FicWad

3. Meeting the Cook and Captain

Author's Note: *Grog means rum (or any other kind of alcohol)
--This chapter isn't as long or as good as I wanted, but I had fun with it so I hope you enjoy it, too!


It was a long night. I cried for most of it and I tried to treat my cuts for the rest of it. The vials were filled with a kind of syrup that smelled worse than I did. Some time passed before I was finally able to wrap my head without it falling loosely over my face or making my headache worse and, since there was no light for me to see my reflection in the small mirror, I was just going to have to disregard my obvious appearance. I laid my stiff, chilled body on the almost paper thin bedroll and silently determined on one thing. I had to defend myself. I knew from past incidents (or maybe just all the movies I watched) that if the enemy knows of a weakness, they will do everything they can to break you. And I wouldn't be broken.

I was completely, absolutely, obsessively determined.

It was nice to finally relax but it was nearly dawn before I felt the effects of sleep coming. Just as I was beginning to slip into a dream there was a soft knock on the door. I tried to sit up but my head loudly protested and I laid it back on the pillow.

"Yes?" I asked; my voice hoarse from a night of crying.

"Are you awake?" Jimmy's voice whispered. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm answering you, aren't I?" I replied. There was a brief pause.

"Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" What was I supposed to be ready for?

I heard him give an exasperated sigh and the door was opened. I pulled the blanket farther up.

What did he think he was doing? I wasn't dressed yet! He walked to a small chest in the corner and pulled out a worn, tan shirt and pair of pants. He tossed them on top of me.

"You can borrow my clothes until you get some of your own. You have work to do before everyone gets up." He stared at me, waiting for me to begin.

"Do you mind? I need some privacy!" He sighed again and turned toward the door but didn't leave. I pulled the clothes underneath the covers and began.
The process was slow due to the extreme soreness covering every inch of me, which also caused me to let out a few involuntary groans. I slowly pushed off the blanket and Jimmy, in his impatient frustration, pulled me to my feet, which were completely bare.

"While you're here you really need to learn to move more quickly, no matter how much it hurts." He turned and strode out of the room leaving me to follow a few paces behind.

I took a quick look around and found the deck to be completely deserted. Jimmy must have noticed my searching eyes because he said,

"They're all down in the sleeping quarters. They all drank themselves silly last night after they found the liquor crates. Even the captain drank a whole bottle for the victory." He led me through a door and down a few steps into a large room filled with many tables with accompanying benches. Jim closed the door quietly behind us before leading me to the end of the room where a part of it was blocked by a wall.

"Barbosa, you here?" He called in a level tone. There was a clanking of a pan or two followed by a small man poking his head out from behind the wall.

"Eh? Oh, Jim! I thought it were you. Didn't think any of the others would a' been able to even stand up af'er all the *grog they had." He stepped out and wiped his hands on a small stained rag which he then flung over his shoulder. Jim laughed.

"No, that's for certain! I could have sworn Yates was dead when he fell down the stairs. It took three of us to lift him up to his hammock." They both laughed.

Barbosa's glazed eyes turned to me and his brow furrowed. "This the new help?" he said nodding to me.

"Yes. Just tell 'im what you want you want done and he won't give you any trouble." They both stared at me and I looked at the floor. "Well, I need to get going. Take care, Barbosa."

"Same to you, boy." Jimmy turned around, leaving me to stand awkwardly in front of the cook. His eyes turned toward me and I looked back at him.

"Somethin' botherin' you, miss?"

I jumped.

"No! Nothing!"

He laughed.

"You shouldn' be so jumpy. Some people might think you've got a weak spine. But from what I saw last night . . . " He smiled.

"Then . . . you don't think I'm a coward?" I asked somewhat hopeful.

"Well, wit' the way you challenged the cap'in's order like that, the way I figure you're either brave or stupid." He stopped here, without answering my question.

After asking my name, he put me to work. We prepared, what I believed was meant to be breakfast for the crew, for about an hour before the first one straggled in. I was sitting on the wall opposite the door and could plainly see that it was Yates-one of the two that had humiliated me in front of so many people. I scowled and turned my red face down to concentrate on my work.

