Authors: Nikolai Bird
Harl chewed his pipe for a moment, watching me. It was those intelligent eyes again that I had noticed in the past, but never seen him look directly into the eyes of an officer before. Harl had a duty to stick up for the men, and I accepted Harl's scrutiny for I was asking for a place where no officer should go. Of course an officer could go anywhere on the ship, but it was understood that officer's did not fraternise with the men. Eventually Harl seemed to reach a decision and simply said, "As you wish, sir."
Days passed and I did my duty by night and rested by day. At cruising speed it would take another five days or so to round the mainland and enter the inner Emben Sea where we would finally make port.
I was regretting not having rested longer after the lashing, finding the long nights hard to bear, but as we came within sight of Embernia's southern isles I felt my strength returning. Whatever the poultice was and however much it stank, it was working well. I would be scarred for life but at least I was alive and healing quickly. I no longer needed the bandage as tender tissue now covered the wounds and I also took to standing as straight as I could again - a habit, tiring though it was, I had forced myself to observe over many years. I felt I was ready to join the crew below decks and so decided to do so that night before my watch started.
The crew had simple bunks all over the ship where men slept alongside other men who worked. A man got used to the noises and bustle of a ship and would indeed miss them on land, finding it hard to relax in a normal bed. Tonight however, there was not much work to be done on the gun deck as I made my way to the bow of the ship. A sailor was snoring while another was rocking himself to sleep, humming a sad tune, probably thinking of some girl.
At the bow of the Sea Huntress was a closed off area used for storage and recreation. I made for the door where the sound of men, raucous and merry could be heard. The door and walls were removed in times of emergency to allow a clear run along the deck, but now it was closed to allow the crew a place of their own; a place that I was now going to intrude upon. I did not knock but simply opened the door and stepped into a smoke filled space that stank of sweat, ale, wine and men who lived shoulder to shoulder for months on end. It all happened so quickly that I did not have time to react. A shadow darted away from below me. A bellowing war cry assaulted his ears, and my vision filled with a ham sized fist that slammed with a mighty crack into my face!
As I write this, I realise that some details may be missing, exaggerated or warped by time, but I never have and never will forget the picture in my mind’s eye of that mighty fi
st and the stars that followed.
I fell back through the door onto my back. Blinded and startled by the punch, it took me a moment to regain my bearings. Blinking away the tears, I looked up and saw a drunk and angry Jodlin, the huge brute that had given me the lashing. The man was holding onto the door frame, squinting at me. Another man darted away behind him from the inside of the door. The deck had gone silent. I looked round and gently rubbed my left eye, which was going to be black in the morning. Jodlin just stood there looking at me. Other men had woken up and watched, eager to witness the drama unfold.
Harl then appeared and pushed his way past Jodlin. "Damn hells, sir. You alright?" he asked holding out a hand. Accepting it, I groaned at the pain in both my poor back and eye.
"He didn't mean to hit you. He's clumsy when he's had a few. Aiming for Sudlas he was, but the man's too quick for him."
I understood then that I had just opened the door at the wrong moment and the gods saw fit to punish me some more, but Jodlin still showed an anger and looked as though he was considering continuing the assault on me. I could see that the big man would like nothing more than to give me a pounding, as though lashing me was not enough.
Harl turned and saw the same. "Get back in there, Jod! It’s not worth it, you great bull."
Jodlin did not move but glowered at me under heavy brows.
"He's an officer you fool," hissed Harl.
Jodlin was drunk and his ire was up, his head swaying. I considered my options. I could retreat and lose face, then have Jodlin on charges for striking an officer. The man would hang or at least be lashed if he was lucky. Only, then I would lose my chance at gaining the respect of the men. I wanted to get into that room. It suddenly seemed like my only hope. That room held the promise of a better future. Jodlin was in my way.
I could order the men to detain Mister Jodlin, but then I would lose face too. The way I saw it, this was perhaps a chance to show my colours. It was dangerous, and I was not fit, but Jodlin was finding it hard to stand and focus. That gut born fear rose again as I made up my mind. I swallowed the fear and said, "I told you, I'm no officer down here, Mister Harl," and began to remove my coat, the young stubborn fool that I was!
"Aye, you did, but let's talk to him, sir. He'll calm down in a bit."
I handed Harl my coat, hat and cutlass. Then I faced Jodlin who leered at me and staggered back into the storage room where he waited for me. Harl shrugged as though to say, it was my life.
