Song of Shallow Waters III: Storm's Edge

Isaac stared up. He had been standing on the deck since dusk, counting the hours as the moon paced across the sky until it vanished into a thicket of clouds. The air was heavy against his skin, and a moist wind whipped through his hair. He unhooked the first few buttons at his collar and sighed.

The letter was still in his pocket, the rustling paper whispering to him at every pause in the ocean's din. He reached for the envelope and felt the worn parchment between his fingers.

The sound of something being torn in half screamed out over the uneasy waves. Isaac, thinking that a sail had ripped, looked back to the sky. His upturned face was greeted instead by the stinging of harsh rain. The sound rang out again, and this time he recognized it as thunder. Storm is brewing.

“Oh dear,” he whispered.

“Oh dear indeed,” a voice croaked. Firm hands seized him by the shoulders and jerked him around to face the deck. “Stand still if yeh've half a mind. We won't touch you.”

The cabin door fell open, the black square of its frame giving way to a parade of dour figures. A handful of dark-eyed sailors stormed onto the deck, dragging a shackled figure onto the wet planks, half-dressed, his face bruised. The man stumbled across the boards and looked up. Isaac's heart pounded against his ribs. Their eyes met for a moment, and the captain – the captain - turned away, his brow furrowed with an expression of shame that was foreign to his face.

“Don't move a muscle, Isaac. Not a twitch, and you'll be fine,” the voice whispered, thick with whiskey and soured milk.

“No chance in hell!” he shouted, digging the heel of his boot into his captor's shin. He shook himself loose from the sailor's grip as he fumbled for his dirk, then his rapier. A clamor erupted as one sailor threw a punch and left the foretopman flattened on the deck. Someone fired into the knot of mutineers near the helm; one of the captain's escorts drew his gun and attempted to fire back, only to realize the rain had rendered his powder useless. Isaac searched the deck for an ally – where was Whiskers?

“Silence!” one of the mutineers roared, and Isaac recognized the voice, for the first time, as distinctly American. He could count at least twenty rebels in the circle – several of which had been press-ganged into the service. He was surprised that he had not made the connection earlier.

“What's there to be silent about?” the helmsman shouted, lunging toward the dissenters with his smallsword. A mutineer quickly parried the blow and shoved the man back before running him through with his own blade. The rain whipped across his body, washing the blood across the deck.

“Consider that a demonstration,” the American snapped, “if you wish to avoid further casualties.” He licked his lips. “We have agreed to allow the captain to escape with his life, along with a handful of officers and loyal seamen.” He paused, and a flash of lightning illuminated his dark features. “Seeing as we are in a simple majority, it would be in your best interests to lower your weapons, take a crate of supplies, and begin loading.” He gestured to the small rowboat at the side of the ship.

The crew fell silent. A gust of wind whipped violently through the rigging: no one had bothered to reef the foresail. Slowly, the remaining loyalists began to trickle across the glistening deck. Isaac took a step forward.

“There are, however, exceptions,” said the gruff voice of the mutineer behind him, who pulled him back by the arm. “The captain has agreed that certain skilled members of the crew might be detained as to ensure our successful passage,” the man hissed in his ear. “Don't make a fuss, though – the others might get a bit jealous.”

Isaac tore away from the man's grip, drawing his rapier and lunging at the man's exposed throat. The mutineer parried quickly and stepped forward, countering with a sloppy thrust at his chest. Dancing around the blade, Isaac slipped on the wet planks, fell backwards, and found his back flush against the rail. Swearing sharply, he lunged forward, and was disheartened to hear the clink of steel against steel as the sailor countered the thrust.

“Isaac! Drop the blade, or the gunner gets a bullet!” another mutineer shouted. From the corner of his eye, he could see him holding a pistol to the old man's head. His fingers numbed, and Isaac dropped the blade. He heard Whiskers let out a desperate howl – from somewhere over the rail.

“Isaac, my boy!” he cried. Isaac turned to see Whiskers and the other loyal men cramped into the tiny boat. He looked back to the deck: the head mutineer stood sneering as he held the limp body of the helmsman hostage.

