Haul Away Together
Shantyman Season 1 Episode 3
Welcome to the third episode of my free serial adventure! If you don’t wish to receive these weekly (this season is only six episodes total) you can choose to only receive monthly updates in your subscription settings. Thanks, friends!
When his ship lay becalmed in a tropical sea,
Weigh! Hey! Blow the man down.
He whistled all day but he could get no breeze.
Gimme some time to blow the man down.
“Launch the boats.” Captain Morris said to his first mate, Mr. Weaver.
Mr. Weaver and his counterpart, Mr. Rhys immediately barked one order after another, moving all the necessary pieces of the puzzle necessary to launch and man the ship's boats.
“If you ask me, we should be launching that shantyman.”
“But I didn’t ask you, Sibly!” Rhys growled.
Jack knew what the men had been saying. It wasn’t the first time he’d been blamed for unfortunate circumstances.
The Danwswyr was becalmed.
And a shantyman whose music calmed an entire ship full of anxious men or conversely set exhausted men to work in perfect unison made a perfect scapegoat. Superstitious men at sea could be a ruthless mob when prodded in the wrong direction.
The hands launched the boats and lowered oars to pull the Dawnswyr. Minutes dragged on into hours as the men at each tiller called the rhythm. Finally, Mr. Briggs tired of the task and called for a shanty.
“Hudson! Lead out!”
So he sang a shanty as best he could, his stroke weakening to devote breath to the tune.
Saint Patrick was a gentleman, he came from decent people. Jack sang through panting breaths.
The men answered in equally strained voices. Away haul away; we’ll haul away Joe.
Then Jack, He built a church in Dublin town and on it put a steeple.
All together, Way haul away, we’ll haul away Joe.
And they continued in this alternating fashion until they got to the last verse.
Once I had an English girl, but she grew fat and lazy.
Way haul away, we’ll haul away Joe.
Now I’ve got an Irish girl, she damn near drives me crazy.
Way haul away, we’ll haul away Joe.
Just as they began to sing the last chorus, the men felt the slightest breeze cool the sweat off their brows. But could it be trusted to last? The hands pulled with new vigor as if they only had to hang on to the wind’s tail for a little longer to catch it.
Way haul away, we’re bound for better weather.
Away haul away, we’ll haul away Joe.
Way haul away, haul away together.
Away haul away, haul away Joe.
“Recall the boats!” Captain Morris’ voice carried on the favorable breeze. The men at the tiller barked orders accordingly and the boats came alongside the Dawnswyr in no time.
“How timely that the wind picked up as soon as you’d finished singing to it.” Sibly helped Jack stow their boat, so he could accuse the shantyman of witchcraft without censure.
“If you don’t like my shanties, you’re welcome to volunteer next time. I came aboard willing to do any work demanded of me.”
“I don’t think I have quite the same…touch as you do Hudson.”
“Maybe you just need more practice.”
Sibly jerked the last corner of the tarpaulin over the boat and closed the distance to Jack.
“You know what I mean.” He forced between gritted teeth. “And I won’t let you jeopardize this voyage.”
“And what do you know of the Dawnswyr’s purpose in the Pacific? Do share.” The shantyman replied calmly.
Sibly stiffened.
Jack wasn’t sure if Sibly was at a loss for words because he did or didn’t know more than Jack. Perhaps his question touched a nerve.
“This here’s a merchant ship and her business is none of ours.”
“Mmm. Until it is.”
“Careful shantyman. Men might think you have a mutinous streak about you.”
“Thank you for your concern, Sibly. Noted.”
Sibly peered at Jack as he turned to get his next orders from the quartermaster. As men finished stowing the boats in their cradles, they filtered throughout the ships as their higher-ups commanded.
That night, Jack Hudson spent his few hours of sleep tossing in his hammock. He dreamt odd dreams in which ancient legends invaded his present reality. Kings. Druids. Knights. Secret orders. And the Dawnswyr.
The calm seas and fair winds made for a relatively quiet ship. There was the usual creaking and sloshing as the ship rolled northward and men moved about here and there. Altogether, the sleeping conditions couldn’t have been better at sea.
And yet, the shantyman woke with a start more than once. Was it a dream that jarred him awake? He took a blurry glance around the room and fancied he heard a muffled cry for help. No sooner had the idea dawned on him than he faded back into a dream.
