Cobb stood on the quarterdeck, near the helmsman, watching closely as he navigated them through the scattered remnants. Sailors lined the rail watching for any sign that one of the sunken vessels had been the Endurance. The ominous glow of the lookouts’ lanterns drew a pale-yellow circle around the Valor, illuminating debris and floating corpses alike. Grim observations overheard from the sailors set Cobb’s teeth on edge and his temper flared short.
“It’s bad luck, looking at the dead like this and at night too,” a sailor grumbled.
“Just be watching for any sign of the Endurance. It’s likely this was Pike, trying to do his best Captain Grimes impression and falling far short. Keep looking.” Cobb snapped.
“That, or the Endurance will be sailing up our asses while we hold out lights in the dark for the whole world to see,” the reply came in a low grumble.
Cobb gritted his teeth, trying to suppress a flare of rage and failing. His temples were throbbing, and his throat felt dry. A constant, nagging strain had plagued him from the moment he had turned the crew against Grimes and that idiot Shelton. Every moment he felt threatened that they would now turn on him and end his tenuously held leadership. Hearing grumblings as they moved through the wreckage had sent his blood into a fury. If they turned on him now, he would only be known as a failed mutineer, a cautionary tale for wide eyed midshipmen to hear aboard their first assignment. The thought of infamy was unbearable and the fear of it drove Cobb mad with determination to regain control of his destiny. If he could silence Lieutenant Pike, whatever he reported back to London would become fact in the eyes of the admiralty and crown. Maybe he could even gain a promotion. But everything hinged on him surviving and not Pike.
Convincing the senior members of the crew to his cause had been simple enough after the batteries in Kingston had fired on the fleet. With Captain Grimes too weak to stop him and Lieutenant Shelton too inexperienced to realize what was occurring until it was too late, Cobb turned the crew and took command of the ship with ease. He’d dealt with the only dissenters shortly after tossing Grimes and Shelton overboard, by noose and pistol shot, he’d whittled through any on board who would defy him. But a lingering feeling haunted his every step, a pressing paranoia that squeezed in on him relentlessly and caused him to look suspiciously on every man aboard, second guessing everything and everyone.
“This one’s alive!” a lookout called back from the rail on the bow. Cobb ran to the rail, looking at where the man was pointing. In the dim lantern light, Cobb could see a man in ragged clothing floating atop a section of broken deck timbers. The pale-yellow light glittered off the rippling water where the floating survivor raised a hand, shielding his eyes from the lanterns as they approached closer.
“Get a lifeline out to that shark bait!” Cobb shouted, sending the crewmen scrambling. A line was thrown out, falling onto the surface of the water just out of the man’s reach. He seemed aware of its impact, but unable or unwilling to depart the small floating platform to reach for salvation. Cobb gritted his teeth, “We should leave this sorry sack for the elements, he won’t last another day bobbing about,” then he turned to the crew preparing to throw the lifeline again. “One of you is going to have to go get him, he’s likely too weak to hang on.”
“Should we lower a longboat?” a sailor asked as Cobb brushed past them toward the helm.
“There’s no time for that. But since you’re so eager to find a better option, take two with you and you go. Drag him to the ship and you boys hoist him up, once we have him on deck, I want to make sail, far away from here.” Cobb grunted, his temperament growing fouler and more urgent with every passing moment.
Three sailors climbed down the side of the Valor to retrieve the stranded survivor, easing themselves gingerly into the dark waters. One by one they slipped from the side of the ship and stroked their way through the circle of dim light put off by a few lanterns being held over the rail. Above on deck the crew watched in anticipation, both eager to see their shipmates return with the rescue and to vacate the eerie battle scene floating amongst the sea. Cobb gripped his weary fingers against the wood of the rail, tense to see results so they could escape the unsettling scene. Sailors were the worst kind of superstitious creatures and sending three men off the ship into a scattered field of debris and corpses from a recent battle was about as unlucky of a situation as any sailor could think of. The crewmen aboard were already grumbling about it.
Cobb watched while they made their way out to the flotsam barely holding the marooned man out of the clasp of the deep. An utterance of conversation could be heard, no doubt they were trying to convince the man to swim back with them, to no avail it appeared. They were lingering off the ship far too long for Cobb’s preference.
“Just drag him back, planks and all you dogs! We need to be making sail!” Cobb
