Ch 7 - Children of Tegalupa

Failing

Damasquela is a shipping vessel. That is what she is now, but not what she was before. “Flexible” is a description sometimes used by The Captain when he speaks of his crew and his worn looking ship. It is a term that belies doubt with some types of merchants. With other, the term flexible garners trust.

Damesquela was once a great lady of the ocean. But then she went by another name. She was a ship of war; robust, sleek, and fast. For her time she was a beauty. She was a force to be feared. That was taken from her. She was dry docked and hollowed. Fitted for trade is the pun used by sailors. She is a good ship even though circumstances have been less than fair. She has experienced more in real life than most vessels will ever dream.

The country of Brazil commissioned her construction. Actual work on the boat began in the Spring of 1892. A North American company built most of Damasquela. They welded steel panels onto a steel lattice frame.

Before the boat was completed the boat was bought outright. The British Navy declared the half completed vessel The Frances Grace in 1894. Her engines were installed, connected to two screw propellers. The dual four cylinder expansion steel engines were rated for just under 20 knots. On the cruise back to the English Channel the sailors claim they took her up to twenty-two. For that time, twenty-two knots was quite a speed.

Some called her a war ship. Some thought deterrent was a more elegant term. The British Navy fitted The Frances Grace with guns. Eighteen large barrels were placed on all sides. The guns were so big it is almost impossible to imagine. They could propel large exploding bombs, much heavier than men, higher than mountains and further than the eye can see. From eighteen turrets every fifteen seconds she could blaze. Devil lady of the oceans, The Frances Grace was quite boisterous and loud. She was a good ship, full of true lines and built with a sharp eye. Her only failing was that she came into the world a decade or so too late. She was soon outdated by newer larger British battle ships.

The Frances Grace became something of an orphan. For a time she was in the Mediterranean. Then she patrolled off the coast of Sierra Leone. At one point she did a stint in the Baltic Sea. Then she was neutered. Her guns were removed. Her interior hulls were reconfigured to hold seven thousand tons of stacked crates. She was auctioned off to Portuguese traders. They painted her bright green. They baptized the new boat after The Captain’s first daughter. Damasquela rode in memory of a child lost to disease. Smallpox took the girl. Damasquela was only five.

The center of Damasquela is mostly hollow now. Decks have been pulled back so that there is a very deep hold. It is a black space that can be fully night regardless of the time of day. It is a cold space where one needs to take care. When Damasquela is coldest, a man can freeze solid in less than an hour. Bad for the vermin, but perishable goods remain perishable for a much longer time.

Something shuffles in the cold air. Steam rises off its back. In the dim light we can make out the silhouette of slouched man. He makes sounds like a pot full of dried beans being shaken and cleaned. There is the scratching sound of shuffling feet along the corrugated walk. The sound plays on metal walls and bounces. There is an echo that follows the slow movements of the man.

There is a squeal and protest as a hasp is released. Large weight grinds on rusting hinges. The clang of metal on metal bounces down the halls. The shuffling of feet continues down long hollow stairs. A single light marks the man’s movements. It is a pale shade of yellow that flickers in the man’s outstretched hand. The stairs are just visible with each tentative step. With every short stride the man sinks deeper into the darkness. It seems as if he floating in the air.

There is a clang in the hollow space as something heavy and solid bangs upon metal. The vibrations can be felt through the floors. The sound reverberates and echos until the man has counted to forty two. The light slips from fingers and disappears into the gloom. Cool steel is revealed several stories below. The light winks twice before flickering out.

The sound of fear plays with bones in the darkness: Cartilage pops. Ribs lightly squeak. The wheeze in the man’s breath insinuates that he has trouble breathing. There is a long sigh. For a time there is silence. The man holds his breath as he tames the gorilla bouncing in its cage. Metal squeaks as the man settles. He sits and waits in the deep dark hold.

There is a smell to the space that speaks blindly of freight. It is a special recipe the sailor knows well: Sawdust mixes with an assortment of fruit and leather. Alcohol seasons the mix with some bite. Machine oil and steel make the sent slightly sour. Mildew adds some pepper which seems strange in such a cold place. The organic smells of dirt and animals complete the blend.

