SYNOPSIS:
It is the year 1669 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.
After leaving Japan, they are freed from their bonds to work as
servants aboard ship. Ranma and Ukyo become cabin stewards while Akane and
Shampoo are sent to the galley. Shampoo quickly takes over the galley,
ousting the drunken incompetent cook. Akane learns of the Jusenkyo curses,
and is propositioned into helping Shampoo kill Ranma.
Ranma and company escape the ship in the Portuguese trading colony
of Macau. They are quickly recaptured, and Shampoo is blamed for betraying
them. The ship puts to sea immediately, bound for the Strait of Malacca,
off the Malaysian coast, and a possible confrontation with the Dutch.
___________________________________________________________________________
J. Austin Wilde and Fission Park Press proudly present:
RULER OF THE RAGING MAIN
Part Four: Tempests and Squalls
By J. Austin Wilde, K.B.C.S.
Super Critical Reactor Axe Man,
Fission Park Press
wildeman@psn.net
"Nothing of him does fade, but does suffer a
sea-change into something rich and strange."
-Wm. Shakespeare, The Tempest:I,2
Chapter One
Dawn came stretching golden fingers into the grey eastern sky. The
sea was choppy and restless, rocking the caravel at odd angles that
combined the rise and fall of the prow with a side to side roll that made
walking difficult even for sailors with a stout pair of sea legs. The air
was cold and humid. Moisture clung with a cloying intimacy that slicked
the decks and dripped in random patters from the sails above to an assortment
of pots and pans placed below in order to collect precious drinking water.
Ranma was up with the sun, practicing her balance and other exercises
that didn't seem blatantly martial in nature. No matter where she stood on
the deck, the sprinkle of water dripping from the sails splattered atop
her head. Her hand brushed through her hair periodically to keep the water
from dripping down into her eyes.
Her gunshot wound had healed completely during the last two months at
sea, and the scar was practically invisible beneath the scarlet locks of her
hair. The headaches weren't as frequent as they were weeks ago, and she
seemed nearly fully recovered. In body at least.
Her spirit was still at a low ebb, and after eight weeks of life spent
at sea, she was feeling lower than ever. The only land they had passed were
a few rocky desolate islands. Japan seemed only an abstract in her mind, a
memory as fleeting as any from her childhood.
For awhile she consoled herself with fantasies of siezing control of
the ship and ordering the crew to take them home. It didn't matter that
she knew nothing of navigation, or seamanship, or that even including Ukyo
and the other two girls, they were still outnumbered twelve to one. It was
easy to do, and kept her mind occupied as she drudged through the busywork
they gave to her.
The coming of her period was a final misery to her. It was her first
since the curse; she had never been female long enough for her body to
acclimate to the change and do what came natural to sixteen year old girls.
Ukyo had been there for her, showing her what to do and telling her what to
expect -and most of all; she had kept it quiet from the others. Ranma was
eternally grateful to her sister for this. Short of pregnancy, menstruating
was the greatest wound to her masculine pride that she could ever imagine,
and having Akane or Shampoo mock her for it would have been too much to
bear. In retrospect, she vowed to change into a man whenever the possibility
arose, just to keep it from ever happening again.
Ranma shuddered at the thought, then went on with her exercises. The
crew tolerated her early morning activities largely in part because there
were few people awake at the time. That was fine with her, she was grateful
for the time to herself.
There were only two sailors on deck. One had the lookout while the
other busied himself with collecting the dew and pouring it into a
rainbarrel. The rest of the crew had celebrated the new year last night,
though Ranma knew for a fact that the new year didn't start yet. There was
another holiday, supposedly the birthday of Father deGama's god, that
was celebrated a week earlier. Both holidays had left the crew in a jovial
mood, and the new year's celebration had them passed out in their hammocks.
After awhile Akane came up on deck. She gave Ranma a brief smile and
stepped into the galley located in the sterncastle. Minutes later she
reappeared with a bowl of food scraps, mostly stale bread and old rice.
"Time to feed the panda," she said.
Ranma's mood darkened at the thought of her father, stuck in panda
form, languishing in the ship's lower hold. Delgado had decided to keep
the panda alive for sale as an exotic curiosity wherever it was they were
going, at least while supplies were holding up, and so Akane had
volunteered to feed Genma in the mornings. At first Ranma could have
cared less about Genma's well being, but after a few weeks she could no
longer stay angry with him.
Though she had long suspected it, it had taken the disaster of her
capture and loss of the family swords to realize that Genma Saotome was
nothing short of a greedy, opportunistic fool -and mostly just a fool.
Over time even the crushing loss of her heritage and her family honor
(such as it was with a father like Genma) had softened to a dull ache.
She could face the world again, though paradoxally the dream of finding
the swords one day still burned within her even while hopes of returning
to Japan faded.
"You should come with me," Akane said to her. "How long has it been
since you talked to your father?"
Ranma had to laugh. In light of Shampoo's and her own curses, Akane
was quick to accept that the miserable panda chained in the hold was Ranma's
father.
"I wouldn't exactly call it talking," Ranma replied. "It's pretty one
sided at the moment."
Akane frowned. "You should come anyway. You bring dishonor to yourself
to leave him down there ignored."
Ranma laughed again, this time with a note of bitterness. "My honor
is better off staying the hell away from him, but I'll come along."
They went down the ladder into the Middle Hold. There they took the
oil lamp that hung from the bulkhead and proceeded down another ladder
into the Lower Hold. They were greeted by a low grumbling and the clink
of chains.
"Good morning, Mister Saotome," Akane greeted him. Ranma was surprised
at this.
**Does she try to talk to him? If so, what does she talk about?**
Genma didn't say anything. His panda eyes were focused on Ranma.
Akane nudged Ranma in the ribs. "Say hello," she hissed.
Ranma gave Akane a hard look, and then turned to Genma-panda. Some
of the old pain of betrayal flared within at the sight of him.
"Hey, Pop," she said flatly.
Akane rolled her eyes. She set the bowl of food down before Genma, who
eyed it dispassionately for a moment. It did not stop him from putting his
face into the bowl and wolfing down the contents.
"I'm going back up now," Akane announced. "See you tomorrow, Mister
Saotome."
The panda growled a good-bye.
"I'll be up in a minute, Akane," Ranma said as the dark haired girl
stepped up the ladder. When she was gone, Ranma turned back to her father.
"Why'd you do it, Pop?"
Genma shrugged in ignorance.
"Why did you sell the swords?" There was only a hint of accusation in
her voice. It was too late to do anything about it, and all she could
settle for now was the truth.
Genma shrugged in ignorance once again.
Now Ranma's blood pressure began to rise. "Don't hand me that shit,
Pop! You told me the swords were in your pack. When I looked for them they
were gone, and in their place was a bag of silver and gold coins. It's
pretty obvious that you sold them while you were still in China, and now
I want to know why!"
The panda was silent.
"Goddammit, I want an answer! I don't care if you can talk or not!
Just growl something!"
Genma growled something, and then scratched one of the stanchions
with his claws. He sat back from the wooden beam and pointed towards it.
Ranma stepped closer and made out the badly scrawled Japanese in the wood.
"Sorry."
Ranma's face screwed up in anger. "'Sorry?' That's all you have to say
for yourself? 'Sorry!?' That was my *future* you sold away, and the best you
can come up with is 'sorry!?'"
Genma scrawled something else in the wood. This took much longer.
"Swords do not make men's futures."
Ranma read the scrawl and cried, "What the hell does that mean!? It
sounds like you pulled it out of a fortune cookie!"
Genma shrugged. His claws went to work again.
"If you can't understand what I've
given you by doing this, I won't
bother to explain..."
Ranma cocked back a fist. "What's that supposed to mean, huh, Pop?
When are you going to start making sense?"
Genma rumbled nervously and carved something else. He was running out
of room on the narrow stanchion, and so it would be the last thing he could
say to his son.
"Think of this as the ultimate
training mission of your life.
Succeed here and you can never
fail elsewhere!"
Ranma punched her father in the gut and stumped back up the ladder.
"I should have known it was a waste of time talking to you."
* * *
The ship proceeded in a southerly direction for the rest of the week.
The weather became warmer as they traveled, and occasionally flocks of
sea birds greeted them and took refuge in their mast tops. The day seemed
like any other during the near endless voyage, except when the Bosun
had all the muskets brought up on deck for inspection. The sailors were
cleaning and servicing every firearm on board following said inspection,
and the joviality of the holidays passed quickly. In its place there
followed a palpable tension in the air. Something was looming on the
horizon which the men of _Deguello_ dreaded.
Ranma decided not to worry about it just yet, and stepped into the
galley to fetch the noon meal for the officer's mess.
Shampoo remained Queen of the Galley, and didn't let Ranma forget it
any time she stepped inside. She had been almost warm to her following
their recapture, a fact due most likely to the fact that Ranma was the
only one who believed that the Amazon hadn't betrayed them. Now she had
cooled once again. There were no spoken threats like before, only an
implied animosity. At least it seemed that way. Occasionally the Amazon
would flash her a smile when no one was around.
Ukyo had told her a little of what they discussed in Macau; the part
about Shampoo deciding that letting them go was her best option. Now that
it wasn't an option anymore, would she decide to get back to trying to kill
her again? So far it hadn't come up, but then again the Amazon might have
finally taken her own advice and was waiting for the right time to strike.
"Hello, Shampoo," she said.
"Ranma," Shampoo acknowledged with a nod.
"I'm here for the food."
"Shampoo know. Akane finish putting it on tray now." She gestured to
Akane, who was struggling to arrange the food in as aesthetically pleasing
a way as possible. She wasn't succeeding by any definition of the term.
"Don't worry about it Akane, it's all getting put on different plates
at the meal anyway," Ranma said, coming to her rescue.
Akane wasn't sure if she should be angry or grateful for Ranma's
intervention.
"I'll take it in myself," she harrumphed.
Ranma was in no mood for her pithiness. "Whatever."
