Saint Elmo's Ire
by Reed Kuehn
The first time they saw the flames was during a storm along the western coast of Africa. The tempest came upon them with the fury that only Mother Nature possesses. Superstitious as they were, the sailors rubbed talismans, spoke ancient prayers, and threw offerings into the frothing sea, but to no effect. They secured the sheets and rigging as the storm raged, indifferent to their plight and pleas. Over the howling wind, a cry from above caught the crew’s attention. The lad Davies was high on the topsail, but they fixed their gazes above him to the mast’s tip. Like Prometheus defying the Gods, the blue flames stood proud in the face of nature’s wrath. The sailors were transfixed as the blaze burned bright in the driving rain and screeching gale. The storm’s intensity responded to this challenge and increased its power, but the otherworldly fire didn’t falter.
At the helm, the captain took note and followed the crew’s gaze to the spectacle above. He watched in awe as the flames stood proud in the face of their impending doom. Horrified, he saw the fire coalesce into a grotesque face that stared right at him. The demon’s voice was clear over the cacophony, and the captain listened to the proffered deal. He gripped the wheel with whitened knuckles and nodded without hesitation. The face in the fire grinned with bloodlust and glee. The crew watched in horror as the living flames crept down the mast toward Davies, suspended below. They climbed over his body, sizzled and popped around him, but did no harm. The sailors watched as Davies extended an arm outlined in a shimmering blue fire to the ship’s starboard side. Distracted, they did not see the rogue wave before it slammed into the hull, washed over the deck, and nearly capsized them.
Slowly, the ship righted itself as the crew recovered and returned to their stations. As quickly as it had come upon them, the storm abated and left the vessel bobbing in the agitated waters. The captain looked to the mainmast. The flames were gone, as was Davies, who had been blasted into the hungry ocean.
“Man overboard!” the captain shouted. The crew took to the rails and searched the frothy seas for their lost shipmate. They kept watch until the light waned, but the shroud of night forced them to accept Davies” fate. The captain authorized increased rum rations for the crew to toast their fallen comrade and went below decks.
The ship creaked as he maneuvered the tight passageways toward his cabin. Hushed voices and whispers seemed to taunt him and the deal he had struck with the gods of seas and skies. The captain bristled for allowing his mind to succumb to such thoughts and drowned out the noise. He yelled into the hold to quiet the voices of the condemned. He didn’t believe in ghosts and gods, merely the capabilities and actions of men. The supernatural realm was his wife’s interest, but even as he rationalized what had occurred, he couldn’t clear his mind of the visage etched into his brain. He took a deep breath and entered his cabin with a broad smile and a calm countenance. Charlotte, dressed in ivory lace from the full-length hem to a choker collar, sat at her reading table. A deck of playing cards was spread out in front of her. He sighed when he saw the gleam in her eye and the cards arranged in front of her and knew she wasn’t waiting to play a game of hearts. He kissed her forehead and gently stroked her porcelain cheek.
“You know, my beloved, as captain of this ship, the law is in my hands.” He whispered in her ear, “Do you know the fine for cartomancy on the high seas?” He could feel the heat rise from her neck as she playfully pushed him away.
“My dear Captain Carter, as an accomplice to these dark arts, how do you think you would fare in the eyes of the court?” She responded with a wink and a grin.
“Ah, yes. Better we keep these macabre practices to ourselves, lest the populace becomes suspicious of our true power.” He smiled widely, and the two broke out in laughter.
“Alexander. You are too rich, my love. Has the storm passed?”
“Yes, my dear. The powerful squall came upon us with such fury as I have rarely seen on the seas. The ship fared well, but alas; we lost a man.” His wife’s face softened to one of genuine sadness.
“Then, my brave captain, pour the wine, and we shall toast his memory and service to Queen and Country.”
“Hear, hear.” Captain Carter opened a bottle of wine and filled two crystal goblets with the sanguineous liquid. The weak lantern lights caught the crystal, which sent small prismatic beams about the cabin. They raised their glasses silently, and each downed a healthy mouthful. He took a seat opposite her and stared into her aquamarine eyes, which had the power to entrance and disquiet him simultaneously. “What do they say tonight, as we make our escape from that hellish storm?” he asked, looking at the cards strewn across the table.
“You indulge my occult fancies this eve, my captain?” Charlotte asked slyly.
“Whether it be the wind or the wine, let us peer into the beyond and gain a possible glimpse of clarity, shall we?” She grinned and began shuffling the cards. Carter removed his boots and lit a pipe. Soon, the sweet incense of the smoke mixed with the briny sea air. With deft hands, Charlotte shuffled and laid her hand upon the deck. Her husband placed his hand on hers, and she could feel the remnants of the storm, and the wine’s warmth pulsing through his touch.