When he rose in the early morning and stowed his hammock alongside his watchmates, Jack found that he couldn’t sort dream from reality.
On deck, Mr. Rhys questioned his distraction. “Were you too busy rehearsin’ to sleep, Mr. Hudson?”
“No, I just had some dreams that got my mind in a tangle this morning. ”
“Well, stop thinking and start working. You won’t need that mind of yours to follow orders.”
“Aye, sir.”
Jack Hudson redoubled his efforts filling joints on the weather deck, but he wasn’t the kind of man who could shut his brain off. He could have sworn he heard groanings aboard in the night. And then, had there been a scuffle of men hurrying below? Memory and reverie swirled around his mind like the Ouroboros, as if they were head and tail of one indivisible beast trying to devour itself. Each time he thought he’d identified a waking moment, impossible fantasy swallowed it up.
“Oi, Hudson.”
After a moment’s delay while he tore himself out of his faraway thoughts, Jack replied. “Aye, Riley?”
“You ain’t got a woman waiting for you somewheres like the shanty says does you?”
“Aye. I’ve a wife.”
“Is she fat and lazy?” Though Billy Riley asked it humorously, he meant no malice toward Jack or any faraway lover of his. The men nearest them laughed and Jack smiled.
“No. She’s shapely and strong.”
“And does she drive you crazy?”
“Aye, now that she does. And we drive everyone else crazy.”
“Whatdya mean?”
“Well, you see it’s like this. I go to sea because if I was to stay on land our love would set all of Britain aflame.”
“Why, Jack Hudson, you!” Mr. Riley chided with a smile.
The men peeled in laughter and Mr. Briggs hollered at the deckhands. The quartermaster was of the same mistaken opinion as many a governess and schoolmaster—that pleasant conversation and good work could not coexist.
A man came up from below and whispered something in the quartermaster’s ear. The men sat quietly, watching peripherally to catch a hint of what it was about. They averted their eyes as Briggs’ gaze scanned the weather deck until he landed on the right man.
“Hudson! Captain’s quarters.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Hudson leaped up with the automatic speed of a man used to following orders. But he and every other man wondered why he’d be required by the captain.
He hustled across the waist and under the poop deck. Jack tried to ignore the helmsman’s curious looks while he paused for a breath at the cabin door.
Jack knocked and entered when bid.
“You wished to see me, sir?”
“Yes, Mr. Hudson. Thank you for your promptness. Please, come in.” Captain Morris didn’t look up from the paper on which he scrawled handsome cursive.
Jack stood respectfully while the Captain finished his writing and folded his correspondence.
“Oh, do sit down Hudson,” Morris spoke as if Jack could have done something besides wait for instructions to take a seat. “Jack, if I may.”
“Yessir.” He took a seat across the worktable from the Captain.
“A true Jack Tar in name and occupation. And a good one too, I hear.”
“Thank you very much, Captain. Only do my best like any other sailor.”
“But you’re not any other sailor, Hudson.”
Jack wasn’t exactly sure where Captain Morris was heading. Did the captain have superstitious concerns like Sibly? What could he possibly know about Jack? The shantyman deemed it best to remain quiet.
“Yes, you are wise, among other virtues.” Captain Morris smiled mischievously. He enjoyed keeping Jack guessing for a moment. Though the sailor was very even-keeled, Morris could feel his apprehension across the table. “I have more eyes on the seas than you might imagine, Mr. Hudson.”
Eyes? Spies? Jack’s thoughts strayed to the Welsh names of the ship and her crew. He thought about the number of men who sang along to the Cambrian folk song. Welsh privateers? The thought of piracy or a Welsh revolt had flashed through his mind before, but he’d written it off as impossible. But now…This wasn’t a situation to beat around the bush.
“Welsh eyes, sir?” He boldly asked.
“Yes, Welsh eyes. And on you.”
“Sir?”
“I had Welsh eyes on you in Nassau who watched you turn down many ships unworthy of your gift. And before that, when privateers who dropped you in Nassau because you ceased to get along, even in Liverpool where they found you. We even know about your dear wife Genet, too.”
Jack swallowed hard, wondering what he’d signed up for. Had he put his Genny in danger?
“Oh don’t worry; you’re not the only one. Like I said, I have eyes all over the place.”
“Have you found what you’re looking for, sir?”