“You filth,” Isaac hissed.

“He isn't as quick as the captain promised,” the man said in his New England drawl, clicking the trigger of the empty flintlock as he tossed it aside. “Marshall, pull the ship around.” One of the mutineers took the helm, and the remaining sailors began to turn the ship to face the opposite horizon. Evidently, this had been planned to a greater extent than Isaac had assumed.

“I wouldn't underestimate him,” the other man said, still holding his blade level with Isaac's chest. “Careful he doesn't pull one of his fainting fits on you. What do you say now, boy?”

Isaac reached for his dirk, and the man pressed the tip of the blade to the open neck of his shirt. The metal was ice against his skin.

“You expect me to sail with a crew of mutineers?” he asked, looking out at the ship, bathed in water and blood. He could see the small boat sailing into the distance now, Whiskers' balding head bobbing up and down with the crests of the sea. “By law, I'd be as much of a coward as you are.”

His dark eyes grinned fiendishly. “You'd rather pay in blood?”

Somewhere in the distance, Isaac heard a strange singing, mingled with the timbre of bells. The scar on his shoulder seared with pain. He carefully brought one hand to his collarbone, his fingers running over the irregularities of the tissue.

“I think I already have,” he said, and throwing his weight backwards, he tumbled over the rail into the abyss of the sea.



---------------------

Uh... for what it's worth, I really don't like this chapter and it took me a long time to convince myself to even post it. It lacks clarity in a lot of places, and sometimes I'm not even sure if the sequencing of certain parts is clear. And the research bit was sketchy, because honestly, no one writes decent accounts of mutinies any more. Anything you can offer to help this would be greatly appreciated.

Hey there Lynlyn, welcome back to YWS.

“Silence!” one of the mutineers roared, and Isaac recognized the voice, for the first time, as distinctly American.

If he had recognized the voice, then how is it the first time? If someone recognizes something before, there is previous experience to it.

He heard Whiskers let out a desperate howl – from somewhere over the rail.

Auk, I don't like "howl". I associate it more with animals than with humans.

Overall impressions:

I don't think a line by line would do much help so that's why I didn't focus on that much. Your problem is that this is rather sketchy and vague. Though the actual writing is pretty coherent and good in quality, at the same time, I think it is where most of the problems lie.

In the starting paragraphs, you have Isaac, your main character staring out to sea with a letter in his hand. Yet, the rest of this part has little to do with the opening of this. It was basically Isaac getting caught by mutineers and a fight scene. You can pretty much ditch the opening scene and it would help tighten the narrative of this. Unless of course, the letter is used for foreshadowing.

Now, I'm not entirely sure as to why Isaac is captured. Everything happens so quickly and without much explanation that it leaves the reader not that interested. What I think would work better is if there is some build up prior to Isaac’s capture. Take the time to characterize Isaac more (e.g actions, thoughts, feeling, what he is wearing etc). That way, when he is captured, we will see a change in how he acts (I'm pretty sure that if you were suddenly captured, then you would change in how you feel no?), making what follows have impact and be convincing.

The reason why I said earlier that the opening should be ditched is because it can't support what follows. It doesn't do much in telling the story as a whole, whereas if there that scene is developed further, it helps build suspense and tension, making the capture shocking to the reader.

Personally, I'm not a fan of capture like sequences. Let's face it, it has been used so many times and often they follow a similar sort of structure. Here, we have the typical threats and blackmail like situation. What would make this more interesting is if there is some form of showing as to why they are here or why they are after him. Being specific helps.

Hrmm I think that's all I really have to say. Overall, it's ok/good, but it could have been better if you had been more specific as to what is happening as well as characterizing Isaac more.

PM me if you want more specific help. I'm a bit tired at the moment to actually go into more specific help in this critique. Hoped I helped.

Andy.

You did help, a lot.

I understand what you're saying with the first bit - the gist of the sentence was supposed to be that while he hadn't heard that specific voice before, he recognized the accent as an American one. I'll see if I can clarify that.

