A movement to his right caught his attention, and he lifted his head a bit higher. He thought, “Damn my eyes, why won’t they focus properly?”
“Easy, Otto,” a familiar voice said, “Here, take a sip of this hot tea.”
He felt the cup at his lips, and he sipped, or rather let the warm liquid flow into his open mouth and down his parched throat. It felt soothing and comforting.
“I’ll get you some more. I’ll be right back,” stated the young voice.
“Ah right, be ah,… back soon now. Mustn’t forget your … your dear first officer.” He was still using his arms to keep him steady on the chair. He was slowly coming around.
“How do you feel, Otto?” Heinrich asked.
The voice startled Otto. “All right. I … I’m doing much better … retched, really retched, if the truth be told …” He could feel his stomach churning and thought he felt the roll and pitch of the ship, but his mind swore that they were docked in port. After several more minutes he was holding his own – just barely. His focus was returning; he began to make out different objects around the room.
Heinrich asked him, “Is there any more grog in town? You surely must have belted down a good share.”
Otto was trying to remember what he had been doing the last time he talked to Heinrich. “Oh, ja, he called me a butterball,” Otto recalled.
The room around Otto was still swaying somewhat; it was work just to stay seated and not tumble to the ground. He made a concerted effort to take deep breaths and not talk. He spread his feet apart to get a better grip on the floor. He lifted his hands to his head and began slowly rubbing it in an attempt to get his senses somehow back.
The door opened, and he heard the howl of the wind before the door closed with a whack. The cup was once again at his lips, and he opened his mouth in instinct. The liquid was hotter this time. He recognized the young face of Klaus, who patiently held the cup.
“Danke. You’re a good lad.”
“There’s plenty more, Otto, so just keep drinking it.”
“Hmmm. I will.”
After a while, Otto asked Klaus to see what he could find to eat from the galley. Klaus scampered away.
Heinrich let Otto sit for a while as Klaus mothered him with hot tea and biscuits. There wasn’t much that could be done for Otto. It was a matter of time. Slowly, but surely, Otto began to regain his energy and his senses.
Otto’s forays into town frequenting taverns were a pretense for the crew to believe he was carousing as they were. But Heinrich knew better. Otto was looking for a German woman; he could easily spend time with chatting about their homeland to perhaps ease his time away from Helga. Otto was ever faithful.
“So, tell me, how were the ladies at the tavern? Did you have a good time?”
Otto’s brain tried to recall the time at the tavern. “Bah, the only woman interested in me was built like a fat swine with a mustache.”
Heinrich tried not to smile because he knew Otto would get mad and refrain from telling his story. He kept a straight face and just nodded. “Did she succeed in arousing your interests during the long night?”
“Heinrich, I just told you she was not at all a woman I would find appealing.”
Seeing his friend acting like his old self again was reassuring. “Just figured someone being so far from home would be thrilled with anything that remotely resembled a woman,” Heinrich said with a smirk.
“I’ll have you know, my dear friend, that I am very particular in my choice of women. Just because you happen to attract gorgeous ladies, you think you’re the only one that has magnetism. Don’t be so arrogant,” Otto said smugly.
“Oh, Otto, you don’t have to put on an act for me you know. So, what did happen at the tavern?”
“Oh, it’s nothing special.”
“I’m fairly certain of that my friend,” Heinrich thought. “Come on, Otto, you can surely tell me, your best friend.”
“If you insist. Just don’t go blabbing this to anyone else.”
“My mouth is a sealed tomb.”
“I think at times your tomb springs a leak.”
“Just trust me, will you? I am a man of my word.”
“At times, I think you are a man of too many words,” Otto stated with heavy sarcasm.
“Oh, Otto, your secrets are safe with me.”
“Ja, as safe as with a talking parrot.”
Heinrich made a painful facial expression as if Otto’s accusation deeply hurt him.
“All right, all right, I’ll tell you what happened. Just stop your ridiculous act of being jilted by my words. There’s really nothing much other than the fact I drank way too much hoping that the effect of the brew would somehow make my loneliness bearable. And after a while, it had that effect – to some degree. Instead, she kept coming back to my table hoping to interest me in an evening of physical delight. Well, I told her straight out that I was only there for good conversation with a decent woman, who would understand a man being separated from his wife. The next thing I feel her hands groping all over my body and asking me to buy her a drink. By then I was so numb from the effect of the alcohol that I somehow found my arms wrapped around her, letting her plant fat juicy kisses on my face. If it was hard enough to put up with her one face, it was now even harder as I began to see double. But the liquor was having its effect on me, and I let her run her pudgy hands over me. She offered to escort me upstairs. I kept repeating I just wanted to talk, but the next thing I knew I was half-carried up the stairs; what an ox of a woman! I swear I felt and saw a dozen hands on me. By that time, I was almost out cold from the effect of the alcohol. The truth is that the next thing I remember is being in some dark room with the curtains drawn and lying on a bed. I was alone in the room. I believe I passed out for a while. My clothes were hanging over a chair, and I was bare to the bone and not feeling well at all. I faintly remember waking up and hearing several giggles from somewhere in the room, but couldn’t make out anyone nearby before I fell back to sleep.”
