"Thank you, sir," she said, but Olbus merely nodded in her direction and then crossed the hall to his own room.
After that, Minerva remembered laying down with her eye wandering over the large wardrobe, contemplating its contents, but sleep took her soon afterward.
Chapter 20
Big Mean Jim
Luff and Leech woke Minerva up the next day by prancing and dancing, bellowing and crooning, and making total clowns of themselves. It was a rather startling experience first thing in the morning. She kicked them out with a gruff scowl and a waving arm, to which they pretended she was a horrible monster and fled.
Even with a night raid, the crew still awoke at the same time the next day. Minerva, however, missed the bell and slept right through breakfast, so when lunch finally arrived she was extremely grateful. Down in the galley, the smell of roasted meat greeted her nose, and the crew talked animatedly about the mutton and poultry acquired from the Lily May. By the time she finally reached the head of the line, her stomach was in fits, growling and groaning every few seconds. The smell was so much stronger as sailors carried their dishes past her, and it was torture to a starving girl.
Mean Jim wore a stupid grin when Minerva approached. She didn't care what horrible things he tried to do to her food. If it tasted half as good as it smelled she would be more than happy with it.
"Finally out of bed, are ye?"
Minerva nodded, holding up her plate and waiting for spit, splashing food, or whatever, to land upon it.
Jim handed her back a bowl of cold rice porridge with a lonely egg on top, pre-bitten.
"Hey, now," called the twins, pleading with Jim. "She's hungry."
"She missed breakfast, so I saved it for her," Jim explained, then started to laugh.
As a matter of social interaction, when a normal man laughed, a person might feel somewhat inclined to laugh with them. When Jim laughed, this was not the case. His laugh was a cruel throaty rumble that started in the depths of his festering body and bounced back and forth between the folds of his rotund flesh. When it finally escaped into the air, it was more of a low gargle, choked by his flapping cheeks and marred by an awful, squeaking giggle. His entire body animated alongside it, like a sick dance keeping time with his voice, jiggling and wiggling with every gasping inhale.
Minerva was hungry, tired, and sore, and this was how he treated her. Nezzen said he was a good pirate, but she couldn't see it. He was just an awful, fat, and malicious man. When she glared at Jim, barely able to contain her boiling hatred, he just laughed harder.
"You can – have ours," the twins offered, but Minerva wasn't listening. She tried counting in her head, but all she heard was horrible giggling. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself down, but her face flushed hot and her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her nostrils flared in anger and she clenched her fists, and then she committed the type of act employed by a person fully gripped by a rage that they could no longer control.
Minerva flung the bowl of porridge straight into Jim's cackling visage, striking him clean in the nose. His face rang like a muted bell, and he choked and stumbled. A chorus of gasps popped forth from the crowd, and then went silent.
Mean Jim pulled his hand away, and a steady stream of blood trickled down from his nose. He wasn't laughing anymore.
Now you've done it, she told herself. Not yet, I haven't, she retorted, gritting her teeth.
While the world waited, and the crew stood silent, Minerva bolted straight under the table and hammered shoulder-first into Jim's weighty thigh. Jim toppled onto the table of food and smashed clean through, tumbling to the floor. Trays of freshly cooked meat flew into the air around them, and Minerva grabbed one of the clattering metal platters beside her, slamming it down hard on Jim's head. As she reeled back for a second blow, something fat and pink appeared in the corner of her eye and Jim's fist connected solidly with the side of her head.
The room spun and went fuzzy as Minerva tumbled away. Sharp white pain blinded her right eye, and the grain of the wooden planks scraped across her thigh. Unwilling to relent, she rose quickly, cupping her ringing ear. Jim was on the rise, as well, with his back turned towards her, so she vaulted forward and sent him sprawling, landing a few blows to the back of his head at the same time.
While she continued to attack, the fat man spun his girth like a breaching whale, catching her with his elbow and sending her sailing onto her back. He moved fast for a big man.