“That is why you’re here. That’s a great question, shantyman. Yes, and no. I’ve not found everything I’m looking for. But I’ve found you.”
“Me sir? And what good am I to you?”
“My men have seen what you do when no one is looking, in back alleys and dark berths. You’re the kind of man who gives to the orphan instead of the brothel, who picks up slack for his shipmates and keeps confidences. You’re a good man, Jack Hudson. And I need a good man, one who might escape the notice of my adversaries.”
Jack had many questions. He wanted to ask how the captain dared to have him followed. He wanted to ask if this has to do with their business in the Pacific. But he had no right to interrogate his Captain, no matter how suspicious his actions. A captain was king, emperor and dictator of everyone and everything on his vessel.
“Your adversaries, sir?”
“Yes. They are many, far and oh so near.”
“Might there have been an adversary, as you say, on board last night sir?” Jack asked, thinking of his disrupted sleep.
“Yes. He tried to kill one of his shipmates. But he’s taken care of for now.” Captain Morris paused only briefly, but he sat up higher and straightened his jacket.
Jack knew he was about to cross a point of no return.
“I know you to be a man of principle, Hudson. You understand that for every good in the world, there is an evil dressing up as something better. All across the world, good and evil move unseen to usurp the other. In time, I will entrust the details of the battle as it pertains to me, my crew and Wales. Today, there is one part of our mission I need to commit to your confidence.”
“Why me, sir? And why now?”
“I’m telling you for the reasons I’ve already stated. You have proven that you can keep your mouth shut and hold to good no matter the risk. You have the added advantage that you are a music man who can blend in with the average sailor, though you are far from a regular seaman in your character and abilities. If something should happen to me, I need you to protect what is entrusted to me. And now, because the mysterious way that time unfolds has determined it.”
“How do I know you’re on the right side of this?”
“You’re going to have to take a chance on me, Jack Hudson. But to sway the odds in my favor, consider two things. First, I sent spies across the world looking for good men, not thieves and assassins. And second, I give you a promise: Today, you enter my service because I command you to. You will assist me at our first destination. If my task is not one you think important enough to risk your life for, I’ll leave you in a well-frequented port to find another ship. After this, you’re at liberty to commit by your own free will or walk away and I’ll trust you to take my secrets to the grave”
Jack sat deep in thought. It seemed a surreally heavy situation. And Captain Morris expected him to do this (what was this?) with very little information.
“What if I do not wish to carry your secrets, Captain?”
“I don’t believe you would refuse if you knew what was at stake.”
“But you’re not going to tell me what’s at stake.”
“Not yet, unless necessity calls for it. The fewer people know the whole story, the safer the secret remains. But I will tell you about our business in the Pacific.”
“In California?”
“Yes,” the captain smiled at Jack’s correct assumption. The second though...
“And then the Southern Continent.”
“Terra Australis, sir? But there’s nothing but jungles and deserts and natives there.”
“Which is why it’s the perfect place to stash something one doesn’t want found.”
“Such as?” Even the wise and well-mannered shantyman forgot protocol in the intrigue of the moment. The shantyman may have been “good,” but he was not above the lure of curiosity.
“Ancient relics, the words of a saint.”
“One sinner and saint seems about the same ‘s the next. What’s so special about these?”
“Because the lost tablets of Caedmon will unite my people against a clandestine evil.”
“Caedmon! The poet?”
“Who better than the shantyman to help me recover tablets engraved with ancient songs?”
“There’s only one of his songs that’s lasted the centuries.”
“There’s only one commonly known. You, better than anyone else aboard this ship, know that words are powerful creatures. The tablets were carved before the manuscripts were destroyed by Viking invaders. They’ve been hidden and rehidden for centuries. Circumnavigation has only expanded our efforts. But now we need them. And it’s imperative that our enemies don’t recover them before we do.”
The shock Hudson felt at hearing even pieces of such a fantastic expedition caused him to miss the our in the captain’s statement. The lure of ancient hidden treasure, not just any treasure but engraved verses by Britain’s earliest known poet, subdued the shantyman for the rest of the day.
Jack’s strange mood served to deter his shipmates from asking questions about why he’d been summoned by the captain. They did, however, wonder what Hudson could have possibly done to deserve a tongue-lashing that quieted the music man all the watch long.
Beautiful Ivan Aivazovsky print placed in this story.
Okay, now I'm REALLY intruiged :)