Novel: Sparrow
Excerpt from chapter one: Drums
'What kind of god requires subjects to bow down before him and worship his glory? What kind of god would demand acquiescence with his commandments, where a failure to believe in him, or a failure to meet his exacting standards, would be punished by an eternity of unrelenting pain and torment?' Sparrow contemplated this as he watched the crab scuttle across the kelp, its little claws pointed with all the menace it could muster in his direction. He reached out and deftly grasped it softly between thumb and forefinger; lifting it up to appraise it more closely. Sparrow had heard it said that God was in every stone. He had lifted a stone to reveal this tiny crustacean, so maybe it was God's messenger on Earth? Now he held its fate in his hands, or rather between his fingers. The power to determine between life and death was his; to either judge his captured subject worthy of continued existence, or to crush it into oblivion. Such power felt whimsical. Rising, from his crouched position, he tossed the crab high into the evening's dusky sky, and watched it plummet down onto the sea's grey surface, where it quickly sank without trace. Maybe it lived but then again, maybe not? Maybe some crab-eating critter was lying in wait and the crab, having escaped one danger, had succumbed to another equally great one?
Kai Delorge, known to his friends as Sparrow, was in a brooding mood. The drums weren't helping. They were emanating, he knew, from beyond the sea walls. Knowing this didn't insulate him from the sensation that they were surrounding him, as if some ghost fleet was out amongst the unnatural har with Far Islander slaves beating a low call to war. Beyond the drums, though, was a deeper melancholy. Life's dreams suddenly felt like chains with which to weigh him down; or a noose to choke a man so that all he could do was gurgle an incoherent death rattle as life seeped insidiously away. He felt like curling into a ball and closing his eyes to make it all go away. He was too young to have such a dark fate bequeathed to him.
Instead, he clambered up onto the highest rock he could find and stared out towards the harbour. It was a distance of maybe half a mile. On a clear day, he'd have been able to make out the names of the boats, painted proudly on their tall metallic sides, and the guns primed for use lined up along those sides. There had not been many clear days recently. Through the misty tendrils, all he could see were the outlines of the ships; dark shadows that a much younger and more foolish boy might have mistaken for sea monsters. The har's veil did not dampen the sounds emanating from the port, however. If anything, the sounds seemed to carry all the more clearly. He could hear the leaden bang of hammers upon sheet metal, the creak of mast timbers, and the muffled shouts of workers ferrying orders and answers back and forth across the harbour.
Sparrow knew that there were six warships in the harbour, and that two of them (the Freedom, and the Crusader) were currently docked. The other four including the lead ship, the Victory, were moored out in the bay, along with a flotilla of smaller ships and boats. Last minute reinforcements and enhancements were being made to Freedom and Crusader. The ships were being provisioned as well, caskets of fresh water from the local reservoirs, salted meat, fresh vegetables and citrus fruit. It was the Freedom that Sparrow knew best. He'd been on that boat as a baby, carried in his mother's arms as they'd walked the decks and marvelled at the height of the masts. It was the boat on which his father had first carved his reputation. Dane Delorge, who had risen from lookout boy to captain the Freedom in the First War. Captain Dane Delorge who had masterminded the now legendary Delorge manoeuvre against the more agile lead ship of the Far Islanders. It was but one victory in the war but it came to be regarded as the decisive moment. It had helped the Edeners fleet to a famous victory that had seen the Near Islands claimed as substantial prize. Sparrow's father had returned a hero. Within five years he had succeeded to the position of Admiral of the Navy, but it was another ten years (and with a second wife) before he was finally blessed as the father of a baby boy. The two daughters that his first wife, Annabel, had provided him with were sweet and gorgeous but it was a son that he had always wanted; a man to whom he could pass on his accumulated wealth and estate.
-
A sudden noise caused Sparrow to turn, and dragged his attention away from the goings on at the port. The noise was unmistakeable; that of hurried footsteps careering down the slipway. A smile slipped onto Sparrow's face at sight of whose over-sized feet they belonged to.
'Oi! Sparrow, are you coming?! Ramirez will have your guts!' shouted Herron, in between large gasps for air.
