Landlocked 8

Jim watched the celebration from the crow’s nest, having the best time he’d had the whole night. Though he’d hated the nest in space-- it was the place farthest away from the action-- it was the closest place to space there was on Earth. It was a sanctuary from the drama of this hectic world.
He couldn’t hear what was being said on the deck, but he was still at a distance where he could read the crew’s body language. Grimsby was speaking.. at least Jim assumed so, he only flaunted like that when he spoke. The crew leaned forward with anticipation at something the “Grim Reaper”, as the crew called him, said. Jim focused his gaze on Eric. Though the youth could only  see the prince’s back, he looked far less impressed. Sable was standing back and to the prince’s left, just bored. After a few more flourishes and a half-hearted slap on the back from Eric, Grim unveiled Eric’s extremely heavy birthday present (and Jim knew. He’d had to carry it aboard, with the help of a mule and some well-placed logs).
It was a huge, stone sculpture of the prince. Jim rolled his eyes. If he knew anything, it was that the prince was not an egotist. He could care less if the thing sank to the bottom of the ocean, Jim could tell from the way Eric was leaning away from the “present”, his legs set apart in defense.
And then the Grim Reaper started on marriage again, because Eric immediately turned his back to his advisor and pretended to be otherwise occupied with a telescope.
Speaking of telescopes-- Jim looked back to the skies as a roll of thunder shook the air, lightning right on top on it. The captain had been right. Jim turned in the direction of the thunder and watched the clouds broil. Jim bit back a swear. This was bad.
“Hurricane a’comin’!” Jim yelled, his voice cracking in horror as the water suddenly reared against them. “Stand fast! Secure the rigging!” He added, feeling his training kick in. He jumped fluidly from the nest, screaming orders as he went. He was unable to reach a post himself before Sable had attached herself to him, shaking in fear.
“What the h*** is happening?” She yelled into his shirt. She clung tighter as another wave threatened to topple them. “There wasn’t any hint of a storm earlier!”
“I don’t know!” Jim yelled over the din of thunder and crashing waves. “But the captain needs every spare hand he can, so I can’t stay here!”
“WHAT?!” Sable screeched. “You are MY escort! And especially at this time--”
“I am the CAPTAIN’S apprentice!” Jim yelled back. He tied a snapped rope once around Sable and once around the main mast. “There!” He said. “You’ll be safe here until I come and get you!” and he ran off to find the captain.

How did he find out? Ariel thought in a panic as she clung to one of the shrouds, but to no avail. The wind was so strong it tore her off of the ship and threw her into the water. Scuttle was swept into the clouds, calling for her all the while. The whole storm seemed to be attacking the ship. Ariel was horrified. It was obviously her father’s doing, but why? If it was because she was there like she had originally assumed, one of her father’s royal guards would have been there to get her. She flailed her arms helplessly, trying to balance herself above the water’s surface. Then Ariel remembered what she had thought when she first heard of the ship’s scheduled route.
“They usually try to stay away from the coast,” she repeated in a weighted whisper. Her voice got louder and louder as she realized the full extent of the situation. “Don’t come near Atlantica-- probably Daddy’s doing...” Ariel remembered all the ship wrecks so near Atlantica’s borders. It was like a defense mechanism, and the hapless humans had sailed right into it. Ariel had never seen a storm of such ferocity. The humans must have not come by here for decades, so there had been no need--
An angry arrow of lightning cut the sky and hit one of the sails. The cloth burst into flame. This storm wasn’t a warning; it was shoot to kill.
“Everyone is going to die!” Ariel whispered in realization. Remembering Eric’s handsome face, she set her lips to a grim line. No. Not this time. Not if she could help it.

The lightning threw the people aboard the ship into a frenzy. Jim watched the main sail burn with growing anxiety. The captain was directing the guests to the longboats while the crew tried in vain to save the ship. He wanted to tell them not to bother, to get off before the fire caught the deck, but he knew from experience that in times of trouble you followed the captain’s orders no matter what, to prevent confusion among the crew.
“Eric!” Grim yelled as the captain pushed him to the starboard side. Jim looked about the ship briefly, seeing the prince struggling with the wheel. Jim sprinted up the steps of the quarterdeck, dodging buckets and loose cargo all the way. He slammed into the prince, pushing him off the wheel and into a very unprincely heap on the ground.
“Eric!” Jim barked, handling the wheel with obvious expertise. “Get off the ship!” Eric looked as if he’d been gut punched.
“What? No,” he gasped. “I want to help!”
“You can help by not being a burden to the crew!” Jim yelled impatiently. “They can’t save the ship and babysit you! GET OFF THE SHIP!” The prince looked hurt, but he obeyed. Jim turned his full attention to steering, cursing under his breath.
They should never have stuck so close to shore. The rocks--
“Look out!” Eric yelled. He hadn’t made it to the bottom of the steps before the ship crashed against the rocks, the force snapping the main mast and throwing the longboat into the water. The fire from the sails spread to the rest of the ship as the severed mast smashed through the spar deck to the gun deck below. Jim heard something explode. There was no saving anything now. Except maybe--
“Oh, crap.” Jim groaned, remembered a certain someone that he had tied to the mast. He jumped the stairs and skirted the burning cannons to where the duchess lay huddled on the deck, clutching what was left of the main mast like a lifeline. Jim felt his heart drop with guilt. He should have at least left her some means of escape. She could’ve -- could’ve... Jim ripped the fraying rope from the splintered wood and picked up a quivering Sable as gently as he could manage.
“You know,” he told her as he sprinted for the bulwark, “You could have just pulled the rope over the top of the mast’s stump and we wouldn’t be in this mess.” She looked up at him piteously, and he gave her a wan smile.
“Harris!” He yelled to the longboat below. “Catch!” And he threw her into the captain’s outstretched arms. He was about to jump out himself when Grim pushed to the front of the dingy, screeching “Mr. Hawkins, thank goodness! Eric! Eric’s gone back to the ship! To retrieve his thrice cursed animal! Eric! Eric!!”
Jim cursed again. What was it with this royal family and putting themselves in mortal peril? Much more of this and they would make a real cursing sailor out of him. Prince or not, if they made it out of this, he and Eric were going to have a serious--
he saw the prince throw Max overboard (the very thing he’d tried to prevent earlier) and with a sigh, Jim went to join him. Suddenly, he heard a sharp crack behind him. The crack of burning gunpowder. They had gunpowder in the hold? Jim noticed where the mast penetrated the deck and instantly knew the result.
“Eric! Eric!” He yelled, panicked, skidding to a stop at the prince’s side.
“Jim, thank God,” Eric coughed. “The deck is deteriorating by the second. My leg fell through, help me pull it out!”
“Forget pulling!” Jim gasped, picking up an axe. With a slightly labored swing, the boards around Eric’s legs fell away. Jim linked arms with Eric to keep him from falling through as well.
Eric patted Jim on the back appreciatively.
“On the count of three?” He suggested. He looked into the youth’s face. Through the soot and blood, he saw fear there for the first time. His eyes, however, were serene as he simply said,
“Three,” and tossed the prince overboard. When Eric hit the water, the boat exploded with a flurry of fireworks.