As for the introduction and why the mutineers detained him, I'll try to clean that up as well. The scene I was really worried about was when they threatened to kill Whiskers when he wasn't even on the boat, I was afraid that the way they "tricked" Isaac wouldn't make sense because of the third person limited narration.

I don't like capture sequences either, which is probably why I disliked writing this part. I'll see if I can clean any of it up and give it a bit more interest.

Thanks again for another helpful review, Andy.

Hey, Lynlyn!

I read the previous three parts as well, and your story is very enjoyable! You had me hooked the entire time! I didn't even look at the clock, wanting to keep reading your story. You're definitely doing something right!

Grammar and First Impressions

Aha.. this part isn't long at all. Only one comma suggestion, and that's pretty much it! xD

Somewhere in the distance, Isaac heard a strange singing, [no comma] mingled with the timbre of bells.

“Silence!” one of the mutineers roared, and Isaac recognized the voice, for the first time, as distinctly American.

I know, you're probably sick of this comment now, but this is awkward sounding. I'd probably say to change this phrase and use finally somewhere. If you want for the first time, use initially or originally. The phrase just throws the sentence off. xD

You must be a grammar nut.

The scene I was really worried about was when they threatened to kill Whiskers when he wasn't even on the boat, I was afraid that the way they "tricked" Isaac wouldn't make sense because of the third person limited narration.

You're kidding! That was a trick? *goes back to look* It sounded real to me... If it was a trick, probably subtly mention how Isaac could see the "shadow" of Whiskers sitting on the boat or something. Of course, maybe I've misunderstood you and am confusing myself. That happens a lot.

Pronouns

In this part especially, I had a hard time keep track of the characters. They're all guys too, so that didn't help at all. Lol! But yeah, I got lost from one he to another he. If you could use Isaac and Captain and Whiskers more, and keep the man kind of nouns for the mutineers, we'd probably keep track of them more. You just kind of went overboard with the pronouns, that's all. ^^ Which is perfectly fine; some people just don't use them at all, lol.

Description/Explanation

I recognize your style, and you don't dwell on the description on their location and appearances. I do rather like this style; it keeps the story going. A little more, though, wouldn't hurt. Flesh out the picture a bit more. The reader can see an ocean and a ship, but not the characters too much. I loved the fight scene between the mutineer and Isaac. That was so cool, lol. I'm such a sucker for battle scenes, especially when they're described well. You did awesome.. ly! XD

However, I think a little explanation as to why the mutineers are there and holding Isaac would be nice. You kind of touched on it, but I still don't see the reason.

Overall

Yes, this could be better, but any piece of writing can be "better." This was still good. I liked it. ^^ It's kind of an HF/Fantasy, which is probably why I like it even more, lol. Anyway, if you have any questions or would like to discuss things, you know where to find me!

Keep writing!

Jabber, the One and Only!

Lynlyn wrote:Isaac stared up. He had been standing on the deck since dusk, counting the hours as the moon paced across the sky until it vanished into a thicket of clouds. The air was heavy against his skin, and a moist wind whipped through his hair. He unhooked the first few buttons at his collar and sighed.

The letter was still in his pocket, the rustling paper whispering to him at every pause in the ocean's din. He reached for the envelope and felt the worn parchment between his fingers.

The sound of something being torn in half screamed out over the uneasy waves. Isaac, thinking that a sail had ripped, looked back to the sky. His upturned face was greeted instead by the stinging of harsh rain. The sound rang out again, and this time he recognized it as thunder. Storm is brewing. Shouldn't that be "A storm is brewing"?

...

Isaac tore away from the man's grip, drawing his rapier and lunging at the man's exposed throat. The mutineer parried quickly and stepped forward, countering with a sloppy thrust at his chest. Dancing around the blade, Isaac slipped on the wet planks, fell backwards, and found his back flush against the rail. Swearing sharply, he lunged forward, and was disheartened to hear the clink of steel against steel as the sailor countered the thrust.

Battle scenes like these make me happy. ^_^

...