“Let’s begin,” Charlotte said. She methodically dealt five cards. She turned the first over. “Ah, the king of diamonds. An influential but stubborn man.” Captain Carter scoffed with a wink. She turned the next card. “Jack of clubs. A dark-haired and reliable youth.” Carter’s brow furrowed. Charlotte continued. “The ten of spades. Misfortune.” Carter leaned forward in his chair. “Three of spades. A difficult partnership.” Carter ground his pipe between his teeth as his anxiety grew. His wife’s eyes, as if owned by another power, bored into him as she turned over the last card. “Three of hearts. Caution is advised.” Carter jumped to his feet and paced the room like a feral animal. “My love, what vexes you?” He dismissed her question with a wave and stroked his beard. “I have dealt the cards; now it’s time for you to tell the story.” He hesitated before he sat and took a large swallow of wine.
He began quietly. “As the storm raged, I was at the helm when Davies called from the rigging. I looked, and an ethereal blue flame shot into the sky from the top of the mast. It wasn’t tempered by the deluge and defied Poseidon himself. As I stared, a face appeared in the blaze that looked straight at me. Despite the howling wind, I could hear its voice above the fray. It made me an offer—a sacrifice of one to save the rest. I am ashamed to say, my dear, that I did not hesitate. I thought of you, of the crew, and the fortunes our cargo will bring us.” Charlotte shuddered at the mention of the poor souls beneath them as Carter continued. “The fires blazed with a devilish grin, and the demon called upon us a great wave that blew Davies to the great beyond and sated the sea god’s hunger.” He took a pull on his pipe and looked at his wife. She regarded him with tenderness and pity.
“My love, it sounds like you were placed in a difficult position and forced to make a decision that no man should have to but was required to. This is a dangerous business and one the crew enters into freely. The seas are fickle, but perhaps our fortunes and safe passage have been secured.” She paused to observe her husband, who sat pensively. “Or, perhaps it was just a storm and nothing more.” He inhaled sharply and nodded in resigned agreement.
“Perhaps,” he said quietly. The two sat in silence before they retired for the evening, and each other’s warm embrace.
The remainder of the trip to Capetown was without event, and shortly thereafter, the ship embarked on the final leg of its voyage. One evening as the captain and his wife relaxed in their cabin, Charlotte produced the deck of cards. She grinned at her husband. He rolled his eyes and smiled in playful acquiescence.
As Charlotte shuffled, the light in the cabin dimmed, and the sounds of the sea quieted. The atmosphere became muted and suffocating, and the captain furrowed his brow at the change of his wife’s demeanor as if dark spirits hovered about her. She drew five cards and laid them face down. “And now,” she whispered, “let us see if we can divine what is to come.” She flipped the first card over. “Queen of clubs. A self-confident woman.” Flip. “Ace of spades. Obsession and deceit.” His eyes widened. Her eyes never left his as she turned over the remaining cards and finished her reading. “Seven of hearts. Broken promises. Eight of clubs. Greed. Lastly, the king of spades. An authoritative but deceptive male widower.” Her gaze burned through the gloom and into his very soul. She rose and retired as Captain Carter remained deep into the night, smoking his pipe. His anxiety ebbed and flowed with the rocking of the ship, which became increasingly erratic.
Just after midnight, the first mate crashed into the cabin. “Captain,” he stammered, “a storm is coming, and flames are back!” Carter took a deep breath and went above to face nature once more.
At the helm, the captain took note and followed the crew’s gaze to the spectacle above. He watched in awe as the flames stood proud in the face of their impending doom. Horrified, he saw the fire coalesce into a grotesque face that stared right at him. The demon’s voice was clear over the cacophony, and the captain listened to the proffered deal. He gripped the wheel with whitened knuckles and nodded without hesitation. The face in the fire grinned with bloodlust and glee. The crew watched in horror as the living flames crept down the mast toward Davies, suspended below. They climbed over his body, sizzled and popped around him, but did no harm. The sailors watched as Davies extended an arm outlined in a shimmering blue fire to the ship’s starboard side. Distracted, they did not see the rogue wave before it slammed into the hull, washed over the deck, and nearly capsized them.
Slowly, the ship righted itself as the crew recovered and returned to their stations. As quickly as it had come upon them, the storm abated and left the vessel bobbing in the agitated waters. The captain looked to the mainmast. The flames were gone, as was Davies, who had been blasted into the hungry ocean.
“Man overboard!” the captain shouted. The crew took to the rails and searched the frothy seas for their lost shipmate. They kept watch until the light waned, but the shroud of night forced them to accept Davies” fate. The captain authorized increased rum rations for the crew to toast their fallen comrade and went below decks.
