by C. Vandyke
* * *
Captain Lutterell enters in regalia with Sailing Master Luther
* * *
Captain Lutterell: Luther, where's my sword? This'll be great exercise.
Sailing Master Luther: Maybe gentle yoga would be better, sir. Doc will scream at you if you throw your back again. Why a sword of all things?
Enter Captain Montgomery with rapier and Sailing Master Monsell with cutlass drawn.
Captain Lutterell: Because that pampered hen is here and she's got her little fencing blade out just 'cause she knows it pisses me off when people use those things.
Captain Montgomery: Lutterell, you eel shit. (Sailing Master Monsell stalls her) You'd best get your hand off my shoulder, Monsell.
Sailing Master Monsell: Don't lower yourself to an eel shit, Monty.
Enter Governor with community leaders.
Governor: (shouting at the crews and citizens) Freaking pirates! This is why we can't get good shipping here. You two (points at Montgomery and Lutterell) get control of your men. Third time I've had to be summoned to break up one of your men's rows because you two fight like cats and dogs. The Neighborhood Watch is sick of it. You can pay all your portage fees and taxes on time, better than many, but if I have to come break this up again, you're getting strung up where you can't trouble the good people again.
Everyone but Montgomery, Monsell, and Bostock leave
Captain Montgomery: Bostock. Speak plain. What the fuck?
Bostock: Uh…? Well, you know Lutterell. Your crew was kicking his crew's asses. Which would have been nice other than we were already on strike three with Gov, so figured I probably needed them to quit it. Then Tin-Tin shows up and just has to get involved. And one thing led to another and yeah...
Sailing Master Monsell: At least it all cooled off before Roman showed up. Where is that moonstruck calf of a nephew of mine?
Bostock: Off wallowing in self-pity on the dock side. Feeding seagulls.
Captain Montgomery: He's determined to make the ocean saltier overnight. Then he comes tumbling into the cabins at bloody dawn without a thought to any of the crew still sleeping. I don't mind him being a night owl, but it's getting bad if all he's doing is coming back and sleeping the day off. He'll never see daylight at this rate.
Bostock: Any idea why he's gone all mopey on us?
Captain Montgomery: Good question. No idea.
Bostock: Tried talking to him?
Captain Montgomery: Me, Sailing Master, Josephina, the crew. Even tried getting him wasted at Madam Linley's. He's determined to be his own best friend, and quite honestly, if you aren't nice to yourself, being your own best friend might be akin to being your own worst enemy. If you can pry it out of him, by all means, enlighten the rest of us. I need my quartermaster back to normal.
Enter Roman.
Bostock: (cracking knuckles) Speaking of the overseer of hell. Let me have a go at him. I'll crack him like a bivalve.
Captain Montgomery: Good luck. Bring him back in one piece. Ice and whiskey, depending on who needs what, will be available if you can actually get him to talk. Come on, Monsell.
Exeunt Captain Montgomer and Sailing Master Monsell.
Bostock: What are you building this time, Rome?
Roman: Oh, jeez, it's too early for this again, Bostock.
Bostock: Says the guy who's been up since the moon rose.
Roman: Meh. Just have a lot of things on my mind. Something happen for Monty and Monsell to be here?
Bostock: They're just off for a wander. Back to you though, oh King of the Dark. What's troubling your tide pools?
Roman: If only I could stop the tides from rolling.
Bostock: Dude, you sound sea sick.
Roman: Sick maybe.
Bostock: Sick of love?
Roman: Maybe it's masochistic.
Bostock: She a complete dom?
Roman: There's this whole euphoria thing with this love-at-first-sight business, and I'm just over here tired of being in it. (Sees signs of scuffle) A fight? Again? For the third time? Blades and Albatrosses just love themselves a good fight. Ironic, in a way. A love like that, don't you think?
Bostock: Alright, Aristotle, when'd you turn from quartermaster to philosopher? I think that entails a paycut.
Roman: You're having a go at me.
