Mako/LessonsOnSailing
"Boy, what kind of knot is that?!" rolled over the empty waters, as a chunk of half-widdled wood flew through the air. "I said an Anathema's Plot, not a Wharf Rat's Scalp, that'll ne'er hold under any wind! Get down from there!" The small form of Jerrid slowly crawled down the rigging, making sure of his footing before each and every step. His lithe form looked as it should be very supple to crawling around the rigging, probably the same reasoning Crolto had. Jerrid had a small mass of dirty blonde hair, that hung about to shoulder length in knotty clumps. He had on the same clothes that he had left Nexus with two days prior: a small pair of cloth breeches, and a stained tunic. The only clean thing about the boy, were his bright, green eyes, paired with a not showing, but charming smile.
"Hurry up! We don't have all season!" Crolto growled as Jerrid finally reached the deck, rubbing the spot on his head where Crolto's project had hit home. "Now why don'chya be a useful lad, and clean somethin' in the galley! Git with ya!" Jerrid lowered his eyes and quickly scurried off to the galley, without so much as a word. Crolto stared after the boy as he went below decks, one eye squinted, not used to the light that his fake eye patch usually covered.
"So why did you take that boy on anyways, he's more useless than Bero." whined a voice from behind Crolto. Suddenly, both eyes squinted, and a massive, gloved hand flew back, catching the perpetrator square across the face.
"I'll be the judge of who's useless on board my ship; and speakin' o' which, why is it you're telling me how ta do my job, whilst you should be doing yours?" Still not looking back to catch a face to the voice, Crolto waited as the frightened deck hand limped back to work. Crolto fancied that he was a fair man, not looking upon the face of someone who would be so insubordinate, so as he couldn't possibly punish a man for speaking his mind. In reality, it mattered little, because Crolto new the voice of every man onboard the Emancipation, and Jerome had deck squabbing duty tonight anyways. A smile crept across Crolto's leather face.
"Stupid Crolto. Don't know why I even came on board this floating piece of junk." Echoed down the halls in a quiet whisper, only broken by the periodic splash of a mop into a small wooden pail of filth water. "All I ever do is clean this stupid ship, and it never gets any cleaner."
"Aye, I can sympeethize with ye there small one. I think da same theeng sometimes." Chimed a deep, yet pleasant voice, causing Jerrid to jump a quick distance into a corner. "Oh, startled did ye I?" Said the voice again, followed by a chuckle. Jerrid peered around the corner he had so quickly jumped behind, and stared at the massive form he found there, not knowing how he had missed it before.
"Ah, so ye mest be the new cabeen boy ol' Crolty's been speakin' of. I be Meaga, de finest cook on any sheep in da inna sea." Meaga gave a deep bow, holding her ladle hight in the air, and her head deep, almost into the pot she was cooking over. "And what be ye name little one, or would ye prefer I call ye little one all da time now and forever?"
"J-j-jerrid..." said Jerrid, stumbling over his own name. "How...long have you been there?"
"On board de Emancipation? Oh, closa to fifteen years now. Of course back then it was called de Cherala's Favor, he had a thing for her we know, and of course back then it was an entirely deeferent boat, but that don't matter much, we be changing boats every couple o' months, it gets into da habit now." Meaga's dark face looked onto the confused face of the boy. "Oh, you be meanin' how long I been sittin' listen'n to ye berate da good ol' cap'n. Dat be about fifteen minutes now, but don't worry, we all do tha' now and then." Meaga gleamed.
Jerrid finally took a good look at Meaga. Her massive form was hunched, but not over the stove, but rather to keep her head from hitting the beams above her. She was a six foot something tall, incredibly dark skinned woman. Her arms were massive, seemintly built from large melons, and they looked like they could crush Jerrid's head as such. Even being so large, gripped in her hands was a small paring knife, using it to finely slice a large, blue root into the large, simmering pot below. She had on simple breeches and sleeveless tunic, but it was mostly covered by the large, stained apron across her front. Jerrid had no idea what her hair looked like, for it was wrapped tightly in a mass of brightly colored cloth, wound about almost like a turban. Two, massive, golden earrings drooped in large loops from each ear upon Meaga, and her large, white eyes stood out against her dark skin. "Now why don'chya be getting back to de floor der Jereed, supper's a be ready in less'n an hour." Meaga smiled.
Jerrid nodded, and grudgingly went back to work, half watching what he was doing, half thinking about how mean Crolto was, half thinking about his family back in Nexus, and half watching Meaga's massive form glide about the small kitchen, preparing what looked to be a large pot of some type of stew. That was two too many halves for Jerrid, and signs of frustration quickly showed on his face. Meaga, roaming about the kitchen, observed the frustration, and decided to lend a little sound advice.
"You know little one, you can't go about taking everything onboard a pirate ship so seriously." Jerrid's eyes narrowed, and his head popped up at the word pirate. "For one theen, most o' what a pirate sez may sound mean, but we pirates, we gotta be puttin on a mean face, or nobody be taking us seriously in our business. But business is buisiness, and sailing, that be our pleasure. We just gettin to be talkin' de same way no matter what." Jerrid looked confused. "What I be trying to say is, the cap'n, he's a lot nicer than he talks." Jerrid showed a look of understanding, nodding his head and looking back down to what he was doing.
"And for seconds, a lot of hard things be happening when you be on board a ships like this. If you take everything to seriously, you gonna go and git yerself killed right quickly now. You can't be thinkin' straight if you worried about every little thing." Jerrid's eyes closed for a second, slipping off into another place.
