on their collection, however, those scales told us little. We hoped that by examining these closely and then comparing them against scales taken from a serpent in the tropics, we might establish more about the relation between the two. We also had the chemical equipment to try preserving a bit of bone, and extracted a vertebra for the purpose.