by J P Nelson
“Raht heuh ssuh!”
“Fantabulous! Mister Yeau, I need Clyde on ready alert for signal this ice is of fresh water. If not, negate the order. If so, we need pieces of it for resupply.
“Misters Rufus and Telroy, ready your quills and parchment. What? Did you think we were preparing for furlough? We have much left to do in way of mapping.”
Jha’Ley did not wait to hear returns or make salutes; he quickly turned and strode length of the deck for his cabin to prepare for transit. There was no time to waste. He needed to make plans with S’Getti and bolster the moral of the crew.
How long were they going to be trapped in this sea? Was there a place to claim shelter? The snow was falling heavily and winter coming fast.
Miu’Ganté Comveri … he needed his own moral bolstered.
Chapter 41
TRAIPSING ACROSS THE ice field was no easy task. Each team’s assignment was the same, move due east until sight of the ocean was clear. One full day of travel and Seedle’s four-man team still had not reached the top. As they made camp, the chief petty officer first class found himself surveying the expanse and making brief reminisce of his eighteen-year-career.
He was twelfth child of fourteen, with one older and one younger sister. It was sometimes said his mam and pap gave birth to their own shipping crew. And it was true, every man-jack in the family were salts of the sea.
The family was long established on the Mon’Cique coast of County Courtney, in the cliffs of southeast Vedoa. They had been there for generations when Merceil was built, and Seedle had an ancestor cast off on the first Vedoan Navy ship launch. From that day, the men of the family either joined the clergy or the navy, and from infancy it was obvious Seedle was not going to be a priest.
His pap was a thirty-year man named Shelton, known for his uncanny ability of knowing weather. Seedle often lamented he wasn’t born with this gift, but he made up for it in many ways.
Shelton was beloved by all for his cheerful attitude, positive outlook on life, ability to hold liquor enough for four men, and his talent for spinning the humorous tale. He was also known for his strong sense of loyalty, courage in combat, skill with his bare hands, and more than a man-size portion of common sense. It was these traits Seedle inherited from his pap.
Folk would travel good distance to hear tales told by the retired Shelton, or garner some advice which usually ran to splendid. Seedle learned from his earliest days a strong work ethic, code of honor, and the value of respect.
It was often said if all Shelton’s sons could be lined to a row, eldest to youngest, they would appear to be copies of their pap in his varying years … all, that is, but one … Seedle. There were some who made jest the younger son was the seed of dalliance, but those who knew would know better.
Shelton would scoff at such, “Never was there a better woman than mine. Should you wish to gaze the lad’s blood, gaze upon painting in my hall. My own pap bore but the one lad, which is I, and his pap before him in like stead. It is the latter of whom I declare.
“See the man’s nose and chin, then see to my own lad. There is such likeness my Seedle might be a reborning indeed. Not just his look, mind you, give heed to the lad’s skill with the rope and his manner with stock. With great reason it is he who breaks horse to plow and saddle, he has a way and they like him. The rooster likes him, and he likes no one. But folk like him as well.
“My other boys are fine, fine lads and splendid at sea, but their tongues are not gifted with smooth speech and mediation is not their skill. Even the elder brothers will oft implore Seedle to lend ear to quarrel and render thoughts. He shall rise among men, give watch.”
Because of his manner with stock, Seedle did not join the navy at his family’s customary age of sixteen, he waited two years later. It was a manner of pride for him. There was a particular colt of which he had hand in breeding, and he wished to be the one to train. It also gave him two more years to dive the cliffs at edge of the family farm.
Many times he had been given gaff for his dangerous pleasure, but the action gave him a feeling of completion. To look down from a wondrous height, set oneself up for the launch, leaving foot to arc into the air, the exhilaration of flight, entry of the water with precise skill, emerging from the depths as if having been reborn … for Seedle there was nothing like it.
As a seaman first class serving with Captain Sark, he had won a sizable wager, becoming the only man to successfully dive Siff’s Cliff in southern Mittugahr, a dive of one hundred and twenty feet. Four years later he did it again.
