“Well then, no doubt I should get ale and stew straight away for my sweetest customer!" Vanessa beamed happily as she made her way back to the kitchen.
"Sweet girl, that," Halence reflected. "Well, boys, I see you've managed to make yourselves comfortable here in port, but we're leaving with the evening tide, as Bates should have told you. That gives us a couple hours. Sorry lad, but that leaves you no time for a cuddle," Halence said to an embarrassed looking Sorn. "Of course, you all are always welcome to save yourselves a lot of grief and give your sated stomachs a rest and just stay here in port. The Three Pigs is an excellent inn as well… Just thought I'd ask, Sorn, no need to get huffy."
Sorn, realizing that he had been scowling, relaxed. He didn't really blame the captain for trying to persuade him to change his mind. After all, as far as the captain knew, he had not only found the grain to be far dearer than he had expected, but also found himself saddled with what he no doubt saw as four worthless lads who would like as not only get in the way, should it come to sailing or fighting.
"Forgive my scowl, Captain, I know you think we're a worthless lot and fear us getting in the way," Sorn said with a smile, showing that despite his obvious youth, he was nonetheless able to appreciate the captain's position. "And now you see that we eat like the namesake here as well."
Halence chuckled, nodding his head as if conceding a point. "And I, lad, am not so close-minded that I can't appreciate that an investor, after putting all his fortunes into one venture, and a risky one at that, might want to come along to nursemaid it as best he can, precious little as that might be, should we run into actual trouble. Money can make a man do strange things. Why, look at the fact that I am taking this venture at all! We're hungry people, lad, you and I, which is why we are in this business."
Sorn knew all too well what the captain meant by hunger, as would any member of his clan.
Halence favored Sorn with a confidential grin. "But we have one thing going for us, lad. We're honest. We may buy cheap and sell dear, but as long as we are forthright about the quality of our goods and services, as long as we keep our word, we have our honor, and need never fear sinking into the vicious self-serving depravity that destroys so many. Nothing kills faith and trust or causes more grief than a dishonest merchant who breaks his word or sells shoddy goods. It's the bane of free trade everywhere. It's a balance, though. Without some hunger, there would be no traders or merchants anywhere. And without them, the world would be a far worse place. Yet if you allow yourself to be consumed by your hunger, you never know if it's serving you, inspiring you to new heights; exploring new markets, ensuring your families fortunes, or if you're serving it, being consumed to your peril."
Sorn nodded reflectively at this, thinking upon Kalek whose vices and hungers drew him to desperate acts, degrading and enslaving him as surely as any collar of steel ever could.
Halence sighed. "I'll be honest, lad, right now I'm not sure which is the case for me. I can argue that I am indeed performing an important service, even a noble one. Bringing food to a city that might otherwise starve far sooner. Perhaps it will make a telling difference in their struggle to defend themselves. Perhaps not. Either way, we will have given much-needed aid, and of course, be very richly rewarded in turn, or so I hope. Of course, considering the risks I'll be taking, even if I do own the fastest ship in York, one could just as easily say that the hunger is consuming me to my peril.
"Still, whichever is the case, I'm going to make the run, and my crew, knowing the risks, will be making it as well. The point is, Sorn, you don't have to. Knowing the risks, knowing what really drives us, that it could well be to our peril, do you still want to come?"
Sorn's look was all Halence needed before he gave a nod of reluctant acceptance. "Okay, Sorn. Relax." Halence grinned. "Jesere made me promise to try one last time to talk you out of it. Can't blame me for letting a pretty woman talk me into it, can you?"
Sorn couldn't help but return Halence's wry grin with one of his own. "No, Halence, I can't blame you for trying. But Captain, rest assured. We are going. Now seeing as how it's rude having you eat all by your lonesome, I think it only proper that we make that stew an order for the table, don't you?"
The captain’s look of surprise broke into laughter. "Aye, lad, I'll give you that. You can certainly eat! Were pirates meat pastries, I could sail all my days in your company! Vanessa? Make my order one for the table!"
The triplets, of course, smiled happily from their pleasant stupors at hearing the call for more Three Pigs stew. "Pirates, meat pastries?" queried a confused looking Fitz who was only half tuned into the conversation.
