The Story of a Lifetime Ch. 04

"Are you late because you were waiting for me?" I managed, after spending a too-long moment reorganizing my brain.

The minotaur barked out laughing, and I couldn't help but stare at his muzzle as it moved.

"No," he said between guffaws. "Captain Rockbeard wouldn't wait for you. He'd be gone by now, except that we had troubles with the dockmaster. Don't worry about the rest of the crew, they're friendly enough once you get to know them."

"Thanks," I said, blinking as I realized how close I'd been to missing my ride. The horned sailor bent down and set to lifting his load again. "My name's Amaranthea. Can I help you with your box?"

"Pleasure," he answered, then gave me a quick once-over. "And I doubt it. This box probably weighs more than you do."

With that, he hefted the crate up with a grunt and started up the ramp. He was wearing a thick leather skirt on his lower half, and I watched his tail swish back and forth as I followed him onto the ship.

I stood on the deck of the Melancholy and looked it over, thoroughly impressed. It looked old, but carefully maintained and cared for. The crew moved about efficiently, if a little loudly, shouting and cursing and sometimes singing.

The captain himself stepped out onto the upper deck, looking over his people's work. "Are we all aboard?" His voice was different here than in his office, a deep booming thing that carried across the docks.

"We've all our cargo, captain," a human on the main deck called back. "We're just waiting on Brigs to get back."

"We pull the heaving lines in two minutes," Rockbeard called through bared teeth, "if that fucking goblin's here in time, fine. Otherwise he can swim back and I'll find one of you lot to stick in the crow's nest."

The crew turned back to their work, which seemed mostly to entail tying some things down and untying other things. I turned and made my way up the stairs towards the higher deck, and found the captain busy arguing with two other people.

I politely waited until he was done shouting at them and they had scurried off, then approached him myself.

He whipped around to look at me, seemingly briefly confused before remembering me. "Ah, right, the elf. Found your way, did ya?"

"Yes, sir," I answered, trying for politeness in the face of awkwardness. "Captain, that is. Where do I put my stuff?"

He looked at me like I was an idiot. "There's three decks. Find one with space for yourself, drop your shit there." This said, he dismissed me without another look, and turned to shout at the men and women below. "I'm tired of the stink of this place, and I've had my fill of whores and wine. Let's go make some money! Pull those damn lines."

At this, the crew cheered and whooped. Four sailors dropped down and untied the thick ropes from the dock, and others coiled those into big piles on the deck. The ship creaked as it started separating from the dock.

The crew pulled at other ropes, and the sail dropped down from the middle mast, pulled and secured in place. The mast puffed up with the wind, and the ship started to pull its way out into the water.

Distantly I heard a cry, and turned to the dock to see who and what it was. A small figure was dashing down the wharf, running as fast as their little limbs could carry them. "Wait!" he cried again, chasing the ship. I ran down to the main deck to get a closer look. The ship was just starting to move and the figure was gaining quickly, but he was running out of dock.

I turned to the nearest crewmember walking by, and flagged her over. "Over there," I told her, pointing at the figure running almost alongside the ship.

She turned to where I pointed, and started laughing. "Look at little Brigs go," she called out between hoots. "Run little man, run!"

A couple other sailors chuckled at the antics, and went back to their duties.

The little goblin got to the end of the dock but didn't stop at all. He ran full tilt to the edge and then jumped, clearing six or seven feet before colliding with the side of the boat with a barely audible thump.

I leaned over the railing, and found the goblin clinging to a rope hanging down the side of the ship. As I watched, he pulled one hand over the other, and started making his way up the rope even as it bounced around in the breeze. I leaned further and stretched one arm out towards him.

"Brigs!" I called, stretching as far towards him as I could. "Take my hand!"

The goblin pressed both feet against the ship's hull and pushed up, half-leaping from the rope to grab onto my outstretched hand.

As the goblin's full weight hit my hand, I realized that I had somewhat miscalculated. He grabbed onto my hand, and I felt my feet starting to leave the deck as I tipped forward. I had no leverage and not enough grip on the railing, and my heart leapt into my throat as I realized I was about to fall head first into the ocean.

