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-- Name : Ruler of the Raging Main 6.txt
SYNOPSIS:
It is now the year 1670 AD. Ranma Saotome, his adopted sister Ukyo,
their panda-cursed father Genma, the Amazon Warrior Shampoo, and the
Lady Akane of the House of Tendo have been taken prisoner by Portuguese
traders in the Orient. The women are to be sold as slaves to the President
of the Audencia de Panama, Don Juan Perez deGuzman, who is rumored to
have a fetish for Asian girls.
As the _Deguello_ continues its voyage north towards India, Ranma
discovers the truth behind his relationship with Ukyo, and tries to kill
his father for his deceits. Before he can end Genma's life, the ship is
attacked by a sea monster and destroyed.
Captain Cristobal dies, but not before Ranma ends up with the ring
that First Mate Manuel Delgado has long coveted. A sudden squall causes
Akane to be swept underwater, and Ranma dives after her. Despite the fact
that both of them have lungs full of seawater, neither drowns.
Neptune, the god of the seas, comes to collect the ring. He informs
Ranma that the ring is keeping them alive, and that he must either accept
the ring for himself or surrender it. Knowing that Akane will drown without
it, Ranma accepts the ring, which was created by Neptune to be a curse upon
all mariners. The ring will grant the wearer all the powers of Neptune.
It will also kill him after a year and a day.
_________________________________________________________________________
J. Austin Wilde and Fission Park Press proudly present:
RULER OF THE RAGING MAIN
Part Six: After the Squall
By J. Austin Wilde, K.B.C.S.
Super Critical Reactor Axe Man,
Fission Park Press
wildeman@psn.net
http://www.psn.net/~wildeman/
-----------------------------------------
| Previous installments are available |
| at the above listed URL, or by request. |
-----------------------------------------
________________________________________________________________________
"Great God! I'd rather be a pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on the pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn,
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea,
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn."
-Wordsworth
Chapter One
The thunderbolt's report pealed across the deck about Cristobal's
feet, driving those of his crew with lesser courage or constitution to
their knees. The sea monster writhed in mid-air above them as brilliant
fingers of plasma flickered about its scaly mass and set the rigging
alight. Acrid smoke and the tang of ozone filled the crackling air around
Manuel Delgado as he jumped for his life into the heaving sea. A terrible
wail issued from the sea monster, quickly followed by a heavy crash and
the splintering protest of the _Deguello_ as it cracked in half and
burned.
"Mister Delgado!" a voice cried over the din.
It was Father deGama, who had somehow managed to pull himself aboard
one of the longboats. The Jesuit extended an oar to him, and he grabbed
it greedily.
Delgado pulled himself into the caravel's only surviving longboat
as it bobbed adrift in the fire-stained water. Bits of timber and planking
dropped smoldering from above to splash about him. Sailors cried out in
panic as the ship's remaining masts came down with the sea monster's impact,
and splashed into the water with their tangling lines and rigging spilling
around them. He could not see what had become of Captain Cristobal, but the
man's fate seemed grimly sealed.
He watched the great green and gold beast slide into the waters
between the ruined halves of the burning ship with a slow headshake of
loss and remorse. Already a great black column of smoke rose into the late
afternoon sky. Flurries of orange embers swirled about the column, making
the air hot and foul to breathe.
"Do you see the Captain anywhere?" deGama asked quietly.
"I do not," Delgado replied. "I fear he has perished."
The Jesuit crossed himself and offered a brief prayer for Cristobal's
soul.
"It was by the grace of God alone that the sea monster was slain," he
observed.
**Yes, but which god?** Delgado thought to himself.
Two sailors, Estremoz and Olivera, swam ungracefully towards them,
begging for assistance. Delgado ignored them as they hauled themselves
aboard with aid from the Jesuit, preferring to watch the burning hulk of
the caravel as the current carried them slowly away. When he did at last
take note of the two fortunates, it was only to order them to man the oars
and get them away from the wreck before they choked on the smoke filled
air.
Other sailors begged for help, but as soon as Estremoz began to row
towards them, Delgado drew his rapier and pressed the tip of the blade to
the man's chest.
"Fool," he cursed the man. "Do you think there will be food and water
for us four, much less others?"