Akane stepped out of the galley and down to the officer's mess. The
sailors watched her as she walked, taking time out from their duties of
cleaning the muskets and pistols for a moment. Akane was used to the
attention. The sailors were either unfailingly polite or avoided her like
the plague; and both were fine as far as she was concerned.
She did not notice that one of them gave her a hard look. It was
Carlos Marrieros, the former cook. He had lost considerable weight, though
was still quite corpulent, and his formerly pale skin was burned a lobster
red. He was also most intolerably sober, a fact which made him even more
difficult to deal with. Carlos needed a drink badly. Enough to make his
hands shake.
When all the other sailors returned their attentions to their tasks,
Carlos' eyes lingered a bit longer. There was hate in his eyes, that was
plain enough. There was also lust.
* * *
"<Ship ahead!>" one of the lookouts cried.
Delgado took a look with the spyglass. There was a small sloop bearing
to starboard. It skirted the coast of a long thin reef island.
"<Who are you,>" muttered Delgado as he peered through the glass.
"<Or can I hazard a guess...>"
He had his answer a few moments later, when the sloop raised additional
sails and began pulling away from them.
"<Send for the Captain,>" he growled to the seaman on deck.
Captain Cristobal hauled his bulk up to the helm. "<What do you have?>"
he rumbled.
"<A sloop, probably Dutch. They're well ahead of us now, and still
pulling away.>"
Cristobal grunted in thought. "<I agree. We are only a day from the
mouth of the strait. The sloop was probably a picket come to give them
warning of our arrival.>"
"<They'll be expecting us soon, then.>"
"<That seems likely. Though the strait is wide. We may still be
able to slip past them unnoticed. We cannot delay any longer if we wish
to make the tradewinds off Goa for Africa, we have to continue on and
fight the Dutch if we must.>"
Chapter Two
The _Deguello_ ranged over low hills of grey-green water, making
closer for the Strait of Malacca. Malaysia lay off their starboard beam,
close enough to make out the palm fronds on trees. Jagged rocks the color
of soot jutted from the pounding surf, sending forth bursts of seaspray as
the waves dashed against them. They would lay to the northern coast of the
strait, as the current and hazards were better known to them.
"<Ship ahead!>" a lookout cried. "<Hull up; bearing four points to
starboard!>"
Cristobal looked through the spyglass. The Dutch barque stood off
the shoals to starboard. Her sails were furled at the yard. There were
dozens of men on deck. They were well armed with musket and sword.
"<They are indeed expecting us,>" he said quietly. "<Much as I had
hoped they would not be here...>"
"<Should we try for the strait?>" Delgado asked.
Cristobal grunted in thought. His hand gripped the rail as he continued
to watch the barque through the glass. The wind whipped across the deck,
swelling the sails.
Ranma watched him intently from the mainmast. His stature had grown
somehow. Strength seemed to flow through his limbs, and not once had he
gone into a coughing fit. There seemed to be new life in the man. The ring
on his finger flashed angrily in the sunlight.
"What's going on?" Ukyo asked.
"I'm not sure. I think we're gonna fight someone."
"<Arm topside,>" Cristobal said at last. "<Make the cannons ready in
all respects. Load with chain-shot.>"
Delgado nodded and passed the word to Bosun Velacruz.
"<What is your plan, Captain?>" He asked when the Bosun left to
carry out his orders.
Cristobal looked up to the sails.
"<We'll need every scrap of canvas flying if we are to succeed,>"
he replied. "<We cannot outfight them, they have too many guns. Too many
men. We'll have to rush past them and outrun them. If we can get past them
before they can make their sails ready, and perhaps take down a mast with
the chain-shot, we may be able to escape.>"
Delgado nodded again.
"<When do we attack?>"
"<As soon as the men are on deck and ready. We must go while the
wind favors us.>"
"<All hands on deck!>" Velacruz bellowed. Sailors spilled onto the
deck even as he spoke. "<Arm yourselves, boys! We'll kill us some Dutch
today!>"
The sailors raised swords and long knives with a roar.
The gunners loaded the cannons with chainshot under Velacruz's
supervision. Snipers climbed to the tops of the masts armed with long
French muskets of high quality. Buckets of seawater were made ready to
fight fires. Extra sails were hoisted until the ship's masts were lost
in a cloud of dingy white sailcloth.
As Ranma and Ukyo looked on, Father deGama drafted them as nurses.
They were sent below to make bandages ready from scraps of cloth. Ranma
cursed her gender once again.
"You're surprised that they're sending us away?" Ukyo asked him.
"It's our lives, too," Ranma replied. "I'm gonna go up there and
fight."
"What?!"
"You heard me. I'm tired of being this frail little girl who can't
even take care of herself."
She gave him a hard look. "You don't know anything about fighting
on water."
Ranma returned the look. "I'll learn. We're students of Anything Goes
Martial Arts. We can fight any opponent and win."
Ukyo was unmoved. "So you're going to go up there and fight to protect
the same people who are keeping us prisoners and slaves?"
"If we sink, we're dead. If the ship is captured, who knows what
they'll do to us? We'll probably wish we were dead. The way I see it,
we're fighting for our lives."
Akane and Shampoo joined them. Akane had a kettle of hot water for
washing wound dressings. Ranma snatched up the kettle without a word of
warning and splashed herself.
"Ranma, what...?" she managed. Shampoo emitted an "Aiyaaa!"
"Ranma, you moron!" Ukyo cried. "I can't believe you're doing this!"
Ranma, now a man, looked straight into Shampoo's eyes. "Got anything
to say about it?"
The amazon pursed her lips in thought for a moment before speaking.
"Only that Shampoo think you crazy," she answered. "But Shampoo happy
to see Ranma become man again."
Ranma nodded once, satisfied with her reply. He popped his knuckles
"I ain't gonna stay down here and die," he said to them.
"No, you'll just go up there and get yourself killed! Besides, if you
have to go up there, why can't you just stay a girl?" Ukyo shot back.
There was a *crack* above them on deck as all of the ship's sails
were unfurled. The ship began to pitch harder against the waves as it picked
up speed.
"If I do die," he said slowly, thinking about his decision. "I'm going
to die as a man."
"<Left two points to starboard,>" Cristobal ordered. "<Steady course
West by North.>"
The helmsman acknowledged and turned the wheel. The ship began to
slide at an oblique up and down the slopes of the waves. Cristobal knew
that once they had the shoals on their flank the waves would actually drive
them forward through the straight. The wind held steady at their backs.
Father deGama roved the deck issuing blessings and last minute prayers
to the men.
"<All guns loaded with chain-shot and ready in all respects!>"
the Bosun reported. "<I have explosive-shot with a short fuse standing by.>"
"<Very well, Mister Velacruz,>" came Cristobal's reply.
The _Deguello_ raced closer to the Dutch barque. The other ship did not
seem to have spotted them. Her sails were still reefed, and as they closed
within a thousand yards they could see that she stood at anchor.
"<Sloppy,>" Delgado grunted. "<They should be ready for us by now.>"
Cristobal peered through the glass. "<They're ready,>" he said.
"<They have men on the spars waiting to loose the sails, and their capstan
is manned for the anchor.>"
"<Then what are they waiting for?>"
Cristobal thought for a moment. Then he raised the glass for another
look. He caught a flash of color from the barque. On the foc'sle was a man
with a red flag.
"<There is more than one ship lying in wait for us,>" Cristobal said
with a note of dread. "<They are signalling it.>"
Delgado blanched.
"<Should we turn 'round now while we can?>"
"<It's too late for that now. With the wind against us we wouldn't get
very far in any event.>"
"<Ship off the port bow!>" the lookouts cried. "<Two masts! A ketch
most likely! She's close-hauled and closing!>"
A smaller ship rounded a small tree filled island to their left and
several miles distant. Its white sails stood out brilliantly against the
lush green. It tacked relentlessly against the wind to intercept their path
through the straight.
Cristobal nodded.
"<They're trying to cut us off from the center of the passage, where
the water is the deepest and fastest. The barque need only prevent our
retreat once we enter the straight.>"
"<If it's just a ketch, we should charge straight at it. We could
run it down easily,>" Delgado said.
"<I think that is what they expect us to do,>" Cristobal returned.
"<They could be a fireship, or else it is filled with men to board
and overwhelm us.>"
"<Orders, Captain?>" The helmsman asked.
"<Steady on course.>"
_Deguello_ raced on, drawing ever closer to the Dutch ship. The crew
could hear the cries of the Dutch as the barque's sailyards fell from the
stays and the sailcloth began to fill with wind. Men worked the anchor
capstan with a furious pace.
The caravel pitched up one final swell before rolling into calmer
waters. The Dutch ketch continued to tack far ahead of them in the hopes
of cutting them off. The barque began to make way slowly before them.
Ranma stepped up on deck. No one paid him any mind, as all eyes
were upon the barque that was only a few hundred yards ahead of the ship.
Ukyo, Shampoo, and Akane peeked up from the hold and asked him what was
happening.
"We're getting closer to another ship," he told them. He had no idea
what else was going on.
Delgado laid out a chart as one of the quartermasters took rapid
bearing marks on the islands within the strait. The Mate drew swift
lines upon the chart with his fingers, identifying the ship's position.
He compared it to the few depth soundings that were available on the chart
-and mindful that the last survey taken by the Portuguese was about forty
years ago.
"<Captain, I make a deep channel to port; recommend a rudder order
one point to port.>"
Cristobal thought about it, and where such a course change would put
them when the two ships were at their closest.
"<Helm, ease your rudder one point to port,>" he ordered calmly.
"<Aye, Captain!>"
The _Deguello_ slipped into a channel of smoother water almost
immediately and increased speed slightly. Her white oak prow knifed
through the cold grey-green water, throwing up a spray of fine cold
spindrift. The barque was within a hundred yards and turning at an oblique
relative to them to bring its guns to bear.
"<Prepare to fire!>" Cristobal barked to the gunners. His words
were echoed by Velacruz, who held a lit match on high.