Jerk.

He was gripping his forehead with one hand while gently touching the tables as he passed them to keep his balance. Upon reaching Barbosa he asked in a very soft tone what the morning meal would consist of, to which Barbosa replied, in a somewhat louder tone than normal, that he had found coffee beans on the ship they had looted the day before, along with fresh biscuits and a few other things that I couldn't pronounce.
Yates grunted from the pain of Barbosa's loud voice and found a nearby seat.

I had been given the task of grinding the beans for the coffee. I was on my third batch and I could feel my nose going numb from the smell. More of the crewmembers began to wander in and take their seats. There were a few whispered conversations among them, though I could see that I went unnoticed by them. When the beans had been crushed to a fine powder, I brought the large bowl in to where Barbosa was busily scooping a cold, thick kind of soup into shallow plates.

"There you are, Russel! Put a biscuit on each one and then take these out." I hastily grabbed four of the plates after finding the semi-fresh biscuits and went into the mess hall. I went to the men furthest from Yates, wanting dearly to leave him for last. The hall was soon filled, though Jim was no where to be seen. The coffee was soon brought out and the talking was beginning to be a little more lively. There were a few calls for seconds and I hurried into the kitchen. Barbosa was filling another plate and cup.

"Take this to the cap'in. I'll take care o' the rest." He quickly pressed them into my hands and then continued his work. I walked briskly past the tables, receiving a few strange glances. When I arrived on the deck I saw Jim sitting next to the main mast mending a rope. He saw me and motioned his head towards the stairs that led to a well-fashioned door. I carefully moved my way up the steps up to it.
Moving the cup and plate cautiously to one arm, I knocked and waited for a reply.

"Come in."

I opened the door and closed it behind me. The captain sat at a large, dark wood desk scribbling something on a piece of yellow-tinted paper. He took a quick look at me and resumed his task.

"Set it on the table over there." There was only one other table in the room, which was clean and waiting. I placed the tray down and began to make my way out of the room.

"Wait." He said. I stopped and listened for more instruction, but he seemed intent on finishing his employment first. So I stood and fidgeted with the sleeve of my shirt-no not my shirt, Jim's shirt.

I blushed. I was wearing a man's shirt. I wondered what he thought of me.

He seemed really irritated at me this morning, and just now. He's probably laughing at how pathetic I was last night. I mean, I cried a lot and he was probably really uncomfortable. But that doesn't give him the right to be so rude to me! And it sure doesn't give him the right to be in the room while I'm dressing! It's his fault I'm in this situation anyway. He could've just left me to my horribly cold and wet fate and he would've saved himself the trouble! But, then I really am glad I don't have to stay in the water. I hate it when I get all pruny. BLECH!

"What an expression! What could you be thinking about?" laughed the captain. I jumped, having forgotten he was in the room. He sat with arms folded and one leg over the other. His smirk was content, yet curious.

"Um-I was just thinking about Jim."

"Oh, really?" he said, with an interested tone. He stood up and walked around the desk. "And what is it about him that makes you give such a determined-I'd say almost disgusted look?"

"He's a jerk! Mean, why couldn't he have waited to notice me until everyone else was passed out?"

He laughed again; a very deep laugh.

"Well, that can be on behalf of many things." He left it at that. Sitting down at the table, he began his meal. I rubbed my arm uncomfortably. The pain from my fall on the stairs came suddenly as I pressed my hand on my arm.

"Ow!"

The captain stood suddenly and came to my side.

"You're hurt."

Well, yeah! Look at my face! It's covered in crusty blood! My nose is the size of a grapefruit and my head has a cut the size of the Grand Canyon! Of course I'm hurt!

"No, it's nothing," I said. "I just fell and hit my arm a while ago." The incident on the stairs seemed so long ago. Was it just that morning?

He stood silently.

"May I ask your name?" I looked up into a pair of ambiguous eyes-I couldn't tell what color they were.