Something changes in the space where there was only blackness. Either eyes adapt to nothing or a pale light has invaded the gloom. The boxes described in sound now stand stacked to the ceiling four stories high. They rise up like the columns of Didyma or some other ancient ruins. There are prayers that need saying. There are penances to pay. Sacrifices will be made in tribute to silent hidden gods.

The descending man’s hands shake as he reaches for the railing. Slowly he pulls up so that he once again stands up straight. He chews on a thumb then steadily regains his descent. Upright he moves. There is a purpose to his step. The man enters the growing light. Now we can see his face. Tierno is the name. We have seen him before. Stairs shudder slightly with the man’s last tentative step. With a healthy thud, the man’s foot touches Damesquela’s bottom metal floor.

Out of the murk emerges a brief star. It is a firebug of red and yellow that lasts just for a moment. It is the small pinprick of a cigarette firing up as a man inhales deeply. The light that flares is orange and strange. It reveals the thin gaunt face of a wiry painfully thin man. His cheeks become hollow and his jaw line grows tight. The next deep inhale of smoke fills the man’s lungs. Bones move and muscles stretch underneath a layer of paper thin skin.

So thin is the figure one might wonder if he is really alive. Tierno stands still as the thin man steps forth. The eyes of The Thin Man stare out from two cavernous holes. Despite the frigid temperature, the man is lightly clothed. He stands taller than Tierno. In fact The Thin Man stands taller than most men. His posture seems almost weightless. The man’s arms are tightly twisted with tendrils of veins. The musculature of the man is rigid. He seems ready to explode.

Flowing down the left arm are coiled flowing lines. They roll and overlap to form exquisite designs. As the man reaches for his cigarette his arm turns in the strange light. The rolling lines branch out like rivers carefully rendered on a navigator’s map. The flow ends at the elbow and gives way to more angled patterns of ink. Curved becomes sharp. Thin quickly thickens. Intricate blockish lines organize into strange geometric patterns. These cascade down to the man’s wrist.

There is an artisanship to what has been presented. Parts are organic. Parts appear as if they could have been rendered by a machine. Every inch of skin on the man’s left arm to the wrist is covered. Everything that is, except for one space. There is a diamond area between the left elbow and shoulder. We can see this on the back of the arm. The diameter of a thumb, an index finger in length, the diamond shape is cold and white. It shines in contrast to the intricate designs. Everything else has been rendered in varying shades of blue.

Tierno meets the gaze of The Thin Man. A slow smile emerges on his long face. It grows to a point that is impossibly wide. A voice emerges that is growling and low, “We are not communicating very well, you and I. I am certain that my instructions to you were quite clear.”

Time passes in nervous silence. The Tall Man does not move or say another word. Tierno’s voice finally cracks with a stuttered beginning that eventually moves on at a desperate speed, “I did what you asked. I pushed the man over the side of the ship.”

The Tall Man pauses for a long moment before he responds, “You must have misunderstood my words. Kill was the key to your actions. This was the one thing I wanted you to understand. Kill the man is what I asked for. On that point I do not believe I could have been more precise.”

Tierno’s words pour out. He frantically tries to defend, “He went over the edge. I saw it with my own eyes. There is no reasonable way that the man could have endured such a thing!”

“Your eyes were not alone. Other people saw. The First Mate still breathes. Point of fact Tierno, you did not kill. So sir, what did you actually do?”

Tierno rises up with what confidence he can muster, “I touched Caird with the jewel. I did that just like you asked.”
“That is incidental. It only provides me with a way in.”

Tierno focussed on these words not understanding their true meaning. Tierno reaches for something that he hopes will save his life, “Caird will be scared now. He won’t interfere.”

The Thin Man is quiet for a long moment. Is he thinking or is he simply adding drama to the plot? “Fear won’t stop him. Not with the girl and that ragged old man. They will push him even when he cries to quit. No. I needed the first mate. I needed him dead. He is a door. Scared is not dead. Scared is not dead! Only dead is dead. Do you understand?”

