Below decks on the ship The Hereafter, Trevor Tweesly sat at the navigator's desk. Beside him was a porthole through which he could see the tilting, churning horizon. At least, he could if it were daylight outside.

He pored over his notes and star charts by the light of a nearly spent candle in the holder, which was bolted to the desk top to keep from tipping or sliding as the room’s gravity swayed indecisively. The pieces of yellowing parchment which he was studying were in varying states of being rolled up, and each depicted the curved lines and dots which are the hallmark of the navigator's craft.

They were each depictions of a night sky, like a an insect on a collector's board, euthanized, with the wings spread and the body pinned amidst descriptive notes.

Trevor, in between the furious action of his quill, would pause to push his round iron-rimmed spectacles back up the bridge of his nose before resuming his organized scribbling.

The small room was illuminated with an inpatient flickering light, threatening to go out, sputtering indignantly against the humid, salty air.

Strung up along the far wall was a hammock. It lay twisted and tangled, neglected and unkempt.

A blanket and pillow were caught in the webbing, not unlike the husk of a fly in an abandoned cobweb.

A bronze sextant on a tripod stared limply down at the floor.

Mounds of things sat against the other walls, like hounds haunching at the edge of campfire light. They were bags, crates, canvas, lumber, rope, and a small bookshelf with tomes.

The books on the bookshelf were locked into place with clasping Iron bars, restrained from gravity’s seductive dance. They were too delicate and valuable to be left free to the elements, so they were kept apart for their own safety.

The skinny brown haired man, his thoughts at the end of their track, slowed his scribbling.

The fine details trickled out of his brain, down through his arm, and he trapped the final notes of the ship's route there on the page.

Satisfied, he holstered his quill and stoppered the ink well, both built into the desk.

He folded his pair of compasses and put them back into their velvet fold, which he rolled up and secreted into the drawer, along with his leather-sheathed quill knife. This he did with care, obvious even through the hallmarks of sleep deprivation.

After blotting the ink from the finished work, he stacked the notes into a rough sheaf before laying them into a binder.

Finally, eagerly, he rolled up the topmost charts on the desk. He slid the roll into a waterproof scroll holder with the cap dated for this week in a practical script. This he deposited into its place among the pigeonholes on the wall, one in a collection of sixty three others.

Standing there with the binder under his arm and about to go out the door, he stopped to glance at the hammock.

He stood there for several seconds, trapped in a kind of trance. For Tweesly, the room fell away.

The weight of the binder in his arm disappeared.

The gentle swaying of the ship became the pulse of his universe.

He stopped noticing the flickering light.

In that moment, he saw only the essence of the hammock.

Tearing himself away from his thoughts, he extinguished the candle, which was mere minutes away from burning out on its own.

The firelight was replaced with the grey light of dawn, which had just begun creeping from the horizon.

This pre-dawn light inched over the ocean. It crawled through the port hole and into Trevor’s room.

But it had just missed him.

The navigator's robes fluttered gracelessly as he opened the door and left his meager quarters.

It was time to report their route into the east.

****

Trevor stumbled on his land-legs, through sleeplessness, and across the deck of the Hereafter.

He was aiming for the captain's quarters. He needed to give his report to the captain before the information evaporated out his ears and into the sky.

Only with his message deposited safely could he return to his room and sleep until the next night.

When he woke up, it would a new night with different stars.

A ship had very little chance of getting anywhere without a navigator versed in the sequence of the night skies. Hundreds of zodiacs, a new one every night, were memorized by capable navigators.

A new guiding star would rise every time the sun set.

Without the knowledge bound in Tweesly's books, the crew would be utterly lost.

Gods help them if they were out further than they could see the shore, adrift on the shifting currents, or freshly emerged from a storm.

But their ship is freed from such a fate so long as Tweesly and his tools of the trade are onboard.

Their voyage's origin lay to the north, in the oversized harbor hosting most of the region's commerce. Much trade occurred there among the underwater cities, pontoon villages, cliff outposts, and docks at the woods edge.

The Hereafter was abandoning the safety of the harbor.

A venture sought by the captain has drawn the crew away even from where most thieves and pirates frequented.