The Dutch barque fired a cannon from its foc'sle. Ranma watched
the yellow flash and white clouds of smoke burst from the gun, followed
shortly after by the report. A small cannonball zipped ahead of the bow to
splash forty yards behind them and to port. Sailors ducked low to the
railings after the fact.
Ranma kept his head up to watch. The _Deguello_ had much more speed
than the barque. He knew they would pass the other ship, though the
distance would be perilously close.
"<It's just a two-pounder!>" Delgado cried to steady the men.
"<The shot would bounce off our planking even if those heathens could
manage to hit us!>"
Cristobal kept his hands steady on the rail as he watched the
barque. They were trying to put their broadside on him before he could
get past. They had perhaps six guns to bear, which could be devastating
for his little caravel. They needed more speed.
_Deguello_ suddenly leaped ahead as a great gust of wind rose up
behind them. The canvas snapped almost to the point of ripping as the
masts creaked under strain. The barque, by turning slightly into the wind
for its broadside, found its bow being pushed to starboard with the wind.
Ranma could see the sailors fighting the rigging as they came within
forty yards. Muskets began crackling from both ships. Lead balls crashed
into the hull and zipped past the men on deck, striking no one.
"<Starboard guns -fire!>" Cristobal ordered.
Velacruz bellowed the order to fire as he brought his match down
on the touchhole of his cannon. The nine-pounder falconier leaped in its
carriage with a *booooom* and a choking cloud of smoke. The other starboard
facing gun fired as well.
Ranma watched the two lengths of chain weighted at the ends with
small cannonballs fling themselves from the muzzle, and whip with a low
lazy arc across the narrow stretch of water between the two ships. One of
the chains cut down a spar on the barque's mainmast, and the sail ripped
free of the halyards.
An answering barrage came a moment later. Chains whipped out across
the water at them. Ranma ducked as a length of chain flew past him and
decapitated one of the sailors. Akane's shriek could be heard as the
dead man fell down the ladder where she stood.
"<Hard right rudder!>" Cristobal bellowed. "<To the stops!>"
The helmsman threw the wheel over hard right with a shout. _Deguello_
lurched through the water as it suddenly rolled to starboard. The wind
shifted with the ship's turn to keep the sails full.
The barque was in disarray as _Deguello_ made its turn. Sporadic
musket fire rippled from it as the caravel turned behind the barque.
Cristobal barked orders for the helmsman to reverse his turn, and suddenly
the Deguello was rushing past the barque on its starboard side.
"<Port guns -fire!>" Cristobal yelled.
Velacruz lurched across the deck to carry out his orders. The port
guns belched forth clouds of smoke and more chain-shot, bringing down the
barque's mizzenmast with a crash of splintered timber and screams of pain
and fright from the Dutch. A single cannon on the barque returned fire with
grape-shot, and two _Deguello_ sailors were blasted apart on the main
deck.
Ranma found himself on the deck, knocked down by one of the dying
sailors. Blood soaked through his trousers as the man convulsed twice and
expired with a rattle. He rolled the corpse off of him to find that the
man had been disemboweled by the lead shot from the Dutch cannon. For the
first time since he had come up on deck to join the battle, he felt a
stab of fear deep inside him. It was a fear of the cold impersonal death
that might befall him, no matter how skilled or strong a fighter he was.
A hot piece of metal didn't care one way or the other.
In spite of the fear, he stayed on deck. The dead sailor's cutlass
lay at his feet, and he picked it up. The blade was heavy and more than a
little clumsy compared to the Saotome family katana. He winced at the
memory of his lost sword.
More musket fire rippled between the two ships. Wood splinters burst
from strikes. Another man fell with a wounded arm.
"<Steady on, helm!>" Cristobal shouted over the din.
_Deguello_ stretched out the distance between the two ships. The barque
was missing a mast, and so could only limp behind them in pursuit. The
Dutch ketch continued to close with them, now only a thousand yards distant
and closing fast.
"<Load the cannon with grape-shot, Mister Velacruz!>" Cristobal
ordered. The Bosun aye-aye'd.
The barque's foc'sle cannon fired impotently behind them. Before them
was the ketch. Through remarkable seamanship against unfavorable winds, the
ketch's master had managed to cut off their escape, and now bore down on
them.
As they narrowed the range to a hundred yards, Ranma could see that
its decks were filled with men. The _Deguello_ sailors steeled themselves
for combat. Velacruz in particular was working up the men into a frenzy.
Ranma knew there was fear in their voices even as they hurled insults
at the Dutch.
Delgado surveyed the decks as Cristobal stood on the rails expectantly.
He spied the red satin shirt of Ranma almost immediately. What puzzled him
about the sight was the fact that Ranma's hair was no longer red. It was
black. She also seemed to be taller, even muscular. It didn't make sense.
He didn't have the luxury of pondering this for long, as the ketch was
bearing down on them fast. It was filled with howling Dutch, and he knew
the grapples would be flying to sieze and hold the Deguello fast to them for
boarding. Unless Cristobal could come up with some means of escape.
Cristobal for his part was silent and withdrawn. He stood against the
rail and watched the ketch close the range to within fifty yards. Musket
fire began to crackle between the two ships.
The wind ceased abruptly.
Delgado looked up as the sails fell limp. _Deguello_ still had forward
way, but it was slowing rapidly. Only the waves drove them on. The ketch,
trying to tack against a wind that no longer existed, and bedevilled with
contrary waves, began to drift off their intercept course. Their sails fell
limp as well.
"<Six points right rudder,>" Cristobal ordered.
The helmsmen put the rudder over as ordered. _Deguello_ began to turn
as the ketch staggered through the water towards them. They could no longer
control their ship effectively, and they began to wallow against the waves.
Delgado almost cheered. They were lining up for a perfect close range
broadside against the ketch. The little Dutch ship had no guns of its own,
only the angry chatter of muskets from the sailors.
Cristobal suddenly swooned from the rail.
Delgado turned, expecting to see the man bloody and dying from a
musket ball, but there was no mark upon him. Cristobal's face was ashen
and drained. He began to cough violently, spewing gobs of phlegm onto the
deck.
The wind returned just as abruptly.
_Deguello_ suddenly lurched with the filling of its sails, dragging the
ship closer to the ketch. Delgado began bellowing orders to counter the
wind and get them clear of the ketch, but the Dutch ship's master was far
ahead of him in preparations. The ketch closed to within twenty yards, and
the grappling hooks were flying.
"<Repel boarders!>" Velacruz bellowed.
Ranma rushed towards the rail to sever the line that was tied to the
grappling hook with his cutlass. A _Deguello_ sailor reached it first, and
was struck by a musket ball in the shoulder. Ranma threw himself to the
deck. He had heard the ball zip past his face as it blasted through the
man's flesh.
The ketch hauled itself in fast against _Deguello_ and men streamed
across under the covering fire of snipers. As Ranma pulled himself to his
feet he marveled at how many men came across from such a small ship. There
wasn't time for more, as he was pressed into melee almost immediately.
He faced a well tanned westerner with a short pike who had been one
of the first across, and who defended one of the grappling hooks to buy
time for his comrades to follow. As the Dutch began to come across in
numbers, he left the rail and pressed the attack.
Ranma grunted with surprise as the man thrust his boarding pike with
speed and skill. He narrowly avoided the point, and slashed with the
heavy cutlass. Had he wielded a katana, his stroke would have removed the
Dutchman's right hand at the wrist. As it was a clumsy broad bladed cutlass,
his stroke was too slow, and the Dutchman withdrew with that same deft
swiftness and put distance between them.
Ranma dropped his cutlass on the spot. He was going to get himself
killed trying to learn how to use the thing in the midst of battle. He knew
how to fight spearmen with his bare hands.
The Dutchman feinted with the spear, but Ranma watched the man's hips,
and could see that the move was bogus from the beginning. He counterfeinted
before rolling the other way, and tried not to laugh as the genuine spear
thrust went wide. Still spinning, he lashed out with his left hand,
breaking the spear haft before it could withdraw.
The Dutchman's gasp was audible above the din. He fumbled for a
musket pistol in his belt, backpedalling quickly towards the rail. Ranma
gave him no time to ready the weapon, front kicking him square in the chest
and launching him over the side. A wave pushed the two ships together,
and the Dutchman was crushed between the two hulls.
Shampoo's foot snapped across a man's face, knocking teeth out and
dropping him the rest of the way down the ladder into the middle hold.
Ukyo snatched up his long knife and brandished it at his companions as
they streamed down. They charged en masse, and were clobbered by a heavy
bale of silk thrown by Akane. They stumbled and fell, and Ukyo made quick
work of them with the knife.
As the melee raged above them, the three women gave each other
satisfied looks and waited for the next group of idiots to try their
luck.
Ranma found himself pressed against the mainmast as the Dutch drove
the _Deguello's_ crew from the rails. The fight had become a pure physical
contest as the last of the ready guns had been discharged. For a moment he
wished that he had held onto the sword.
The long curved blade of a cutlass whipped past his chest as he
sidestepped. Blood slicked the deck under his feet, causing him to wobble
and almost get skewered by a second Dutchman with a dirk. He threw himself
backwards, and as the Dutchman pressed for the kill, he pulled a back
handspring and propelled both feet solidly into the man's gut. The Dutchman
flew backwards and into the flailing arms and weapons of the melee.
As Ranma steadied to his feet, he felt Bosun Velacruz brush past him
with a word of encouragement. It was clear that he did not recognize Ranma
as he rushed past. The Bosun threw himself at the Dutch, driving them back
with the ferocity of his attack. His charge rallied the rest of _Deguello's_
crew, who began to push the Dutch back to the rails.
Ranma paused to gather up a sword from one of the fallen. To hell with
fighting unarmed. It was one thing to fight a spearman unarmed, it was another
to face lots of swordsmen.