Estremoz nodded slowly and returned to his previous course. Olivera
pretended not to hear the pleading cries of his shipmates. He began praying
'Ave Maria' over and over again until Delgado flicked his rapier across the
man's brow with a shout for silence. After that, Olivera buried his bleeding
face in his hands and wept quietly. Father deGama held his tongue as well,
shame etched deeply into his weathered face.
Delgado's eyes burned with the same intensity as the dying ship he
watched. It was gone. He would never have the ring that Cristobal wore,
and for reasons only half understood, its loss was a wound deeper than the
loss of the _Deguello_ itself.
Finally he turned away. It was over, and other matters had to take
precedence. He faced the setting sun to get an idea of their present course.
He had a good idea of their position prior to the fatal encounter with the
sea monster, and from that position could guess a course that would take
them to the colony of Syriam, near Rangoon, and some kind of help. He
doubted they could survive a voyage to the southeastern coast of India and
the colony of Goa.
"Look, sir," Estremoz cried, breaking his train of thought.
He looked out across the rolling Andaman Sea to where the sailor
pointed. A black and white mass bobbed in the water, seemingly intent on
intercepting them. It seemed somehow familiar.
"Another s-sea monster?" Olivera gasped.
"I don't think so," Delgado found himself replying. Normally he didn't
bother to answer the questions of ignorant seamen, but in his puzzlement
forgot his haughtiness.
The thing pulled closer to them, black eyes glowing from the center of
wet black blotches of fur. Yellow teeth appeared as it growled impatiently
at them. It was the beast they had chained up in the hold.
Delgado smiled. Half of their problem was solved, for the beast would
feed them well for the voyage north. He directed Olivera to ready an oar
for bludgeoning the panda bear to death as it swam to them.
The panda swam on. Estremoz stopped rowing to let it catch up. Delgado
readied his rapier, for Olivera's blow might only enrage the beast.
"Make ready with that length of rope," he ordered Estremoz. "If you let
that beast slip beneath the waves, it will be *your* flesh that sustains us
to Burma."
Estremoz nodded rapidly. He grabbed the length of rope that lay coiled
in the boat and fashioned a quick loop. The panda growled again at them.
"Hit the beast!" Delgado yelled. The panda stopped swimming and
watched them.
Olivera swung the oar over his head. Genma grabbed the clumsy strike
in his paws and wrenched the astonished sailor out of the boat. He growled
at them as he held the oar in his paws and continued his approach.
Dumbfounded, they watched the panda bear pull itself into the boat.
Delgado considered a quick thrust with his rapier into its breast, but this
was an enigma he found fascinating enough to stay his hand. Genma threw the
oar into the boat and stared at them with his beady black eyes. Olivera, too
frightened to pull himself back into the boat, instead clung to the opposite
side as far from the panda as possible.
The chains that had once bound it to the stanchions in the Lower Hold
still hung from its limbs. The links glistened with wetness, the rust
bleeding in little orange pools in the bottom of the boat. The panda watched
Delgado's sword. It uttered a low growl at him and waited.
"What is it?" Olivera asked from the water.
The question went unanswered as Delgado, deGama, and Estremoz watched
the panda.
Though he could not explain it, to Delgado the beast's eyes seemed to
shine with reason. This was no stupid animal looking at them. As improbable
as it seemed, there was a mind behind those coal black orbs.
He lowered his sword slowly.
"Come to join us, have you?" he asked it.
Genma said nothing, for he could not understand the former Mate's words.
He did note the lowered blade, and nodded once in acknowledgement, eliciting
a gasp of astonishment from deGama and a curse of amazement from the stout
Estremoz.
"Amazing," Estremoz muttered.
"It's the Devil's work," Father deGama added, and crossed himself out
of reflex.
"Perhaps," Delgado conceded. "But the mystery of this beast will go
unanswered if we die in the midst of this sea-waste! Get rowing, Estremoz,
and haul that ass, Olivera, aboard if he still has a mind to help -otherwise
leave him for the sharks!"
"Aye aye!" Estremoz barked, eager to comply because he knew the cruel
former Mate wouldn't hesitate to run him through. He grabbed the quaking
Olivera and, with his great strength, pulled him over the gunwale. The
shivering seaman joined him at the oars and rowed, keeping his eyes averted
from Delgado.
The longboat began hauling north with Genma watching them from the
bow. They raised the single low mast and rigged the sail, knowing that
Rangoon was many days distant, and praying that enough rain would come to
fill Estremoz's battered morion helm for them to drink. The darkening
clouds on the horizon threatened an answer to their prayers.