Minerva rose to her feet again, and she squared off against Jim, giving her time to absorb the full scope of her opponent. She wasn't going to win, but she was going to make him earn it.
With all the might her legs could unleash, she piled straight into Jim's gut with her head, knocking him backward. He grabbed her by the hair and she bit him as hard as she could. Jim howled in pain from the bite as she pounded on any part of his flabby mass that she could reach, swinging wild and hard and fast while Jim covered his face.
Something solid found its way into her hand as she flailed, and she cocked her arm back, hammering Jim in the head with an empty pot. A splatter of blood jumped to the deck beside him, and her arm pulled back uncontrollably, aiming to swing again, but something stopped her.
When she turned around she saw that Olbus had her by the wrist in a titan's grip, hauling her backward. Then he leaned forward and pulled Jim to his feet by the apron. The black man shot a furious look at both of them as he dragged them towards the exit.
He could toss me around by the ankles, she thought, recalling the night that Olbus had initiated her, but then she corrected herself. It felt like he could swing a horse around by its ankles.
Chapter 21
Punishment
Minerva and Big Jim bashed together like potatoes in a sack as Olbus dragged them by their shirts up to the deck. He threw them towards the base of the mainmast while the crew crowded in behind.
"What's the punishment for fighting?" Olbus bellowed towards Jim and Minerva, but mostly Jim.
"It was just a little fun, bosun," Jim put forth, not very convincingly, as blood oozed from several wounds in his head.
Olbus drove into him, shoving his face up against Jim, such that their noses almost touched. "I said what's the punishment, sailor?"
Up until this point, all of Minerva's interaction with Big Jim had seen Jim as the aggressor. She felt a surge of vitality wash over her. Whatever the punishment was, she hoped it hurt him, a lot.
Mean Jim sighed, and then looked down at Minerva with a strange expression. "She's just a girl, boss," he pleaded.
"Answer me!" Olbus yelled, shoving Jim and knocking him back against the mast.
Jim pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders in a nervous manner. "One between ye, to settle the row—" he said, and then swallowed hard, looking down at Minerva again.
Minerva's throat seized as she recognized the pity in his eyes.
"—and two from the bosun, to finish it for good."
When Olbus spoke, his lips peeled back and a terrifying hatred filled his eyes. The adrenaline of the fight began to fade and Minerva started to shake, while the unmistakable feeling that something very bad was about to happen gripped her body.
All the crew gathered around the trio near the mast, jostling and pushing for a closer position. Someone handed Olbus a rod of stiffened leather. "Who wants to settle first?" he asked.
"She can," Jim said, turning around to lean towards the mast. Then he bent forward and gripped the belaying pins that held the ropes, exposing his back.
Olbus handed Minerva the rod. "One," he ordered.
One, she thought, flexing the switch in her hands. It was extremely stiff, like a riding crop. You're only going to get to do this once, so make it count, her mind demanded.
Having never flogged someone before, Minerva did what seemed natural. She pulled her tool back behind her head and swung. A satisfying crack split the air, followed by the sound of Jim sucking in quick and wincing. The sound of his discomfor
t satisfied a part of her that she didn't like to admit existed; the part that wanted her enemies to suffer.
The crowd went silent as Jim stood up, rolling his shoulder. A strange sensation of ignorance settled in on Minerva's mind, questioning the surprised reaction of both Jim and the crew.
Olbus took the rod from her hand and pushed her up against the mast. She gripped the pins and rope as Jim had done, bracing for impact.
When the attack landed she jumped out of reflex, but what she felt was nothing more than a meaningless weight across her back. The full length of the rod pushed down on her, where Jim held it for a second before lifting it off again. Unsure of what to say, she turned to see Jim returning the rod to Olbus. He then removed his apron and shirt, and once again took his place at the mast, pushing her aside gently.