The fight had become a standoff at the rail. The Dutch had lost telling
numbers, but they possessed plenty of pikes to hold the Portugeuse back from
the kill. The Portuguese themselves were loathe to charge into the nest of
pikes.
Velacruz bawled for muskets as the Dutch looked for a way to either
charge successfully against a prepared foe or retreat back to the ketch
without getting slaughtered. The Bosun knew the Dutch were close to
breaking, but they were also cornered and desperate. A charge would be too
costly. For the moment both sides seemed content to snarl and curse the
other at just beyond the reach of a spear thrust as their leaders tried to
decide what to do.
Ranma kept to the back ranks and watched with a bit of fascination.
The numbers were about even on both sides. He knew that the spearmen would
never get more than a thrust of two apiece if the _Deguello_ crew pressed
the attack, but he also knew that no one in the Bosun's front ranks wanted
to die that badly. Neither did he. The stalemate persisted.
Delgado, seeing the predicament, called for the Dutch to accept
quarter. They cursed his name soundly, and a sniper from the ketch nearly
blasted him. The ball dug into the rail and peppered him with splinters,
driving him down.
As Delgado took cover he noted that Cristobal was coming around.
"<We are in trouble, Captain,>" he said tersely.
"<I can see that,>" Cristobal replied gruffly. He closed his eyes,
and the wind began to rise behind them. The sails began to fill slowly.
Delgado watched him intently, his eyes caught by the glint of the ring.
The Dutch decided to withdraw. As the spearmen with a few cutlass
armed comrades held the line, the rest began crossing over to the ketch.
Velacruz champed with uncertainty, unconsciously wavering between a full
out charge on his own, and holding fast against the spears. His men followed
suit, and it looked like the Dutch were going to get most of their own
across.
Ranma pulled away from the ranks to get a better look. He clambered
up the mainmast, mindful to keep the stout wood between himself and any
snipers, and observed the retreat. Aboard the ketch he could see a brace of
muskets and pistols being readied for use. They were being passed back to
the rail by ones and twos.
One of the _Deguello_ snipers saw it too, for he cried out a loud
warning to Velacruz and fired his musket. Velacruz decided to press the
attack before they were gunned down in ranks. A few muskets blasted in both
directions, and he charged into the smoke cloud.
Screams rent the air as steel clashed against steel and men fell to the
deck or over the side with splashes. It was obvious from the number of
desperate Dutchmen leaping into the water that Velacruz's charge had broken
them. More musket fire from the ketch struck two of the victorious
Portugeuse, driving the survivors away from the rail. Velacruz stayed long
enough to hack the last grappling line from the ship.
Ranma watched this from the mainmast, but then a flash of light from
the ketch distracted him. Two Dutchmen held small iron balls with long
match cords streaming smoke. One of them lofted the ball hard, but it fell
short, bouncing off the _Deguello's_ hull. It exploded close to the water,
sending up a geyser of water along with hot steam and black smoke.
"<Grenades!>" One of the Portugeuse cried in panic below him.
Ranma saw the water spray only a few feet before him as the burning
particles of black powder stung his nostrils. He saw a second grenade hang
lazily in the smoke filled air before making its descent. This grenade, he
knew, would land right in the middle of the caravel's deck, with predictable
results.
Ranma caught one of the loose halyards and pushed off the mast with
all of his strength. Velacruz, Cristobal, Delgado, and numerous sailors
watched his leap from the mainmast. He swung with the line as it carried
him beneath the arc of the grenade. With one hand he managed to catch the
heavy iron ball.
A third grenade exploded impotently in the water below him, as a
sniper shot the would-be grenadier down. The blast geysered into the air
from below, dowsing him with cold seawater. Her cry of surprise as she
transformed was lost in the din of the falling water.
At the end of her swing she hefted the grenade back at the ketch.
Her aim was true, and the bomb exploded in the center of the deck. The
ketch was engulfed in choking black smoke as hot fragments of metal and
wood sprayed into the air. The screams of the Dutch were drowned out in
the blast and falling rigging.
Her ears ringing with the report, she swung back towards the mast. A
sniper caught her and helped her to one of the spars. The crew cheered as
the caravel began to pull away from the now burning ruin of the ketch. A
second explosion underscored their victory, as a powder keg on the ketch
went up -throwing its mainmast high into the air like an enormous javelin.
_Deguello_ put on more way, stretching out the distance between them
and the barque that limped along well aft. The ketch continued to burn, and
no-one believed that it would ever sail again. They had escaped the Dutch
trap in the Strait of Malacca.
"<Have the men stand down,>" Cristobal said with a heavy sigh. He
sunk down upon the rail, still visibly drained. "<Father deGama can make
the preparations for divine services for the fallen at sundown.>"
Ranma was helped down from the mainmast despite the fact that she
didn't need any assistance. The sailors cheered her. Even Bosun Velacruz
gave her a look of grudging respect. But Ranma saw a bit more than respect
in his eyes. It was more like suspicion.
* * *
Bosun Velacruz took Father deGama aside following the funeral
services for the seven fallen _Deguello_ crewmen and the group sea-burial
of the Dutch dead. The sun was nearly over the horizen, lending the sky an
appropriately bloody aspect. The Jesuit was gore splattered from the
surgeries he had performed on the wounded. His face was grave with the
knowledge that several more funerals would be likely within the week.
"<Father, I am concerned by what I saw today in battle,>" Velacruz
began.
The Jesuit grunted. "<Nonsense. We did what we had to against the
heretical Protestants.>"
Velacruz shook his head.
"<No, Father. Not the battle itself, but what I saw during it.>"
The Jesuit's brow furrowed. "<What is it?>"
"<I am not sure exactly of what I saw, but did you see the pig-tailed
wench on deck during the fight?>"
"<I did,>" deGama replied brusquely. "<She was supposed to be below
with the others.>"
Velacruz nodded. "<I see.>" He wasn't sure how to proceed with his
concerns.
"<What is it, man?>" deGama asked when the Bosun would not speak
further of the matter.
The Bosun's unease was clear. He turned away from the Jesuit.
"<It's nothing, Father. I apologize for disturbing you.>"
The Jesuit was too tired to press any further, and he knew Velacruz
was the type of man who wouldn't do or say anything once his mind was made
up. He threw the man a quick blessing as he left, and returned to stowing
his ceremonial items from the funeral.
As the Bosun walked away to supervise the repairs to the ship that
were not under the cognizence of Ship's Carpenter diGriz, the image of
Ranma swinging on the line to catch the grenade burned in his mind.
**I know what I saw, and however briefly, however impossibly, the
pig-tailed wench was a man...**
Chapter Three
The ship headed north by west, hugging a series of islands that would
later be known as part of Malaysia. Velacruz took one last party ashore
to secure provisions and water. Ranma watched him and the landing party
depart in the ship's longboat from their tiny quarters. Delgado kept them
in irons at any time where there was even the remotest possibility of
another escape.
The landing party returned at the end of the day with full barrels of
water and a few bags of fruit, but little in the way of fresh game. Ranma
could make out some of what the Bosun said to Delgado up on deck, as the
man's voice was usually loud and booming, and because Father deGama was an
excellent teacher of languages. It seemed the Bosun was certain he could
find some game animals to hunt if only they were willing to spend a few
more days at anchor. Delgado would have none of it.
Ranma sighed. She hadn't yet been able to come up with any kind of
escape plan, and now it seemed like she wouldn't get any more time. Each
day that passed was taking them further and further from Japan. The world
was turning out to be much larger than she had ever believed possible, and
it frightened her.
The ship set sail with the evening tide, and began a long stretch
into open ocean heading north towards India. During the daily chores,
Ranma and Ukyo overheard Cristobal often speaking of westerly currents that
would help them towards a place sometimes called Africa. Delgado would point
out that the tradewinds might not be favorable even if the currents were
by the time they reached the point where they would head west, and their
debate would often continue long into the night.
Ranma was certain that Delgado did not like his captain, which was
no surprise since Delgado didn't seem to like anyone. Possibly even himself.
Cristobal also harbored little love for his First Mate, though he often
let him have the run of the ship. He couldn't imagine why. Delgado was a
snake in the grass.
* * *
Ukyo set the last spoon in place upon the table. Ranma brought in a
steaming platter of fried rice. The smell of food woke Cristobal, who
relaxed his considerable bulk in his hammock close by. He sat up carefully,
mindful that exertion brought on coughing fits.
"<Rice again?>" he harrumphed.
"<I deliver what Shampoo cooks,>" Ranma replied in Portuguese.
"And how is Shampoo?" Ukyo asked Ranma. She continued to blame
Shampoo for their recapture in Macau, even after Ranma had let the matter
die.
"Her usual scheming self," Ranma replied.
"I'm sure."
Cristobal ignored the interplay between the siblings and scooped up
a spoonful of rice, wolfing it down before Father deGama walked in for the
evening meal. The Jesuit was particularly unyielding when it came to eating
prior to the prayers of thanksgiving for the meal, and was often given to
long winded offerings that had the food cold before they could eat.
Bosun Velacruz stepped in next, followed by Delgado and Father deGama.
The Ship's Carpenter, diGriz, followed after. The Bosun stood until Delgado
and the Jesuit took their seats. Ranma squeezed by them to return to the
galley for the rest of supper, leaving Ukyo to serve the officers.
Captain Cristobal leaned over in his chair and produced a bottle of
wine as Ukyo served the rice to the others. Delgado recognized it at once,
as did Father deGama. Ukyo continued to scoop out spoonfuls of the rice
onto their plates as Ranma reappeared with a large crock of shrimp lo-mein.
The shrimp had been a lucky catch from the previous day.
"<How long have you been saving that?>" Delgado asked him.
"<Until a suitable time for drinking it came,>" was Cristobal's reply.
"<That time is now?>"
Cristobal reached over the table and grabbed the corkscrew. The others
hastily drained their wine glasses to make room, prayer or no. The Captain's
meaty paws twisted and pulled, and the cork came out with a pop.
