Page 62 | Chapter 3 | The Ghost Ship | A Free Serialized Online Novel by Scott Telek

The surface of the deck was alive with sailors of every age and physical description, loading here, hauling there, securing and inspecting in haste to make ready for sail. John was shocked to see a boy of not more than fourteen among the ship’s crewmen. He was lanky and straight-backed, features seemingly frozen in defensive scowl. The boy looked at the married couple with open disdain as they stood just inside the rail. The rest of the crew raised wary eyes to the new additions on deck, most regarding the intruders with grim faces of unwelcoming fortitude. One of the men elbowed another near him, at their appearance, nodding upward toward the strangers. When the sailors raised their eyes, their faces hardened to masks of morbid determination. John, aware that the presence of he and his red-headed wife was viewed as an unfavorable sign, smiled and tried to appear pleasant, even waving to some of the rough men. What he received in return was either smirking indifference or outright scorn. He felt his throat grow dry.

If there was a commonality to all of the hands’ appearance, it was an unmistakable air of unforgiving brutality. These were rough men, considerably rougher than John had supposed, even in his most vivid fantasies. Variously tattooed, muscled, scarred, with large mustaches, beards, or unshaved chins complementing greedy, suspicious expressions, they seemed aggressively on guard against trickery and abuse. John felt a shiver of foreboding pass over him, as he placed his hand over his rising chest. His thoughts turned to the drunken men in the small boat, now being brought aboard over the shoulders of their stronger, more sober fellows, sniffed at lustily by a scruffy brown dog of indeterminate breed. John remembered what had been said in the tavern: ‘no decent man would sail on this ship.’ He began to wonder exactly who, then, would.

Stepping once more toward the rail, he glanced down at the boat, still tied at the bottom of the gangway. It looked far away, tiny and fragile. He raised his eyes to the town. Now its thorny roofs, viewed through the interlocked cords of the ship’s lines, seemed small and distant, endlessly removed, as though behind a screen of blue. John looked at the distant wharf where they had started. Even now that strange place seemed alive with the inviting warmth of nostalgia. He drew his jacket closer around him, and turned to his wife.