Suddenly there was a weight on my back, pulling me down and balancing me, and I swung my arm over to bring the little goblin on level with the railing. He nimbly moved his grip from my hand to the edge of the rail, and hauled himself over. I fell backwards from the railing, pressing against the hard surface of the body behind me.

I looked back and found the minotaur looking down on me, one hand on my back and one on my shoulder.

"Thank you" I managed to stutter out. "Again."

"You'll want to stay away from the railing," he told me sardonically, his voice deep and melodic. "Good catch with Brigs, though."

We both turned to find the goblin scuttling up the main mast, moving from rope to beam until he reached the top. By the time I turned back, the minotaur had already left, joining his crewmates as they pulled the ropes to drop the mainsail.

I turned for the stairs and made my way downstairs, happy to be away from the sea I'd almost fallen into.

I had a little while to rest before a small woman found me sitting on a crate. If I'd been standing, her head would have only reached my hip, and I'd almost mistaken her for a child. A halfling.

"Are you the new galley hand?" Her voice was high and just a bit squeaky, like a flute played at the top of its range. "You should come to the kitchen. Cook wants to introduce herself."

I followed the little lady through the lower deck. I wasn't sure if she knew the way to the galley, or if she was just following the rising heat and humidity. We stepped through a small sitting area with a few benches and into a kitchen about the size of my tent, which currently housed three other people. That was about three people too many.

"Okay," a voice boomed in the small space. It belonged to a lady tall enough to almost scrape her head on the roof, wearing an apron that might once have been white under all the layers of stains. Her shoulders were about twice as wide across as mine, and her biceps were as big around as the halfling I'd just talked to. "I'm the cook, and you lot are the hands. In this room, what I say goes. You will call me mistress while we work. There will be no singing, no humming, and no laughing in my galley. You got that?"

She looked around at the suitably solemn room, then burst out laughing. One of the other galley hands chuckled familiarly, evidently in on the joke.

"I'm just shitting you," she guffawed. "You can call me cook, and I don't really care what you do while you work, as long as you bust your ass. We have about three dozen hungry bellies per meal, and it's our job to shovel out as much food as they can eat. We work most of the day, but you can take small breaks, except around meal times when we'll need all hands on deck, as it were..."

She continued on for a little bit, but my attention wandered. The galley was a cramped little space, with only a couple of small windows, but at least I wasn't likely to fall off of a railing down here. She finished up her speech, fielded a couple of questions, and we set to work. One cook and four more sets of hands means the work went quick, even if there was a lot of accidental shoulder bumping. Cook turned out to be a fairly equitable boss, happy to compliment when something was done right or shout whenever a mistake was made.

We chopped and fried and boiled, and served a thick stew alongside hunks of bread bought that morning. Once that fresh bread ran out, we'd be serving up hardtack, which is a dense, dry cracker utterly lacking in flavor. I was not looking forward to eating that for a week.

Once we'd finished serving food to the crew, who ate like pigs just as Cook had promised, we got a chance to sit down and eat our own meals. I learned that the halfling's name was Mel, and that she was in a relationship with one of the human crew members. I was surprised, and wanted to ask what sex was like when you were half the size of your partner, but decided against that. It was none of my business. Besides, after a night spent with a trio of orcs, I wasn't really one to talk.

Cook had been serving on this particular ship for a decade, first as a galley hand until she inherited the position of head cook and steward. A skinny human man had been serving under her for about three years now, but they seemed not to like each other too much. The last person was an elf whose gender I couldn't guess, but they seemed content to say absolutely nothing to anyone, which was just as well.

After eating our own meal, we started in on all the dishes, and by the time we were done it was past nightfall. Most of the galley crew settled in the main sleeping room, which was also the main eating room, but I went back upstairs to the main deck. The stars were out in force, and a faint breeze carried away the smell of sweat and ale, replacing it with the smell of the ocean.

A few people had already set down on the deck to sleep for the night, and at the fore of the ship there was a small group bent over a set of dice, trying to keep their arguing and cheering to a dull roar.

The minotaur whose name I didn't know was there, but as much as I wanted to reintroduce myself, I really didn't want to interrupt and have them all stare at me.