"<It has been three years since I left Guimaraes and dry land,>"
Cristobal announced. "<Three years to the day when I sold my lands and
title and went down upon sea. This bottle of Oporto wine is all that
remains of my old life.
"<I mention this because we are at long last well on our way upon the
return leg of our voyage. The danger of Malacca is past us now, and only
what the sea and sky can send our way can stop us. Within four months this
ship will most likely set upon the Middle Passage for the Spanish Main.>"
At this he nodded his head to Delgado. "<I don't expect to be with you by
then.>"
A heavy fit of coughing racked him for a few moments, illustrating
his point.
"<In the event of my death, Mister Delgado will of course assume
command of the ship. If the ship is to be sold; Delgado shall receive five
shares, ship's officers two shares, and the rest of the crew a share apiece.
The letters of charter and reprisal, as well as a list of the ship's
creditors can be found in my rutter.>"
The assembled officers looked to each other in silence. It was no
secret that Cristobal was ill, but this was the first time the man had
ever been so frank about the subject. To joke of one's impending demise
was one matter, to lay out detailed instructions for it was quite another.
The meal continued in uneasy silence from that point on.
Only Manuel Delgado, First Mate of the _Deguello,_ seemed pleased
with the evening's turn of events, and drank deeply of the wine that
Cristobal poured for them.
* * *
Akane hefted the large cauldron of dirty water through the door of
the galley. Night had fallen, and the decks were silent and deserted. The
evening watch had lashed the wheel and leaned over the rail smoking his
pipe.
She hated the ship. She hated being a prisoner, and she hated being
a servant to a gang of filthy barbarians. The only thing she dreaded more
was the fate that lie in store for her at the end of the journey: a life
as a concubine, and to a barbarian at that.
She knew that becoming a concubine was a possibility even at home, but
at least there it would have some honor. The thought of being used for the
pleasures of one of these pale, smelly, brutish barbarians sickened her. A
knife would find its way into her throat at the first opportunity if such
ever came to be. Only in death would there be any honor from such a life.
**At least Ranma has a way out,** she mused a little jealously. **A
little splash of hot water and he's a man again. Not much use as a concubine
to anyone, unless they prefer lying down with men.**
She hauled the cauldron over to the rail. Memories of Ranma as a man
entered her mind unbidden.
**A cursed spring that turns a man into a woman,** she continued in
her mind. **It's too much to wish for a spring that turned women into men,
I suppose. That would solve my problems in more ways than one.**
Memories of Ranma doing fighting katas came to her. Katas of sword
techniques performed without a sword. She was certain of some of the moves,
as she had watched with envy as Tatewaki Kuno practiced them for long hours
daily.
**Was Ranma a ronin samurai?**
With a grunt she hauled the cauldron up onto the rail. She was proud
of her strength. All she needed was someone to teach her the skills, and
she knew she could make a formidible samurai in her own right. She could
even bear to deal with a lowly ronin if need be.
**Ukyo would tell me if I asked. I don't think Ranma likes to talk
about his past.**
She dumped the dirty water over the side, drawing a brief glance
from the watch before he returned to his pipe and the starry horizon. She
watched the water splash down and mingle with the sea. In her mind she saw
herself clad in armor and brandishing the Tendo family swords. It was much
better to think about fulfilling her dreams than to dwell on her living
nightmare.
She set the cauldron down on the deck, not hearing Carlos Marrieros
step up behind her. A clammy hand gripped her mouth, and something cold,
hard, and just a bit sharp pressed into her back near her kidney. She
squirmed reflexively in his grasp before he pressed the blade harder into
her. She could feel the point of it press through the ragged silk of her
kimono and touch her tender skin.
She slacked in his grasp and whimpered.
"<That's better,>" the corpulent former cook whispered. "<Behave
yourself.>"
He began to drag her to the hatchway that led into the middle hold.
Akane's eyes darted to the afterdeck and the watch, but his attentions
seemed to be elsewhere. She dared not cry out, the knife was already just
an impulse away from carving her up.
The fat man was stronger than he looked, for he lifted her off her
feet and carried her upright down the steps into the darkened hold. Once
in the hold he forced her down upon a bale of silk. The knife flashed to
her throat and pressed home.
"<You just lay still and keep your filthy mouth shut,>" he hissed to
her. He pressed a finger to her lips as he pressed a little harder with
the knife to make his point known.
Akane froze up inside, wishing herself away from that place. The
hatchway to the weatherdeck was open, and the stars shone down from high
above her. She stared up at them, longing to join them, and trying not
to think about where Marrieros was putting his free hand.
"Are you coming back to the room yet?" Ukyo asked.
"Not yet," Ranma replied. "It's been awhile since I snuck any food
to Pop. He's gotta be starving by now."
Ukyo sighed.
"Sometimes I wonder about you, Ran-chan. You say you hate him, and
after what he did I don't blame you. Yet here you are making sure he
doesn't starve to death."
"Sometimes I want to see him dead, Ucchan," Ranma replied quietly.
"Sometimes I really do. Then I remember that he is still my father. Even
if I can't do anything to save him, I owe him a better death than
starvation."
"I'm not trying to stop you. I'm just trying to understand your mind
about the whole thing."
"Now you know," Ranma said evenly.
"Hey, he's my father too," Ukyo shot back. "Don't think that I don't
care just a little about him."
"I know how you feel, Ucchan," Ranma returned. She flashed her a smile
and darted towards the galley.
"Do you...?" Ukyo asked the darkness.
Ranma stepped into the galley. Shampoo sat relaxing on a stool. She
gave Ranma a smile that told her how unwelcome she was.
"Got anything for scraps?" Ranma asked.
"For panda father?" Shampoo replied.
"Who else?"
"Shampoo happy to fatten panda. Shampoo have ancient recipe for stewed
panda and bamboo shoots." She held up a small basket of bamboo shoots that
Velacruz had gathered on instruction during the last provisioning
expedition.
"That ain't funny, Shampoo," Ranma said tersely.
"Shampoo not laughing," she replied with a grin.
"Look, do you have anything or not?"
Shampoo stood from her seat. "You wait. Shampoo give."
She reached over across the small table and produced a plate of table
scraps from the officers' meal. The sailors as usual had eaten all of their
share.
"Here go," she said, handing him the plate.
Ranma accepted it warily.
"Shampoo no bite Ranma," she teased.
"I wonder," Ranma replied.
As she turned to go, she looked around for Shampoo's partner.
"Where's Akane?"
Shampoo's brow furrowed. "Akane go to dump dirty dishwater over side.
She should be back by now."
Ranma shrugged. "She's probably just watching the stars or something."
"That may be true," Shampoo agreed.
Carlos Marrieros was working up his nerve. More than anything he
wanted the girl helpless before him to be the purple-haired one, but he
was wary of her. She might easily kill him if he wasn't careful. He'd
have to settle for this one. He did, after all, owe her for his broken
nose...
Not that this one was any less lovely to look at than the purple-
haired one. Or touch. His free hand worked open her kimono, and now
stroked up and down her thighs. He wanted her, and ultimately wanted
her dead. He had to be careful, if there was any blood when it was over,
then Delgado would know that she hadn't simply fallen over the side and
drowned. So far she was cooperating. That was good.
Akane continued to stare up through the hatchway, watch the stars,
and pretend that this wasn't happening to her. It was hard, for his
breath was hot and foul against her throat, and his weight atop her was
great. Soon he began fumbling with his trousers, and she knew what would
happen next.
The stars were gone.
She squirmed beneath him as he pulled his trousers down and began
to force her legs apart. There was just darkness now. Not even stars to
watch. Nothing to pretend with. She wanted to scream and have him draw
his knife across her throat so that she wouldn't have to go through this,
but she was too afraid. A panicked whimper escaped her lips.
The stars returned. Her mind reached out for them as Carlos' hand
probed under the kimono for her unready sex.
Then Carlos Marrieros screamed.
Ranma swore. Somehow the bastard had sensed her approach at the last
instant and shifted his body enough that the elbow drop had missed breaking
his spine. She would rectify that soon enough.
"You pig!" she screamed, laying a spin kick across his jaw.
Marrieros scrambled for his knife in the darkness, bloody drool pouring
from a shattered mouth.
Ranma launched another kick at him, planting it right on his forehead,
and throwing him back with a snap that almost broke his neck. Carlos gurgled
against the blood and spit that filled his mouth and staggered towards some
avenue of escape. Ranma stumped after him, methodically setting herself up
for the next blow.
"Die!" Ranma screamed.
Another blow, this time to the solar plexus. He was going to suffer
just a bit more first, Ranma decided. Voices raised in alarm topside went
unheeded.
"Die, you filthy barbarian pig!"
Another kick sprawled the man out nearly unconscious. Ranma stepped
over to him. She prepared to drop her foot upon his throat and crush out
his worthless life. The light of an oil lamp filled the hold with a ruddy
glow as she raised her foot for the killing blow.
"DIE!!!"
Bosun Velacruz leveled his pistols at Ranma and shouted for her to
stop. The look upon the Bosun's face spoke of his deadly earnest in
shooting Ranma where she stood if she harmed Marrieros again. Ranma's
face screwed up in anger, and she slammed her foot down on the deck with
a shout. Marrieros sank away into unconsciousness.
* * *
The noonday sun fell hot upon the deck. There was little wind, and
the sails were reefed clear to the yards. The crew was assembled aft of
the mainmast, looking to the afterdeck. Cristobal and Delgado stood
facing them with grim looks. Above the crew, upon the lowest yard, stood
Bosun Velacruz and a man whose head was covered with a sackcloth hood.
A rope noose was around the hooded man's neck.
Delgado cleared his throat to speak. Father deGama suspended his
administering of prayers for a moment. The crews' murmuring went silent.