Their journey pulled them away from sight of the shore.

The ship bucked unexpectedly, leaving Tweesly in a split. The drop then sent him to the floor.

Luckily, he rescued his binder.

Deciding against rash action, he lay on his back, mustering his meager strength.

Steadying himself against a bound barrel, he fought the rolling ground beneath him, working half pace for a bit before growing nauseous from staring at his feet.

He began to mumble and groan, a more agreeable alternative to giving up.

"Heavens, lad, where are you going in a hurry?"

Tweesly looked around and noticed a dwarf. The ship's cook, he remembered.

He was sitting on a spool of rope and looking at Tweesly with the usual concern, Tweesly being the runt of the litter back home.

"Why doncha sit down and take a break? You can hug that bucket over there for a bit." He gestured with his whittling knife at a waterproofed bucket which had otherwise blended into the scenery.

Tweesly wanted to thank him, but he just did what the dwarf suggested without a word.

He ended up sitting cross legged, holding the bucket with his knees. It was moist and sticky on the outside, and as big as his torso. The morning light gently gathered on the surface of whatever liquid it contained.

“On behalf o’ the crew, welcome aboard The Hereafter,” the dwarf said, waving his arms expansively. “It’s the promised land, where y’can work a’ much a’ you like, where there’s a’ much food an’ drink a’ y’can stomach, an’ the people here ain’ half bad neither.”

In a quieter voice he added, “It’s the best bit o’ life before Eternity, believe you me.” Trever could not discern any lie.

The rest of the crew called the cook Cookie, and aside from the mediocre fare, Tweesly knew nothing more about him.

Cookie was in his usual grease stained apron, wearing his slightly drooping chef's hat.

Trevor wondered briefly if a hat like that was a requirement for the chef, but was interrupted by a sudden deposit he made in the bucket.

"Don' worry about that,” Cookie said sympathetically, “It'll pass.”

More brightly he said, “Breakfast is ready, so you can replace whatchu lose when you can."

While he had been reassuring Tweesly with his words, he hadn’t been looking at him.

Instead, he was concentrating at a thing in his hands. He was whittling something with a small knife, casting the shavings haphazardly on the ground.

Trevor found it eased his nausea to focus on the strange shavings. The slight noise the knife made as it cut through the material was unfamiliar to Trevor, quieter, and, in the moments of silence between the slices, he realized it was soap.

The dwarf’s deft hands were turning a bar of soap into a little statue of a person.

The object was too small and too far away for Trevor to see details.

"Wood is at a premium out on the ocean,” Cookie said, picking up on Trevor’s stare, “Besides, I wouldn' wanna get my hands dir-"

Tweesly suddenly felt the sensation of falling. Cookie felt it too, and it had cut him off mid-sentence.

The moment passed when he hit the deck rear-first and almost toppled. The bucket still in his grip, he successfully made another deposit.

The dwarf, returning to his whittling, said, "Random wave. Some are bigger than others. The ship rides them up and up like a plateau, then smacks down.” He clapped his hands for emphasis on the smack.

“You ge' used to it, like the rest."

More silence welled between them, punctuated by Tweesly's nausea.

Deciding he could wait no longer, he stood up.

Despite his swimming head, he lifted the bucket to the side. Cookie called out to stop him.

"Wha' are you doing? Leave it. It's swab water. It won' make any difference with some sick in it. The swabbie ain' got any more."

Tweesly shrugged and went to put the bucket down.

It slid away from him.

Tweesly noticed the deck getting steeper and steeper.

He braced for the fall and the slap, but when it didn't come, he opened his eyes.

Cookie had a bewildered look.

"This ain' no wave."

Beside the ship, the water roiled.

Cookie sounded the alarm, which consisted of running below decks while screaming incoherently.

Trevor's eyes went to his binder, which was also sliding away towards the prow of the ship.

The ship creaked and groaned as it was flexed in unintended ways, one end gradually leaving the water.

Trevor stumble-ran to catch his binder, single-minded.

It wouldn't save them, but the activity gave him purpose.

The crew bubbled up from below decks in various states of sleep and panic.