Chapter Two
Ranma Saotome hiked further down the grassy slope of the hill. Akane
was far behind him, and that was exactly how he wanted it to be. He didn't
need her asking any more questions about the ring. This was especially so
because he could now read what was engraved upon it. The exquisitely wrought
gold script remained to him a grotesque and alien tongue, though its meaning
was inexplicably clear.
WHOSOEVER WEARS THIS RING SHALL BE THE
REGENT OF NEPTUNE, THE RULER OF THE RAGING MAIN.
His hand slipped to the golden band once again and tugged to no avail.
The ring would not come from his finger. Nor would it, he supposed, until
he was dead. There was a second option, though it was no more favorable to
him than death. He could give it to someone, and in so doing, condemn them
to the death that should have been his. He could, but in his mind that would
be the act of a backstabber, a coward. He was not a coward.
Even if he did find the werewithal to give it up, there was also his
promise to Neptune that the ring would be his at the end of a year and a
day. He did not want to cross a god, particularly one over whose domain he
must travel if he wished ever to return home to Japan. He had no doubt that
the sea-god would punish him for breaking his oath. Death would likely be
the kindest of his deserts at the hands of Neptune.
He stepped into a copse of tall cyprus and mangrove trees. Their shade
was a welcome respite from the heat of the equatorial sun. Monkeys chittered
above him as he wrestled with himself over what he should do.
Concern for Ukyo sprang foremost in his mind. It was possible that she
and Shampoo had survived the storm. If so, they might have reached land by
now. If Ukyo lived, he would find her. He wouldn't give up. Even with the
curse of the ring, he would see her home before his time was up.
~Concern for your sister? How touching.~
It was Nerial, the Queen of the Mermaids, who tittered mockingly in
his mind. He could almost feel the ring throb on his finger as she spoke.
She had remained silent for the better part of two days, ever since he
had first consciously used the powers of the ring to produce light for his
way along the sea bottom.
"What do you want?" Ranma asked in an acid tone.
~The question that burns brightest in your mind is not what I want,
sweet Ranma, but how you can get what *you* want.~
"Is that so?" he replied, wary of how easily she read his mind.
~Quite so, I'm afraid.~
Ranma bit his lip in anger.
"Stay out of my head!"
~Not for a moment,~ Nerial replied sardonically. ~Shall we dispense
with the hostilities now? Admit that you and I will be together until you
meet your end, and at times I may be inclined to help you.~
"Help me?" Ranma growled. "Only to help *you,* you mean."
Nerial's laughter was mocking and sweet.
~Of course! I am a curse to all who go upon the sea. That you bear me
on your finger makes you my best tool to this end.~
"I'm not your tool!" he snarled. "I'll never be yours!"
The silence that followed was far more unnerving to him than if she
had laughed again.
"Just stay out of my head," he menaced hollowly.
~Would you rather I not tell you how to find your sister, then?~
"What?" Ranma cried. "She's alive?"
~Perhaps,~ Nerial soothed. ~I can tell you how you might learn this.~
"Tell me now!"
Nerial clucked reproachfully.
~Well spoken for a god, sweet Ranma, but remember who aids you,~ she
warned. ~Now clear your mind. That shouldn't be too difficult, I'll warrant.~
Ranma grit his teeth at her slight and complied.
~I want you now to concentrate on your surroundings,~ Nerial went on.
~Everything around you in every detail. Every sight, sound, and smell.~
Ranma sat down and began to do so. Though he was never much for
introspection, he had been required from time to time to meditate with his
father in the contemplation of various tenents of Confuscianism during his
studies of Bushido. No samurai in Tokugawa's court would be accepted
without esoteric knowledge as well as the martial arts -this was a lesson
his father had reminded him time and again. He reflected grimly that the
old fool's words might have been better served if he had provided a better
example to follow, for he knew that his knowledge was poor.
The tropical forest seemed to swell around him as colors became more
intense. He could count the fleas that infested the monkeys in the trees
above him. Sounds became so sharp and fine to his ears that he could
distinguish the individual birdsongs and hear the scurrying of ants upon
a tree trunk. Scents of the flowers and foliage became a heady perfume that
threatened to overpower him with its strength. There was not a single
detail of the copse that he was not now privy to.