The ship creaked as he maneuvered the tight passageways toward his cabin. Hushed voices and whispers seemed to taunt him and the deal he had struck with the gods of seas and skies. The captain bristled for allowing his mind to succumb to such thoughts and drowned out the noise. He yelled into the hold to quiet the voices of the condemned. He didn’t believe in ghosts and gods, merely the capabilities and actions of men. The supernatural realm was his wife’s interest, but even as he rationalized what had occurred, he couldn’t clear his mind of the visage etched into his brain. He took a deep breath and entered his cabin with a broad smile and a calm countenance. Charlotte, dressed in ivory lace from the full-length hem to a choker collar, sat at her reading table. A deck of playing cards was spread out in front of her. He sighed when he saw the gleam in her eye and the cards arranged in front of her and knew she wasn’t waiting to play a game of hearts. He kissed her forehead and gently stroked her porcelain cheek.
“You know, my beloved, as captain of this ship, the law is in my hands.” He whispered in her ear, “Do you know the fine for cartomancy on the high seas?” He could feel the heat rise from her neck as she playfully pushed him away.
“My dear Captain Carter, as an accomplice to these dark arts, how do you think you would fare in the eyes of the court?” She responded with a wink and a grin.
“Ah, yes. Better we keep these macabre practices to ourselves, lest the populace becomes suspicious of our true power.” He smiled widely, and the two broke out in laughter.
“Alexander. You are too rich, my love. Has the storm passed?”
“Yes, my dear. The powerful squall came upon us with such fury as I have rarely seen on the seas. The ship fared well, but alas; we lost a man.” His wife’s face softened to one of genuine sadness.
“Then, my brave captain, pour the wine, and we shall toast his memory and service to Queen and Country.”
“Hear, hear.” Captain Carter opened a bottle of wine and filled two crystal goblets with the sanguineous liquid. The weak lantern lights caught the crystal, which sent small prismatic beams about the cabin. They raised their glasses silently, and each downed a healthy mouthful. He took a seat opposite her and stared into her aquamarine eyes, which had the power to entrance and disquiet him simultaneously. “What do they say tonight, as we make our escape from that hellish storm?” he asked, looking at the cards strewn across the table.
“You indulge my occult fancies this eve, my captain?” Charlotte asked slyly.
“Whether it be the wind or the wine, let us peer into the beyond and gain a possible glimpse of clarity, shall we?” She grinned and began shuffling the cards. Carter removed his boots and lit a pipe. Soon, the sweet incense of the smoke mixed with the briny sea air. With deft hands, Charlotte shuffled and laid her hand upon the deck. Her husband placed his hand on hers, and she could feel the remnants of the storm, and the wine’s warmth pulsing through his touch.
“Let’s begin,” Charlotte said. She methodically dealt five cards. She turned the first over. “Ah, the king of diamonds. An influential but stubborn man.” Captain Carter scoffed with a wink. She turned the next card. “Jack of clubs. A dark-haired and reliable youth.” Carter’s brow furrowed. Charlotte continued. “The ten of spades. Misfortune.” Carter leaned forward in his chair. “Three of spades. A difficult partnership.” Carter ground his pipe between his teeth as his anxiety grew. His wife’s eyes, as if owned by another power, bored into him as she turned over the last card. “Three of hearts. Caution is advised.” Carter jumped to his feet and paced the room like a feral animal. “My love, what vexes you?” He dismissed her question with a wave and stroked his beard. “I have dealt the cards; now it’s time for you to tell the story.” He hesitated before he sat and took a large swallow of wine.
He began quietly. “As the storm raged, I was at the helm when Davies called from the rigging. I looked, and an ethereal blue flame shot into the sky from the top of the mast. It wasn’t tempered by the deluge and defied Poseidon himself. As I stared, a face appeared in the blaze that looked straight at me. Despite the howling wind, I could hear its voice above the fray. It made me an offer—a sacrifice of one to save the rest. I am ashamed to say, my dear, that I did not hesitate. I thought of you, of the crew, and the fortunes our cargo will bring us.” Charlotte shuddered at the mention of the poor souls beneath them as Carter continued. “The fires blazed with a devilish grin, and the demon called upon us a great wave that blew Davies to the great beyond and sated the sea god’s hunger.” He took a pull on his pipe and looked at his wife. She regarded him with tenderness and pity.
“My love, it sounds like you were placed in a difficult position and forced to make a decision that no man should have to but was required to. This is a dangerous business and one the crew enters into freely. The seas are fickle, but perhaps our fortunes and safe passage have been secured.” She paused to observe her husband, who sat pensively. “Or, perhaps it was just a storm and nothing more.” He inhaled sharply and nodded in resigned agreement.
“Perhaps,” he said quietly. The two sat in silence before they retired for the evening, and each other’s warm embrace.
