3. Rescue in the Night

Casper could smell the storm in the air.

Even if the dark, swirling clouds in the distance didn't give it away, the sharp tang of moisture and charged air alerted his senses to the coming gale. His crew bustled about the ship, battening down hatches and reefing the sails to prepare. Already the wind was picking up speed, and Casper felt in his bones that the storm would be a powerful one. He adjusted the helm, turning the prow so that it faced into the wind.

"The Petrel is ready, sir," Jem reported, coming to stand beside him. "What are your orders?"

"We'll remain as close to the breach as possible. Do we have men at the oars?"

"Longest John and John Paul both have a rowing crew at the ready. Richards has volunteered to keep watch in the nest as long as the weather holds."

Casper frowned. "Have him come down at the first sign of lightning."

"Yes, sir. Anything else?"

"I want anyone who isn't otherwise needed to be keeping a close watch on the breach. I don't want anyone else getting past us."

Jem looked up at the sky. "You really think it will open up again this soon?"

Casper tapped the side of his nose. "I can smell it." The wind gusted, and he could hear it howling and moaning through the distant rocks. "And hear it. They'll be coming through tonight, and I intend to be here to greet them."

The angry clouds grew darker and heavier, making it impossible to tell just when the evening faded into night. The waves buffeted the Petrel from below and the wind battered from above, and Casper's crew worked tirelessly through the night to keep the ship from capsizing into the icy water. Lightning flashed through the sky in brilliant arcs and stabbed down to the water with branching forks, followed each time by the terrible, rolling drum of thunder. The rain was cold and sharp as it pelted their faces, and for once Casper was glad for the curse that kept his semi-corporeal body from feeling fully.

The storm continued to rage throughout the night, crescendoing to a peak sometime around the midnight hour. Casper struggled at the helm, determined to keep the Petrel from straying too far off course, when the cry he had been waiting for finally reached his ears.

"Ship off the port bow!"

Casper frowned. By his calculations, any ship coming through the breach should be approaching from either straight ahead or on the starboard side.

How could they have gotten through and past us that quickly?

"She's lit distress signals!" Jem's voice carried over the roar of the wind. "I think it's a fishing boat, Captain."

Casper lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the blinding rain as he scanned the dark waters. Sure enough, in the distance a small fishing boat was being tossed about by the violent waves. Red lights flashed in alternating patterns of short and long, communicating the universal request for assistance.

"Should we assist?"

From the other side of the Petrel came another call. "The breach!"

Casper hesitated. Helping the fishermen would mean letting the smugglers slip away again, and they were so close. A bright flash of lightning and deafening crack followed by distant cries made up his mind for him. He pulled hard at the helm, turning the port.

"Captain, they've been stuck! They're going down."

"Tell the men to row!" He barked. "Jem and Short John, ready the longboats."

His orders were relayed over the howling of the wind, and the crew worked as one. The fishing boat was slowly listing to the side as she sank. Amongst the distressed cries of the fishermen, Casper could hear the sound of singing—a sign that amongst the crew there was at least one fae capable of maintaining a clear head in the face of emergency. The longboats were lowered, with Casper taking command of one and Jem in the other.

They battled the waves as they approached the sinking ship, and the sound of singing grew louder. From what Casper could tell, the fishermen were gathering together at the highest point of the vessel, clinging to what little security they could. Casper knew the moment they had been spotted, as the eyes of one of the fae grew large with fright. He pointed and shrieked, "Death has come!"

"Not if I can help it," Casper called back, keeping his voice calm and pleasant. "We mean you no harm; we're here to help."

"Help carry us down to the fathomless depths!" a second, shriller voice joined in.

Jem leaned to the side and started swinging around a large hook tied to a sturdy rope. "It's not really a good night for diving," he answered as he let the hook fly. It sailed up and over the railing of the fishing boat, wrapping around it several times. "Almost as bad as it is for fishing."

Several of the fae tripped over themselves as they tried to back away quickly from the rope. Casper's jaw tensed. "We just want to help you."