Several people crossed between Trevor and his binder, largely ignoring both, buffeting each as they passed.

Across the ship came chaotic cries.

"Something's got us!"

"Raise the sail!"

"To arms!"

"I didn't hear no cannons!"

"Some guts-for-brains really snarled this rope!"

It all died away, causing Trevor to look up from his fleeing book.

The roil by the ship had disappeared.

In its place there was a great serpent head.

It extended from the water, continuing up and up, towering over the ship.

While he wasn’t looking, Trevor's binder had hit a wall and stopped.

Trevor himself lost his footing nearing the end of the chase and also hit a wall and stopped, head first beside the book.

Next to him, a door opened. It was the door he had been aiming for. The door to the captain’s quarters.

From inside strode a minotaur.

Trevor, being close to the ground at the time, first saw the translucent, faceted hooves at the ends of its furry legs.

He looked up further.

The minotaur wore stately garments, befitting an officer of a ship, and strands of jewelry bound around his great horns.

The minotaur ascended the inclined deck with grace for several paces, stirring a wake of murmurs among the crew with his passage.

The great serpentine head looked down at the ship.

The sea snake, the only description befitting this monster that Trevor could think of, was wholly covered with pearly white scales, right up to its head.

Its head, however, was adorned with a dark blue crest, like a gnarled face mask made of horn.

Only its green eyes could be seen through the holes in the crest, but only by what poor creature the serpent was looking at.

Looking at it, and its terrible immensity, Trevor wished he had kept the bucket.

The now assembled crew, armed with all manner of bladed weapons and improvised clubs, awaited orders from the minotaur.

Having reached the edge nearest the serpent, he stood commandingly, his hands behind his back.

The serpent hissed like whale exhaust, showing its many pointed teeth.

The minotaur boomed, "Serpent! What business have you with us!"

To the nearest crewman, in a calm voice, he ordered that the barrels bound on the deck be uncovered.

The serpent replied without moving its jaw, the words slithering out unimpeded.

"Identify yourself, vessel. We recognize your make, but not your crew. You are in our waters, and we demand tribute."

The minotaur shouted back, "We do not carry anything in your waters save for our lives and materials for sustainment!”

The serpent listened silently.

The minotaur continued, “It is not the way of your people to demand more than a quarter of trade goods, and we have none! Look, these barrels are empty and we sit high on the water, at least until your arrival!"

He gestured to the empty barrels as he said this.

"Why do you travel, elf ship, if not for profit?"

"This is our own business! You have no right to inquire!"

By this point in the proceedings, Trevor had righted himself and claimed the binder.

Strangely, he felt no need for a bucket, though he would need a change of pants later.

Keeping his eyes on the serpent towering over the ship, he crawled up behind a halfling, who looked equally engrossed.

"What's going on? Why aren't we dead yet?" Trevor hissed at the halfling.

Too shocked to be startled, the halfling droned, "Payment must be made to the lord of the open oceans, the white serpent of the exterior water ways."

"That at least explains the banter. Why have I never heard of this?"

"All seafaring people make agreements when they first try to leave for new lands by boat. It's ancient history consigned to myth." The halfling shrugged.

"Very informative, and better spoken than I expected."

"Thank you. My brother and I were performers in another life.” His face screwed up like he tasted something bitter. “I hope I don't have to start thinking about the next one."

The minotaur and the serpent concluded discussions, resulting in the serpent receding into the water.

The minotaur demanded that the barrels be covered again, and the halfling who had been speaking to Trevor hopped-to.

Following that came more orders.

The cannons were to be inspected, the deck to be swabbed, the sails to be somesuch or another.

The terminology escaped Trevor long before the final command was issued. The ship was suddenly lively.

The minotaur returned to the door by which Trevor stood, and offering the binder he said, "Navigation complete, captain."

The minotaur laughed, "Captain? No, Mr. Tweesly. Did you not meet the captain when you joined our crew?" Trevor shook his head.

"Come, then. I am First Mate Gorestomp. I'll introduce you."

He opened the door and gestured Tweesly to enter.

“Mr. Tweesly. The captain of The Hereafter.”