Although the family was well respected in Vedoa’s navy, when he joined no one made it easy for him … and he would not have had it any other way. The Marines were a point of attention for him, due to some functions which required skill in the water. But there was a single requirement of which he could not perform … he could not read, and could only just write his name. Flags, banners, seals, smoke signals, all of which were no problem, he was a fair hand at tracking, and he knew more knots than anyone he met, but reading the scribed word was not part of his skill set.
Seedle began his naval career on deck of the patrol ship, VNS Ivial, under Captain Leeves. A year and two more ship assignments later, he was transferred to the Alvarez under Captain Sark. Later, Sark, now commodore, promoted to him to petty officer aboard the Cortain under Commander Bachi, only six months before hijacking of the Luscious. Seedle had a strong distaste for Hastings in the beginning, but got along famously with Redding. Upon return to Vedoa, he appealed to Sark for transfer out with the then lieutenant to work on ship’s design.
When the refitted Luscious was renamed Clarise, Seedle was Redding’s first choice to go out as the vessel’s new senior chief petty officer. When it was revealed Jha’Ley was to be her captain, so much the better. He had been with the man ever since.
As senior chief petty officer, sometimes called chief of boat, or cob, his duties were diverse and kept him busy, the way he liked it. In battle conditions, he was the top man responsible for missile fire. In non-battle conditions, he worked directly with the sailing master, bosun, and quarter-master to keep crew in line and up to speed. On ship he was chief of police, jail master and administrator of determined justice. It was also his position to put together away-teams.
Yes, Seedle liked his work, and his disposition helped him to excel in keeping tempers in check. Being with Jha’Ley also exposed him to encounters, events, and missions most would only dream of.
The only thing Seedle missed, was the boxing.
You couldn’t be from County Courtney and not be skilled in the ways of fisticuffs and wrestling. Usually lads would excel in one or the other, a select few at both. Seedle was one of the latter. As a lad growing up, you could find someone occasionally who could beat him at one or the other, but never in both.
Forsythe Fisticuff Rules was standard in the prize-fighting arena, and it was in this which Seedle was trained by his pap from time he could hold up his mitts. Father was not easy on son as he explained, “Many is the quarrel which should be settled by fist, so make settle in ye’re own stead, not t’other’s. Doan waste the time in teeth, but hit ‘em where they live. Bust their bread basket and crack them ribs, then go for the gobble.”
Fighting Forsythe style is more knuckle and skull with less refinement than pro-rules boxing. Rounds are not measured in time, but by knock-down. If the downed man gets right back up, it is end-of-round with a one minute rest. If a downed man is slow to get up, a ten-count is given. Should the downed man fail to answer the count, the fight was done. If knee touches the ground, fighters are called to pull apart.
The Forsythe fighters strip to waist and anything above belly button is a legal target. Simple tosses and throws are allowed as well. A solid throw counts as end-of-round. If gloves are worn they are of tight-fitting working gloves. There is no such thing as a decision victory in such prize fights, one wins by knock-out or call of unahka, which is an Elvish word meaning defeat, but humans use it t
o say I yield the fight or I cannot continue.
When the sons of Shelton were not sailing or doing chores, they could be found jumping rope, rapping the bag, or playing hand ball. During social gatherings, fighting was a common occurrence and the Shelton boys would be right at home. By Courtney Custom it was the winners of such fights who took the evening with the choicest girls, and by time he was a mid-teen, Seedle often had his choice of the choicest.
When he made way to join the Vedoan Navy, the strapping eighteen year-old found himself with three nights to wait. In those three nights he fought two prize fights … just to help kill the time and get some spending money. The first lasted but six rounds, which he took by knockout. The second went fifty-two rounds before he took the prize, then he started basic training the next day. Both times beating men known for their boxing skills.
Right out of basic training, but before assignment to the Ivial, he fought and won four more prize fights within five weeks, three by knockout, one fellow went down hard twice and called unahka.