~Well done,~ Nerial complimented. ~Now expand your awareness, and you
can look as far away as you wish.~
To Ranma, the limits of his view were a flexible membrane of awareness.
Slowly, tentatively, he pushed out with his will. To his surprise, the
membrane gave under his effort, and the copse seemed to expand and melt into
the foot of the hill and the wash of the breakers upon the beach. The click
of sand crabs in tide pools mingled with the smell of ripe mangos in the
trees and the caress of the wind in the tall grass.
His success brought an eagerness to continue outward even farther. He
knew he could look out across the sea itself to find Ukyo, that she could
not remain hidden from his omniscience! His mind leaped out in a rush,
encompassing the island in the blink of an eye. He swept through Akane
as she sat at top of the hill, and trembled slightly as he felt her body
shudder with sobs. The salt of her tearstreaked face was palpable on his
tongue, and the thudding of her heart in her chest made his own pulse
quicken.
Before he could stop to see what what it was that made Akane weep, his
mind reached out still further, still faster as his excitement grew. In
barely a second his awareness extended out across a hundred miles of the
Andaman chain of islands, and though he lost details with distance, still
his mind plunged outward recklessly. He began to lose control, pulling
higher and higher above the Earth until its very curvature became apparent.
Panic overtook his excitement as what he beheld challenged his every
conception of the world.
It was too much. The sheer volume of information was too much for his
ignorant human brain to handle. Drool cascaded down his chin as he gurgled
in wonder and horror.
He collapsed with a wild-eyed stare, clutching his head reflexively
in the fear that it might burst with what it held. A great racking sob
escaped his lips, and he rolled over into a fetal ball on the sandy ground,
his eyes shut tight. He quivered for several moments that way before
surrendering to the mercy of oblivion found in the arms of unconsciousness.
As he lay silently on the ground, the faint laughter of Nerial echoed
across the copse.
As Akane wept on the hill, she felt a rush of wind and the sensation
of being pierced through and through. She gasped in fright and jumped to
her feet, her hands clutching at her chest for a wound that was not there.
A peculiar scent permeated the air, and as she brought her hands up to her
face, she knew what it was.
"Ranma!"
Not knowing how or why this had come to pass, only that something
terrible had happened, she raced down the hill in search of him. The
afternoon air was heavy and hot, almost stifling, as she clawed her way
through the groves of trees. She found him lying face down on the ground
surrounded by chattering monkeys.
"Get away from him!" she shouted at the monkeys. They fled out of
arm's reach and continued their ramblings. Ranma did not move, but she saw
with some relief that he was breathing.
"Ranma?" she asked uneasily. There was no reply. It was possible that
she was overreacting, that he was just taking a nap, but everything about
the way he lay there, heedless of the monkeys, convinced her that all was
not well.
His eyes were still wide open with fright when she rolled him over,
and she screamed with surprise at the sight.
"Ranma!" she cried again. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head,
and he curled up once more into a fetal ball.
She gathered him up onto her lap and held him then, and she was very
afraid. She feared for him, and she feared for herself if as it became
evident that she might have to survive without his help. She shuddered at
the thought of facing the island without Ranma -he was used to a life in
the wilderness, and would have a better idea of what they needed to do and
how to go about doing it.
Ranma shuddered in her arms as well. His eyes were closed now as he
clung to her. The ring sparkled upon his outstretched finger as he groped
at her like an infant. A single word escaped his lips as he sank deep into
a dreamless well of sleep.
"...Ucchan..."
Chapter Three
Ukyo Saotome dragged herself through the sand with a wet choking
cough of triumph. The surf pounded the beach around her, and cold foam
frothed at her ankles as she stood. The shattered mast of the _Deguello_
was behind her, lodged between two large boulders rubbed smooth by the
constant crash of the waves. The moon shone brightly through the gaps of
ragged clouds that were the remnants of the storm she had survived.
A mewling sound welled up from her tattered blouse. Ukyo suddenly
remembered through her haze of pain and exhaustion that Shampoo was still
there, and even more remarkably, was still alive. She opened her shirt
enough to let the wet and miserable purple cat fall with a thud to the
sand.
Shampoo looked up at Ukyo with weary eyes, and tried to shake herself
dry. A wave crashed up around her, and she cried out in panic and dismay,
nearly leaping into Ukyo's arms as the girl reached for her. Fatigue and
the bitter chill of the sea made her curl up into the girl's embrace.
