The Mariner

The man licked his lips and looked between them. “Please, may I have some water? I’m parched.”

McConnell pushed through the others and held out a small plastic bottle. The man drank deep.

“Thank you,” he said, sounding a little stronger. “My name’s Harris, you won’t regret saving me, I promise. You’ll be rewarded.”

“Rewarded?” The Mariner gave an incredulous snort. “You just lost your ship. Your crew are gone, dead most likely. Who’ll reward us?”

“Get me back to the Beagle, and you’ll be paid for your time. Food, water, weapons, whatever you need!”

“The Beagle?”

“A doggy?” Grace’s eyes lit up.

Harris smiled apologetically at the girl. “The Beagle is a ship, named after the HMS Beagle that once carried a great scientist around the world.”

“Not a dog?”

“I’m afraid not, no.”

The Mariner was not impressed. “This ‘Beagle’, it is not your ship?”

“I fear my trusty Kraken is lost to me. No, the Beagle belongs to the head inquisitor, whom I serve.”

“You expect us to believe that?”

“Why would I lie?”

“Perhaps you’re a pirate. You’re going to lure us to some rock you call a ‘hideout’ where you and your bandit friends will kill us and take my ship?”

Harris nodded and grinned. “I suppose that’s a possibility, yeah. But you can be as paranoid as you like. If it looks like a trap, turn the other way. I won’t blame you! Maybe if we’d been a bit more paranoid, my crew wouldn’t have become…” he trailed off, a fearful look in his eyes. “Anomenemies!”

“Ano-whossits?” Cedrick asked with his usual exaggerations.

“Anomenemies! Zombies!”

“Zombies!” Cedrick clasped his wound with one hand and used the other to steady his swaying frame. “I knew it! Flesh Eaters! Cannibals, returned from the dead! There is no more room in hell!”

“Why do you call them ‘Anomenemies’?” the Mariner asked, refusing to be drawn into Cedrick’s display.

“That’s what they’re called, all of them. I didn’t realise men could become Anomenemies so easily. I must get back to the Beagle and make a full report.”

“To this head inquisitor?”

“Yes.”

“And who is that?”

“Mavis.”

The small audience stood in silence, waiting for further explanation.

“Mavis?”

“That’s right.”

“Let me get this straight,” the Mariner spoke slowly, piecing Harris’ story together. “Your ship wasn’t attacked, your crew turned Mindless, or in your terms they became ‘Anomenemies’?”

“Yes, almost the whole crew. Those that didn’t were killed. I threw myself overboard as soon as I saw it was hopeless.”

“And I’m guessing these Anomenemies wouldn’t be able to sail a ship? It would drift until it hit something — like an island?”

“I guess so…” Harris hesitated. “Why do you ask?”

“Your Mindless friends almost got us all killed, that’s why!”

“I… er…” Harris stammered. “You met them?”

“Yeah, we met them.” The Mariner sighed, holstered the Mauser and rubbed his forehead as if pained. “This Beagle of yours, I suppose it’s widely travelled?”

“Of course.”

The island, thought the Mariner. Perhaps they’ll know it?

“Very well,” he said, his mind made up. “We’ll return you to your Beagle, if you can point us in the right direction?”

“It’s tricky. We have to navigate using the sun now instead of the st—”

“Yes, yes!” he shouted, once again silencing Harris before it was too late. I must put a stop to such talk, he thought. No mentioning what’s no longer there. No acknowledgement. “But can you get us there?”

“Probably.”

“Good, you help me. The rest of you, get below deck and rest. And no chatting! Talk is dangerous, it almost killed me on the zoo. No chit-chat.”

“Loose lips sink ships!” McConnell grinned.

The Mariner gave him a quizzical look, as ever not understanding the joke. “Indeed.”

32. DARWIN’S DISCOVERY

THE NAME ‘BEAGLE’ CONJURED THE image of a lean, streamlined vessel. Something plucky and resilient, tough and scrappy. This noble visage could not have been further from the truth.

“That’s her?” the Mariner asked, incredulous at the impractical Goliath before them. Harris failed to sense his disappointment, instead looking at the lumbering sow with something close to wonder.

The size of the Beagle was enormous, able to eat the Neptune whole and with enough space to chase it back with a lake or two. Indeed, the ship appeared hungry in its very construction; a huge mouth was built into its hull, wide-jawed and jowly. Whilst the sight of the Beagle disappointed the Mariner, Megan was positively excited.

“A ferry!” She hopped on her feet like a child. “I haven’t seen one since I was thirteen. My mum took me to the Isle of Wight to see my uncle. Would’ve been one just like this.”

“A ferry?”

“Yeah, cars go in that bit.” She pointed to the Beagle’s mouth. “And then they go out the other side.”

He didn’t quite understand what she meant, was it a mouth or not? “So that’s not a weapon?” With a condescending look she shook her head. No, it was not.