“Isaac! Drop the blade, or the gunner gets a bullet!” another mutineer shouted. From the corner of his eye, he could see him holding a pistol to the old man's head. His fingers numbed, and Isaac dropped the blade. He heard Whiskers let out a desperate howl – from somewhere over the rail.

“Isaac, my boy!” he cried. Isaac turned to see Whiskers and the other loyal men cramped into the tiny boat. He looked back to the deck: the head mutineer stood sneering as he held the limp body of the helmsman hostage.

“You filth,” Isaac hissed.

“He isn't as quick as the captain promised,” the man said in his New England drawl, clicking the trigger of the empty flintlock as he tossed it aside. “Marshall, pull the ship around.” One of the mutineers took the helm, and the remaining sailors began to turn the ship to face the opposite horizon. Evidently, this had been planned to a greater extent than Isaac had assumed.

I didn't really get this part... apparently he was tricked? I'm not good with names in stories though, by "gunner" and "old man" did you mean Whiskers? If so, then ignore this, I'm just being silly.

...

Isaac reached for his dirk, and the man pressed the tip of the blade to the open neck of his shirt. The metal was ice against his skin. I dunno about you, but whenever something sharp is put on my skin and a little pressure is applied, it feels like ice but it also hurts really sharply, especially on something like the neck. I'd add some adjectives to describe that as well.

...

“I think I already have,” he said, and throwing his weight backwards, he tumbled over the rail into the abyss of the sea.

Niiiiice.

Well, I read through all four parts, and I really like them all, although here I got kind of confused as to who you were talking about. Like Jabber said, I think the pronouns should be toned down a little bit. As a whole, this story is pretty good, but I think so far there's been more of a focus on action and not plot. It's okay though, you are still at the beginning of the story, but you should start developing things pretty soon.

Overall, I like this, though it can use some improvement.

~Aet

Note: I'm kinda tired and confused right now, I might just not be keeping track of things very well. I'll check this out again later.

Isaac stared up. He had been standing on the deck since dusk, counting the hours as the moon paced across the sky until it vanished into a thicket of clouds.

"Paced" is kind of a funny word for the moon, but I guess that can stay if you're really attatched to your word choice.

The sound of something being torn in half screamed out over the uneasy waves. Isaac, thinking that a sail had ripped, looked back to the sky.

Wouldn't he look at the sail? If he is, then say so.

“Stand still if yeh've half a mind. We won't touch you

This is my Youtube fuddled/enhanced mind being pedantic... they have already touched him, to spin him round.

The cabin door fell open, the black square of its frame giving way to a parade of dour figures.

I really, honestly do not know why the last bit is in bold, except for the fact that it doesn't feel right. Too, "i are riter!!!!" Um, it doesn't feel right? Reword, perhaps?

A handful of dark-eyed sailors stormed onto the deck, dragging a shackled figure onto the wet planks, half-dressed, his face bruised.

Knowing their eye colour isn't important at all at this stage. And the last bit, the description of the man feels tacked on. Put the description in a new sentence.

Their eyes met for a moment, and the captain – the captain - turned away, his brow furrowed with an expression of shame that was foreign to his face.

Italicize the second "captain." And "furrowed" doesn't seem quite the right word, too purple.

“There are, however, exceptions,” said the gruff voice of the mutineer behind him, who pulled him back by the arm. “The captain has agreed that certain skilled members of the crew might be detained as to ensure our successful passage,” the man hissed in his ear. “Don't make a fuss, though – the others might get a bit jealous.”

Remove the bit in bold, it gets in the way.

“Isaac, my boy!” he cried.

If you want someone to call someone else a dear boy, they have to be called Laurence Olivier, not Whiskers.

He looked back to the deck: the head mutineer stood sneering as he held the limp body of the helmsman hostage.


“You filth,” Isaac hissed.

No. Nononononononononononononono and oh no in a bally blue bucket with purple knobs on. "Sneer"? "You filth"? No... Bad guys sneering over corpses is for badly made action movies, as is brave heros defiantly hissing, "You filth!" in an American accent. Maybe Isaac isn't a Yank, but hopefully my point still stands up without having lean on a zimmer.

