Difference between revisions of "Logs:"Merchant Work""

"Boy."

The word was hazy and distant. Out of Reach. Where was it coming from?

"Boy."

Closer now. Clearer.

"BOY!"

Back to reality in a sudden rush. Falling to the creaking wet wooden floor and landing in a thump. He was on a boat? Of course, he lived in one after all, why did that surprise him."Skins ya worthless little bilge rat, get yer narrow bum topside! Captain's callin fer all hands. Even your useless shardin' hide!"

The darkness of the bilge was familiar to him, but being called on deck? Could his eyes even handle the sunlight anymore? It'd been consecutive sevens spent in the darkness of the bilge, patching leaks with hot tar and mending torn clothes with thread and needle. What was so important that it needed the cabin boy? The question was asked silently in his own mind as he pulled himself up to his feet by the netting of his hammock bed. He knew better than to ask it of the inked up sailor already scurrying up the ladder. He'd earned enough backhands already for his curiosity.

"Hurry your ass up, Skins!"

Skins. His new name on his new ship. Short for skin and bones. The teen couldn't exactly argue that he'd sprung up in height before his body had time to put on proper weight, but the nickname irked him every time. "I'm coming!" His voice squeaked. That irked him too.

Freshwater pelted his face hard the moment he made it up to main deck. Rain. A heavy storm and still darkness. Awoken in the middle of the night? With black clouds blocking out the glow of Belior and Timor, it was hard to tell where the rough waves ended and horizon began, but the occasional flash of lightning would illuminate the endless churning seas.

"Alright, line up ladies!"

There was no mistaking that voice. The captain. Thick white beard grown so long that it took well to the braids and beads put in it. Lips peeled back over big white teeth, several gold replacements gleaming during another strike of lightning. His voice boomed near as loud as the rumbling thunder overhead.

"Our man in the crow spotted himself a gaff rig sloop with a sullied mizzen two klicks off of port! They got glows out trying to patch her up and make it clear of the storm. Poor thing's all banged up and just dying for a helping hand."

The captain's tone turned tauntingly precious towards the end, eliciting pleased murmurs from the crew. The teen's stomach dropped, uncertainty welling up in him. Something was wrong, but captain kept on smiling as he slicked his stark white hair back against his scalp.

"And we're just the hand she needs, aren't we boys? Now bring this man'o'war around and ready the gangplanks and hooks!"

Men sprang to action all around the gangly teen, who was left trembling and panicked, alone in his indecision. He didn't know what his task was. With hurried work happening all around, the only two left still were he and the captain. He locked eyes with the veteran seaman, who's steely gaze was only made more frightening by the golden smile paired with it. "First time boy?" First time for what? He didn't speak it aloud, but wore the question clear on his face.

Captain closed the gap with deliberate steps, not at all thrown off balance by the huge swells of stormy seawater the ship lurched over. Soon, his calloused hand would be at cabin boy's shoulder, crushingly strong. "Just do as your told little Skin and Bones. So long as you stay out of our way, we won't have to flay your scrawny hide, hmm?" The threat walked that uncomfortable line between joke and not. "I suppose then you'd just be... bones, hmm?"

Teen gave a gulp as the captain tussled up his short black locks and then left to go to his quarters. Still trembling in place, there was just enough nerve in him to turn his head to the flicker of motion in his peripheral. A new flag was being hoisted up the mainmast, the boy losing his balance as he angled his head up it's length. As he fell to his rump, a new flash of lightning illuminated the ship's new colors. White on black. A skull... and bones.