The Sound of Shiant

*This is the Prologue from my work-in-progress novel, The Sound of Shiant.*

13th February 1847
Lashed by the teeming rain, the deck of the Zarna was awash. Captain Lorentzen barked an order to his men and watched as they set about lowering the foresail. Moving to the bow of the schooner and bracing a leg against the rail, he brought the telescope up to his eye and frantically searched the horizon for any sign of land. Darkness had fallen quicker than he had expected and the ferocity of the storm concerned him. An experienced sailor, Lorentzen knew that the ship’s best chance of surviving the storm would be to ride it out at sea and stay away from land. His concern was the possibility that the ship might be driven towards the nearby islands.
“I can’t see them,” he hollered, “What are they called again?”
“The Shiants,” the mate replied, “They must be nearby.”
“I hope not,” Lorentzen roared over the howling wind, “I don’t think the mainsail can take much more of this!”
Lorentzen watched the mate move cautiously towards the stern of the ship. Without warning, a huge wave crashed against the side and knocked him off his feet. The telescope fell from his hands and was swept into the sea. Spluttering curses, Lorentzen hauled himself upright and followed the mate.
“This is madness,” one of the men yelled to Lorentzen as he passed, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It will pass,” Lorentzen reassured him, his own confidence shaken by the fall.
In the shelter of the cabin, the mate studied the charts laid out on the table before him.
“Well?” the captain burst into the cabin accompanied by the wailing of the storm, “Where are we?”
The mate looked up, his face ashen.
“I... I don’t know,” he stammered.
Lorentzen leaned over the map and gave it a cursory examination. Though he had sailed the passage from Liverpool to Christiansand countless times, he knew the storm could well have blown them several miles off course. Without the stars to fix their position, the map was useless. A cry from the deck brought both the captain and the mate back outside.
“What is it?” Lorentzen called to the nearest sailor.
“There’s a man in the water!” the sailor replied, pointing to the heaving waves.
Lorentzen and the mate quickly conducted a head count of the crew and both noted that all twelve men were onboard.
“All hands accounted for,” Lorentzen shouted to the sailor, “There can’t be anyone in the waters!”
“I saw him,” the terrified sailor answered, “Just to starboard.”
Captain Lorentzen clung to the rail and checked the starboard side of the ship. The seething waters rose and fell, making it virtually impossible to see anything amidst the chaos of foam and spray.
“There’s no one there now,” he stated.
“Captain!” another sailor waved to him, “Over here! I saw a body!”
Hurrying over to the larboard side, Lorentzen joined a handful of sailors who gazed into the endlessly churning depths.
“I saw it,” one man spoke, not moving his eyes from sea.
“It was a man,” said another, “He looked straight at me.”
“Are you sure?” Lorentzen asked, “The darkness plays tricks on your eyes.”
“Captain,” the first man dragged his gaze away from the waters to address him, “I know what I saw. There was a man there, I swear it.”
Before Lorentzen could respond, a huge wave crashed into the ship. The Zarna lurched wildly to the side as the torrent of water cascaded over the deck. Terror stricken, the men hung onto the rail until the ship righted herself. Wiping salt water from his eyes, Lorentzen pulled himself to his feet and looked back out at the rolling sea.
“There,” he called, pointing to a figure who flailed in the waters, “I see him!”
“It’s young Julius!” the mate cried, “He was just swept over the side.”
“Throw him a line,” Lorentzen instructed, “We’ll haul him back.”
He watched as the rope was tossed out to the floundering man. Julius grabbed hold of it and the men at the other end began to pull. The storm continued to rage all around them and the icy rain began to sting Lorentzen’s cheeks.
Julius yelled something but the roaring wind and the crashing waves smothered the sound.
“What’s that he says?” the mate asked.
“He says to pull harder,” a sailor responded.
The man in the water yelled again, his cries growing more vociferous.
“Pull harder,” Lorentzen ordered, “You need to pull harder.”
“No,” the mate shouted, “He says that something is pulling him.”
“We’re pulling him,” one of the sailors answered as he hauled on the rope.
Lorentzen peered into the darkness at the struggling figure that clung to the end of the line. Three strong men hauled on the rope but seemed to be having little success bringing Julius back to the ship. The young sailor cried out again and sank beneath the waves. The men holding the rope fell backwards as the weight on the other end suddenly vanished.
“Julius!” the mate shrieked, leaning over the railing with a lantern in his hand.
“He’s gone,” Lorentzen groaned, “We’ve got to save the ship. Turn her about!”
“Come about!” roared the mate.
The helmsman turned the ship’s wheel and the boom of the mainsail swung over the deck as it caught the wind. Most of the crew had heard the mate’s call and so ducked but one unlucky fellow was struck with the full force of the boom. Lorentzen watched in horror as the man was thrown into the water.
“Man overboard!” he yelled.
The ship swung about as she tacked and by the time the crew were able to respond to Lorentzen’s cry the body was nowhere to be seen. The mate staggered over to his side and pointed towards an indistinct dark mass that rose out of the gloom before them.
“Over there,” he bellowed, “There’s land. It must be the Shiants!”