There is a time when all men know that they have been bested. Some roll over accepting what has happened. Some push forward regardless of what is in their way. Too much to lose. Too deep already. Tierno swallows the lump in his throat while praying that his voice will stay strong, “I can finish the job when the doctor turns in for the night. The First Mate will be alone and helpless. I will use my hands if I can’t find a knife.”

“You would do this for me?” The Thin Man’s voice is silky and sweet.

“I will abide by our agreement. I will finish the task.”

The crash that fills the room is as subtle as a lightning strike. The impact is strong enough to rattle beams and raise dust. Something heavy impacts. Wooden cartons fracture and crack. Shadows shifts behind the Thin Man. He never flinches or blinks, “It makes no difference now what you had hoped. The time for killing that man has come and past. The door that he represented is now closed to us. Tierno, thank you. Thank you so much.”

There is a moment of stunned silence that plays out on Tierno’s face. Terror is replaced by shock. This is followed by a shimmering moment of hope. The smile disappears and the face begins to sink. The icy fingers of dread seep in. Fear creates a tremor that spreads from hands to lips. The voice of Tierno stutters as he speaks. “D Don Don’t! Don’t do what you said you would do! This is not right! I did what you asked. How could I know he would be brought back? I can still finish the job if you give me just a little more time.”

The voice of The Thin Man is now something quite large. It booms to the rafters. It echoes darkly between the walls, “I can’t talk to you if you won’t listen. Like I am a parent and you are a child, you won’t listen to me at all. How can I explain things, if you persistently refuse to understand? I can’t give you what I don’t have. The door is closed. It will never open again.”

“There are innocents involved in this. Please, let them be. Alseo! Spare my wife and child. What have they ever done to you?”

“The bitch stole from me!” The Thin Man screams, “She stole from me! Do you understand? Life is what I need now. The one that I wanted is not here. The life that I needed I can no longer use. Where does that leave me? What did you do? I told you what would happen if you failed to perform. Now, terms are unacceptable? Now, you think I am unfair? You should have negotiated better terms before you agreed to take the job.”

There is a pause in the air. Tierno looks for the courage to run. His feet fail to cooperate. His bladder decides to let go.
Alseo steps forward. His words placate instead of condemn, “Tierno, I’m not the one who failed. What else would you have me do? Enough of this quibbling. It is time to say hello.”

Behind The Thin Man shadows continue to shift. Simple lines that form the profile of boxes begin to stretch and change. Straight lines within the shadows deform and grow long. Lines begin to fracture then turn inside out. Straight becomes curved or twisted in strange ways. Dull begins to sharpen until it is pointed on the end.

Just a shadow inside of a shadow, we can tell ourselves that is all we see. What has formed resembles a very long hand. The hand is not human in any kind of way. It is as angular and as angry as a hand could ever be. The fingers are long, pointed, and twisted into claws. There are four digits instead of the regular five. If the hand itself is a meter long, then the owner should stand as tall as six?

What steps from the shadows looks more like a tree. It is square and squat instead of tall and thin. Upon the thickly formed torso extend some strangely short arms. Upon these, the claws, that we first noticed, are securely attached.

Tireno stands shaking as the strange creature approaches. Easily twice as tall, the thing smells like wet earth and rot. The oddest thing about this monster is the texture of its skin. Black on black, the creature is more hinted at than easy to see.

Tierno stands there locked and gaping. A tear travels down once cheek. “It’s not right!” he half whispers as a dark shadow delicately caresses his neck.

A voice responds to Tierno’s complaint from somewhere in the dark. It is the voice of The Thin Man, yet it has changed. The delivery rumbles deeply and softly through the air, “It’s not right. Now you see. This is exactly how I feel.”

The man finds his courage and rallies for a fight. He bunches his muscles and struggles to get away. “This is evil. This can’t be real. I’m a good man. Why me?”

The death messy. The movements of the beast are swift. Buried away in the frozen center of the ship, only the heavens can hear the Tierno’s screams.