When Jim bent over topless, the full girth of his body became apparent. Folds of flesh that normally hung down in even slopes leaned outward, like udders on a cow. Nearly every patch of his torso bore scars and marks, and all across his back she saw a network of twisted and broken skin, bumped and ridged like a fleshy mountain range for insects.
Minerva covered her mouth and her eyes widened, and Jim gave her a lonesome look. His expression flooded her with anxiety, an emotion that compounded when he took one of the unused belaying pins from its seat and bit down on it. Without any doubt in her mind, he gave her an unspoken apology, and she suddenly remembered seeing the teeth marks in the pins from the day that they fought Cloudscorch.
Olbus stood at the ready, flexing the switch in his hands, and then he brought it back and twisted his frame in preparation. His entire body flexed, right down to the waist, like a coiled snake about to strike.
In one swift motion, Olbus unwound. The hard leather rod bent back almost double in his hand as it moved, and the sound it made landing across Jim's back reminded Minerva of jam splashing in a jar. Jim groaned hard, dropping to one knee and biting down with a crunch. A thick black line spread fast across his back where his skin had split. Several of the crew rushed forward to support him, just in time for the second strike to land. His hands and body shook, and a stream of tears escaped his clenched eyes. Someone took the wooden pin from his slackening jaw, before leading him off to the side, stumbling as he went.
Olbus flexed the rod again once Jim had moved, and then motioned for her to stand against the mast.
He's really going to do it, Minerva thought. He's going to break me in half! Minerva stood stricken, unable to move.
"Against the mast, sailor!"
Luff and Leech suddenly pushed through and stepped between Olbus and her. One of the twins handed her a wooden pin while the other began to roll up her shirt, pulling it off.
"Stop it," she urged, pushing his hands away.
"Take your shirt off – and bite down on this."
"I said stop it!"
"The cloth will stick – and make it worse!" they urged, trying to pull her shirt up again. The characteristic charm and levity in their voices had completely vanished.
"I will keep my modesty!" she hissed, shoving them away and turning to the mast.
The twins didn't force the issue any further, and she accepted the pin as they stuffed it into her mouth.
Minerva gripped the mast, unable to ignore the warm coating of sweat left behind by Jim's palms. All the tiny details of the world clouded her thoughts as she focused on anything other than the idea of what was about to happen. The grain of the wood, the hum of the crew, the scent of a spring day, and the cool chill of a clear sky where the sun didn't warm her directly.
The first blow sent her straight to the deck. Before it landed, she intended to stand with pride and to accept her punishment with grace and honor. All she felt was searing hot agony and her stomach fighting to throw up. Black and white sparkles clogged her vision and her entire body relaxed uncontrollably.
Someone put their hands under her and lifted her up. They straightened her legs for her, clamped her hands around the mast again, and pushed the bit back into her mouth. Several slaps upon the bottom of her jaw convinced her that she should bite down again.
The second strike existed as nothing more than a short whistle in Minerva's mind, because everything after that was blackness.
Chapter 22
Twice Oathed
Something smelled like cinnamon and wax. When Minerva opened her eyes, she found herself face down on Lintumen's bed, while a terrible pain wracked her body, forcing her to groan.
"I've stitched you up as best I can," Lintumen explained immediately. "Now, I'm no tailor, but you should hold together. At least until you leave this room again."
Minerva was expecting her friend to respond with soothing kindness or a sympathetic hand, but his words carried a cold dryness with them.
"What time is it?" she croaked, forcing herself to roll over and look him in the eye.
Lintumen's face remained expressionless. "That's it, is it? I patch you up, send you out, and back you come, worse for the wear every time, and all you can ask is what time is it? At some point you will need to think about your actions before you commit to them."
Minerva flopped back down on the bed, unable to fight.
Lintumen sighed loudly and moved over to the bed, rubbing her shoulder. "Go back to sleep, my dear. I'll make it better, although you'll have another set of scars to display. At this rate you're going to look like you take an oath every night."