When Seaman Seedle, still eighteen years old, was ordered to report before Commander Teak, he thought he was in dire trouble. The young man began sweating hard when he knocked on the office door and heard the officer bark in deep, terse words, “Get in here!”
Quickly, Seedle snapped to attention and gave salute.
“Stand at ease, sailor!”
Seedle spread his feet shoulder-width apart, hands firmly clasped behind back, chin high, eyes up, not daring to look the senior officer in the eye.
“You are Shelton’s boy, are you not?”
“Sir! Yes sir!”
“Are you a gods-damned-dirtbag?!”
“Sir! No sir!”
“Are you a candy-ass looking to ride his family’s good name?!”
“Sir! No sir!”
“You walk into my shiking office dripping sweat like a greasy whore … are you going to offer me a piece of your hole?!”
“Sir! No SIR!”
The commander’s voice got even louder and his eyes grew wide, “Do you mean you would rather suck me instead?!”
“Sir! No SIR!”
The commander slammed his palms into his desk and stood up, leaning over the top and demanded, “Why NOT, seaman?! I bust my ASS to keep you boys fed, clothed, and plenty of honest work. Am I not GOOD ENOUGH for you?!”
“Sir! My ass is full of disease and my teeth are jagged SIR! You do not deserve what I might give you SIR!”
It got quiet as Seedle was still looking up, then he heard a chuckle as Teak stammered, “I do-do not … I do not what?”
There was another moment’s pause, then, “Take seat, Seedle.” The commander walked to counter shaking his head, then came back to his chair with a mug of … of what, Seedle had no idea, but the officer was chewing his lip.
Seedle was sitting in the very uncomfortable chair, fingers interlocked in his lap, back straight and not touching the chair.
“What the shite are you doing working the head?”
The seaman felt the sweat pouring down his body under uniform as he answered, “Sir! I made wrong words to a lady, sir!”
“Give me the brief of it.”
Seedle remembered the incident well, and being fair in his tale-telling he included it in his collection of funny stories. Being new in the unit, he had been taken out for drinks. He had always been good at holding his liquor, but something this night was different.
Well saturated with alcohol, one of the fellows pointed to a girl overly painted in manner of a harlot. He said, “Now there is a likely lass; she is known to be easy and of few shills for the toss. Why do you not go and make query?”
So he did. Drunk and loose of lip and language, he sauntered over and asked her just that, “Aye good las-s-s-s, I hav-v-ve onl-ly a few shills. Ar-re you easy for a tos-s-s?”
The slap was sudden as the fellows laughed in glee. She was the daughter of Seedle’s direct Chief Petty Officer. When all was said and done, the seaman was reprimanded and put to lowest of duties.
Commander Teak leaned back in his chair and nursed his drink while listening. With a nod of his head in understanding he asked, “Do you know Bosun’s Mate Cally from the Miyak?”
“Sir! Yes sir!”
“He fell off a yard arm and broke his leg a few hours ago. He was to fight Azona from Blue Fleet in the cruiser match this Ehnday, that is just … two … days … away. If Azona won, he would go straight to a title shot for the Cruiserweight VNBC, that is the Vedoan Naval Boxing Championship.”
The commander leaned forward, put his cup on a coaster, and crossed his massive forearms on the desk. “Look me in the eye, boy. I am part of the VNB Commission. Our titles are the top in the game on the entire Mon’Cique … and now I have a double problem. This is a big fight, the main event for the night. There are people from all over coming to see this thing. What is more, Cally was our fleet’s top man. If he won, he would get the title match.
“Here is the hair off the dog’s balls,” he squinted his eye to add to his point, “Azona has never been beaten, not in the navy. He has twenty fights, eighteen knockouts. His first two wins were decisions and they leaned heavy his way. Both fights were curtain risers for five rounds. Since then, no one has gone past the ninth round with him, no one.”
Teak let his words sink in and watched Seedle’s expression.
