I am very excited about my new Solomon Kane novelette, Up From The Deep, which is available on Amazon. Here is an excerpt.
Up From The Deep
Across the vast oceans of time,
Up from the cold, murky brine,
Darker than sin,
With a skeleton grin,
It inspired this curs’ed black rhyme.
— Old Sea Shanty
1
SIR
RICHARD GRENVILLE, hereditary lord of manors, privateer, once a member of
Parliament, explorer, adventurer, duelist, military man, and reputed to chew
and eat glass, had a distinguished career behind him and was determined to have
an even more illustrious career ahead of him. Now, in his mid-forties,
Grenville was still a solid, physically imposing figure with sharp hazel eyes,
brown hair, and trimmed facial hair, including a neat, pointed beard.
Grenville stood masterfully on the deck of his ship, as the
prow cut through the water with a steady cadence. He felt the salty spray on
his face as he looked out over the ocean as if it were his, all the while
dreaming of glory. While other men had delusions of grandeur, Sir Richard had
every confidence in his abilities and in his plans for the future. He was
returning to England from the Americas.
A call from topside broke into his musings.
“What was that, Mr. Morrison?” Grenville asked his first mate.
“Warder spotted something, Sir Richard, floating off the port
bow.”
The something turned out to be a man clinging to a bit of
flotsam. The man was very still and did not respond to calls. Some of the crew
voiced their opinion on the man’s condition, and a few even laid wagers on
whether he was alive or dead.
“Let us fish him out, Mr. Morrison, and see if he still
lives,” Sir Richard said casually.
“Aye, Sir Richard.”
The sodden man, a tall, lanky fellow, was unconscious and was
laid on the deck. Sir Richard bent over the prone body, noting the deathly
pallor, the gaunt countenance, and laying a hand on the man’s cheek, his hand
and arm, announced, “Cold. If he’s not dead, he is close to it. Mr. Morrison,
wrap him up in a blanket and try to keep him warm. Take him below deck and have
someone try to rub the cold out of his limbs.”
Two days later, Sir Richard Grenville was informed that the
man had regained consciousness.
“Has the man spoken? Did he give you his name?” Grenville
asked.
“Aye, sir. He said his name is Kane; Solomon Kane. He said he
was captain of the Phoenix.”
Grenville gave a bit of a start. “I know that ship, and I’ve
heard of that man.” Then Sir Richard repeated questioningly, “Was the
captain? Lead me unto him, straight.”
Morrison led Sir Richard to where the man Kane was recovering
from his ordeal. The man lay in a bunk below deck reserved for injured sailors.
Grenville could see the young man was looking better than when they fished him
out of the ocean. Though the man was in his twenties, his features reflected a
more mature man. He had cold, gloomy grey eyes, long black hair, and sharp
features. When he spoke, his voice was sober. Grenville had thought the man
might have gotten back some of his color, but he still looked pale; almost as
if he had been horribly frightened by something.
“Capt. Kane, I am Sir Richard Grenville.”
Kane nodded respectfully. “It is an honor to meet thee, Sir
Richard. I have heard of Your Grace, of course. Thou hast redeemed my life from
death, and I am in thy debt.”
“Yes, thou were in a bad way when we found thee. Verily, I did
not think there was much chance that thou wouldst survive. Thou surely hast a
strong constitution.”
Kane acknowledged this compliment with a nod.
“How did thee come to be in the ocean?” Grenville asked. “What
happened to thy ship? Where is thy crew?”
Kane hesitated. He appeared reluctant to respond and could not
look Sir Richard in the eye.
“Capt. Kane,” Grenville said with a combination of sympathy
and sternness, “Thou wilt have to relate to the High Court of Admiralty or some
royal commission of inquiry exactly what occurred. Perhaps it would be best to
tell me thy tale now, and make the details clear in your mind. You understand,
of course, I am not suggesting your testimony be anything other than the truth.”
Kane nodded his head slowly, then cast a glance at the first
mate.
Sir Richard Grenville picked up on Kane’s look and said, “Mr.
Morrison, take your place on deck and tend to your duties.”
“Aye, Captain,” Morrison said, and took the crewman standing
nearby with him.
“Now, Captain Kane, we have a bit of privacy. Thou wilt tell
me what happened.”
“I am somewhat abashed at telling you my story, Sir Richard,
for surely Your Grace will think me either a liar or lunatic. I do not know if
thou wilt believe me. Thinking back, I barely believe it myself.”
Grenville pulled up a stool and sat beside Kane’s cot. “I’m
willing to listen.”
And so began the tale.
Sir Richard Grenville had experienced many out-of-the-ordinary
things in his day. He had travelled some of the world, seen strange new lands
and people, and had adventures most men could not even dream of, but he had
never heard an account as remarkable—nor unbelievable—as the one he was about
to hear.