"<Know ye the officers and men of the sailing ship _Deguello,_ that it
is the judgement of this Captain of a merchant ship upon the high seas,
and under the colors of His Catholic Majesty, the King of Spain, that
for the high crime of knowingly and willfully disobeying a direct order
under pain of death that Seaman Carlos Marrieros, having been found
guilty of said crime, shall indeed hang by the neck until dead. May God
have mercy upon his soul.>"
The Mate looked to Cristobal, who nodded grimly.
"<You may proceed with the sentence, Mister Delgado.>"
Delgado nodded to the Bosun, who gave the condemned a hard shove
off the yard.
Carlos Marrieros fell abruptly with a shriek that died as instantly
as his neck snapped at the end of the rope. Cristobal nodded approvingly
at his good fortune. He wasn't looking forward to watching the man
dangle and strangle for a few desperate and futile minutes.
Father deGama crossed himself, and the crew followed suit.
Delgado gestured to two sailors who held a third between them at the
mainmast. The man was stripped to his waist. A look of dread was upon his
young face.
"<Let it also be known to the officers and men of the sailing ship
_Deguello,_ that is the judgement of this Captain of a merchant ship upon
the high seas, and under the colors of His Catholic Majesty, the King of
Spain, that for the offense of dereliction of his duty during the course
of his lawfully appointed watch, that Seaman Paolo Santo Domingo Ortiz,
having been found guilty of said offense, shall have bread and water
for his rations for a period of three days, forfeit one-half his share
of profits taken at conclusion of the voyage, and receive twenty lashes
by whip; to be awarded immediately.>"
Once again, Delgado looked to Cristobal, who gave another grim nod.
Delgado looked to the Bosun, who had climbed down the mainmast and
now stood with Ortiz and the two sailors who stood guard. Delgado lashed
the young sailor's hands tightly to the mainmast, gave him a piece of
rawhide to bite down on, and then faced the Mate.
"<Proceed, Mister Velacruz,>" Delgado ordered.
Velacruz brought up the whip, and lashed it smartly across Ortiz's
back, drawing a long red weal upon it. Ortiz remained silent. Velacruz
drew back the whip and lashed again and again with a steady rhythm. His
face was taut with memories of his own back being under whips at one time
or another. The crew watched silently, a few of them had felt the lash at
one time or another themselves. After the tenth lash Ortiz began to
make audible whimpers, and on the twentieth he cried out in agony.
"<A count of twenty lashes given, sir,>" the Bosun reported formally.
"<Very well, Mister Velacruz. You may stand down with Seaman Ortiz.>"
"<Aye aye, sir.>"
The Bosun took down the young sailor with the help of the other two,
and set him gently on the deck. Father deGama began to rub ointment upon
the weals.
Captain Cristobal went below without a word.
Delgado gave a short nod to the Captain, then returned his attention
to the assembled crew.
"<I hope this has been an informative lesson for any who doubted mine
or the Captain's words concerning the treatment of the young women. And
know that the only reason Seaman Ortiz has not joined Seaman Marrieros
upon the gallows was because the Captain felt that there was no definitive
proof that Seaman Ortiz did deliberately abet Seaman Marrieros in his
crime.>"
He gave them all hard looks.
"<I doubt very much that I would have been so benevolent in my
judgement,>" he continued scornfully. "<Perhaps one of you would like to
put that to the test?>"
The crew remained silent, faces desperately impassive.
"<Excellent. Seaman Marrieros will continue to hang from the yard as
an example until sundown. Funeral services will be held promptly thereafter.
Mister Velacruz!>"
"<Aye aye, sir.>"
The Bosun blew on his whistle as Delgado went below.
"<Crew dismissed! Get back to work, you louts!>" He bellowed.
* * *
Ranma looked up from her knees to see Akane sitting alone in the
corner of their tiny quarters. The Bosun confined them for the execution
to keep them away from the crew. Ranma understood why; the sailors didn't
need to have any reminders as to why one of their own was to be hanged.
Father deGama had explained to them what was going to happen. Ukyo
was curious as to why they would settle on strangling the former cook
to death rather than a simple, efficient beheading. The Jesuit replied
with something out of the crackpot religion he was always trying to push
on them during their Portuguese lessons. Something about not shedding
blood, because their one and only(!) God had already paid for the whole
world's sins with his. Ranma was certain this Jesu guy must have had a lot
of blood in his veins to absolve the entire world.
They heard the proclamation Delgado had made above them on deck, and
gathered in the relative silence that followed, that the death sentence
was carried out. Then another proclamation was made, followed by the
sound of a cracking whip. Delgado said something else, then the Bosun
started yelling. Normal sounds from the ship resumed, although there was
a tension in the air that they could feel down in their storeroom cabin.
Akane was still pretty shook up, Ranma decided. She hadn't said
much of anything since the previous night. Ranma knew that she had been
taken into Cristobal's cabin and questioned. She knew this because her
turn came shortly after. The Bosun in particular had been very suspicious
of her. The looks he gave her did not comfort one iota.
Shampoo stood idly next to the one and only porthole in the cabin.
Ukyo napped against the bulkhead. Akane continued to look down at her
feet. Her ragged kimono reflected her threadbare spirit, a fact that
wounded Ranma for no reason that she could think of.
She couldn't stand it any longer. She moved across the short stretch
of wooden deck that separated them silently, coming to rest her chin on
her knees facing Akane. The girl ignored Ranma.
Ranma proceeded to stick her tongue out at Akane.
She looked up to Ranma, who was going out of her way to get Akane's
attention with her waggling tongue, and dropped her fist on the top of
her head. Ranma yelped with pain, having bit her tongue. This at least got
a brief snicker from Akane.
"You are such a moron, Ranma."
Ranma crossed her eyes in momentary anger before softening.
"Well at least I got a reaction out of you."
"Just leave me alone," Akane sulked.
Ranma shrugged. "I was trying to cheer you up and take your mind
off things. Sorry to waste your time, but I thought you could use it."
She started to walk away.
"Ranma?"
The pig-tailed martial artist turned her head over her shoulder.
"Yeah?"
Akane's eyes trembled for a moment.
"Thank you."
Ranma gave her a mercurial smile.
Ukyo woke up enough to make room for her as she sat down.
"Think she's going to get over it?" she asked Ranma quietly.
"I dunno. That's up to her, I guess. It can't be easy for her."
Ukyo sighed.
"I can't even imagine what it would have been like if it was me
instead of her."
"You would have fought back," Ranma replied.
A pause, pregnant with thought, followed.
"Would I?" Ukyo said suddenly. "Even if you're a girl right now, I
don't think you've ever really understood what it's like to be one. In
your mind you're still a man. You've got all that male pride inside you,
so you won't admit to being helpless and afraid at times."
"I've been afraid before," Ranma admitted reluctantly.
"But you've never *lived* in fear. You are a man, I am a woman. You
have a name and can earn great wealth and station in life. I have nothing,
will never have anything beyond that which is provided for me. At best a
Japanese woman is valuable property. At worst, she's nothing more than
cattle for breeding."
Ukyo looked over to Akane, and suddenly felt a sympathy and
understanding for the girl that she had never before. In some ways, Akane
was closer to her than even Ranma. She gestured to the kimono clad girl.
"Even Akane with her noble birth is just a pawn to be bargained over with
other lords for their sons."
Ranma looked puzzled. She understood what Ukyo was saying, but what
did she mean by it?
"Ucchan, what--?"
Ukyo bowed her head. "We're supposed to be submissive," she whispered.
"We're supposed to do what we're told. It's bred into us."
* * *
Delgado joined Captain Cristobal in his cabin. The captain immediately
filled a mug of wine and drained it in one go. Delgado poured himself a
small glass and sipped.
"<Marrieros' death hangs on your head, Manuel,>" Cristobal said to him.
"<I know,>" Delgado replied. There seemed to be little guilt in his
voice. "<Someone was going to be the example eventually; better that it
happened to be that worthless ass of a cook.>"
Cristobal grimaced. "<Better still that those four had never set foot
aboard.>"
Delgado took another sip. "<Shall I put them overboard now?>"
Cristobal gave him a bitter look, and heaved himself up out of his
seat to look out the port.
"<Marrieros at least was guilty of a crime. I'll not condemn innocents
to their deaths in redress for his. The Lord God Almighty knows I have
blemishes enough on my soul to bring to my accounts.>"
Silence settled over the cabin as Cristobal looked out the port to
the rolling grey seas and Delgado coolly sipped his wine.
"<Tread lightly with the crew for the next few days,>" Cristobal
said quietly after few a moments. "<Not one among them loved Marrieros,
but watching one of your own hang is never easy. And there is also the
matter of them watching Ortiz taking his stripes.>"
"<I shall pass it on to Velacruz,>" Delgado replied.
Cristobal turned away from the port to face his Mate. His eyes
hardened. "<I was speaking to you, Manuel, not Velacruz! The Bosun knows
when to give the men slack and when to haul them in. Unless you want your
own neck in a mutineer's noose, you'll pay heed to my counsel!>"
Delgado flinched.
"<As you say, Captain,>" he replied.
Chapter Four
_DeGuello_ sailed on, headed for the Ten Degree Channel and the turn
towards the west that would put them on course for the Arabian Peninsula
and Africa. The weather was hot and balmy for late January. Several of
the crew had come down with a fever. The illness swept swiftly through
the ship with varying levels of severity among the officers and men.
Father deGama tended to them with the help of Shampoo, who had proven
herself knowledgeable in herblore.
A few days passed. No one actually died from the fever, which was
taken by the crew to be a miracle, but Shampoo had come down with the
fever as well, and she seemed to have gotten the worst of it. Ranma and
Ukyo found themselves the Amazon's caretakers -a twist of fate whose
irony was not lost upon Ukyo.
Ukyo's predictable lack of enthusiasm for the job left Ranma with
most of the responsibilities. She claimed that someone had to tend to
their regular duties of cleaning and laundry. Ranma didn't feel like
butting heads with her sister and left it at that.
The upshot of all of this was that Akane was left in the galley to
fend for herself.