“We’ll have to sail against the wind if we want to stay off those rocks,” Lorentzen stated, “Trim the sail!”
The men hauled on the lines to bring the sail in. The canvas was stretched taut as the men fastened the lines to the cleats. The ship ploughed on in the face of the wind. For a time, it seemed that she was making progress, but the strain on the lines proved too much. One by one, the cleats snapped and the sail, free from its bindings, took the full brunt of the storm. A jagged tear appeared in the canvas and the torn sail began to flap wildly in the wind. A sharp crack told the crew that the mast had broken and they covered their heads as it crashed to the deck.
“Faen!” the mate swore, “What now, Captain?”
Lorentzen did not answer, his attention focused on the swirling waters. Something grey and sleek had surfaced momentarily before slipping back into the depths. He rubbed his eyes as the mate grasped him by the arm.
“Captain!” he implored, “What should we do?”
Shaking his head, Lorentzen pushed past the mate and examined the mast. There was no chance of repairing it in the storm and without it the ship was drifting helplessly. The remaining sailors stared at him, expectantly waiting for orders. Lorentzen’s head swam as he looked at the devastation on deck. His hands shook as he reached for the cross he wore around his neck.
Fear spread quickly amongst the men. Some began to pray whilst others fastened themselves to the ship with rope. A few ran to the side of the ship and bawled pleas for help into the darkness. Lorentzen pulled his cap down tighter on his head and stepped over the fallen mast before moving to the stern of the ship. Turning his back on the crew, his eyes searched the dark horizon for any sign of respite from the storm.
“Tha breac an rionnaich air an adhar...” a voice was carried on the wind.
“Who is that?” Lorentzen called in response.
He leaned over the rail and looked at the billowing waves. Beneath them darted the strange grey shape he had seen before.
“There’s something here!” he exclaimed, “It’s in the water!”
His calls went unanswered as the ship turned in the storm. Without the sail, she was defenceless against combined force of the wind and the tide. The men clung to whatever was to hand as she was spun and tossed by the squall. The waves broke over the sides and swept whatever was not tied down into the tumultuous waters. The wind lifted any ropes hanging loose and whipped them in the air. One lashed the mate on the side of his face, the swipe leaving him bloodied and bewildered. He lurched towards Lorentzen and pointed to the starboard side where a band of white surf could be seen in the darkness.
“Breakers, Captain!” he screamed, “She’s going to run right into them.”
The timbers of the ship cried out as she was thrown against the rocks. The starboard side crumpled and splintered with the impact. The deck beneath the sailors’ feet ruptured, the planks bowing and splitting as they were wrenched from their housing. Lorentzen looked down with horror at the foaming white waters beneath the ship.
“Stay on board!” he shrieked to his crew, “There’s something in the water!”
“I see them!” the mate whimpered, “Dozens of them. They’re swimming round us!”
The ship listed as another wave crashed into her side, pounding her onto the rocks. Thrown off balance by the impact, the mate plummeted over the side. The groan of breaking wood and the roar of rushing water smothered his cries for help as he floundered in the surging waves. The mate struggled to keep his head above water and Lorentzen quickly lost sight of him.
Broken by the rocks, the Zarna began to take on water. Knowing the ship was doomed, the sailors began jumping overboard and clinging to any ballast they could find. Resolving to go down with his ship, Lorentzen hung onto the ruins of the stern. He watched with dread as the grey shapes circled those who bobbed in the water. Seeing the strange forms surrounding them, the men cried out with terror and began paddling back towards the remains of the ship. One by one, the men disappeared, dragged beneath the surface by unseen hands.
Scrambling to find purchase on the slick remnants of the deck, Lorentzen uttered a prayer. The freezing rain continued to pelt him and he shivered as he huddled beside the ruined stump of the main mast. The cries from the water had ceased and only the chattering of his teeth competed with the sounds of the storm. There was a tremendous crash and the stern broke off from the rest of the wreck. Lorentzen plummeted into the cold waters and went under. Fighting his way to the surface, he gasped for breath and treaded water as he got his bearings. With the loss of the stern, there was nothing to prevent the rest of the ship breaking up. The sea was littered with floating debris and Lorentzen watched despondently as the larger pieces of the schooner slipped beneath the waves.
Caught by the ferocious current, Lorentzen found himself drawing near to the white foam where the waves broke against the rocks. Knowing that it would be futile to fight against the tide, he swam towards the breakers. Lifted by a huge wave, Lorentzen was slammed onto the rocks. The wind knocked out of his lungs, he desperately clung to the slick black rock, squeezing his fingertips into the cracks along its surface. Wave after wave mercilessly battered him but he held on, sobbing with each breath he was able to draw.
Exhausted by the relentless fury of the storm, Lorentzen’s grip on the rock began to weaken. As his legs slipped into the water he felt a hand clamp around his ankle. The grip was strong and a sharp tug further loosened Lorentzen’s hold. He clawed desperately at the slippery surface but was gradually pulled further and further into the water. His bleeding fingers slithered out of the cracks and Lorentzen felt a cold arm wrap itself around his neck.
“Latha math a-màireach,” the creature whispered in his ear before it dragged him beneath the waves.