Bostock: Dude, you're deep diving on irony when it was just another crew spat because you're all mopey about a pair of legs.
Roman: You ever been in love, Bostock? Straight up, it's madness. Everything is a knife's edge over an abyss. Especially when it’s a stupid one-sided crush. I should get going.
Bostock: Hold up, turtle dove. You can't leave me hanging on this.
Roman: I haven't been myself in a while, Bos. Feel like my brain checked out and went off to circle the stars while my body and simpler impulses are stuck here waiting for me to return.
Bostock: Seriously, who the hell are you so gaga over that you're spouting romantics and philosophy?
Roman: You really want to know? You're just going to use it to tease me more.
Bostock: I'll keep the teasing to the minimum if it's worth it.
Roman: You have to promise on the captain's rapier you won't tease me for this. I can't take that at the moment.
Bostock: On her rapier, I promise.
Roman: She's not a dom. He's handsome to a fault.
Bostock: Then he must be a star.
Roman: A star would make the most sense of this situation I find myself in. You can reach for a star, use it to navigate by, admire it, and yet it will always be so distant from those of us who find ourselves swayed instead by an unrelenting sea on a deck too small.
Bostock: Then he finds himself amongst unreachable stars?
Roman: Those who flit around him are they themselves bound to the heavens, far above the reach of us mere mortals.
Bostock: If they occupy the heavens, and you occupy the seas, then find someone of the seas. Poseidon, Lir, Njord may occupy the heavens and yet found themselves overseers of our waves.
Roman: How do I move on from a star, from this fellow, Bastion?
Bostock: By setting your telescope a little closer to the deck. There must be ones circling your orbit.
Roman: To lower my scope would only remind me of what I saw before me. Handsome men around here have a bad tendency of wearing eye masks and becoming swashbuckling loners thinking they'll make a crew for themselves and then you never hear from them again. No. Show me someone really up there and then maybe I'd listen.
Bostock: You're on.
Exeunt Bostock and Roman
Scene 2
Enter Captain Lutterell, Parker, and Palmer
* * *
Captain Lutterell: (mid conversation) Damn it. It's the tradition of the thing. Yet, if we are to maintain our port of call in the Bay, then the fighting has to stop. Montgomery agreed to the truce with Gov. I didn't think she would, quite honestly.
Parker: Privateers for the same crown after all. I don't see why keeping a truce will be difficult. This will benefit all of us. Speaking of benefits, are you still thinking of shifting management? I am keen on the idea of obtaining a quartermaster with decent experience.
Captain Lutterell: Though your proposition from before is still remembered, I will say it: my quartermaster has had a rough time of the last few months. Got caught up in crossfire. Lost an eye for the last good haul we had. Give them some more time to find themself before hoping they'll ship out with a new captain, crew, and ship.
Parker: Men have suffered worse afflictions and been able to return to their post faster.
Captain Lutterell: I leave it up to them and you then. If they decide to join up with your crew, congratulations on encouraging them to face the seas again. I'd suggest tact, or else they'll never talk to you again. Say, the crew and I are having a party at the Prodigal Son on Speculate Lane near The Black Albatross's dock. Come down. Share a toast or two and maybe see what Jules makes of you. We've got others
of the Crown contract coming. Silver Turtle, Amethyst Harpoon, and a few others. Maybe talk to those quartermasters and see if any of them would be a better fit for your voyage. (to Palmer, giving a paper): Here's a list of some other people outside of the contract I want to have show up tonight. They're at some of the south and north docks and I haven't taken time to wander all the way out there. Take a quick jaunt and send them our way, would you? Thanks.
Exeunt Captain Lutterell and Parker
Palmer: Frickin' fab, Cap. I could reef a sail for you, but no. I could stitch it, but no. I can even cook, not as great as Cook's grub, but no. Instead, you go handing me a paper knowing damn well I can't read. Or at least you would know, if you'd remember my name, you weather-beaten old sea turtle. Oh thank Poseidon's shiny trident, people who look like they might know what this scribbledy gook is.