There were a score of men in the room which was lit by a number of candles and lanterns. I stepped in, watched by the wary, untrusting eyes of the sailors. Harl came in behind me and closed the door, but it opened again as other crewmen, now awake, wanted to view what should make for good entertainment. Men cleared away the space, removing chests that were used as tables and small barrels that were used as stools. The room had bunks, and stores stacked up against the gunwales. At the far end was a pair of large chaser battle cannons currently being used as seating in the now makeshift arena. Some men began to lay odds and coin was passing hands. Jodlin was rocking on his feet. The weasel like Sudlas had retreated into the shadows. Willan was there, a look of worry on his young face. He was bare-chested and as thin as a stick next to the burly tattooed older sailors.
I leant over to Harl. "Are there any rules?"
Harl considered this for a moment, then said, "Don't gouge the eyes, sir. Unspoken rule."
"Is that it?"
Harl shrugged again. That was it. At the Academy, there were so many rules for this kind of situation. There was even a book covering the regulations for a fist fight. I suspected that none of these men had ever read it. Of course this was not the first gutter fight I had found myself in. Back in Norlan was an area of the city called the Waters, built inside the harbour walls where my education in life had been meted out. The Waters were where the serving folk, the poor folk and the unscrupulous folk resided. It was like a small city of its own, built of timber, overhanging the harbour waters, set upon poles and barges. Here I had found the best brothels and bars and gambling. Here I had learnt to fight dirty.
"Go on, Jod. Make him bleet!" called one of the men who quickly hid behind another when I looked.
"A drink!" I called. I desperately wanted one but I also had rather more cowardly motives. Jodlin would be tempted to take a drink too, and I wanted the man to be even more inebriated than he already was. It was the only chance I had. The big sailor would crush me if he got hold of me, so I intended to keep my distance and more drink would help that. I was handed a wooden cup filled with sour wine. I gulped it down and watched as Jodlin too took a jug and drank satisfyingly deeply of it. I did not hesitate and charged forwards, kicking the giant bastard between the legs as hard as I could. Jodlin spat ale then wheezed as the last of his breath left his body. Clutching his groin and stumbling backwards, the jug now cracked on the deck. I followed up with an uppercut to the jaw which was like punching a timber beam. I stepped back, shaking my hurt hand. What was Jodlin's jaw made of?
With a mighty roar, the sailor charged swinging wildly with both fists and I had to throw myself aside only to be thrown back by the hands of the spectators. Jodlin turned and nearly fell.
"Swivin' officers," the brute slurred. He rubbed his crotch again, and then came at me, but this time more cautiously.
"What's a pair of kicked balls, Jodlin?" said a man. "Kick 'is 'ead in!"
"He's only a cripple," I then heard another shout.
I crouched low and felt my back smart at being so stretched. Jodlin sped up. He was going to kick me but I darted to one side then jumped forwards to punch Jodlin round the ear. It had no effect other than to anger the man even more.
I kept low and kept circling. How was I to hurt this man? Jodlin kicked and punched but I darted away, sometimes striking where possible. I now knew I could not hurt the man with my fists, but if I could just put on a show for the men. Show them I had at least some spirit. Suddenly one of the huge fists found my shoulder and I fell to my side, a boot now coming at my belly. Rolling away, I got to my feet just in time to avoid another swing of Jodlin's fist. I kept moving round the giant in an anticlockwise direction. I kept the man turning and turning. Jodlin managed to get a few more glancing blows in when suddenly the big man stopped. He looked pale, dizzy, and swayed.
"Come on," I growled under my breath. Jodlin's eyes were heavy. He was sweating. Suddenly the giant turned and dived for the chasers, went to his hands and knees, and heaved a wave of vomit to the deck.
This was my chance. I jumped and took hold of two iron staples in the beam just above and behind Jodlin, and with both boots, kicked the man in the rear who flew forwards and hit his head hard on a chaser's limber. Jodlin's lights went out, foamy drool running from his half opened mouth. I stepped back, half expecting the brute to shake his head, get up and come for me again. Then Jodlin snored. The relief was overwhelming and I broke into laughter. The crew joined me, seeing the comedy in the abrupt end to the fight. I hoped they did not realise that my laughter was from sheer relief rather than any bravado. Some men grumbled though. I heard a man talk of how cripples cheat by their very nature. I ignored the comments. A lot of them had lost money.
Harl stepped over and handed back my belongings. "Well done, sir."
I grunted. The room then went silent again. It was an awkward silence for they now had an officer in their midst. Some of the men even stood to attention regardless of my comment about dropping rank. Others looked daggers of hatred and disgust.
"Stand easy, men," I said. "I have a couple of hours before my watch, and all I want is an honest drink with honest men where I can lose some honest copper. No rank, no lord, just easy company."