"Sounds tasty!" said a smiling Hanz. "Ow! quit elbowing me, Sorn! It's not like I'm going to go out hunting pirates to eat! Not right now, anyway…" he grumbled.
It was a mellow group that made their way to the ship shortly thereafter. Halence was looking contemplatively up at the stars above, the triplets busy watching their stumbling feet below, and Sorn looking forward to what the future held ahead.
"All right, lads, I'm going to see about casting off. I'll let Hips show you to your quarters." With that, a surly looking dark-haired fellow quietly led them below the decks to a small room not much bigger than the one they had had on Kalek's boat. The quarters were well appointed, however, a considerable improvement from the barge they had left just a handful of hours ago. Both finely carved desk and leather padded chair bolted to the cabin floor were of dark oak, well polished and cared for. There were two footlockers as well, bolted down, of course, and two bed frames, also of finely polished hardwood. The two bed frames allowed for hammocks to be attached above the mattresses, as evidenced by those placed in preparation for the youth's occupation. Next to the door was what looked like a large ale keg with a spigot already in place, secured to a small table, itself bolted down, with a bowl-shaped shelf underneath containing a number of fine pewter cups. What was perhaps most remarkable to Sorn's mind was the fine brass lamp bolted to the desk. Such things were tricky to manufacture, he knew, and was duly impressed.
"Captain says we'll be off in an hour," Hips informed them. "Make yourselves comfortable and stay here. Best thing's for you to get some sleep, since you won't be able to come above anyhow. You're not sailors yourselves, and you don't know the ways of our crew, and navigating and sailing at night is tricky enough without stumbling over rubes in the moonlight. You gotta piss? You even got a fancy chamber pot in its case under your beds." Hips gave a yawn at that point. "Oh yeah, the captain wants you to know that you got your own water stores." He pointed to the ale keg. "Now the captain don't stint, seein' as how you're the investors err… what have you, so it's half ale and half water so you don't have to worry about it going sour on you, like our water above. Not like you have to worry about that with a week's voyage, but that's standard policy."
Hips then went over to the lamp, turning a knob that allowed for greater or lesser light. "You all see how to adjust the lamp? All right, then. You boys sure you know what you're in for with this trip? All right, don't go glarin' at me, just don't want it on my conscience that a bunch of newbies didn't even know what they were getting into on this one. Well, you all enjoy your evening." With that, Hips left their cabin room, gently closing the door behind them.
"Okay, guys, any objections if I grab a bottom bunk?" Sorn queried to his yawning cousins. Sleeping arrangements soon made, swords and small packs of food and clothing given to them by their benefactor Lord Canterbier safely stored away, Sorn found himself still feeling a bit too excited to drift off, as comfortable as the feathered mattress was, reflecting on all the events that had led them to this point. From owning no more than the clothes on their back to owning a profit share that could net them well over forty golden crowns, they had accomplished a lot in the past four days. Fortune had favored them well, yet in the end, it was their own decisions and skills that had gotten them to this point. Sorn found himself looking forward to whatever the future had in store, enjoying the t
hought of profit and prosperity, and even the risks to be overcome in achieving it. Maybe it was a bit of that 'hunger,' as Halence put it, which drove him. In any case, it was for practical reasons as well.
Sooner or later he and his cousins would need to be able to stretch themselves free of the tight constraints which they presently placed upon themselves. For those occasions, they would need plenty of resources at hand in terms of sustenance. Resources for which there was no better method of achieving, within the bounds of this realm, and to everyone's satisfaction, than with coin. Sorn found himself wanting to share his reflections with his cousins and hear what they thought of things, but the gentle sound of their snoring let him know they were occupied with a far more important matter, and smiling, Sorn too drifted off into sleep.
11
"Captain says you can come up when you like," A bleary-eyed Sorn heard an all too cheery sounding Hips yell through the door with a knock the next morning. Grumbling, Sorn ignored both that and his cheerful cousins, admonishing them to leave their swords in the cabin and stay out of trouble before turning over and drifting back to sleep.