"Come on, Shampoo," Ukyo said wearily to the cat. "I didn't carry you
in my shirt through a storm just to have you drown once we were safely on
the beach."
She turned around in a circle to get an idea of where they were. It
was land, probably an island. Trees were a welcome sight even if she didn't
recognize them. There would be food, water, and shelter -they needed only
to search for it.
Her last link to the _Deguello_ was still tied securely to the mast.
Braving the chill surf, she loosened the stubborn knots of twine that held
the ship's battered brass teakettle to the mast. She could store water in
the teakettle, and if she could manage a fire, she could restore Shampoo to
her human form. Two sets of hands would make survival easier than if she
had to do everything herself.
She took the kettle, and the memory of another time struck her straight
through her heart. Ranma was dead. She knew that now. The storm had almost
killed her, and she was lucky enough to have something to cling to in order
to stay afloat. Ranma had dived into the water after Akane, and he had not
come up. Even if he had, how could he have survived the storm?
**Ranma would have found a way,** she tried to tell herself. **Ranma
wouldn't have given up, and he's a much better swimmer than I am.**
Hope began to blossom within her, but she tried to quash it quickly.
It was stupid to torment herself with such thoughts, and she needed all of
her strength and all of her wits if she and Shampoo were to survive on
their own. The _Deguello_ was gone, Ranma was dead, and the only thing left
to pursue was the hope of survival.
Still, she couldn't accept it. She loved him too much to abandon him
in her hopes. She would survive first, but she would never give up on Ranma.
Not until she knew for certain.
* * *
They spent a cold and miserable night under a lean-to of fallen palm
fronds. The wind was bitter through their wet clothes and wet fur. Shampoo
paced restlessly for awhile before curling up next to Ukyo for shelter.
She meowed in faint protest as Ukyo put an arm around her for comfort and
warmth.
Morning at least heralded the coming of the sun, which cast its
warming rays upon them and put them in better spirits. Ukyo was sore and
chafed from the seawater, but at least she was soon dry. Shampoo licked
at herself to clean the salt that caked in her fur, and she made very
un-catlike whimperings as she continued her grooming.
"We need to do something about your curse," Ukyo said to her.
Shampoo meowed in agreement.
"Finding water is only the first part of it, though," Ukyo continued.
"We need to find a way to make a fire."
Shampoo nodded her head.
Ukyo sighed. "I don't know how suitable any of this wood will be, but
if it can burn, I can light it." **Easy enough when you've been tending to
Genma Saotome's camp for just about your entire life.**
"Damn you, Genma Saotome," she found herself muttering. "At least
you're finally dead. I just wish that--"
She stopped when she realized that Shampoo was staring at her.
"Come on, Shampoo. Let's see if we can find some water that's fit to
drink."
With a shake of her long chestnut hair, she stood and took the brass
teakettle in her hand. Shampoo cocked her head at the girl, and then
followed after. Even after months of living with the Saotomes, she still
did not fully understand the complicated web of familial ties, love, hatred,
and loyalty that bound Ranma, Ukyo, and Genma together.
They found several small pools of rainwater among the rough boulders
that cordoned the rocky beach from the green slopes of the land beyond.
Ukyo drank her fill before filling the kettle with scoops of water from her
hands. The water was cool and soothing to her parched mouth and throat.
When she was done, she hefted the kettle and walked back to the
shelter. The battered brass was still watertight, she was glad to note. All
that was left to do was heat it, and Shampoo would be human again. She
didn't want to admit it aloud, but she was desperate for someone to talk
to, and her one-sided conversations with a cat, even one with a human
intelligence, weren't satisfactory.
The fuel for a fire was going to be a problem. The palm fronds were
very green, and there were no old and dry ones to be found. The trees the
fronds came from had hard and virtually seamless skins, and she had nothing
with which to cut them. They also produced no branches she could break off.
She could gather dry grasses from the clearing further inland, but
those would never serve to heat the water, and she doubted that they would
be enough to dry the fronds sufficiently for use as fuel.
"I don't know what to say, Shampoo," she said after several hours of
fruitless searching. It was already evening again, and it promised to be a
cold one. "There isn't anything I can use to get a fire going."