“So, you have little recollection of what happened?”
“That’s right. When I woke up, it was daylight. Faint streaks of sunlight pierced the narrow slits between the curtains. I figured I had better head back to the ship for fear of being left behind. It took me forever to get my clothes on and make it downstairs and out the door. I would not have made it back to the ship if I didn’t happen to spot a horse-drawn wagon driven by an old geezer with several farmhands in the back. I hailed him by stumbling into the middle of the street and waving my arms. The old man was kind enough to take me back to the harbor for a trifle more than I wanted to pay, but what choice did I have. I was quite surprised that the wench hadn’t stolen all my money. She could have easily have done so. How about that, huh? An honest wench of all things! She did, however, help herself to a nice fat tip. Oh well, it could have been much worse I suppose.”
“So, tell me. Did your little escapade satisfy you?”
Otto snorted, “What do you think? You believe in my drunken state, passed out, I was satisfied? Don’t be such an arse. I should have just stayed in my cabin and drank myself crazy.”
“Well then, let that be a lesson to you.”
“Oh, stuff a rag in your mouth, Heinrich. I can take care of myself.”
“Ja, no doubt. That’s why we’re having this conversation, right? The entire crew knows how well you handled yourself. Their illustrious first officer stupefied out of his mind and completely out of control.” Heinrich waited for his friend’s reaction. But, Otto was silent, thinking about the situation.
Finally, he spoke softly, “You know, Heinrich, trying to be so squeaky clean is perhaps a bit overdone. I want the men to respect me for who I am. But, I am only human; I have needs just like them.” Otto hung his head in humble respite; or perhaps still from the liquor.
It was good to hear these words coming from Otto. Heinrich said, “Otto, I want you to know that the crew respects you without you having to act like one of them
,” Heinrich interjected.
“I don’t mean for my silly antics to be menacing. I know that I can overdo it, but sometimes it just helps to take off the edge and break the monotony of the daily grind. I hope all the men realize that and not just those sailors that have known me for years.”
“You need to give them a little more credit. They are more aware of that fact than you may think.”
Otto raised his head after a moment and looked at Heinrich with understanding. “You are right, Heinrich. I have been too harsh in my command of the crew. I will make a concerted effort to lighten up. I believed being firm would work better, but perhaps it has brought alienation. I hope they will see my attempt as genuine.”
“I do not doubt that they will, Otto. You have a great many friends aboard that will realize this immediately. The rest will come around soon enough. Just do not go too easy on the crew. We are not on a Sunday outing.”
“All right then. Starting today, I will do just that.”
“Good. I’m glad the outing in town was not a complete loss,” Heinrich said with a big smile. “Who knows, maybe the large wench catered to your needs after all.”
“That is strictly a private matter. I do not kiss and tell,” Otto responded. “Now let me get myself together, and I will go see to the running of this ship.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SPANISH LIONHEART
Diego’s relaxed placidly in the mottled shade of the tavern’s veranda; sunlight was piercing the thick ivy-entwined trellis where it found an opening. He was basking in the comfort of the rum he was lazily consuming. The contentment he felt was also due to the company he was in; Heinrich, Otto, Reiner, Fritz, Conrad, Manfred, Bruno and of course the ever-present Anton, whose vigilant eyes kept darting furtively from one location to another always ready to jump into action at any sign of trouble.
Diego’s mind afloat in a carefree state, he was reminiscing about past voyages onboard former ships. Although plenty of times his journeys at sea had been arduous, he never sought a different vocation; the sea had become life itself to him long ago. The lure of seeing new places had always intrigued him; that in itself was the main reason he continued to do what he knew best. No, that wasn’t altogether the complete truth; there was something else that drove him to stay at sea. Something within he was seeking – acceptance, friendship, which had always escaped his desire. Yes, that was part of it, he was in search for these things, but more so he was running from a dark episode in the past, which still enveloped his emotions at times.
Even though he did not have the physique such as brawny Anton, he was gifted with a tough, wiry body and a nervous system that seemed to spark with electrifying quickness when required. His normal gait was casual, smooth and calculated. While Diego presented himself with gracious civility, he could be explosive if need be. In combat, he instantly galvanized into a dynamic fireball; so blistering fast was he, a person blinking could surely miss several breakneck moves. When his lightning speed was combined with his weaponry skills, a man ominously dangerous resulted.
Although he did not seek danger, his persona thrived on provocation and where trouble lurked, he invariably found himself amidst in it way too often. He had long ago given up trying to figure out why this was so. He did not envision himself as some fearsome warrior, yet when imperilment was at hand, he somehow managed to be magnetically attracted to it. Whether he was at sea, within the murkiness of a dingy tavern, some foreboding dark street, or for that matter on a bright sunny day in seemingly peaceful surroundings, confrontations would find him. Was it a curse beset on him or just plain bad luck that provoked these dreaded conflicts? Either way, it was a tragic disposition that he learned to live with. He didn’t know and after so many years didn’t matter to him the reason for his particular lot in life, for he could not control fate. What mattered more was his ability to counter adverse circumstances when they presented themselves.