"Sorn? Are you going to sleep the whole day away?" Sorn woke to find a concerned looking Fitz peering right into his eye. At first a shocking contrast to a rather confusing, if pleasant dream involving Vanessa and how warm and soft she felt pleasantly pressed against him while simultaneously getting everyone's drinks with Captain Halence smiling and telling him to bring her aboard but to make sure the pirates don't eat her, seeing as how Vanessa was softer than freshly risen dough.
Sorn could only reflect upon how unfair it was that his cousins had drunken themselves tipsy last night whereas he had been near sober, yet they, as always, were able to wake up bright and fresh with the dawn whereas he, as always, was not.
"We saved you some biscuits and porridge. I think that's all they eat here is biscuits and porridge. I'm afraid it's going to get boring after a while. But anyway, here's your breakfast." Fitz handed a bleary-eyed Sorn a bowl he almost dropped, filled to the brim with something the consistency of gruel, along with several biscuits. Yawning, Sorn sat up to eat his breakfast, reflecting that while the porridge had the consistency and taste of powdered wood shavings soaked in water, the biscuits were actually quite good.
"Guess what, Sorn? The Captain says we got a nice breeze blowing, and with tacking, we should make excellent time. What's tacking?" Fitz asked
"I have no idea," Sorn replied. "Where are Hanz and Lieberman?"
"Oh, they're up above in the crow's nest." Fitz smiled at Sorn's raised eyebrow. "Come up and see, Sorn."
Sorn couldn't help smiling when it turned out that the crow's nest, so to speak, was actually a lookout point high up the mast. The triplets, it seemed, had been exploring the ship. Interestingly enough, it appeared that their enthusiasm was a nice change of pace from the standard investor's surly avoidance of all things 'crew', so the sailors had been all too happy that morning to entertain their naiveté and explain various things nautical to them.
Tacking, Sorn and Fitz found out, meant sailing at an angle into the wind, the sails angled and shaped so that while the wind pushed against them, say directly South, it wasn't allowed to hit their sails head on, but rather the sails were angled so as to push against them at an angle, and due in part to the stabilizing rudder below, the ship itself could be directed in either a Northwesterly or Northeasterly course, often alternating between them if true North was the direction being sought. Apparently it worked well, unless the wind was coming dead on. But by zigzagging or tacking back and forth, so to speak, the ship could, in effect, sail in the very direction the wind was blowing, albeit indirectly. It was, in truth, more than a bit confusing to Sorn, though he was sure it would make better sense with time.
It was a calm sea that greeted the youths that morning despite Halence's predictions of choppy seas the night before, and Sorn found himself actually enjoying the pleasant rocking of the boat as well as the occasional bit of spray that blew over the railing with the wind. The sharp clean salty smell of the sea was something he felt invigorated by, quickly erasing the last cobwebs of sleep from his mind.
Soon enough Sorn took his turn climbing up to the crow's nest, adopting the barefoot stance of the sailors, as did his cousins. Their unique vitality was such that the blisters and splinters so common to new sea hands and expected by a bemused crew troubled the youths not at all. Indeed, from the comments Sorn overheard, it surprised the crew how well they adapted to life on the ship. The lads, as they were called, could climb the webbings as well as any old sea hand, preternatural strength giving them the effortless grace of monkeys, as one sailor who had been farther south than most put it.
So too, it appeared that the youths' affinity for shipboard life apparently extended to stomachs of smooth cast iron, for the second day out the wind got fiercer and the waves indeed became choppy. It was a motion that brought many investors and travelers alike to their knees with sea sickness, huddling in a corner, sicking up so frequently that one had to worry about dehydration, and as often as not pleading with the grinning sailors to put them out of their misery. The ship's present passengers, however, appeared completely unfazed. All this Bates happily explained with perhaps a bit too much relish at the expenses of poor investors who had come before.
Even Captain Halence was taken aback to find his passengers actually found the constant motion pleasant, and indeed, the youths could often be found spending their free time in the crow's nest, perhaps their favorite spot, where the strength of the waves rocking the boat was magnified several fold. Their eyes were keen despite their inexperience, however, so the captain didn't mind them sharing the lookout point with one of his more experienced sailors.