The men relaxed a little but were still silent. Harl stepped forwards and dragged a large flat topped chest out. He placed a few barrels round it, and then threw a pack of cards on top. He then looked at me, so I sat down, took the worn cards and began to shuffle them. When done, I placed them face down, reached for my purse and up ended a small pile of copper heads onto the chest. I organised them into neat little stacks and then turned to the men. "Anyone care to join me?"
There was a pause which came to an abrupt end when one man stepped forwards. The others, realising they might lose their chance to get at the coppers rushed in too. All of a sudden, it was as though I were not there. Talking began. Men lifted jugs and goblets. A fiddler started up a merry tune and a grimy old-timer went back to witling a bit of wood. Pipes were lit and the place felt like an impromptu inn. There were six men round the chest including myself. Harl did not join us but went to check on Jodlin instead.
"What are we playing?" I asked.
"King, sir," said a tattooed man to my left. "You know it?"
"I'm familiar with it. The king moves round the table. Highest hand takes the pot?"
"That's the one. Highest card starts as King," said the man offering me a card. It was four sea serpents.
"Name's Tabor, sir," said the sailor handing round the cards to each player and taking one himself which he then placed face up on the table. He had nine dragons, the highest card. Another player had nine sea serpents, but dragons beat serpents, so Tabor started as King.
The sailor then reshuffled the deck and dealt five cards to each player who each had to place a coin in the pot. I got three bears, eight dragons, four trolls, three trolls and one sea serpent - not a good hand. Starting with the player to Tabor's left, each man then scrutinised their cards and either stuck with them or placed a coin in the pot and took a new card from the deck, discarding a card which went to the King. The King never replaces cards but simply rakes up any that other players want to replace. This went round the table twice and I swapped cards on both rounds and ended up with one of each of the five realms, having picked yet another troll on my first swap, ending up with two giants in place of the three trolls and so had a low scoring 'Hand of Realms' - one of each beast.
Of course the King was the most popular position as the more coins that were in the pot, the greater his hand was probably going to be and when each player revealed their hands, Tabor smiled as he had won with a ladder of sea serpents from three to seven. It was a game of luck with little skill. At first, I did not try very hard. I saw to it to lose my second and third hand, and then lost another couple of hands. I then tried harder and found that I was still losing. The men beamed with joy as they began to eat away at my pile of coins.
"Gimme the dragon, gimme the dragon," one of the men kept saying whenever the cards were being dealt.
"Give me a fat swiving wench with big bubbas an' no manners," said another followed by grunts of laughter.
This went on for a while and I took to cursing under my breath for the losses, small as they were. It had become a challenge. The men were cunning gamblers and the older ones seemed to have a sixth sense, for whenever I had a good start, they would rarely add to the pot. I was enjoying myself though, losing badly but enjoying the game and company and challenge. I listened to the men and their talk. They talked of women and ships. They boasted about adventures on the seas. Some spoke of family back home and the joy of seeing a son's face when his father steps through the door.
One lad, Paggod was not winning. "Any time now," he kept saying. "Any time now and the winds will turn. They will turn and bless my cards."
"We're just having a run of bad luck," I said. Paggod nodded sullenly.
"How much you got left Paggod?" asked Tabor.
Paggod looked nervously down to his last few coppers on the chest. "That's the last of it, Tabor."
"What. All of it?" asked Tabor. Paggod nodded again. "What about your ma, you stupid boy!"
"Lucks gonna turn. It has to." Paggod said, but did not look convinced. I had seen that look many a time at the gaming tables; desperate people hanging onto unrealistic hope and twisted logic.
"Get away, you crab brained fool. Send what you got or your ma's going cold. Bloody fool idiot. Does she deserve that? Raised you she did. Raised you on her breast and this is how you repay her!"
"But it ain't worth it. A couple more hands and I'm the King. My luck has to turn now."
"Crab brained fool idiot," was all that Tabor had to say.
The young man looked crestfallen and was biting his lip. The boy was a natural gambler of the worst kind. The kind that was no good at winning and blamed it on bad luck, but if I could, I was going to see to it that Paggod's luck was going to turn. The next two hands went Paggod's way. I did my best not to win and I suspected that Tabor was doing the same. Perhaps a couple of the other players did so too, but I would never know for sure. Paggod's pile grew. Then Paggod was the King. Each player put a coin in and looked at their cards. Each player made a show of how confident they were with their hand by increasing the pot on each round so that by the end of the round the pot was full, and Paggod could not help but grin. I had passed him some good cards as had Tabor, I was sure. When we turned our cards over it looked to me as though a couple of the players had good hands and were trying to win that healthy pot, but Tabor and I had done just enough for the young man to win. The delight on Paggod's face was a joy although I just scowled and cursed at my loss to keep up appearances.