Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} Shipmates by Rick Jackson Shipmates
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Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} Shipmates by Rick Jackson Shipmates. Sign up for our newsletter for a chance to win $50 in free books! Collecting the Civil Rights Movement. The Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s and '70s was an explosive time in American history, and it inspired explosive literature. From Malcolm X to Martin Luther King, Jr., browse some of the most collectible books from and about that era. What did people buy in 2020? Plague journals, escapist literature, political history: explore our year in review, where we share rare book trends and a gallery of some of the most beautiful and interesting books sold in 2020. Shipmates by Rick Jackson. Robbers? he wondered. Bandits? Pirates? Polyphemus ran to get Hercules. Together they searched the area. Hercules was so distraught about his missing sidekick that he forgot all about his mission, the Argo and his crewmates, who were waiting. Back at the beach, Jason started to get worried. The sun was going down and the landing team still wasn’t back. He sent out a search party, but all they found were pottery shards by a stream. There were no signs of Hercules, Polyphemus or Hylas. The next day, the Argonauts searched again for their comrades. They had no luck. The ship’s prow had no advice to offer. Finally, as the sun was setting, Jason announced that the Argo would have to leave in the morning. ‘We have to assume that Hercules and the others are lost. We must keep sailing.’ The crew didn’t like that. You don’t just sail away from Hercules. But the next morning their shipmates were still missing. The Argonauts reluctantly weighed anchor. For days afterwards, the crew grumbled. Eventually, a few of them accused Jason of leaving Hercules behind on purpose so he wouldn’t have to share the limelight. Things were about to get ugly when a waterspout erupted off the port bow. Atop the column of spume sat an old man with fins instead of arms and a fish tail instead of legs. ‘It’s Poseidon!’ yelled Zetes. ‘It’s Oceanus!’ said Atalanta. ‘It’s that guy from The Little Mermaid!’ said Orpheus. The merman sighed and flapped his arm-fins. ‘Actually, I’m Glaucus. But don’t worry. No one ever gets that right.’ The Argonauts muttered among themselves, trying to figure out who Glaucus was. ‘Oh, my gods!’ the ship’s prow said. ‘You people are embarrassing me! Glaucus was a fisherman who ate some magic herbs and became immortal. Now he’s like the Delphic Oracle of the sea!’ ‘Ohhhh.’ The crew all nodded like they knew what the prow was talking about. For the record, I’d never heard of him either, and I’m a son of Poseidon. I’m not sure what kind of herbs Glaucus ate to become immortal. All I know: the trade-off of losing your arms for fins and your legs for a fish tail doesn’t seem worth it. My advice: don’t go eating random herbs unless you want to turn into that guy from The Little Mermaid. Jason stepped towards the railing. ‘This is a great honour, Glaucus! What brings you here?’ ‘O Argonauts!’ he said, bobbing at the top of his waterspout. ‘Do not fret about your lost crewmates. It was the will of the gods that you leave them behind.’ Jason turned to the Argonauts like, See? ‘Hercules must return to his labours,’ Glaucus continued. ‘His fate lies elsewhere! As for Polyphemus, he will stay in that land and found a great city called Cius, so no worries.’ ‘What about Hylas?’ asked Jason. ‘Oh, he’s dead. Drowned by some naiads. But otherwise everything is cool! Continue your voyage!’ The waterspout vanished. With a flap of his arm-fins, Glaucus did an impressive double backflip and disappeared under the waves. So the Argonauts sailed on without their heavy hitter, Hercules, but at least they didn’t mutiny over the issue. The lesson of this story being … uh, don’t ask me. I didn’t even know who Glaucus was. The Argonauts continued east through the Hellespont. They knew that eventually they would reach the Black Sea, but very few Greeks had sailed this far before. Nobody was sure how long it would take or what dangers awaited them. For all they knew, the entrance to the Black Sea required a special passcode. They decided to stop at the next port and ask what lay ahead. Think about that. Fifty guys actually agreed to stop and ask for directions. That’s how lost they felt. The next port was ruled by a king named Amycus. Such a friendly-sounding name – like amicus, the Latin word for friend. But Amycus was not friendly. At seven feet tall and four hundred pounds, he was known as the Man Mountain. Every time a ship stopped at his city, he made the same request. ‘Fight me!’ he bellowed. ‘Bring out your best boxer. I will kill him in the ring!’ Jason studied the king, whose fists were the size of cannonballs. ‘Uh, we’re just here for directions. We’re on a sacred quest –’ ‘I don’t care! Fight!’ ‘And if we refuse?’ ‘Then I will kill you all!’ Jason sighed. ‘I had a feeling you would say that.’ He started to take off his shirt, since he was a pretty decent boxer, but another Argonaut stepped forward – a son of Zeus named Polydeuces. ‘I got this one, Captain.’ The locals busted out laughing. Next to their king, Polydeuces didn’t look like much. He was a featherweight at best. But you should never count out a son of Zeus. (Props to my boy J. Grace.) The crowd made a circle around the two fighters, the Argonauts on one side, and the locals on the other. Amycus charged, swinging his massive fists. A single hit would’ve killed Polydeuces, but the Argonaut danced around, weaving and dodging, paying attention to the way Amycus fought. The king was strong, but he was also reckless. Every time he did a right hook, he overcommitted himself and stumbled forward. The next time it happened, Polydeuces swerved to the right. As the king barrelled towards him, his head down like a sprinter’s, Polydeuces jumped up and brought his elbow down behind the king’s ear. Amycus face-planted in the dirt and didn’t get up again. The Argonauts cheered like crazy. The locals surged forward, determined to tear Polydeuces apart, but, wisely, the Argonauts had kept their weapons handy. They charged to protect their crewmate. The whole thing turned into a bloodbath. Jason and his men were badly outnumbered, yet they had more discipline. They conquered the locals, took a bunch of sheep for their trouble, loaded the Argo and sailed on. Now, that may not seem like a big adventure, but it was the first time an Argonaut had owned someone in personal combat. Also, the crew had worked together to defeat a much larger force. Jason felt like maybe their luck was changing. The only problem was they still hadn’t got directions. Jason decided to ask the ship’s prow. ‘O great … piece of oak. What’s up?’ ‘I’m good,’ said the prow. ‘You?’ ‘I’m okay. So, look … any idea where the Black Sea is, or how we get there?’ ‘Nope, but I can point you to somebody who knows. Sail east for two more days. Look for the ruins on the shore. There you will find an old man named Phineas.’ Jason tugged at his collar. ‘Thanks. But how do you know that? I thought you’d never been outside of Dodona.’ ‘I haven’t, Mr Smarty Tunic. But Phineas is a seer with the gift of prophecy. I know about stuff like that since I’m prophetic, too. And I prophesy that, without Phineas’s advice, you’ll never get through the Black Sea or reach Colchis alive.’ ‘Wow. Glad I asked, then.’ ‘Yeah, that could’ve been bad. By the way, take the Boreads ashore with you when you go.’ As the prow had advised, they sailed for two more days until they spotted the ruins of a town. Even across the water they could smell the place – like a hundred dumpsters that had been cooking in the sun all summer. ‘This’ll be fun,’ Zetes grumbled. He and Calais flew Jason to the shore. They searched the ruins, holding their sleeves over their noses to block out the stench. When they reached the town square, they found an ancient man weeping by the cold hearth. His hair and beard were like wisps of cotton candy. His clothes were rags. His bony arms were peppered with age spots. Strewn around him were mouldy breadcrumbs, bits of rancid meat and desiccated pieces of fruit. It wasn’t much food, but it was definitely the source of the stench. ‘Hello?’ Jason said. The old man looked up. His eyes were milky white. ‘Visitors? No! Save yourself the trouble. Leave me in my misery!’ � �Are you Phineas?’ Jason asked. ‘If so, we need your help. I’m Jason. These are the Boreads, Zetes and Calais –’ ‘Boreads?’ The old man struggled to his feet. He stumbled forward, smiling toothlessly and swiping the air like he was playing Marco Polo. ‘Boreads? Where? Where?’ Zetes cleared his throat. ‘Uh, here. Why?’ ‘Oh, happy day!’ cried the old man. ‘My curse may finally be lifted!’ He almost walked face first into a column, but Jason stopped him. Phineas’s breath was as fragrant as the food around his feet.