'Least of my worries' replied Sparrow, all trace of his smile evaporating.
'Shit Sparrow. No point dwelling on it's all I say. Might never happen, as my old man sometimes says!'
'Yeah, right' replied Sparrow. He started to pick his way carefully across the shoreline towards his gangly friend. 'Anyway, what's Ramirez gonna do? Ground us? Yes please! Don't mind being grounded for the next few days; would do quite nicely!'
'He might spank our arses is what he might do!' replied Herron, before jovially adding 'Don't think you're too big or fancy for it either!'
'Okay' agreed Sparrow. 'Let's get back then and see what trouble we're in.'
'We're in?' stuttered Herron. 'I'm not ...' he began, but Sparrow cut him off.
'Ramirez sees us as inseparable, remember? What was it he called us? The inseparable ...'
'rapscallions' added Herron miserably.
'That's it' laughed Sparrow. 'And making our lives miserable is his favourite pastime. You think he's going to let you off just because you're innocent this time?'
'Let's just get back' muttered Herron. 'Big day tomorrow'
'I'm sick already of hearing that' remarked Sparrow sourly, as he fell into line beside his friend.
'Yeah, me too' whispered Herron.
-
Herron Calvert was a year older than Sparrow. He was the son of Fergus and Betty Calvert, and grandson of Garner Calvert. Old man Garner was still alive and had been ship's mate to Admiral Delorge all the way back to the days when he was just plain Captain Delorge. After retirement, Garner had taken up a position as Master of the Boats on the Delorge estate; a rather grand title but which basically just meant that he looked after the boat house and the several small boats that were retained there. It was a position his son, Fergus, took up, and the family lived in a small cottage down by the boat house. Betty Calvert had chosen Herron as her son's name because it had become fashionable to call children after animals. Her husband though had misspelt the name of the birth register, so Herron had ended up with an extra 'R' in his name. Kai Delorge's parents would never have fallen prey to such a naming fad, but their son had ended up with the nickname regardless. A young Kai had once remarked, at the dinner table, that it wasn't fair that Herron had a cool name whilst he didn't. Aida, the family's rosy cheeked cook had responded saying, 'Well, you could be Sparrow now I fancy, what with the way you flit about all the time!' Kai's face had lit up and he proceeded to tell all and sundry that he was now Sparrow, not Kai. Some stink that had caused. Sparrow could remember it well. His mother had not been one bit pleased and voiced her displeasure loudly both to her son and to Aida. The Admiral though had come around to it. 'Oh come on, Laura, let the boy be. It's just a nickname. Had one myself at his age!' His mother had tutted, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Sparrow chose to make himself scarce, slipping out after his mother. He regretted, though, not asking what his father's nickname had been?
-
On returning from the beach, both Herron and Sparrow removed their boots and entered the main house through the pantry door. Adjoining the pantry was the kitchen, from which a delightful soupy aroma was wafting. The boys eagerly followed their noses.
'Ah, there you are' commented Aida, wiping her hands on her apron. She was standing by the oven and was tending to a large pot in which a thick broth of vegetables was stewing. She treated them to a serious look, the kind she put on when she wanted to be cross with them. Sparrow could see though that there were also the edges of worry showing in the tight lines around her eyes. Either way, worried or cross, it didn't suit her round face. The boys were more used to it smiling. 'Master Ramirez will be scalpin' you and no mistakin'. Here, sit down and get some sustenance into yourselves before he finds you!' Sparrow smiled across at Herron and also at Aida, and the two boys quickly pulled out chairs at the table and sat down. Aida ladled out two large portions of broth and set the bowls in front of the boys. She also supplied large chunks of wheaten bread, which Sparrow and Herron eagerly dunked into the broth before cramming it into their mouths. She'd made the bread that afternoon. She'd done a lot of cooking and baking, and then Kai hadn't shown up for dinner, so much of it had been wasted. She wasn't angry though. Normally, she would have been, but there was too much sadness today. Her boys were going away. It wasn't right. They were too young, and too precious. They should at least have gone with a good meal inside them.