“He isn't as quick as the captain promised,” the man said in his New England drawl, clicking the trigger of the empty flintlock as he tossed it aside.

I've spent several moments trying to deduce just what he means. My dear Holmes, how... Elementary, my dear Watson - or sedementary, if we're in space, in a book written by Eric Idle. I think it's Eric Idle, anyway.

“I wouldn't underestimate him,” the other man said, still holding his blade level with Isaac's chest. “Careful he doesn't pull one of his fainting fits on you. What do you say now, boy?”

I'm getting lost... Is it the Yank who's speaking? Who's going to faint?



“You expect me to sail with a crew of mutineers?” he asked, looking out at the ship, bathed in water and blood. He could see the small boat sailing into the distance now, Whiskers' balding head bobbing up and down with the crests of the sea. “By law, I'd be as much of a coward as you are.”


His dark eyes grinned fiendishly. “You'd rather pay in blood?”

The scar on his shoulder seared with pain.

...Why? Scar's don't just suddenly begin to hurt.

“I think I already have,” he said, and throwing his weight backwards, he tumbled over the rail into the abyss of the sea.

Cool.


---

Overall, it was well written. Your fight scenes need touching up, at present they're rather flat. They're darn difficult to write but if you're going to have them, they've got to be good. I'm sure there's an article about them somewhere on here, just go look like a good White Rabbit. They'll be in some grandfather clock in the closet, along with the skeleton and all.

Isaac seems pretty well developed and everything. He could get on my nerves with his heroics and defiance, but that's just me being wotsit.

Erm, so, just touch it up, flesh it out, read something wonderful. If you believe you're moist pink fine and sticky and lovely, then you will be moist pink fine and sticky and lovely.

That's the secret really.

If you want someone to call someone else a dear boy, they have to be called Laurence Olivier, not Whiskers.

Best. Comment. Ever.

That's all I have to say. Besides "thank you," anyway. I seems like most of the parts that people have highlighted are the parts I spent three hours fiddling with and backspacing over and deleting and adding in again and whatnot, which tells me that they're still lame.

I'll work on that.

“His dark eyes grinned fiendishly. “You'd rather pay in blood?””

- Okay, my only real nitpick is here... “fiendishly” – what does that even look like? xD It just seemed very odd here.

I think that you’ve written this fantastically, and I do look forward to more, but I think I know where you’ve gone wrong, as it were. It’s too short. There was no look at a battle or even some side talk with the mutineers or loyal crew. I understand that Isaac isn’t going to see everything, and that’s why it’s hard to show what happens if he doesn’t see it. But perhaps you would use other methods? The sounds over the storm, what does the sea look like now, the ship and the wood? Does he look around to see how many people actually stay, do they look happy, angry, scared? Just a few things to think about when considering making this longer or more likable for you.

That’s all I can suggest here, I’m afraid. I’m liking how the character develops and the new information we receive, I would have liked to see more of his fighting, perhaps have a good sword battle in there, or something just as cliché. ^^ I joke. But maybe some more sounds. I think that’s what you’re lacking most now, is the extra description of the place and the things about. Not much, just enough to thrust us fully into your new world.

Nice work, all in all, I look forward to more.

*Hearts* Le Penguin.

Yes! Finally, the third! Woot! It's pretty exciting and I'm looking forward to the fourth chapter. What I've wanted to say has already been said. The sequence of the events seem okay, or that's just me seeing everything in a film-like view in my head.

I also want to second PenguinAttack's comment. This piece seemed so focused on the mutiny, you forgot everything else. Although it's a good thing to be focused, I think it would play better if the scenes zoom in on the mutiny then zooms out for the overall effect of the storm, and then zooms in again in a new pair of eyes on the men aboard the ship; just to add more excitement.

Can't wait for chapter four.

”Oh dear,” he whispered.

“Oh dear, indeed,” A voice croaked. Firm hands seized him by the shoulders and jerked him around to face the deck. “Stand still if yeh’ve half a mind. We won’t touch you.

Let’s start here. Haha.

First: the little red comma up there wants to be in your story.