The remainder of the trip to Capetown was without event, and shortly thereafter, the ship embarked on the final leg of its voyage. One evening as the captain and his wife relaxed in their cabin, Charlotte produced the deck of cards. She grinned at her husband. He rolled his eyes and smiled in playful acquiescence.
As Charlotte shuffled, the light in the cabin dimmed, and the sounds of the sea quieted. The atmosphere became muted and suffocating, and the captain furrowed his brow at the change of his wife’s demeanor as if dark spirits hovered about her. She drew five cards and laid them face down. “And now,” she whispered, “let us see if we can divine what is to come.” She flipped the first card over. “Queen of clubs. A self-confident woman.” Flip. “Ace of spades. Obsession and deceit.” His eyes widened. Her eyes never left his as she turned over the remaining cards and finished her reading. “Seven of hearts. Broken promises. Eight of clubs. Greed. Lastly, the king of spades. An authoritative but deceptive male widower.” Her gaze burned through the gloom and into his very soul. She rose and retired as Captain Carter remained deep into the night, smoking his pipe. His anxiety ebbed and flowed with the rocking of the ship, which became increasingly erratic.
Just after midnight, the first mate crashed into the cabin. “Captain,” he stammered, “a storm is coming, and flames are back!” Carter took a deep breath and went above to face nature once more.
Welcome, Captain Carter,” a man yelled with an extended hand on the docks in Sydney, New South Wales. “How was the leg from Capetown?”
Carter approached and shook the man’s hand warmly. “Jacobson, my friend. It has been too long. The trip was dastardly. A furious storm came upon us near equal in force to another on the African coast. By God’s grace, we prevailed through both.”
“Ah, hah! Stories for the alehouse tonight! Where is your beautiful bride? I’ve anticipated meeting her for some time to welcome her to Australia properly.”
Carter’s head lowered. “I’m sad to say that she took ill during the last storm and did not recover. She rests for eternity in the realm of the sea king.”
“My deepest condolences. Let’s get your cargo unloaded, and since you will soon be laden with coin, we will find you proper accommodations and spirits aplenty to weave the tales of your voyage. By the grace of St. Elmo, who has delivered you safely here, we will imbibe his fire and honor your beloved. Come!” At these words, Captain Carter’s face widened in abject horror.
“How,” he said, pointing at Jacobson, “did you know about the fire?”
Jacobson cocked his head to the side and regarded his friend. “Know what?” Carter”s face was ashen, and his tongue was glued in his mouth. He began to shake as Jacobson wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Come, my friend. It has been a long voyage.” The two men walked along the docks as Carter’s ship was being unloaded.
Emaciated men, chained in lines, were brought from the hold. The sunlight struck their faces for the first time in months and caused them to wince. The dead were piled on the wharf, and those unluckily enough to have survived the voyage were welcomed to their new home. Carter walked past them as the clank of their chains, and hollow sighs haunted his passage and echoed his foul deeds.
Carter approached and shook the man’s hand warmly. “Jacobson, my friend. It has been too long. The trip was dastardly. A furious storm came upon us near equal in force to another on the African coast. By God’s grace, we prevailed through both.”
“Ah, hah! Stories for the alehouse tonight! Where is your beautiful bride? I’ve anticipated meeting her for some time to welcome her to Australia properly.”
Carter’s head lowered. “I’m sad to say that she took ill during the last storm and did not recover. She rests for eternity in the realm of the sea king.”
“My deepest condolences. Let’s get your cargo unloaded, and since you will soon be laden with coin, we will find you proper accommodations and spirits aplenty to weave the tales of your voyage. By the grace of St. Elmo, who has delivered you safely here, we will imbibe his fire and honor your beloved. Come!” At these words, Captain Carter’s face widened in abject horror.
“How,” he said, pointing at Jacobson, “did you know about the fire?”
Jacobson cocked his head to the side and regarded his friend. “Know what?” Carter”s face was ashen, and his tongue was glued in his mouth. He began to shake as Jacobson wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Come, my friend. It has been a long voyage.” The two men walked along the docks as Carter’s ship was being unloaded.
Emaciated men, chained in lines, were brought from the hold. The sunlight struck their faces for the first time in months and caused them to wince. The dead were piled on the wharf, and those unluckily enough to have survived the voyage were welcomed to their new home. Carter walked past them as the clank of their chains, and hollow sighs haunted his passage and echoed his foul deeds.
Reed Kuehn is a combat veteran and an aspiring writer. While he has called Wisconsin, Washington DC, North Carolina, and Colorado home, he currently lives and writes in Providence, Rhode Island. His work has appeared in Akashic, Dream Noir, Notch Publishing House, and the Kurt Vonnegut Museum and Library's literary journal.