A lone figure approached the railing and looked over. He was shorter than most of the others but carried himself with the confidence of authority. His thick gray beard reached nearly to his chest. "Who are you?"

"My name is Casperion Helmrud."

"You're the Flying Dutchman." It was a statement, rather than a question, and spoken with a hard edge of suspicion. The fishing boat creaked, and the wood groaned loudly as it tipped ever more precariously over the water.

"So I've been called. But as long as you are not smugglers or thieves, you have nothing to fear from me."

The fae seemed to hesitate for a moment. A particularly angry swell rose up underneath them, nearly capsizing the longboats, and it crashed over the railing of the fishing vessel, attempting to pull the crew with it when it receded.

"We'll go with you."

A few stressful, tenuous moments later, the crew of six fae were safely aboard the longboats. Casper and the bearded fellow watched as the abandoned boat disappeared beneath the churning surface of the water. Casper barked out an order, and his men strained at the oars, fighting the choppy waves as they rowed back to the Petrel. The storm seemed to be finally wearing itself out, and the wind howled with less ferocity than before.

Even after they were safely gathered on deck, the rescued fishermen huddled together, eyeing Casper's crew with fear and suspicion and whispering fervently amongst themselves. Casper tried his best not to let their behavior bother him, but he couldn't help but feel a prickly of annoyance that he had given up a chance to intercept the smugglers, and was instead rewarded with dark, distrusting looks, even after he and his men had practically pulled the fae from the sea.

But that's what she wanted—for us to always be outcasts, never trusted and never loved.

"Wow. With that face, it's no wonder they look at you with fear in their eyes." Jem joined him at the helm. "As my dear Mormor used to say, ‘Dark clouds on the brow mean a storm in the heart.'" He waited a beat. "It was usually followed by, ‘If you keep making that face, it will stay that way.'"

Casper rolled his eyes. "Do you never work?"

Jem pounded a hand dramatically to his chest, as if struck. "And the storm has lightning!" He wiped the rain from his face and followed Casper's line of sight to where the fishermen were gathered in a little huddle by the mast. "I've checked in with Short John and Longest John; everything is in order here. The Petrel took a bit of a beating, but it's nothing we can't fix in a day or two. Since the weather appears to be dying down, there's no reason to be concerned."

"And the smuggler ship?"

"We lost sight of her shortly after she passed through the breach."

Casper sighed. "I expected as much."

"And yet you let them get away." Jem was looking at him with a serious, pointed expression.

His eyebrows shot up to the edge of his knit cap. "What else was I supposed to do? Let those fae drown?"

"I would have led a mutiny if you did," his first mate answered easily, linking his hands behind him and rocking back on his heels. "But you didn't, because you are not the villain you have somehow made yourself in your own story—quite the opposite, really."

Casper looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "I'm not a hero, Jem."

"You have enough honor and compassion to come to the aid of an unfortunate stranger, even if it comes at a great personal cost to yourself. That sounds at least a little heroic."

"You forgot the part where I stole the lives of my entire crew, forcing them to give up their homes and families and wander aimlessly over the seas in an entirely different realm. That sounds at least a little villainous."

He left his post before Jem could respond, motioning for one of his men nearby to take over as he slowly approached the fae crew. Movement in his peripherals alerted him to Jem's presence close at his heels, but he ignored it. All six of the fishermen immediately stopped talking as he came close, and the bearded one stepped forward, offering his hand.

"My name is Daland." His voice was steady, though his hand shook slightly when Casper shook it. "Please allow us to express how thankful we are for your assistance earlier."

Casper dipped his chin in a quick nod, acknowledging the thanks. "I'm thankful we happened to be in the area." The thought struck him suddenly how strange it was that a fishing vessel was also sailing so close to the breach in the middle of a storm, but he kept his suspicions to himself. "You're the captain, I presume?"

"It was my ship, yes. Though it's been many years since I could properly be called a captain. We were all simply trying to make the most of the coming storm."