Second: A voice croaked? That sounds a mite awkward. Croaked to me sounds like an old hag or witch. “Come here, my pretty,” she croaked. Haha. Also, croak makes that particular character sound feeble. You don’t want your mutineers to be feeble. Lol.

Third: “Jerked him around to face the deck.” Isn’t the deck the floor of the boat? Isn’t Isaac standing up? If you want him with his face pressed against the deck, you’ve got to get him down there. Otherwise, if he’s turned around, he’s just facing the other way. Not a very “vulnerable prisoner” position.

Fourth: You don’t need to capitalize A after indeed,”.

And fifth: You’re character needs to make up his mind on whether he’s talking in rough gutter tones or elite commanding tones. First he says “indeed,” a very proper and formal word, then he says “yeh’ve,” a very rough and casual word. So you’ve got two choices. You can either say, ”Ya got that right,” a voice croaked. Firm hands seized him by the shoulders and jerked him around to face the deck. “Stand still if yeh’ve half a mind. We won’t touch you. or ”Oh dear, indeed,” a voice croaked. Firm hands seized him by the shoulders and jerked him around to face the deck. “Keep still if you have half a mind. We won’t lay a hand on you.” But now I’m just rambling when you probably already get my point. Haha.

The cabin door fell open, the black square of its frame giving way to a parade of dour figures, A handful of dark-eyed sailors stormed onto the deck, dragging a shackled figure onto the wet planks, half-dressed, his face bruised. The man stumbled across the boards and looked up. Isaac’s heart pounded against his ribs. Their eyes met for a moment, and the captain—the captain—turned away, his brow furrowed with an expression of shame that was foreign to his face.

First off, Get rid of the “an expression of” phrase. It’s sort of cluttering the sentence, especially after a break.

Second on, they dragged the captain onto the deck, which gives me the image that he was lying on the ground being dragged by his wrists. Then it said he stumbled, which makes me think that he was led along like a horse. Haha. Contradicting imagery. See if you can fix it.

Silence!” one of the mutineers roared, and Isaac recognized the voice, for the first time, as distinctly American. He could count at least twenty rebels in the circle—several of which had been press-ganged into the service. He was surprised that he had not made the connection earlier.

The story stopped right here. There’s a big fight going on, and when the American mutineer calls for silence, it seems as though everyone stops fighting, as Isaac now has time to count and recognize many of the mutineers. Have you ever seen “Chicken Run”? That one part where all the chickens are fighting each other and Ginger stands up and tells them all to shut up? And they all freeze? Haha. This is sort of the image I got in this paragraph. Maybe not exactly, but similar. But then one of the loyalists attacks, telling me that the fight hasn’t stopped yet. Have Isaac count the mutineers after the helmsman dies.

His fingers numbed, and Isaac dropped the blade. He heard Whiskers let out a desperate howl—from somewhere over the rail.

I don’t think howl is quite the right word for this sentence. See if you can replace it.

Overall, this isn’t as bad as you think. Haha. Just a few sketchy details here and there. There is one thing that really bothers me, though:

Mutineers letting the captain live?! Sorry, mate, but this did not happen. Either they slaughtered him right then and there or put him out on a leaking boat with no sail or oar. Also, I really, really don’t like the captain right now. He’s such a cowardly jerk…haha. I mean, he gives up Isaac who, if caught, will be hanged with all the other mutineers like a common coward, so that he could live? I don’t like it. This part of the plot really needs to be rethought. (rethink, reconsider, rewrite…such scary, ugly words. >.< I hate those words. Haha.) Maybe the mutineers start to kill the captain in front of the crew as an example, and Isaac risks his life and saves the captain, cutting down a boat and sending him over the side or something. Then the mutineers are all, “why you little, you’re staying here with us, punk.” That would cause a huge, confusing battle and show us the relationship between Isaac and his captain. Or something like that. But we can’t have soft-hearted mutineers, letting their captain live and all. Haha.

This isn’t that bad, mate. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Haha. Keep writing!! Don’t forget to pm me when you post the next chapter, or I will hunt you down…haha.

~Vee