Meaga looked genuinely worried about Jerrid, stopping in her work to take in everything about the scraggly little runt. "That floor, it be lookin' clean enough, why don'chya be helping Meaga in da kitchen?" Meaga offered. Jerrid lifted his head up and gave a small grin, cocking one eyebrow up a small ways, as if to question the certainty of her offer. Seeing her wave her hand to beckon him into the kitchen, Jerrid smiled, set the mop into a corner, and hustled into the kitchen. "Now, let Meaga show you how we make the stew down in de south."
"HAR-Har-har-har!" guffawed a good dozen men below decks, gathered around the small feast table. The cacophany of jeers and laughter, interspersed with an occasional murmur of a mouth full of food was enough to deafen the ordinary listener. Pirates and childeren from the streets of Nexus were quite immune to the plethora of audio.
"You mean to tell me, that he took the WHOLE thing? And dumped it over his head?" questioned one of the crew, which was answered with a shit-faced grin and a nod, which broke the whole table out in rowdy laughter once again. Crolto sat at the head of the table, flanked on one side by Meaga, and on the other side by a robust, young looking sailor, probably in his mid to late twenties, and devilishly handsome. Jerrid sat off to the side, at a smaller table with only one other visitor, Kesh, Crolto's son that didn't run away. Kesh was ignoring every bit of what was in the room, and methodically devouring the hard tac, water, and small block of cheese that was set before him. Jerrid was decidedly uninterested in the "meal".
"Meaga, this's gotta be the best Chiaroscuro Summer Stew you've made in years!" Crolto complimented, as he stuffed another spoonful into his bearded maw. Meaga simply smiled, her chin resting on her hands, already done with her meal.
"Ye aught te be thankin' yer new little one over there." Meaga said, pointing over to Jerrid. "I may have sliced up ye veg'tables, but he be doin' all de flav'rin' in that stew." The table was suddenly quiet, and all eyes focused on Jerrid's now very still form.
"You don't say..." slowly croned Crolto's voice. Everyone else was still silent as an immaculate student in detention. "Well. It seems to me," Crolto paused for emphasis, "that any cabin boy, who thinks he can cook..." again, he paused, "should be sharing the meal that he helped cook. Get on up here boy." Crolto smiled, and as Jerrid followed the faces down the line, he saw the grin mirrored in every sailor at the table. The handsome one to Crolto's right pushed over a passed out form of another sailor from the seat next to him, and motioned for Jerrid to take his spot. Jerrid looked slowly from face to face, questioning everything. He got up, and cautiously made his way over to his new seat. Kesh was frozen, his face scrunched into scrutiny and dissapointment all at the same time. Crolto himself ladled a large portion of the stew into a not so fresh bowl for Jerrid.
"Eat up lad, you made good stew!" The cacophany resumed at the table, eyes all but forgetting that Jerrid was there once again. "Maybe if you can cook like that, we can make a pirate out of ya yet!" Crolto explained. "What say we test him Abel, gimme yer dirk." The handsome sailor between Jerrid and Crolto reached behind him, and pulled out a plain, yet deadly looking dirk, handing it to Crolto, who rammed it through a chunk of bread, driving it halfway through the table. He then took out a long, elegant looking dagger, inlaid with gold and a ruby on the pommel. This blade he dropped into the hunk of bread, firmly, yet not strongly sticking it into the hunk of bread, "but let's be fair lads. What say we give Kesh a chance first?" A few grunts of agreement were given, and Crolto motioned Kesh over by his side. Kesh looked as if Crolto had dropped a big sack of jade in his lap, and an eager, confident smile was plastered across his face.
"Ok lads, here's the test. Let's say these two blades here are a bunch of guilty-conscienced Realm trading vessels. Let's say, if ye had the choice of which one ta loot, which one would be the better choice?" Crolto shifted his eyes from boy to boy, testing them with his stare. "Kesh lad, you answer first."
Kesh stared hard at the two daggers, wondering if there were something more to the test than he saw. His fathers ornamental dagger stood in a loaf of bread, slightly above a deadlier looking dirk, wedged clear into the table below the bread. Kesh couldn't believe his father would handicap and give him such an easy question.
"Well that's easy da'. That one." Said Kesh, pointing at his father's dagger. This was quickly followed with a cuff to the side of the head.
"Stupid boy, have you learned nothin' all these years! Get out of here, you get Jerome's squabbin duties tonight!" Jerome overheard across the table, and let of a whoop of victory. Kesh, looking rejected, stomped outside onto the deck. "Ok boy, now it's your turn. You know which one it is, but you have to tell me why it's the only choice. Better think it over real good, or ye'll be joinin' him out there tonight." Crolto sneered, challenging Jerrid.
Jerrid stared intently at the twin blades, one beautiful, the other usefull. This was the first thing Jerrid noticed, and he knew that Kesh obviously saw that fact, and had led to the wrong answer. He knew the right answer, but why was the question? What did Kesh overlook? Suddenly, it came to Jerrid, and confidence showed in his eyes, echoed by Crolto when he knew the boy had figured it out.
"That one." Jerrid proclaimed, pointing to Abel's dirk. The trio at the end of the table, Abel, Crolto, and Meaga, all grinned.
"Good choice boy, now why?" prompted Crolto.
"Well sir, it's sitting lower in the bread. The water sir. So...it must have more....booty....in it, to...loot." tried Jerrid. He looked at his judges, all three poised before him.
"Ah-ha! I knew the boy was worth it!" Crolto clapped Jerrid on the shoulder across the table. "We'll make a pirate out of you yet!" Jerrid let himself smile from ear to ear, and ate heartily. That night, as Kesh squabbed the decks, Jerrid slept peacefully for the first time in a long, long while. He had a full stomach, and only childhood dreams of sailing the seas, plundering any weary enough to cross his path. He was Jerrid the pirate, feared by all men, and loved by all ladies. He needed a new name...a pirate name...and so he dreamt.
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