Casper raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You purposefully went fishing during bad weather?"

"The fish always bite more right before a storm. It's a gamble, but one that can pay off if you time things right." Daland crossed his arms defensively, widening his stance as if preparing for a fight.

"And end in disaster if you don't," Jem cut in cheerfully. "As my dear old Mormor used to say, ‘A fish in the hand is worth two in the sea, and an empty boat on the waves is better than a full one beneath.'"

Casper exhaled heavily through his nose. "I didn't realize your grandmother had an interest in fishing."

"Oh, you know Mormor," Jem answered with an airy wave. "Even if she didn't have any knowledge on a subject, she still had an opinion. So," he continued, turning his attention to Daland. "I would imagine with a boat that size that you must be local to the area? Where can we return you?"

Daland's eyes were bouncing back and forth between the two of them, obviously surprised by the casualness of their conversation. "I—we—that is, yes. We're from Nivem."

A squawk of protest sounded from one of the fishermen behind him. "It's bad enough that we're to die at the hands of ghosts, but now you intend on setting them after our families as well?"

Casper silenced him with a glare, and Jem ignored him, asking, "The little fishing village? I suppose that makes sense, given your occupation. We would be happy to convey you home. Right, Captain?"

"Of course." Casper nodded. "Though we will wait until clearer skies. The rocks around that part of the coast can be treacherous, as you know."

"I do," Daland agreed. "My daughter and I keep the lighthouse there." A look of worry crossed his face. "I hope she's alright. Sienna can manage the light just fine on her own, but she likely started worrying herself sick when I didn't return home."

"She's alone? No husband or brother to help her?" Jem's voice was all sympathetic curiosity, but Casper could see the wheels in his mind turning.

"She's my only child. She should have been married last year, but the faithless elf abandoned her when things got difficult. But not to worry—my Senta is just as capable of keeping the lighthouse as I am."

"I have no doubt." Jem looked to Casper, his eyebrows raised and wordlessly communicating, "Look! A young, unattached woman of marriageable age."

Casper shot him a flat look and shook his head slightly.

It sounds like she's already been abandoned once. She would be even less likely to promise faithfulness to a sailor who will leave after just a week.

He cleared his throat. "As soon as the skies are clear, we'll take you to Nivem."

Daland clasped his hands together in thanks. "You have my gratitude, Captain. There must be some way that I can repay you."

"There's no need."

"But I insist." The fisherman grew more animated. "I know! We will be hosting our Midwinter Festival next week. You and your crew are welcome to join us for the celebration."

Casper opened his mouth to decline, but Jem was already answering. "Next week, you say?" He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Captain could use the time ashore." He shot Casper a meaningful look.

Casper gritted his teeth. I want this curse to be broken as much as they do, but I don't think he understands exactly what it is he's asking. Forcing my company on this fisherman and his poor daughter is not going to guarantee that anyone will be falling in love.

"Ah. Yes. Ashore." Daland suddenly looked a little green, as if just then realizing that he had offered up his home as lodging for a crew of ghosts. "I don't know that I have the space for all of you…"

Jem held up his hand. "Say no more, my good sir. We understand that our rather unsettling appearance might be more than you and yours bargained for. As my dear old Mormor used to say, ‘The spirit of kindness does not extend to all kinds of spirits.' As it happens, we and our boat shall be able to shed these ghastly visages for something a little more solid once the hour of midnight arrives. But even so, we'll be quite content to remain on the Petrel. Captain Helmrud is the one who should make the most of his time ashore." He slapped Casper's shoulder a little harder than was necessary.

The fisherman's spirits revived. "Wonderful! It will be my honor to host you for the week."

"Yes," Casper echoed intoned dryly. "Wonderful."

On the bright side, Nivem is one of the closest port towns to the breach, and the smugglers have to be going somewhere to unload their cargo. I don't think this week will turn out the way that Jem hopes, but maybe it won't be completely wasted.