The Pirate Vortex

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 5: DEPARTURE

"Matt! Get up!"
Somebody was shaking me. I opened my eyes and there was Dad, by the bed. It was dark outside my window - we were getting an early start.
Everyone got dressed. I went downstairs, and all the stuff had gone from our living room. Dad said he'd gotten it delivered beforehand.
I went outside and found Peepers mewling around in the back yard. I picked her up around his middle and brought her inside. Peepers is a good cat. You can pick her up and take her anywhere, and she won't scratch or hiss. I don't think she even has claws.
Dad was at the front door. "Come on, Matt!" he said.
I took a last look around our house. The living room, even without all of Dad's stuff, was all jumbled up and messy. There were unwashed dishes in the sink. Some of the lights were still on. And Dad was just about jumping out of his boots, he was so eager to go.
I got in the car, and put Peepers down on the seat beside me. I could have sat in the front, but I thought Peepers needed company. Peepers doesn't mind car trips, but she gets a bit anxious if she's left alone inside the car.
Dad got in the car a second later, and we were off. Like that. We drove through the city streets. They were black and yellow under the streetlights. The streets were nearly empty. It felt like a different world. Peepers sat up at the window, looking out with a curious eye.
We got to the docks area. Dad pulled into a different parking area this time, a long term parking area. We all got out, and Dad hurried us along the concrete alleys to the hangar.
Inside the hangar there was a bustle of heat and noise. One whole end of the hangar was open, a rectangle of grey predawn light that led out to the open ocean. And steaming in through this gap was a tugboat.
"They're going to drag us out through the harbour," said Dad, "then we can start sailing." He hurried us along the platform to the Que Sera. The deliverymen had been busy. Right there on the deck, visible to anybody, was our huge mound of supplies. Below deck, the lanterns had been lit, and so in contrast to the lifeless yachts, our sailing ship glowed with a homely orange light.
"Look," I said to Peepers, "this is our ship. Lots of room for you to go running on. There might even be some rats!" Peepers mewled happily.
We all ran up the ramp. I put Peepers down on the deck. She walked a couple of paces, then sat down, to watch the rest of the morning's excitement. Wendy was already moving toward the trapdoor.
Dad picked up the ramp. He pulled it up onto the ship. "Cast off the ropes!" he shouted to me. I didn't know what he meant at first, then realised we were still moored to the pier by four coils of tightly bound rope. Dad attacked the first of these with vigour, and I had a go at another. It was like trying to untie metal. I couldn't even half-untie the knot. Dad was already finished with the first, which he cast off the ship with relish.
I admitted defeat, and looked around. Wendy had disappeared below deck. The tug, on the other hand, was getting nearer every second, occasionally blowing its horn.
Dad finished the last knot, throwing the rope away. The rocking motion of the ship suddenly got more exaggerated, as we slowly floated away from the pier. Then it got even more exaggerated as the tug got close and buffeted us with its wake. The deck rolled beneath me, and I nearly fell over.
Dad was over at the far end of the ship, talking to the people on the tug. So I went down the trapdoor. In the room with the bunks, I found Wendy. She was laying out some of her stuff by one of the bunks. There were two sets, and so we could both have top bunk.
"Come on up," I suggested. "We're getting ready to go."
"Not right now," said Wendy.
"Why not?"
"It's okay," said Wendy. "I've got work to do."
I shrugged my shoulders and climbed the ladder. Just as I poked my head out of the trapdoor, I felt a shuddering jerk through the whole of the ship. It nearly knocked me off the ladder.
Secured to us by two sets of ropes, the tug was steaming forward. We were being towed out to sea.
I joined Dad out on the deck. While we'd been working away in the hangar, it had gotten a good deal lighter outside. And now we were floating out through the hangar doors, into the wide open space of the hangar, in the light of an early dawn. The wind was chill against our faces, but not unpleasant.
Seagulls squawked. The harbour before us was a flat, empty expanse of rolling grey water. Behind us was the city skyline, seen from a whole new angle. Above us was the morning sky, fresh and milky-blue. And the sails. Struck by the first rays of morning sun, they glowed golden in the salty air.
Dad saw me looking up. I don't know what he thought I was looking at, but the next thing I knew he was running up one of the rope ladders, climbing hand-over-hand to the point where the yardarms joined the main mast. There was another rope ladder belted to the mast, running right to the crow's nest. Dad climbed this too.
"Come on up!" he called down to me. "It's a great view from here!"
I was bit uneasy - he looked to be very high up - but Dad's enthusiasm got the better of me. I looked at the bottom of the rope ladder. The rope was thick, almost as thick as my arm, and looked very sturdy. I tried climbing it, and it was easy, like climbing a rope ladder on a playground.
The wind tugged at my clothes as I got higher. I could smell all sorts of smells - oil fumes, salt, dead fish. With a last heave I pulled myself up onto the first yardarm. This was a horizontal mast about two feet wide, from which the largest sails hung. They billowed below and above me like dirty sheets on a washing line. I didn't look down, but grabbed the second rope ladder, and began climbing the second rope ladder. Dad was yelling encouragement to me.
I wasn't looking up, I wasn't looking down. I just stared straight ahead at the mast. It was built of old wood, slightly gray. I saw all the ropes tied to it, the string going from the mast to the sails, I think I even saw a few bugs or two crawling along the mast.
The rope ladder started to come away from the mast, and I was worried for a moment that it'd come loose. But it was just the outer edge of the crow's nest, which circled out from the mast with a diameter of about four feet. I was just about pulling myself to the top of the crow's nest when Dad's hand grabbed me and pulled me in.
We were standing on a narrow circle of wood, surrounded by a barrier three feet high. It was like being in a hot air balloon. I sprawled myself on the wooden floor, which was the closest thing to ground around here.
"Take a look around," said Dad. I got enough courage to raise myself up and look over the edge of the crow's nest.
Wow. The sea was so far down. It sparkled below us in the morning sun, a golden trail of energy leading us across the ocean to our destination. At that moment, I felt like a real explorer, trailblazing a path for others to follow. We were up here; the harbour was down there, below and all around us. Even the tug looked small from up here. I got enough courage to look up. Above me, the mast continued for only two more feet. There, flapping in the breeze, was a red and white flag. Our flag. I felt a surge of pride.
"The Que Sera is on its first voyage in two hundred years," said Dad.
And I realised there was wind. Which meant our sails might be working! I looked down, just as a gust of breeze billowed the sails to their fullest extension. We surged forward over the water. I'd never felt so powerful.
We'd come to the mouth of the harbour. Now our ship began to buck up and down, as the waves of the open sea struck it. I wasn't sick at all. It was exhilarating.
Having brought us this far, the tug was letting us go. The men stood on the deck of the tug and untied the ropes. Then they waved up to us. I waved back.
The tug turned back for the harbour. It was just us now, sailing boldly into uncharted waters, the beach and the city behind us.
I'd never felt so proud.

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