I picked a clear enough patch of deck and spread my sleeping roll, hoping the hard deck wouldn't be too terrible under my back. It was just about as uncomfortable as a bed could be, but I was tired from the excitement of the day and all the hard work in the kitchen, and let the boat rock me as I drifted off.

The next day everyone woke up when the sun started shining in our eyes. There were lots of complaints, presumably because the ale had flowed pretty freely for the early part of the night. I packed my things up and dropped my bag downstairs, and went back to work with everyone else in the galley.

Breakfast seemed to mostly entail reheating whatever was leftover from the night before, served with yet more bread and a mug of watered-down beer. Then we were chopping for the next few hours, cutting up meat and vegetables for tonight's stew. Then we were dishing out bowls, eating, cleaning, and finally in bed again. It seemed this was going to be the pattern for the rest of the trip. At least I seemed to be able to steal ten or twenty minutes on the deck here and there, between tasks.

The third day passed in basically the exact same way. I chatted with Mel when we were beside each other, and mostly ignored the elf who never introduced themself. Cook was happy to ask questions and complain about this or that, but didn't talk about herself much. I didn't blame her, though; we all have our own crap we'd rather not discuss.

By the fourth day we'd settled into a nice rhythm, and we intermittently talked or worked in companionable silence. The crew above would sing shanties from time to time, and we'd all snicker at their hoarse voices.

Afternoon rolled around, and I found a moment to get onto the deck for some fresh air. About half the crew was working hard while the other half lounged about. I guess working in shifts during the slower hours made sense. I was wandering around the deck, seemingly at random, until I found myself standing beside the minotaur, looking out at the endless sea.

"Hello again," I said and he grunted in response, which was as many words as we'd exchanged in the last couple of days. "I wanted to thank you again for catching me. You probably saved me."

"Nah," he answered after a moment. "They would have tossed down a rope. You would've been just fine."

"Maybe, but I still appreciate it. I never caught your name."

"I never said it," he answered, not even looking at me.

Another sailor walked past, and stopped at that last exchange. "Minotaurs don't tell people their names. It's private, like a religious thing or something. Didn't you know that?"

"I, uh," I stammered, and the other sailor chuckled at my embarrassment before leaving. "I'm sorry," I told the nameless minotaur, "I didn't mean to offend."

"And you didn't offend," he said, finally turning in my direction. "Most of the crew calls me Stubs." He pointed at his left horn, which was about half as long as the right. "Broke off in a fight a few years ago. It's as good a name as any."

"Then it's a pleasure to meet you, Stubs." I offered the big man my hand. "You can call me Amy."

He laughed and shook my hand. "Pleasure."

I had to get back to working, so I made my excuses and left. Just before going down the stairs, I stopped and gave a look over my shoulder, and found him watching. He didn't look away or even look embarrassed at being caught staring, and as I descended I wondered what to make of him.

I didn't have long to think about it, because there's no time to think when the dinner rush is coming. Chop this, crush that herb, mix that, watch this while it boils, stir the pot... on and on. I honestly hadn't expected a cargo ship to have food nicer than stale bread and watery soup.

Once we finished doling out the crew's dinner and ate our own, we started in on the dishes. The crew sang in the main room, loud and terrible and full of joy. We were halfway through the voyage, and apparently this was cause for celebration. Ale flowed liberally, and often sloshed onto the floor, and the singing deteriorated. One of the men grabbed a lady sailor and pulled her onto his lap, where she happily stayed. Another sailor tried it with a different woman and got a slap for his effort. Even Melody was enjoying the revelry, sitting against her human boyfriend and looking like a little doll under his arm.

I quietly slipped out, looking for somewhere a bit quieter and maybe better smelling.

Out on the deck, the ship was silent. One of the crew gave me a nod before returning to staring out over the rail, but other than that I was alone.

I meandered towards the front of the ship, then remembered that's where people went to relieve themselves, and turned towards the aft. I walked along the length of the ship, heading up the stairs, across the quarter deck and past Rockbeard's office, then up to the poop deck. This was the highest deck on the ship, and had the best view outside of the crow's nest - and I certainly didn't want to spend too much extra time up there with Brigs. I'd had one conversation with the little goblin and decided that would be quite enough.

