The Great White Whale

By Katie Hanna

“Ready when you are, Cap’n Muldoon.”

My first mate O’Hara squints expectantly through his good eye, the other covered with a black patch. The crew of the Muirgen clusters behind him, waiting for my signal.

Our target, the whaling ship Pawtuxet, flounders on the choppy gray sea, her mast shattered by a well-placed shot from one of our cannons. But her deck bristles with angry sailors brandishing pikes and muskets. Broken mast or not, those men won’t go down without a fight.

Captain Abbot strides across the deck of his crippled vessel. His legendary peg leg thumps loudly against the wooden boards. Meanwhile, the white whale he’s been stalking all the way from the sunny Carolinas to the frigid heart of the Atlantic lurks near the Pawtuxet’s starboard bow. I see a flash of silver skin. A massive tail churning the waves. A spout of water, quick and defiant.

The great white whale is safe from harpooners as long as Abbot is distracted by the Muirgen’s pirates. We’ll save that magnificent creature, or my name’s not Careen Muldoon.

I raise my cutlass like a battle flag. My voice, hoarse from years of gun smoke and whiskey, swells to a roar. “Go!”

Twenty throats take up the shout as my crew explodes into action. O’Hara swings a grappling hook across the gap between the two ships. The iron claw whistles through the air before snagging the Pawtuxet’s rigging.

Second mate Désirée DuBois tosses another grappling hook, whooping as the iron sinks its deadly teeth into the Pawtuxet’s side. DuBois shimmies along the rope with the ease of a squirrel. The rest of the pirates follow suit.

Captain Abbot bawls an order. His sailors begin firing their muskets. They’ll use their pikes to knock the pirates off the ropes when they get closer. Smoke belches from the gun barrels. DuBois ducks to avoid being hit. The wind hurls her colorful Creole curses back to me.

My heart pounds under my heavy sea jacket. But I trust my crew to do their jobs. It’s time to do mine.

I cast my gaze to the starboard bow. The Muirgen is slanted towards the Pawtuxet, so the gap is only ten or twelve feet. Can I make twelve feet?

A dozen yards off, the white whale circles in the water. I picture its pale skin gashed with an iron harpoon, its blood staining the waves crimson. My jaw tightens.

I sprint across the deck, the wind whipping my coat. The wooden boards pitch and roll, but I’m so used to the motion, I barely notice. My chest burns, but my focus never wavers from my target.

As I dash to the railing, cold spray slaps my cheeks. I vault over the beam, launching myself into the air.

For a heart-stopping second, I hurtle through space. Colors blur. Sound fades. I’m only aware of the salt breeze in my face, my coattails flapping behind me, and the Pawtuxet’s wooden hull rushing forward—

I’m not going to make it.

My ribs slam the hard, unforgiving boards. The shock rattles every bone in my body. But before I plummet to a watery grave, my right elbow hooks the rail. Now I’m dangling off the side of an enemy ship. I draw a shaky breath. Could be worse.

Someone shoves me, trying to knock me off the railing. Gritting my teeth, I clench my elbow like a crab’s pincer. Wood digs unmercifully into my flesh. But I hang on for dear life.

With my free hand, I draw my cutlass and jab upward. A muffled curse tells me my thrust has hit home. “Devil take you, Muldoon!”

“You know my name?” I seize my advantage to scramble aboard. Of course he knows my reputation—the Muirgen is feared far and wide as the scourge of Atlantic whalers—but still, it’s nice to be recognized.

I tumble over the rail. My boots hit the deck. Cutlass in hand, I whirl to face Captain Abbot. He lunges. I block his sword. He thrusts again. I parry. Our blades ring with the metallic music of this grim dance. Across the Pawtuxet’s deck, similar duels play out with cutlasses, knives, and fists. DuBois tackles a sailor with a merry whoop, wrestling him to the ground.

“The great white whale is mine, Muldoon,” Abbot rasps. “You’ll never rob me of my prize.”

“That whale doesn’t belong to you, Abbot.” With a flick of my wrist, I counter his latest thrust. “Nor to any living soul. He’s free.”

“I’ve spent ten years hunting the beast. He bit my leg off!” Abbot stamps his peg for emphasis. “My vengeance is long due.”

“Can you blame him? You tried to kill him.” I strike hard and fast, nearly slicing Abbot’s ear. “An innocent creature!”

“An innocent creature,” Captain Abbot mocks, shoving my blade away with such force I rock on my heels. “Isn’t that just like a woman? So sentimental.”

His blows come at a dizzying pace, clash after clash of steel. It takes all my strength to block them. My muscles ache. Sweat drips off my chin.

“You’ll never be a real pirate, Careen Muldoon.” Cruel eyes glitter in Abbot’s scarred face. “Just a slip of a girl in men’s clothing.”

Fury blinds me. But as Abbot’s blade whistles past my cheek, I come to my senses. Anger will get me nowhere. Cunning, on the other hand, is a pirate’s best friend.

I emit a mocking laugh. “Your whale’s getting away!”

Abbot looks wildly over his shoulder. “What—how—”

I knock the sword from his hand, disarming him. As the weapon clatters to the deck, my cutlass presses his throat. “That’s Captain Muldoon to you.”

Ignoring Abbot’s string of curses, I glance to the ocean. A hundred yards off, a waterspout sparkles against the harsh gray sky. The great white whale is free at last, swimming to new horizons.

A rare smile cracks my face as I raise a hand in salute.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Katie Hanna is a writer in her spare time and a Hufflepunk all the time.  She has a Master’s degree in history from the University of Memphis, and puts it to work writing historical fiction and historical fantasy.  Katie likes strong women in her adventure stories and Oreos in her ice cream.

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