Shampoo mewed mournfully. She had been searching as well, but like
Ukyo, she found the native flora to be alien and useless to her needs. Even
more disturbing were the subtle hints she found indicating that this place
was haunted by beasts that might find her to be a very tasty snack. She
was unable to communicate this to Ukyo, for there was nothing more to her
fears than a bit of feline intuition.
"I guess we can keep searching farther out," Ukyo continued. She then
dared to voice the hope that would not die in her heart. "We might even
find someone else who survived the storm."
Shampoo did not need to hear his name to know who Ukyo hoped to find.
She too longed to see Ranma Saotome again, could feel that longing clawing
urgently in her feline breast. One touch of his hand, one kind word, that
would make her hardship bearable. She had watched in despair as he dove
after Akane, and had felt Ukyo's anguished heart beat next to her ear in
time with her own as he did not return to the surface.
**If only Ranma still lived!** she thought. Her hope became a prayer.
**I wouldn't squander a second chance,** she offered to the many gods and
demons of the Joketsuzoku. **If only you would grant me one!**
"Hey, Shampoo!" Ukyo cried, interrupting her. "See those lights out
there?"
Shampoo sat up on her haunches and looked in the direction of Ukyo's
outstretched hand. Out on the black sea, past their shelter of palm fronds,
were several strings of lights. She could make them out as lanterns, and
the sound of oars splashing in the water carried over the calm evening surf.
The great forms of ships, unlike anything she had yet seen, glided past
them. They were making for a distant finger of dark rock to their left that
they had discovered in their search for fuel to be a natural breakwater for
a large lagoon.
"Come on!" Ukyo said, jumping to her feet. "Let's take a look!"
Shampoo meowed warily at the idea, but what else could they do? Whoever
they were, they would have food, fresh water, and fire. Shampoo needed fire
to heat water in order to become human again. She followed after Ukyo and
together they ran into the darkness.
Chapter Four
Manuel Delgado eyed the panda bear warily as seaman Estremoz continued
bailing the water out of the longboat with his helmet. Their mast was still
erect, but splintered by the storm and incapable of carrying sail. Father
deGama manned the rudder. The Jesuit's long muttered prayers for the soul
of seaman Olivera, who was lost in the night to a swell, had become a dull
drone in the still air.
The panda had weathered the storm silently, indeed his great mass had
kept the bow of the longboat from pitching them into the sea at the height
of the tempest. It had tried to save Olivera from drowning, though the
panicked fool had interpreted the gesture as the panda's desire to eat him,
and had thrown off the offered paw in time to be swamped by a wave and
dragged down beneath the waters to his death. Delgado was certain of the
beast's unnatural intelligence, but he was ever suspicious of its motives.
"What do you suppose of our friend there?" he asked deGama. The Jesuit
possessed an education of sorts, and at times it would show through his wall
of blind religious dogma.
"The Devil's work," deGama muttered without thought. It was as much a
mantra as the man's prayers.
Delgado's gaunt face tightened as he reigned in his temper. DeGama was
obstinate, but not impenetrable. He would try another tack.
"Would the Devil have tried to save the life of Olivera, or should he
have let the poor fool go to his accounts unconfessed and thus be assured
of another soul justly damned?"
The Jesuit grunted in thought. "In saving the life of Olivera, he might
have planned greater sins for the wretch."
Delgado rolled his eyes at this and regarded the panda again.
"Tell us, friend, are you the work of the Devil?"
Genma remained silent, his dark eyes focused upon those of Delgado.
"Can you speak? You seem to be possessed of some greater wit than your
form suggests."
Genma, not comprehending the former mate's words, was silent.
Delgado would not be put off. He waved to the vast expanse of rolling
seas that surrounded them.
"Come, friend, you may speak freely if you are able. I assure you, the
odds of your secret reaching the rest of the world through us are very poor
at the moment."
Estremoz stopped bailing for a moment at this. A harsh look from
Delgado had him continue.
Genma looked down at the boat, his eyes falling upon the oar that had
been used in a futile attempt to kill him. He snatched it up in his paws.
His chains rattled in the inch of water that remained in the bottom as he
did so. Estremoz tensed, fearing that the beast would attack, while Delgado
watched with fascination.
Genma began scratching at the wide paddle of the oar with his claws.
He had heard the voice of the old man with the crucifix speaking Japanese
to his son and the others on the ship, and considered the possibility of
the man being educated in the written form as well. When he was finished
with his etchings, he showed the oar to the priest.