Shampoo's face was flushed red and hot to the touch as Ranma held
another wet cloth to her forehead. She had to be careful to wring the
excess moisture out or else she would have a feverish cat on the sleeping
mat to contend with. Cats made Ranma just a little anxious.
"Shampoo no lie down," Shampoo said wearily. "No let Akane try
cooking on own."
"You have to rest, Shampoo. I'm sure Akane will do just fine," Ranma
countered.
A wild look flashed in the Amazon's eyes. "You no understand! Akane
not good in kitchen. Shampoo know. Shampoo see for herself!"
She tried to sit up, but she was as weak as the proverbial kitten.
Ranma pushed her back down on the blankets they used for sleeping mats and
told her to lie still.
"You no understand!" Shampoo repeated in desperation.
"Hey Shampoo, you need to rest, okay? That's the only way you're
gonna get better." She looked at the Amazon with concern. "Okay? I don't
want you to go and die on me or nothing, got it?"
Shampoo flushed an even deeper shade of red, all concerns for Akane
being set loose in the galley presently forgotten. Her violet eyes trembled
and her hand suddenly clasped Ranma's.
"Ranma...?" she began haltingly. "You really care for Shampoo?"
Shampoo's tone set her aback. She fumbled for a reply. "Uh-- Um-- I
meant what I said, if that's what you mean."
Shampoo closed her eyes and smiled slightly.
"You no hate Shampoo?"
"I never hated you, Shampoo, and I've told you that before. I just
hated the way you kept treating us."
She was silent then, eyes still closed. What might have been a tear,
or what may have been just a bead of sweat from her brow, dripped down from
her eye. Ranma followed the tiny droplet with her eyes as it made its way
down the smooth flushed skin of Shampoo's cheek to be soaked up by the
collar of her silk blouse.
"Shampoo sorry. Shampoo believe things simpler then. It easy to kill,
easy to hate. Is different now."
"I understand." **I think...**
"You forgive Shampoo?"
Ranma took the cloth away and wrung it out after dipping it in
the pail of cool water again.
"Yeah, I forgive you. As long as you don't hold any of what happened
to you in the past against me."
The purple-haired Amazon smiled again ever so slightly.
"Shampoo try."
She gave Ranma's hand a squeeze and then let go.
"Tired," she muttered before slipping away into sleep.
Ranma continued to cool her with the cloth as Ukyo came in with
their food. Ranma's nose twitched nervously as the sour scent wafted over
to her.
"Here you go," Ukyo said with a sniffle.
Ranma accepted it warily. Shampoo's warning suddenly came back to
her as she looked at the plate.
It was fried rice. At least that was what she believed it to be. She'd
never seen cooked rice look green before. And were those mangos mixed in?
The rest of it was unidentifiable. There were possibly dried salt pork slabs
on the side, but whatever sauce Akane had whipped up to give the meat a
little moisture, had turned it soggy and slightly mauve.
"I doesn't look like much, but who knows," Ukyo said hopefully.
Ranma took a whiff and cringed.
"Can't you smell this stuff?"
Ukyo shook her head. "I think I'm coming down with the fever like
everyone else. My nose is too stuffed up to smell it."
Ranma tried to lift up a gob of rice with her makeshift chopsticks. The
rice fell through the two pieces of wood. Upon examination, the rice was
found to be burned dry.
"Be glad about that, Ucchan. Be very glad."
* * *
"<One would almost believe the ghost of Marrieros has returned to
exact his vengeance upon us...>" Bosun Velacruz rumbled queasily. Like most
of the crew, he had the fever that was going around, and so was unable to
smell what he was eating. Too late he learned the folly of his actions,
as his stomach rebelled violently.
Father deGama crossed himself. "<Amen.>" Then he retched into a chamber
pot staged for that very purpose after diGriz had literally lost his lunch.
Manuel Delgado's face was a shade of green comparable to the rice.
"<We already have half the crew down with a fever, this will ruin us for
certain.>"
"<The little black haired one is trying to poison us,>" diGriz moaned
from the deck.
Only Captain Cristobal seemed to be unfazed by the food.
"<It *does* take a certain getting used to,>" he admitted. "<I think
describing it as palatable would be overly generous, but really, I doubt
she was trying to poison the ship.>"
"<We can't have her do this again,>" Delgado vowed. "<Even after
the Chinese girl is well enough to return to the galley, we would best serve
ourselves by getting the black haired Japanese girl out.>"
"<Which one do we send in to replace Akane?>" deGama asked.
"<The pig-tailed wench,>" Velacruz replied. "<She's a bit of a trouble-
maker, and that way we can keep a better eye on her.>"
No one had any objections to this, and so it would be done.
Just as soon as someone could bring himself to get more than three
steps from the chamber pot.
* * *
"Akane, just what the hell do you call that stuff you made?" Ranma
asked in an acid tone.
"It was fried rice with marinated pork!" she shot back indignantly.
"What did you marinate it with, caulking tar and pickling salt?"
Akane flushed red with anger.
"For your information, it was a recipe I learned from Shampoo! I
don't see you complaining about *her* cooking!"
Ranma gestured to the open door of the galley and to the sailors
who rolled about on the decks retching and clutching their bellies in
agony.
"Shampoo's cooking doesn't kill people!"
Akane grit her teeth in tearful rage.
"That's not true!" she protested, though it was clear that Ranma's barb
had hit home. "My cooking hasn't killed anyone! You're just trying to make
me feel bad!"
"Have you even tried eating it yourself?" Ranma asked. She couldn't
imagine Akane even serving it if she had, but then again, she had no idea
what her tastes in food were really like.
Akane hesitated to answer.
"Well?" Ranma pressed.
"Ummm... I sampled here and there," she admitted.
"And...?"
Akane looked down at her feet. "It needed a little help, but I ran
out of time to start over..."
"So you served it up anyway?!"
"Shut up!" she barked at her. "You have no leave to speak to me in
that tone! Just who do you think you are, you filthy wandering honorless
vagabond!"
Ordinarily this sort of verbal abuse would have had Ranma up in arms.
Not this time. Ranma simply grinned as she replied, "your replacement."
Akane's eyes dropped. Suddenly she became very quiet. Ranma thought
that she would start bawling her eyes out at any moment. She could not
have been more mistaken.
"I HATE YOU!!!" she screamed.
A fist smashed into Ranma's face, propelling her through the open door,
across the deck, to slam against the mainmast (shivering it in the process)
and slowly slide down to the hardwood with the rest of the crew.
Chapter Five
Shampoo regarded Ranma as she set out the evening's meal. Her fever
had broken during the night, and it had not taken long for the Amazon to
decide that she was well enough to return to her duties. Ranma wasn't
a great cook, in fact she wasn't more than fair at best -but she also
wasn't likely to finish the job the Dutch failed to do with her cooking.
If any good came out of Akane's cooking, it was that it managed to
burn through the bodies of those who had eaten it, flushing the illness
out with it. Ranma's short tenure in the galley left a bland fare on the
table, but given the circumstances of her transfer in duties, bland was
probably a good thing to get everyone's digestive systems back on track.
"Shampoo well now," she said. She certainly seemed to look healthy.
"You sure about that?" Ranma asked anyway.
"Sure enough to know that you not needed here now."
"Oh?" Ranma asked archly. "I suppose you want Ukyo in here with you?"
"What you talking about?"
"Didn't you hear? Akane got banned from the kitchen. It's either
me or Ukyo."
The Amazon thought about her choices with pursed lips. She cocked
her hip and lay a hand upon it as she thought.
"I don't think Ukyo wants to work with you," Ranma added.
"That okay, Shampoo no want spatula girl, either. If given choice
between spatula girl and Ranma, Shampoo take Ranma."
There was something about Shampoo's tone that worried Ranma, but
she couldn't figure out why. Shampoo gave her a feline smile.
**She can't be planning on trying to kill me again -can she?**
"Thanks, I think."
The Amazon stepped closer to her.
"Shampoo glad to work with Ranma," she said in a low voice.
Ranma edged back a bit. There was something that really disturbed
her about Shampoo, and it wasn't a fear of sudden violence. Shampoo was
looking at her a lot differently than she usually did.
"Shampoo like idea of staying close to Ranma," the Amazon practically
purred.
Beads of sweat began to break out on Ranma's forehead.
**What the hell's gotten into her?** The pigtailed martial artist
thought frantically.
"Uhh... That's nice, Shampoo. I -um- I..."
"Shampoo silly to think about killing Ranma," she said, leaning
closer to her face.
Ranma stammered something incoherant because Shampoo was really
getting close to her, so close that she could feel the Amazon's breath
upon her ear. Her skin tingled and her face began to burn.
"Not when there so much else we could do..." Shampoo whispered.
"Uh..."
Shampoo slid closer to Ranma, slipping an arm around the back of her
neck. Ranma's fighting senses screamed in panic but her body would not
move. The Amazon's fingers began to tease Ranma's pigtail.
"Ukyo not tell you about Shampoo's three choices?"
**Choices?**
"Uhhh..."
"Is okay," Shampoo purred, violet eyes sparkling and flashing
devilishly. Ranma could now feel Shampoo's ample bosom pressing against
her own. "Shampoo make decision. Other choices not important now."
She leaned forward, lips slightly pursed, eyes closed.
Some distant part of Ranma's brain, the part that wasn't locked up,
realized that the purple haired Amazon was trying to kiss her. Two
distinct choices presented themselves: flee, or let her succeed. Fleeing
made the most sense, but truth be known, Ranma was intensely curious
to know what it was like to kiss Shampoo.
The Amazon made her mind up for her. Soft warm lips pressed against
hers. Ranma's heart began beating wildly as the Amazon deepened the kiss,
closing her arms around her and holding tight.
Then she remembered that they were both girls.
Ranma broke away from Shampoo. The Amazon was too surprised at the
sudden reversal of events to keep her from slipping out of her embrace
and sliding away towards the door.
"What wrong, Ranma?" she asked in a tiny voice.
"Can't you see we're both girls?" Ranma managed, although there were
more reasons flying through her mind than that feeble excuse.