Chapter 23
Old Boss
During her recovery, which required several days, Lintumen sought to teach Minerva many magical concepts, but Minerva always resisted. The idea made her feel wicked. So instead, he taught her other things, like how to navigate by the stars and how to read a map. He taught her about Riggersport, a pirate port designed for repairing ships built in a deep canyon, and Hero, a city on a flying island that drifted over the plains, riding a thunderhead. Lintumen provided an endless wealth of knowledge, it seemed, and so she did her best to plunder as much of it as she could. It reminded her of her father, but also left her feeling homesick.
Before Lintumen allowed Minerva to leave, he made her promise that he wouldn't see her again because of an injury for at least a month. She agreed, but negotiated him down to a preventable injury. When she dressed to depart, she noticed a cross of black thread holding her shirt together on its back.
Olbus retrieved her sometime after supper. He escorted her down to her cabin, refusing to look at her and speaking not a word between them.
Alone in her cabin, she could think of nothing but Olbus. How could he be so kind and yet so cruel, she wondered. For the better part of the night, she ruminated on the idea, but made little progress, so she went to talk to the only person that might give her an answer.
The climb to the top of the crow's nest proved to be particularly troublesome in her current condition. Several times, she needed to stop and let the pain subside. She was very glad that Nezzen was awake when she arrived.
"Come in," he beckoned, holding a hand out to her.
"Tell me Olbus' story, please," she said, not waiting for small talk.
Nezzen pondered her request before replying. "Did you bring the hairbrush?" he asked, and patted the floor in front of him when she provided it. Then he unwound the tangled mess that was her bun and began to brush her hair. She couldn't believe how gentle he was, as if he was soothing a savage beast.
"I heard that you and Jim had a bit of scuffle, and that you were given the lash for it."
"Please, Nezzen. Tell me about Olbus."
Nezzen sighed. "I imagine that you want to know how he could do that to you. A man that offered you a place on this ship to give you a home. A man that comforted you as he initiated you in private, to protect your modesty and peace of mind."
Minerva nodded, curious about how he knew her inner thoughts.
"In truth, I can think of no greater sacrifice on his part than allowing you to take the oath."
"Why is that?"
"He has
never offered the oath to anyone, until you. He will perform it, but he will not offer it. I believe that he hates the idea of allowing anyone to be like him, but only he knows the truth. For you, however, he had no other option."
Minerva waited patiently for Nezzen to reveal the entirety of what he knew.
"Olbus, Olbus, Olbus." Nezzen mumbled the word a little less each time he said it. "Olbus, it is, from Ol' Boss before that. Old Boss, they called him. Most pirates start young, but he was already old when he came to us."
A few strokes of the hairbrush filled a gap in Nezzen's tale.
"He was a military man in a former life. Commander of a great force of men from the legions of the Linoran Empire, feared for their skill at arms and the power of the man that led them. He wasn't all strength and terror, though. His men respected him greatly. Loved him, even, as a comrade. He had a wife, too, and a daughter much like you, maybe."
The gentle scratching of the brush accented the pauses between Nezzen's words.
"One day he returned home from a great victory to find that his family had been taken from him. He searched for days, until he discovered that pirates were to blame. Murdered, they were, and worse. It broke him. He abandoned his post, his title, and his men. He swore justice against those that had wronged him, but it wasn't justice that he sought. It was revenge. He did terrible things to those men in the name of justice."
Nezzen said nothing for the next while, leaving only the sound of a crackling fire and the soft scratch of the hairbrush to fill her mind.
"He sees them when he looks at you. You remind him of the monstrous things that evil men will do to girls, and he feels love and fear, and pity. He won't show it, the love especially, but he feels it. Imagine how it hurt him when he struck you. Imagine how great the pain in his heart must have been. Nevertheless, he knew that if he spared you the rod it would have brought the wrath of every man on this ship down upon you. Every man that he ever lashed to a mast and whipped. Every man that he struck down when they spoke up."
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