All in all, captain and men alike seemed pleased to find the lads far less prone to griping and whining than the majority of investors or paying passengers who would from time to time come with Halence on one venture or another. Simply put, the boys seemed to enjoy life on the sea.
No stranger to the lookout post himself, Bates was a frequent visitor to the crow's nest with his newfound friends. In fact, on many an occasion, especially when he might otherwise be wanted for some task or other below, a cheerful Bates could be found passing the time with his newfound friends, patiently explaining things nautical to them, and being rewarded with exotic tales of magic and mayhem in turn. On their third day at sea Bates looked a bit more animated than usual while Hanz and Lieberman regaled Bates with the continuing saga of three very silly princes and their keeper from a very distant land both magical and bizarre. He enjoyed the fanciful tales, as always, having no idea that the tales were actually an autobiographical account of the youths' more memorable misadventures. Yet for all that, an excited Bates looked even more animated than usual upon joining Hanz and Fitz in the crow's nest that morning. "What's up Bates?" Hanz queried the excited looking young sailor. "You look fair near to jumping out of your skin!"
Bates smiled. "I'm fine lads, just excited. It's the third day out, and that's normally when we practice our fencing, and I was wondering if you wanted to join us, seeing as how you got your fancy swords and take to the sailor's life as natural as tits on a mermaid."
"Sounds good!" Fitz smiled. "Let's just go down and ask Sorn."
Bates cocked an eyebrow at that comment. "Okay, guys, but you sure do defer to him a lot, seeing as how he's only a couple of years older than you. Almost like he was that keeper in your stories, you know?"
Hanz and Fitz practiced what was for them a great deal of self-control, keeping their snickers to a minimum while following a puzzled Bates down below.
Various pairs of men, the lads noted, were already paired off, with small iron-rimmed shields and padded wooden swords with handguards, wearing hauberks of deadtanned leather, far tougher than normal leather, Bates explained, and helmets as well. This, of course, contrasted quite oddly with their legs, which were bare from the mid thigh down.
"They're all of a piece of course,
" Bates commented. "A man has to be able to take off shield and helmet in a few seconds, then one can shimmy right out of the hauberk. The trick is not to fight it, if you're in the water, just shimmy out, then swim back up. Don't try to swim in the armor, you'll just wear yourself out right quick and drown. And whatever you do, you can't panic. Captain makes us practice with one suit before we can even fence. Captain keeps us prepared, he does. He has ten hauberks and shields for every crewman. And of course, we all got sabers," Bates said with obvious pride.
"Your captain certainly keeps you prepared." A smiling Sorn greeted Bates and his two cousins, Lieberman in tow. "You guys will be happy to know that the captain is okay with us sparring. Of course, we'll be using our own practice blades, but we'll be adding these." Sorn handed out their four leather wrapped practice sticks, and to each swept hilt he added a leather strap. "Makes sense, really. If you're disarmed, this keeps your stick from flying out to sea." The swept hilts, of course, were old ones, added to the practice sticks by Lord Canterbier's smith before they left, thus allowing the youths to best use the heavy fighting sticks in the fencing style they were trained in. After all, for them the weight of the stick was not a problem, only the former lack of a protective hilt, a crucial accompaniment for any swordsman who fought without a shield.
"Do I even need to say it, guys?" Sorn asked.
"No, Sorn," Lieberman sighed. "We only spar off against each other."
"He doesn't want us to get hurt," Hanz remarked acidly to Bates's raised eyebrows. "After all, we're small and puny and couldn't possibly take care of ourselves in a real fight."
Fitz couldn't help snickering at that, which Bates found all the more odd. "Ah, come on, Sorn, you could let me spar with 'em. We're all friends now, and you know I wouldn't be too rough."
Sorn gave a slight smile shaking his head in apology. "Sorry, Bates. It's not you. These guys are still beginners and might make a wild swing and hurt someone. They haven't learned control quite yet. We're still working on it. To be fair," Sorn amended, noting his cousin's scowls, "I'm not going to be fencing anyone else either. We'll just practice our paltry skills with one another. Don't hold it against us, Bates, okay?"
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