“I watched you fight the other night. You have heart, and you have your pappy’s damn jab and chopping right hook down. You need some work, but you have the tools. I have the power to slide you into Cally’s spot, but even if you win, you won’t get the title shot. Instead of a full fifteen rounds, it will go to twelve. But I just told you no one has gone to ten, and only three men have made it past six. Are you catching what I am throwing out?”
“Sir, yes Sir!”
There was an appraising expression on the commander’s face as he added, “You make it to the tenth round … you make it to ten and I will clean your little mark on record and put you on-n-n,” he made a show of looking at a document, “how about the Ivial?”
Seedle did not know if the exuberance showed on his face, he was doing his best to be naval-like, but his words were strong, “Sir-r! Yes … SIR!”
“I will send someone to you to explain the rules. You use that uppercut to the navel and you will be disqualified. AtSUNG!”
Seedle stood straight and snapped to attention.
“Get your ass cleaned, you smell like shit, sailor. And wipe that shiking grin off your face. I am already looking for a box to send you home in when Azona kills Shelton’s baby boy.”
“Sir! Yes sir!”
“Dis-s-s-missed.”
Salutes were rendered, Seedle performed a smart about-face and strode to the door. He had turned the knob and started out when Teak commanded, “Seedle?”
He turned to see the commander leaning back with his drink, “Good fortune …”
As Seedle closed the door he could hear Teak chuckle as he said, “My ass is full of disease and my teeth … now that is funny.”
___________________________
The next two days went by quickly as Seedle listened intently to the drastic rule changes. Sport boxing was different from what he was used to, but he was sure he could pull it off. His previous fights had always been in front of small groups, not like the crowd he faced this night.
His handler said, “Do not give it worry. You are in the ring, not they. You worry of Azona and his round-a-bout. Do not lose sight of your prize.”
The cruiserweight division was one hundred and seventy-five pounds to two hundred and four. Seedle was barely one hundred and seventy-six pounds, giving a full twenty to Azona. Also, Seedle was ten marks over five feet, Azona was an inch taller and with unbelievably long arms.
Seedle thought, ‘It cannot be much different than riding the old bull. He out weighted me by two thousand pounds. All I had to do was stay on and not let him hit me. This should be a cake walk.’
Seedle figu
red his biggest challenge would be wearing trunks up under his armpits, well, not exactly, but it felt like it … and the balloons they put on his hands they called gloves … oh well.
In truth, the match was furious. From the opening Seedle took the shot which broke his nose and knocked him down. Up at the eight count, suddenly he was all serious.
By the seventh round he had been knocked down three more times, but his incredible physical condition, and a lifetime of heavy swimming, gave him an endurance Azona was clearly was not used to. And there was that fire inherited from his pappy’s grandpap.
Going for the head was not Seedle’s game plan. Weaving past those arms made that almost impossible. Instead, he darted in and under, chopping hard to the body just above the trunk line.
In round eight he scored the blow which put his name in taverns all across Vedoa. Chopping hard to the body, Seedle found a hole and he drove hard for it. Azona went up on his toes, then again. Caught by surprise, he dropped his hands and took the full measure of Seedle’s right cross. If the blow had been perhaps one inch lower, the fight might have been done. The spectators, however, were all on their feet in thunderous ovation, as for the first time in his career Azona’s feet went out from under and he hit the mat hard.
Stunned, head shaking with sweat, Azona’s corner crew were screaming at him as he answered the referee at the nine count … just as the bell sounded for end-of-round.
Into the ninth round both men fought with shrewd intensity as the crowd went wild. Back and forth went Seedle and Azona. Again Seedle went down, then Azona, then Seedle again. Seedle took a wicked cut over his right eye, and then he split Azona’s left cheek and broke his nose.
In the tenth round Seedle was at full steam and boring into his man like a raging fire. With Azona reeling, Seedle bounced his gloves against each other once, twice, then delivered his chopping right-hook to the side of Azona’s head. It was a combination he loved and had been his trademark since a youth. Azona went down like a pile of firewood.