The passing of the weeks was marked by religious services on Sunday mornings for those so inclined, led by Brother Theo and consisting mostly of a few favorite hymns. On Sunday afternoon the crew would assemble for the captain’s inspection formation, followed by his formal inspection of the ship. These endless days could almost have been an idyllic time if not for the fact that they’d recently lost so many comrades. And every one of the ship’s company knew that the hosts of hell were following at their heels.
Their Guldur prisoners were being used as parolees, or trustees, for various duties throughout the ship. A careful eye was kept on them, but it soon became clear that there was no evil in them. As a final assurance of their trustworthiness, the Ship herself vouched for their good intentions. Their bare paws padding about on her decks couldn’t lie to her, and the warriors of Westerness trusted their Ship’s judgment. At first the crew held some resentment toward their former enemy, but the Guldur’s willing spirits and eagerness to please soon won over their shipmates.
The Guldur were of no use in the rigging, but elsewhere they were dispersed among the crew. Melville would have liked even more hands to bring them up to strength, but with the Guldur fully integrated into their crew he felt like they had a fighting chance if they met another enemy scout ship of this class.
The baby monkeys continued to appear mysteriously, turning up on the shoulders of more and more crewmen, and they were warmly welcomed. Many of the sailors’ tasks were solitary. On lookout high up in the rigging or on watch in the wee hours, it could get lonely, and the monkeys were welcome companions. The senior officers viewed the situation with concern but no real alarm since they were accustomed to dealing with alien pets and bizarre life-forms as passengers and cargo. Just as their earlier, earthly counterparts had dealt with parrots, apes in the rigging, and a host of other pets. Both Swish-tail and Fang had vouched for the little creatures’ goodwill, but Melville was certain that there must be more to the monkeys than met the eye. His primary concern was to rope them in and bring them under navy discipline as soon as possible. Everyone enjoyed the monkeys’ antics, but on one occasion they stepped across the line. Melville took the opportunity to assert his authority and make them full, trustworthy, obedient members of the crew.
The monkeys loved to ride on the dogs’ backs, and after some initial adjustment to the idea the dogs seemed to enjoy the experience. The dogs chased each other around the decks, their monkey jockeys screeching with joy and egging them on as canine ears flapped and tongues lolled out in joyful doggy grins.
The cats, on the other hand, had absolutely no patience for the monkeys. And the little eight-legged creatures seemed to delight in tormenting their feline fellow travelers. On several occasions the monkeys dropped from above onto an unsuspecting cat’s back, where they’d ride the tormented creature like a bucking bull. The cats were having a hard enough time without this abuse, since the Guldur Ship was infested with a wide variety of exotic vermin that made the usual cockroaches, mice and rats seem mundane. It was the cats’ job to hunt down all vermin. They’d been bred and selected across the centuries for this ability, and they took their job, and themselves, quite seriously.
No skylarking was ever permitted on the holy quarterdeck. The ship’s cats, dogs, and boys all learned this lesson at an early age. The monkeys seemed to immediately understand the limits of what they could get away with. But off the quarterdeck their antics could be a source of pleasant entertainment for all.
So it was that Melville was standing his watch on the upper quarterdeck. A big tomcat was taking a well deserved nap on the green-side railing down by the waist. Hans’ topmen were crawling about the rigging like huge spiders, most of them with a smaller spider upon them. Melville’s twisted sense of humor brought to mind an old ditty that he shared with Hans:
“Big bugs have little bugs
On their backs to bite ’em,
And these bugs have smaller bugs,
And so on, ad infinitum.”
Hans grinned, “Aye, sir. If you think of Fang as bein’ alive, which she is, then that ‘as par-tic-u-lar appleecation.”
Hans and his lads were putting the finishing touches on a set of studding sails, small sails that extended out on booms from the sides of their regular sails. Hans’ royals were answering well. And the spritsail-topsail, which was another, smaller, square sail further out the bowsprit, was adding its extra thrust. Now with these studding sails aloft and alow, they were moving at almost thirteen knots. All of these were quite rare in the ships of two-space, and their combination together on one ship was unheard of. As the speed of the ship increased, the tones of the rigging (the stays, shrouds, backstays and cordage) rose and rose to a triumphant pitch that seemed to harmonize joyfully with the strange, constant background music of two-space.
The crew was universally pleased and excited about these additions and Hans was talking to Melville about how “those massy yards and damn’d stout sticks’l bear it, by the Lady,” when suddenly a monkey dropped from above onto the back of the sleeping cat. The sailors had a rough sense of humor, and everyone grinned as the startled cat howled and leaped up. But the situation stopped being funny when the tormented cat launched itself off the end of the rail and into the blue plane of Flatland. The monkey on its back ejected up into the rigging, but the poor cat sank and then bobbed up once, its head popping out with a desperate “Wrrarr?!” Then it disappeared into the depths of interstellar space. From the bottom side of the ship a few startled observers watched an upside-down cat pop feet-first out of Flatland, and disappear.
“Bugrit!” swore Hans.
On the top side the crew all watched in silent dismay and Melville knew that he needed to take immediate action. He pointed up at the monkey and called out, “Whose monkey is that?” The monkey fled up into the rigging to crouch on the back of a topman. “Izra Smith! Is that your monkey?”
“Aye, Cap’n,” the sailor called back timidly.
“You, your monkey, and your division officer report to my cabin immediately.” Melville moved down the quarterdeck steps and turned into his cabin. Various options flashed through his mind as he waited. This was an accident. It was horseplay gone awry, with no evil intent. Indeed, he felt that it was partly his fault since he hadn’t taken action earlier when the monkeys first began to tease the cats. He was sitting at his writing table when Smith, accompanied by Midshipman Aquinar, was shown in by the marine guard at his door. Smith stood wringing his hands while his monkey peered cautiously over his shoulder. Aquinar stood beside him with a worried look on his face as his monkey peered over his shoulder.
“Smith,” began Melville, looking at the unfortunate owner of the miscreant monkey, “what do you think this ship would be like if all the monkeys got out of control and drove their fellow crew members over the edge?”
“Aye, Cap’n, it’d be bad. Parful bad,” said Smith, looking at the floor.
“Aye, indeed. So you agree that we must ensure that our new crew members exhibit proper navy discipline?”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“Good. Well the best way I can see to administer discipline is to stop the creature’s food and grog. Your monkey is on bread and water for a week, starting today. You will not permit him to partake of any beer, or anything except bread and water, during that period. If he so much as snags a handful of your food, or anyone else’s, it will be you on bread and water. Do I make myself clear?”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“Good, now, put your monkey on the table in front of me. Mr. Aquinar, you do the same.” Then he reached up and grabbed his own monkey.
“Huurkk? Heek?” said the surprised monkey as Melville set it down in front of him. The other two monkeys were placed beside it, and Melville stood up and looked down at them sternly, leaning forward with his hands on the table. All three of the monkeys crouched on the table with their eight legs pulled in close and their heads drawn up in their thorax. Only a trace of their eyeballs could be seen peeking out at him, and above the eyeballs their mouths were chittering silently.
“Now you lot listen up,” Melville began. Smith and Aquinar looked at him incredulously. What the hell am I doing, thought Melville. I’m lecturing a bunch of damned monkeys! I swear it’s See-no-evil, Hear-no-evil and Speak-no-evil. “Those cats are members of our crew, just like you. They serve a function here, and I will not tolerate any further harassment of the cats. Do I make myself clear?”