She stepped out of the door as fast as she could, leaving Shampoo
alone in the galley.
At first the Amazon thought she would cry. **How could Ranma resist
me?** she thought desperately. Then it dawned on her.
She was moving too fast. And if Ranma really objected, he would
have come up with a much more forceful rebuttal to her advance. No, she
was just moving too fast for Ranma. Better to ease her way into his
heart. She could see that there was an opening in his defenses, it was
just a matter of finesse, and soon he would come to his senses.
Ranma checked over her shoulder to see if Shampoo had followed.
As far as she could tell, the purple-haired Amazon had not. That gave
her a few moments to collect herself and catch her breath.
Was this some new plot of Shampoo's to catch her with her guard
down and kill her? If it was, she gave the Amazon credit for a brilliant
performance. Deep down though, she knew it wasn't true. There was
something different about her, and now that she thought about it, Shampoo's
attitude *had* changed subtlely over the ensuing weeks since their recapture
in Macau.
The problem now was whether or not she preferred her the old way.
**And what was she saying about Ukyo and choices?**
She padded off down the ladder to find Ukyo and figure out just what
the hell was going on with Shampoo.
* * *
Ukyo and Akane tended to Delgado's cabin. There wasn't much to do, as
the man was scrupulously neat and led a spartan life. The four prisoners
found it useful as a good place to talk, for the Mate was rarely in his
cabin except to sleep, and few among the crew wished to come anywhere near
the space.
Akane had kept to herself mostly over the last few weeks. Because
of this, Ukyo had felt a little bored without having Ranma to talk to all
the time. Slowly, little by little, Akane had started to open up. All
Ukyo needed was an opening, and soon she and Akane were almost friends.
Akane needed to have a friend, and as far as Ukyo was concerned, better
that it was her and not that lying, untrustworthy, bitch Shampoo.
"Ukyo, do you mind if I ask you a question?"
Ukyo shrugged out of her reverie. "Sure, I suppose."
Akane steeled herself. "I've been wondering about you and Ranma."
Ukyo raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Uh-huh. Forgive my rudeness; I know you act as if you're brother and
sister, but there doesn't seem to be much of a family resemblance between
you."
Ukyo chuckled.
"That's easy enough. I'm his adopted sister."
Ranma entered the passageway outside the compartment in time to hear
the conversation through the open door. Akane's curiosity about them made
her curious in turn. What was she digging for? And why? She decided to stay
in the shadows and listen.
Akane smiled. "That's sort of what I guessed. I just wasn't sure."
"It's a real long story," Ukyo added. "When I was really young,
Genma and Ranma stopped in our village for the spring and summer. Genma
hired himself to the village as protection from bandits in exchange for
food and a place to live."
"So they *are* ronin..." Akane observed.
"Yep. Genma was training Ranma to be a great fighter, and not just
with swords. He would get anyone who knew martial arts to teach his son.
He'd try any technique he ever heard about. There was no limit to the
training. He hoped that when Ranma was old enough, he would become a great
samurai and attract the attention of a powerful clan.
"So anyway, they came to the village and stayed for awhile. Ranma
would come visit me and my dad as we sold okonomiyaki. My dad was a retainer
for a lesser daimyo. Not a samurai or anything like that, but he was a
skilled fighter. The okonomiyaki business helped support us when the daimyo
had to travel to Kyoto and spend his year in the Shogun's court.
"I was learning martial arts from my dad because he had no sons to
teach. Ranma and I would play fight, and he would always win. He was good,
even when he was only six years old. My dad was pretty impressed with him
too.
"I don't remember a lot of details about what happened next, I was
pretty young after all. I remember my dad hiding me inside the yatai he
used when he made and sold his okonomiyaki, and that when I came out, I
was a long way from home. Genma and Ranma were there, but no one else."
Ranma remembered his father being angry when they found Ukyo. He
remembered his father wanting to abandon Ukyo, but she started crying, and
he didn't have the nerve to do it. He never understood why Ukyo had hidden
inside the yatai, and as time went on and the two of them grew up together,
it ceased to matter.
"Why did your dad hide you inside the yatai?" Akane asked.
Ukyo sighed bitterly.
"Genma tried to trick my dad, but my dad saw it coming. I didn't know
it at the time, but I have figured out since then that the yatai was a
dowry for my hand in marriage."
"Marriage?"
"Genma told me that I was going to be living with them from now on,
and that we were to be brother and sister until we were old enough to
get married."
**What?!** Ranma cried in her mind. **Married?! To Ucchan? He never
told me about that one...**
"I don't think he ever meant it," Ukyo continued sadly. "I mean, he
tried to sneak off with my dowry, so he couldn't have been serious with
my dad when they made the arrangement. I think he was afraid that my dad
had already told me about the engagement, and was just playing along to
keep me quiet."
Genma's voice echoed in Ranma's head as Ukyo spoke. 'Son, you know
we have been ronin samurai ever since your dear mother died so long ago.
In order to regain our status you must become the greatest warrior in
Japan. It is what I have been training you for since you were a baby.
Only then can we marry you into a great clan and restore honor to the
Saotome name. It is your duty to me and your departed mother that you
achieve this. Remember that!'
"Does Ranma know about this?" Akane asked, stunned by the betrayal
Ukyo endured.
"No," she replied. "Genma told me to keep quiet about it. He told me
that he didn't want Ranma getting distracted from his training, and that
we should continue to be brother and sister until the time was right. Now
that I'm grown up, I know he wasn't serious, but I've been keeping quiet
about it because I'm not sure how Ranma feels about me."
"That bastard..." a voice spat.
Ukyo and Akane turned to see a livid Ranma nearly shuddering with
anger.
"...lied to me all these years..." they heard her say.
"Ran-chan," Ukyo said uneasily. "Let me explain..."
Ranma looked up at Ukyo.
"What's there to explain?!"
She sprang to her feet and headed for the ladder. Ukyo could clearly
see murder reflected in her eyes.
"Ranma, wait!" Ukyo cried.
She started towards him, but Akane held her back.
"Let him go," she advised. "You couldn't stop him if you wanted to."
Ukyo nodded stiffly and tried not to weep. This wasn't how she wanted
him to learn the truth. Not at all.
Ranma bounded down the ladder into the Lower Hold, taking the steps
three at a time. Genma-panda's eyes brightened for just a moment, then
suddenly trembled with dread as he saw the look on Ranma's face.
"When were you gonna tell me the truth about Ucchan!?" Ranma demanded.
Unable to speak in his defense, Genma could only growl, shrug his
chains, and feign ignorance.
Ranma pounced upon her father, grabbing up folds of fur and flesh
in her tightly balled fists. Her feet dug into his belly as she dropped
her face in front of his. Her eyes flashed with the intensity of a
lightning strike.
"How long were you plannin' to keep up your lies to us!?" She screamed
at him. "Like when you told Ukyo that she was going to marry me one day!
Or when you told me that she was going to be my sister -when what you really
did was take her dowry and run!"
Genma flinched reflexively.
Ranma dug her hands deeper into his flesh and twisted violently,
eliciting a moan of agony from the panda.
"Answer me, you old bastard!!!"
Genma only whimpered, and tried to look away. Ranma wrenched at him
again, forcing him to look at her.
"Just what were you planning to do with her when you found a bride
that you really intended for me?! Abandon her!? Sell her!?..." Her voice
dropped to a deadly whisper. "Kill her...?!"
Genma couldn't answer, even if he were capable of speech. Like most
of his ideas, it was never thought through to any sort of conclusion.
Ranma looked into his defeated brown eyes and suddenly realized what Genma
could not tell her.
"I hate you..." she breathed to him.
Genma shrunk away in Ranma's grasp as she relaxed it. His chains
clinked mournfully, and his panda sobs slipped out between his lips. In a
lifetime of cowardice and self deprecation, Ranma had never seen her
father look so pathetic.
"I'm gonna end this," Ranma said in a low growl. "The only way it
can end..."
Genma grovelled plaintively, paws raised hopelessly against his son.
"For all of your lies, all your betrayals, and all of the hell I've
lived through trying to be what you wanted me to be, I'm gonna kill you
right now!" Ranma cried, tears of fury and hate welling unbidden at the
corners of her eyes. Genma-panda tensed for the death strike.
The ship's bell began ringing furiously. The heavy thunder of
footsteps rolled above them, mingled with the panicked cries of the crew.
Above it all came the booming voice of Bosun Velacruz, words Ranma wasn't
sure if she believed.
"<All hands on deck! Sea Monster off the port bow!!!>"
END OF PART FOUR
Author's Notes:
1. Flogging remained legal as a punishment in most navies until the mid-
nineteenth century. Under certain conditions at sea, captains of naval
vessels reserved the right to hand down death sentences right up until
the end of World War II, although this right has rarely, if ever, been
exercised in the last 200 years.
2. What's a Portuguese ship doing flying the colors of Spain? Captain
Cristobal and Mister Delgado are Spanish loyalists, as are most of the
crew. Portugal won its independence from Spanish rule in 1667 after a
long and bitter struggle. A decline in Spanish wealth and the rebellion
of its possessions in Holland, as well as a nobility divided between the
sickly child-king Charles II, last of the Spanish Habsburgs, and his
politically inept Austrian mother Anne Marie acting as Regis were factors
in Portugal's successful bid for independence. Many loyalists found
themselves dispossessed or worse in the final days of Spanish rule.
3. So, after four installments, what do you think? I've really been
moving in uncharted waters with the plotline, and I sometimes wonder if
I'm making it work while staying faithful to the characterizations. It's
been a challenge writing this story when nearly all of the canonical plot
from the manga and anime is useless and irrelevant.
4. Special Thanks to Luke (Grendel) Mason for his proofreading skills,
my wife Bridget for her objectivity, and Phillip Hale for his excellent
source material on ships and armaments of the 17th Century. RotRM wouldn't
be the same without them.
Free The Nukes!