A shadow shifted against the night, just beside one of the two aft lanterns. It's true that my elven eyesight meant I could pick figures out of the darkness with ease, but it only helps when I'm actually looking where I'm going instead of out at the sea.

"Sorry," I mumbled, realizing that whoever was up here probably also wanted alone time, "I didn't realize someone was up here."

"Nonsense," a deep voice rumbled back at me at about the same time as my eyes adjusted to the lantern's light and picked out the unmistakable shape of the minotaur leaned against a tightly rolled bedroll at the ship's railing. "There's plenty of deck to go around." He made a sweeping gesture, like he was inviting me to take a seat at a luxurious table in a castle.

"Thanks, Stubs," I said as I sat down a few feet past him at the railing. "It's just a bit too loud down there for me. I guess you're not much of a fan of the revelry either?"

"Ha. Last time I got into partying down there, I ended up jumping up and getting my horns stuck in the ceiling. Three guys had to work together to pull me down."

I turned and stared at him, trying to decide if he was joking or not.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"This is the only quiet place on the boat."

"No, no. I mean here. On the ship, on the Emerald Sea."

"Oh," I said, and settled back against the railing. "That's sort of a long story, and I'm not sure if the answer would make any sense to anyone but me."

He wordlessly handed me a flask, which I graciously accepted. I took a swig, and barely managed not to spit it out. It tasted kind like wine, if the wine was mixed with turpentine and lit on fire.

He chuckled, his laughter deep and melodic. "Rockwine," he explained, taking the wineskin back and taking another swig. I blinked a bit of water from my eyes and watched him, fascinated by the way his muzzle moved when he spoke or drank.

Thicker hair grew from the top of his head, looking almost like a mane that went down his back. It was cool out here in the night, be he still didn't seem to feel a need to find a shirt. I wondered if he would even be able to get one on over his head, or around his massive shoulders.

He looked back at me, and I realized I'd been staring. "Aren't you cold?"

He laughed once, and shook the wineskin. "Probably the alcohol keeping me warm."

He handed it back over and I took another sip, smaller this time. It was definitely wine, just two or three times more potent than I'd expected.

"I hadn't realized the ship would have many women on it," I told him, turning back to look over the ship dimly lit by the small lanterns. "Somehow I'd pictured it just being a bunch of sweaty human men, or maybe orcs."

"That's the picture people have, but no. Women can tie knots and pull ropes as well as anyone. And Captain doesn't discriminate based on race: dwarves, humans, orcs, halflings, hobgoblins, goblins, even a minotaur. If you can work, you can stay."

I thought about the crew downstairs, drinking and getting close. "There must be a lot of..." I struggled to find the right word. "Fraternization?"

He laughed, sounding surprised and delighted. "Fraternization? You mean fucking?"

"Yeah, that's the one. A week or more at sea, watching each other sweat, drinking. It kind of all leads to... that."

"Yes, there's lots of... fraternizing." He chuckled and shook his head, taking another sip from the flask and offering it to me again. I waved it off - I was already feeling a bit of warmth nestled in my gut, probably from the strong wine.

"I didn't see you down there, getting close to any of the women. Or men, for that matter."

He looked over at me and raised a bushy brow, then settled back against the railing to look at the stars. "I've been sailing with some of them for years, but they're all still a little intimidated, so no. Sometimes when I'm back in town I'll find a woman my size. A couple of orcs, another minotaur, even a centaur once."

"A centaur?" I tried not to gape, but the mental image that pairing conjured was... vivid.

He nodded and chuckled wryly. "It was an interesting night. She was a lovely lady, though. But it was weird having sex with someone whose torso I couldn't reach. What about you?"

"With a centaur? Gods no!"

"No, I don't mean with a centaur." He turned and looked at me again, and gestured vaguely in the direction of the deck. "You're not down there drinking or... fraternizing. There are plenty of decent enough looking fellows down there, even one or two women who lean that way. Plus I even saw an elf on the galley crew."

He offered the flask again, and I sighed and accepted another small sip of the vile stuff. "The elf guy is a twat. Besides, I'm not actually a full elf, just half."