"Imari Russel." He backed up a few paces and bowed slightly.

"I am Captain Manheim. Please except my deepest apologies for last evening." His brows were furrowed with real sincerity. "I am certain that the men would not have treated you with such disrespect had they realized that you were a lady."

His words hit me like a rock.

"What? You mean they think I'm a boy!" He laughed yet again.

"Well, of course! It should hardly be surprising with the way you were dressed. That may be one of the reasons Jim was not as polite as he could have been. He lacks the enthusiasm that the rest of the crew has for such battles as the one you witnessed and I believe he thought you were a survivor from the ship. You must excuse me; I have some business that I must take care of this morning. I have recently received some displeasing news from home and I must look into it. However, I would be greatly pleased if you would come back this evening so I may take care of your wounds personally. Will you come?"

"Um . . . sure. I mean it's not like there's any important appointments I have to keep." He laughed again and I felt myself shiver. There was something strange about the way he laughed-like he got a secret enjoyment out of something no one else could understand.

"You may go then. Though, I do suggest that you continue to let the crew believe you are a man. I think it would prevent many unpleasant . . . experiences."

I left the room silently, pondering his meaning. There had already been a number of "unpleasant experiences" and I was more than willing to try to avoid any more. A young girl on a ship of nothing but dirty, desperate men was undeniably a very risky situation and I saw the captain's reasoning with 20/20 vision. It would definitely be in my best interests in keeping my gender a secret. I had descended the steps and stood at its end, my hand resting on the thin handrail.
A rope dangled in front of my face.
I watched it slowly swing left and right. It made a quick, erratic twist and slapped my nose. I crumpled into a ball, biting my lip till it went numb. The pain was excruciating and all other noise was blocked behind my mental screams.
Soon I felt a hand patting my back.
Jim had dropped from the rigging to apologize for not warning me. But when I didn't get up from my crumpled position he laughed.

"Oh, come now! It can't hurt that bad. It's not like the pain of a broken limb. You must learn to control the pain, not let it control you."

"Oh, no! It's not like other pain," I mumbled. "No, the cartilage is just shattered into thousands of pieces causing your nose to bleed like a broken dam after the first run off in spring and making your entire face feel like a raw stake."

He chuckled softly and had me sit in a corner and placed himself opposite. "I apologize. I should not compare your experience to mine. It was inconsiderate. I believe you'll be on this ship for some time. We left port only a week since and Captain Manheim makes his living by the sea." He observed me intently-seriously. "How old are you?"

"I'm almost eighteen."

"What! Already that old? Your face seems more like a boy of twelve or thirteen!" He was in real astonishment. I snorted inwardly, remembering the captain's explanation. "Well, if it weren't so disfigured by you're broken nose and swollen eyes, it might look younger." As angry as I was, I could not think of any kind of retaliation and so my anger quickly turned to despair.

"Do you really think my face will stay like this?"

He gave a curious smile. "If it does you needn't worry. Scars like that give character and might help show your age."

I don't want either of those things!

I asked him his age.

"I am not yet four and twenty."

"Well, I would have guessed four and thirty!" I said with mock resentfulness. He gave me a quizzical look which I met with a sly grin. He laughed, realizing that he had offended me.

"I'm sorry. No one enjoys being teased about their age. Do these clothes satisfy you? I can see that you are not accustomed to the life of a sailor, of any kind; that being the case, I must ask how you came to be attached to the side of this ship. Were you a passenger on the vessel we assailed yesterday?" He kept his eyes intent on mine and I relaxed slightly.

"No. Last night was the first time I've seen that ship, or this one. I don't think I could explain how I ended up here because I don't know! But," I paused. "I'd rather not talk about it. All I want is to find out how to get back home."

He nodded and excused himself, claiming his work was unfinished. I watched him nimbly climb the rigging and I returned to Barbosa. After eating a good helping of . . . what-ever-it-was, I was introduced to a new life. I had no idea how long I would be expected to live it.