Enter Bostock and Roman
Bostock: (to Roman) Bitter things can make your stomach hurt, and yet the doc gives you bitter things to make your stomach stop hurting. A hot knife to a pussed wound hurts just as bad as when you got the wound, but it cures it. What you need for your lovesick, moonstruck calf face is a new beau to look at. You need a different crush by which to feel crushed over, then you can forget about the last one that left you feeling all bruised.
Roman: Hot water bottle is good for that.
Bostock: For what?
Roman: For a bruise.
Bostock: Roman, where is your head at?
Roman: Somewhere in Svarga, and I'm not sure if I want to attain moksha or descend back to Earth. (to Palmer) Hi. You look a bit lost. Can I help?
Palmer: Oh thank God, yes. Can you read?
Roman: I used to read between the lines, but I think that has become lost on me.
Palmer: Not quite the skill I had in mind. Can you read regular words?
Roman: Yep: verbs, irregular and otherwise, adjectives, and adverbs come to mind in abundance. Then there's articles, both linguistic and legal. Though, I must say my favorite are conjunctions. The one between Saturn and Jupiter was something to see.
Palmer: That's still more vague than specific. I'll just, um...go...
Roman: Hold up, hold up. Let me see the paper. I'll see if I can help. (Takes list from Palmer) Uh. Okay, wait a minute. Where'd you get this, from a chicken? Horrid handwriting. You've got Captain Mario from Shrieking Badger, his quartermaster and sailing master and three guests over at Dock B9. Captain Allard of The Djinn's Lamp and her wife on Dock C7. Late Captain Vinny's husband who has residence with the Lagoon Maiden crew on Dock 2A. Sir Reginald with his Majesty's service located in South Docks, Cat's Eye pier. My brother Sir Lutterell with his Majesty's service in South Docks, Beryl pier. My nephew Bastion and his girl...oh...girlfriend of Seething Ghost. Sir Sigfried and Tyndall, they'll be at Wind-divers Lane and Hana of Vermillion Wave. That is quite a list. Know where you're sending them?
Palmer: Food.
Roman: Ah, a meal?
Palmer: Party at Prodigal Son for us.
Roman: Us?
Palmer: Captain and the other crews.
Roman: Would make sense. I should have asked before who they were.
Palmer: Oh, right. I was being vague, sorry. Captain Lutterell. With so many people showing up, as long as you aren't from The Crimson Blade, I'd think Captain wouldn't mind you slipping in. Not like he notices much anyway. He can't ever remember I can't read. Probably doesn't even remember my name most days. Anyway. I gotta get. Peace.
Palmer exits
Bostock: Bastion's gonna be at Prodigal Son? Like, the Bastion guy you're all mopey over? And girlfriend. That's gotta suck. But. Wait, Roman. Hear me out. You saw that list there. Not everyone on it revolves in the heavens like our old boy Bastion. What says you to us going and taking our pick of the litter, hmm?
Roman: No one there will ever compare to him.
Bostock: Let me guess. He was rigging a ship all on his lonesome out at the dock and no one was around and you just swooned over a pair of good arms. There are other great arms around here or else there would be no good crew in all of Squanderer's Bay.
Roman: Well...um...Let's crash Prodigal Son. Not because I think you're right. You have to see this guy. I know, not your type, but maybe you'll get where I'm coming from.
Exeunt Roman and Bostock
Scene 3.
North Docks: A Cabin in Captain Lutterell's ship. Enter Sailing Master Luther and Doc
Sailing Master Luther: Are they doing better? It's been three months.
Doc: I'll go call them. They're in the next cabin over.
Exit Doc. Enter Doc and Jules
Jules: I'm awake. Maybe with a migraine, but I am currently occupying the land of the living.
Doc: Well that's a relief. Would rather not have a wraith walking around the ship.
Jules: Luther? How can I help you?
Sailing Master Luther: Not sure if you need to be here for this, Doc. Probably wouldn't hurt either way.