Invariably, his former crewmembers witnessed his fighting prowess and stood in awe as he swiftly overcame opponents. The stories would make its way to a ship’s captain in short order. Because of his deadly skill set, he was subsequently assigned, or exploited depending on one’s perspective, by the captain of the ship he signed on to, as the designated swordsman seeing to the safety of the crew when they were in port as well as being the captain’s personal bodyguard at times. He did not relish those assignments. He, due to his humble personality, would rather avoid danger. Facing a foe that had every intention of taking your life, was not exactly something a sane person seeks out.
Subsequently, his reputation was one of a bad Spanish hombre not to trifle with; he was given a wide berth in respect for his deadly weapon’s prowess. In some ways it had a positive side; he was accorded plenty of space since privacy was at a premium aboard a ship, he preferred being alone over being constantly amidst the crewmen and their petty jabbering for which he had no longing to join in. The downside was that he was ostracized by many of the crewmembers because they did not understand him and believed he attracted violence. Even though Diego was a loner, he yearned for the company of like-minded men to associate with. So far, the crew accepted him, and he embraced the new opportunity onboard a ship with leaders he considered first rate.
He felt a hand gently on his shoulder and was wrenched from his contemplation. Getting his attention, Otto said, “Diego, are you not well? You’ve been so quiet as if you’re oceans away.”
“O … oceans? Si, what about oceans, amigo? They are vast regions alive with both profitable opportunities and also wretched demise. Though I prefer to dwell on the positive side oceans offer. Isn’t it grand they provide us to be in places that abound without the scourge of distasteful authority that breath down the necks of the poor souls stuck within a life of caged boundaries.”
“What are you saying? I said … oh, never mind about oceans. We were discussing Manfred’s past, and he advised we ask you about yours. Manfred seems to think your life is much more interesting. We have wondered about it, you never speak of it. A few of our crew have heard from men onboard your former ship while drinking together in a tavern back in New York, that you had escaped a great injustice years back. They also said you are a mysterious man, who fosters a sinister reputation and cannot be trusted.”
Diego glanced at Otto through squinted eyelids as a ray of sun pierced through the ivy onto his face. “Do you find me mysterious and not to be trusted, Señor Kleist?”
Taken aback by Cordoba’s response, Otto seemed hesitant to answer the man. Fritz spoke instead. “I do not think we have an issue with that.” Waving an arm toward the others in the group, he continued. “I believe everyone here trusts and respects you. Your skill with weaponry gives interest to how you have achieved them.”
Diego said, “My past is not very exciting. I was born and raised near Toledo, Spain. Close to the Toledo blade works, that is a most interesting industry; there isn’t much else of vital importance in my life.”
The men looked at the Spanish swordsman with expressions of doubt that his past was utterly dull. Diego knew several of these men had firsthand combat experience and were no fools. They knew enough of Diego Cordoba to realize he had a more complex past than he was indicating. Diego nodded his head slowly as his eyes took on a far-away look. His mind went into a whirlwind of memories until suddenly one particular episode stood out of the vortex. It was this incident that had completely changed his world. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and began to tell of his past.
“I was a newly-minted lieutenant assigned to the small garrison at the Alhambra Fortress in Granada in southern Spain. The Alhambra was the last Moorish bastion that fell to the Spanish crusaders long ago. The massive fortress stood on a high hill, within thick stone walls, and overlooked the city and the broad valley below. The vast amount of the Alhambra’s edifice was a lush palace designed with architectural elegance that far outdistanced other splendid artwork in Europe at the time it was built. It is a magnificent structure!�
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“However, the military quarters at the fort were barely livable; soldiers were relegated to a small corner of the main structure. The stone-walled rooms were so cold in the winter it was better to find, if one could, a place in the city offering a more comfortable dwelling. The rest of the fortress had been built for the Moorish Caliphs. Their complement of aids and servants were allocated to the government administrators and the senior officers. Their quarters were much plusher.”
“I have heard about the fortress when docked in Cartagena and Malaga,” Heinrich stated. “The fortress is also known for its lavish gardens with an irrigation system that ran for miles capturing water from mountain streams.”
“Si, capitán. That is true. Much more was spent on the more opulent portion of the Alhambra than the military part of it. It is the way everywhere when it comes to a soldier’s habitation. Lowly soldiers usually take the leftover scraps.
‘In any case, gentlemen, getting back to the story. About six months into my first military assignment, I was still a very young and inexperienced soldier and afforded little respect, which I had not anticipated as a junior officer. Nevertheless, I kept a humble attitude and concentrated on my study under my immediate superiors, who for some reason kept subjecting me to torment trying to break my will. Whether they personally had it out for me or simply was undergoing the same harassment that any young officer would experience, I didn’t understand until sometime later. I only desired to make my father, who was a government official, proud of me and to fulfill my service to my country. No matter how much I succeeded in mastering the skills they trained, they were never satisfied. Then one day -”
Otto interrupted Diego. “Did they perhaps have knowledge of your upbringing and that your father was a government official and felt jealous of your affluent status?”
Winds of Fury Page 28