The Jesuit looked closely at the oar and crossed himself. Even Delgado
could recognize the carvings upon the wood as Chinese characters. Estremoz
remained ignorant and silent at the revelation.
"What does it say, Father?" Delgado asked.
"It says that he is the spirit of a man trapped in the body we see
before us," deGama replied slowly. It was clear that the very idea horrified
and revolted him.
"Ask him his name," Delgado said for lack of anything else to ask.
"Do we wish to know the name of a demon, and thus give it the keys to
our immortal souls?" deGama asked worriedly.
"Do it, man," Delgado returned bitterly. "If the beast wanted our flesh
or our souls it could have damn well had them by now!"
Shamefaced at his cowardice, deGama asked the panda its name.
Genma growled and scrawled the characters for his name upon the oar.
"Saotome Genma," deGama replied for Delgado's benefit.
"Saotome?" the mate asked with surprise. He had heard that name before.
Genma scrawled some more upon the oar, flipping it over for the
necessary writing room.
"He says that he is the father of the red-haired girl and the brown-
haired girl we took as slaves," deGama translated.
Genma continued.
"He also says that he was the man who paid in gold for passage from
Shanghai to Nagasaki," deGama said in a hushed whisper.
Delgado laughed.
"Ha! That explains the mystery of our missing passenger -at least his
disappearance. Ask him how he went from man to beast."
The Jesuit did so. The reply did not sit well with him, but he relayed
it without editorial.
"He says that he is cursed to take the body of a Chinese bear whenever
he is splashed with cold water. Only hot water can reverse his change."
Delgado laughed again, this time bitterly.
"I'm afraid you'll be a beast for quite some time then," he said. The
priest translated as he spoke. "I don't forsee any hot water in our future
unless it be boiling in the cauldrons of hell. Our mast is cracked, and
without it we cannot hope to reach Rangoon before we die of thirst or
exposure."
Genma listened intently to the Jesuit's words and then sat in thought,
considering their implications. Finally he carved one last reply and showed
it to the priest.
"He says that he will do what he can to help us reach land, but in
return he wants the price he paid for his passage to Japan honored for
another voyage."
Delgado smirked. It was an easy promise to make considering the odds
of success.
"Very well," he said to the panda. "If it be within my power to grant
once we reach Syriam, it shall be done."
Genma nodded once and took up the second oar. With his powerful panda
arms he began to row. DeGama realized what he intended, and manned the
tiller once more to steer them northeast. Delgado shook his head slowly.
The beast was delusional if he thought he could row them several hundred
miles to Burma.
Genma Saotome had no such delusions. Though he was often called a
thief and liar, his dedication to his own life was unquestionable. He would
get them to land.
* * *
Manuel Delgado had to admit that Genma Saotome had considerable
stamina. They had been traveling on the slowly rolling Andaman Sea for
three days now, and he had not let up from rowing for longer than thirty
minutes to rest during the daylight hours. Now the mighty arms of seaman
Estremoz were put to work alongside the panda-man, though the morning dew
brought them little water to drink, and the thirst was greatest upon the
two of them for it.
Delgado lay back under the cover of the tattered sail and tried not
to think of his cracked throat and swollen tongue. It was in his nature to
take more than his share of the tiny store of freshwater they collected
each morning, but he had resisted thus far. The water needed to go to
Estremoz and Saotome if they were to sustain their efforts.
The temptation was strong on him to drink the seawater that surrounded
them, but he was still in enough control of himself to resist. Madness and
swift death from drinking saltwater was assured. Urine would sustain them
for a little while if need be, though they were doing very little in the
way of elimination now.
There was also the ever present spectre of starvation, but after
three days the sharp pangs had given way to a dull ache and a swollen
feeling in their bellies. Now only the fierce rays of the sun and the
constant nagging thirst plagued them. Sleep was at least a respite from
the contemplation of their misery, and in their weakened state, easy to
come by.
Delgado slept now. It was a fitful slumber with the heat and the hunger
and the thirst that never relented. He rarely remembered his dreams in the
best of times, but this time one of the old familiar dreams chanced to visit
him.
She was beautiful, impossibly beautiful in the way that such phantasmal
nymphs always are. Her eyes shone with the colors of the sea, and her voice
was distant, gentle, and insistant like the echoes of the surf as heard
through a seashell. Her skin glowed like silver in the moonlight as she
beckoned to him to approach.