Doc: I can leave.
Sailing Master Luther: No, stay. It's alright. Just debating on how to put this. They'll never recover their eye, will they?
Doc: If you were to find a magic potion in the Lighthouse at the End of the World, maybe. Being realistic, though, no, it's clean gone.
Sailing Master Luther: Why would the Lighthouse have magical potions?
Doc: Why else would it be shrouded in perpetual darkness? Rumor has it there's a stone lantern, that upon being lit by an impossible fuel, will lift the darkness and return the island to its rightful place in the world. The Lighthouse, supposedly, was cursed by an angry goddess when the Lighthouse keeper, who had devoted himself to the discovery of the alchemical Rebis, concluded that his light could be used in achieving his goal of surpassing the known world.
Sailing Master Luther: And this intrinsically means that the Lighthouse has magic eye potions?
Doc: Well, probably not, but The Black Albatross has crossed dangerous oceans for more mysterious and marvelous things and they be true.
Jules: I'm not so bent out of shape about my lost eye as to travel to the Lighthouse, Doc. We can leave off on the fairy tales for a bit.
Doc: If you aren't interested in magically poofing your pretty eye back into existence, then hear me out. I want access to the alchemist's medicine cabinet. Elixirs and potions are one thing. The base components used in quite a lot of alchemical practices are fundamental to real medicine and it would be nice to fill my larder.
Sailing Master Luther: Noted about the medicine cabinet, Doc. I'll have a word with Captain. As it is, Captain will be having a word with you, Jules, about the fact that Parker is after you to be his quartermaster.
Jules: To change contracts is not one of my personal motivations in life.
Doc: No ambitions for a raise?
Sailing Master Luther: We've been docked bay side for three months getting you back to normal.
Doc: "Normal" does not quite define what is going on here, Luther. As it is, you all had cargo to unload from that haul out of Coralie de Couer. Silver and silks from Carteen are not easily come by. Though their ships-people most certainly are, and good shots, mind you.
Sailing Master Luther: And now the silk has been sold and we're sitting on funds for our next run waiting. Return to work, Jules. Whether that be with the Albatross or someone else. It would be better than squandering your life in a dark hole because you lost a bit of your eyesight. You need a diversion. Something interesting.
Doc: I mean, the guy recruiting isn't known to be a straight-up arse, so it might not be a bad deviation from the usual.
Sailing Master Luther: (to himself) I hate this potential contract upheaval.
Doc: (to Jules) Taking on a different contract might let you see more than our little triangle we run.
Sailing Master Luther: (to Jules) Is that a yes to getting back to being our quartermaster or a yes to joining up with the new crew?
Jules: It's not like I want to leave the Albatross. I'm just, well, a bit g
un shy at the moment. It'll get better. Don't go tossing me to another crew just because you think I'm unhappy here. I'll be unhappy there too, and for the same reason.
Palmer Enters
Palmer: Sailing Master, Doc, Quartermaster, the guests are arriving and Captain wants you down there, NOW!
Sailing Master Luther: Oh, blast it all. Jules, figure it out. Are you staying as our quartermaster or hiring on with a new contract, because one way or another, your talent needs to stop being wasted in a medical bay.
Doc: Come on Jules, let's follow them. Luther isn't wrong. It'd help you to get back into work rather than laying about down here.
Exeunt All
Scene 4.
Squanderer's Bay: An alley. Enter Roman, Bostock, and Malone, all disguised as theatrical performers of Hamlet for the pub stage.
Roman: So, we just going in like this? We supposed to introduce ourselves or what?
Bostock: Nothing extreme. These types of pub performances, half the time you're lucky to leave the stage without tomato on your face. Just get up and act. Don't worry about us being a "troupe" or a "band" or something for people to "find" us by later.
Roman: Can I be the king? I don't want to say lines. Let me just sleep and die, please?
Malone: Hah. You wish. You're the only one of the crew who has the entirety of Shakespeare memorized down to the stage exits. Like hell are we letting you be the backdrop.