Shike – Day 295 of 306

There was a monstrous crack. The huge bronze tube of the hua pao broke loose from the deck, smashed through the side of the shed and was sliding towards them. Jebu danced backwards along the railing. Like a falling elephant the enormous mass of metal struck Arghun and crashed with him through the railing. There was not even a cry. Jebu saw arms and legs flail briefly, then Arghun was gone. With both arms wrapped around the broken railing, his legs dangling into the rolling sea, Jebu watched the shadowy bulk of the fire-spitting weapon disappear into the depths. He whispered the Prayer to a Fallen Enemy.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Someone grabbed him and pulled him back to the deck. Kagyo. Jebu felt the sea slide under the giant ship as the deck began to tilt to starboard again. He was still numbed by Arghun’s sudden vanishing. He pulled himself up against the railing. His surviving men were huddle around near-by masts, clinging to the huge wooden pillars and each other to keep from being washed overboard.

“Where is Moko?” Jebu shouted.

“We took him to the captain’s cabin,” Kagyo called back. He led Jebu along the deck, running in a crouch, clinging to ropes or masts whenever a gust of wind threatened to blow them overboard or a huge wave turned the deck into a raging torrent. By the time they reached the captain’s cabin at the rear of the junk a mountainous wave had broken over the starboard side, dumping rivers into the open hatches and holes in the deck. One or two more waves like that and the junk would surely go under.

Moko was lying on cushions in the shelter of the captain’s cabin. The Former Zinja had done their best with bandages and the Chinese needles to staunch the flow of blood, but Arghun’s axe had gone too deep. Moko’s blood was pouring out on the floor, and there was no way to stop it. The little carpenter’s arm and shoulder were almost severed from his body. Sametono knelt beside him, crying silently, and Sakagura sobbed above him.

“Don’t die, Uncle Moko,” Sametono said softly. “I need you.”

Moko’s voice came faintly. Jebu had to strain to hear him above the shriek of the storm. “Indeed you do, your lordship. If we don’t get this ship moving it’s going to sink with all of us on board. And then what was the point of coming out here to rescue you?”

“Can you tell us what to do, Moko?” said Jebu.

“Yes, shiké. Sakagura, get as many men as the tiller will hold to keep the rudder steady. Set the rest to bending every scrap of sail you can find to the masts. The ship is sideways to the wind now. It’s a wonder we haven’t turned over already. Put sail on and get the wind behind us. Let it blow us right into shore. With a tai-phun pushing it, this ship will end up inland as a fine castle for all of us.” He tried to laugh, and gasped in pain.

“Run her aground?” Sakagura stared at his father, momentarily startled out of his grief.

“Of course. We don’t want to save this ship. We only want to save ourselves. And in your haste don’t forget to raise the anchors. There are two of them, one at the stern and one at the bow, and each is raised by a windlass. Now do it.” Jebu thought, Moko won’t live to see Red Tiger make the shore. Sakagura ran outside to shout orders to his men as another enormous wave swamped the ship and threw everyone against the port side of the cabin.

“I’m so glad you’re still alive, shiké,” Moko said. “What of the Mongol?”

“Dead.” Jebu told Moko how the hua pao had fallen on Arghun and carried him beneath the waves.

“‘The mighty are destroyed at the last, they are but as the dust before the wind,'” said Moko, quoting a popular poem. “So are we all,” he added, “but it pleases me to know I have outlived Arghun Baghadur. And that you will outlive him, shiké, is wondrous joy.”

Jebu fell to his knees, weeping. He took Moko’s almost-lifeless hand and pressed it against his face, letting his tears run over the broad, hard fingers.

“I owe you so much, I can find no words. Moko, Moko, my friend. I wish I might die and you live. Only you can help me now. Tell me what I can do for you.”

“You have already done everything for me, shiké. You appeared on the Tokaido and gave me a marvellous life. You gave me China, ships, the War of the Dragons, a family name. Because of you my sons are samurai. Because of you I know the beautiful Lady Taniko. Salute her for me now, shiké. Tell her I apologize for not being able to bid her farewell in person. And if you wish to do me any other last favour, look after my foolish son.”

“What I owe you cannot even be calculated,” said Jebu. “If I spent my whole life caring for your family it would not be enough.”

Moko smiled. “If you feel such an obligation to me, remember who I am. Remember what your father taught us before he went into oblivion. Remember who I really am. Do you want to return to me what good I have done for you? Then be true to the Self.”

The terrible rolling motion of the ship had stopped. It felt, there in the cabin, as if the ship had righted itself and was plunging forward, like a whale, through the waves. Jebu looked out the open cabin door. There was nothing but blackness ahead and rain was spraying in through the door in sheets. Jebu started to shut the door when Sakagura appeared in the doorway. He came into the cabin and Jebu slid the door shut behind him.

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