He knew this nymph -remembered her anyway. She was the one who goaded
him to murder and other foul deeds of treachery. He had never been a paragon
of virtue, far from it in fact, but the siren song of her temptations always
struck a chord of fear and doubt in him. That being a seducer and a betrayer
himself, he was acutely aware of her subtle intentions, and wisely paid heed
to her with only half an ear.
~Manuel, my love,~ she began. ~I have not abandoned you. Have you
feared that I would?~
In spite of himself, he had indeed feared such a thing, for she had
often come to him in his dreams of late, and she had been a pliant creature
to his desires from time to time. Still, he was wary of her, because her
message, no matter the honeyed words that sweetened it, was always the same.
Murder Cristobal and take the ring.
**That is no longer relevent,** he thought to himself. Cristobal was
dead, and the ring had gone with him into the deep. Likely it was either
buried in the sea silt or resting comfortably in the belly of some sea
creature by now.
~That is both true and not true, my love,~ she said to him with a coy
smile. He knew that she was mocking him with that smile.
**How can that be?** he thought, wishing that she wouldn't be so
cryptic for once.
She smiled again, mocking him for certain.
~Eduardo Cristobal is dead, that much is true, but the ring is not lost
to you!~
Delgado stirred in his sleep, as if some tormented by an unseen hand.
**How is the ring not lost to me?** he pleaded. **I am no fish, I
cannot trawl the depths searching for it in the darkness of the deep!**
She laughed then, sweet and clear and cruel.
~The ring rides the finger of another,~ she explained. ~He claimed the
ring for himself, having taken it from Cristobal's dead hand. You had
already fled the wreck of the ship, else you may have claimed it as Eduardo
intended.~
Delgado grimaced. While he was certain that Cristobal would have tried
to keep the ring from him even in death, he now cursed himself for a fool
for not searching for the man's body among the wreckage.
**Who is this man who bears the ring?** he demanded.
She laughed again.
~Not fully man, nor truly woman,~ she began. ~The red-haired girl whom
you kept a slave has the ring, and she is not a girl nor a woman; but a man-
child who must from time to time take the body of a woman to honor the curse
he bears.~
Delgado understood then.
**Ranma Saotome has the ring,** he realized. He remembered the battle
with the Dutch in the Strait of Malacca; how for just a moment he had seen
Ranma not as a serving wench, but as a man. **These Saotomes must all be
cursed,** he mused. **For Ranma's father even now rows us towards land while
trapped in the body of a beast.**
~What do you intend to do about this, my love?~ she asked him. ~Do you
wish for him to keep your rightful prize, the only thing left to you now
that the _Deguello_ is lost?~
**What can I do?** he demanded. **I do not know where Saotome is, and
as it stands I shall likely die stranded in this sea-waste before I could
find him!**
~Perhaps,~ she agreed coyly. ~But then the tides of fortune are ever
changing, always in ebb or flow. You must be prepared to seize even the
slightest opportunity that presents itself if you wish to prevail, and to
show no mercy for those who would hold you back. Do this, and I shall guide
you in dreams to Ranma Saotome, and the ring shall at last be yours!~
End of Part Six
Author's Notes:
After a six month hiatus, I have finally completed Part 6. This has
certainly been the most difficult installment to write, and I can't count
the number of hours that I have stared in vain it at. I'm staring down a
deadline of sorts as well; sometime around August 1999 I must be finished
with this story, which I have plotted out to 14 parts. The reason I must
be finished with "Ruler of the Raging Main" by then is because on or about
that time my fanfiction hobby will experience a serious curtailment.
You see, my beloved B-ko is pregnant.
I've been lucky for the most part. My job entails me sitting in front of
a computer for eight hours a day, and on the two weeks of off-hour shifts
I work each four weeks, I have little else to do but read and write. That
too may be changing around that August timeframe, as the City of Tuscon's
Energy Management Control System undergoes an extensive modification that
might herald the end of shift work. Day-Job time, which is nice, but will
leave my evenings booked for some time as the new baby keeps us occupied.
There is also Rachel-mouse to think about, and she's getting to be a bigger
handful every day. She'll be starting school then. I'll be in night school
myself, working on a history degree and a teaching certificate. Can't be
a mouse-potato my whole life, you know...
Free The Nukes!