"Salted pork. Again." Madeira bemoaned, letting the tin plate and its shriveled pork chop clatter on the long scuffed galley table. The tanned young sailor behind her chuckled as he slid onto the bench opposite her, balancing his own pork and pickled vegetables and a half cup of rationed rum. Daniel, the tall sixteen-year-old crewmember, was in the habit of taking his evening meal with her. Even going so far as
to wait for her to emerge from her tiny private cabin to be sure they
ate together.
"Aw, the foods not that bad", he quipped, already starting on his
pork. He had to saw through it with a serrated knife like he was
carving leather. "In fact this is miles above what you typically get
on long voyages. They must be stepping their game for you, Miss
Aristocrat", he teased. She never told them what her purpose for going
to Lhavit was, and the name 'Craven' meant nothing to the seafaring
folk. But she had a put-together appearance, strange profession, and
was wealthy enough to pay for two season of a chartered ship, which
gave them suspicions of what she was. 'Foreign aristocrat' was the
kindest of the theories.
Madeira smiled blithely and poked at the muck of mystery vegetable.
"If this is what passes for fine dining on the sea, then whatever slop
they typically feed you is a war crime."
"You get used to it. You'll even start to miss it when your back on
land, I guarantee."
"After two seasons of salt and acid, I probably wont be able to taste
anything else."
"That too."
The silence of the next few ticks was filled with the scrape of knifes
and forks and the grumbling of the cook in the kitchen on the far side
of the galley. Madeira was doing her best to carve out the withered
bit of yellow bone out of the center of her pork chop. Sawing away the
gristle she finally surfaced with a wide stained bone still stubbornly
clinging to bits of leathery meat and stuffed with black crumbling
bone marrow. She was studying it in the yellowish light of the
lanterns when Daniel looked up.
"It doesn't taste any better cold, ya know. What are you doing with that?"
"Nothing, just thinking." she smiled, putting the bone to the side.
"How has your day gone?"
That was all the prompting he needed to launch into the harrowing
story of how he narrowly escaped death by being attacked by a sea hawk
and falling from the rigging, only to save himself at the last chime
by somersaulting in the air and catching the byline with the tip of
his boot. Madeira was a good audience, meeting his dramatic pauses
with encouragement and his quick thinking and bravery with wide eyes.
Despite the fact that she already heard the story from the another
crewman, who claimed Daniel was probably hit by a low-flying seagull
and fell. But by the time anybody on the crew knew what had happened
the boy was screaming for help and tangled up in the rigging.
WC: 518
to wait for her to emerge from her tiny private cabin to be sure they
ate together.
"Aw, the foods not that bad", he quipped, already starting on his
pork. He had to saw through it with a serrated knife like he was
carving leather. "In fact this is miles above what you typically get
on long voyages. They must be stepping their game for you, Miss
Aristocrat", he teased. She never told them what her purpose for going
to Lhavit was, and the name 'Craven' meant nothing to the seafaring
folk. But she had a put-together appearance, strange profession, and
was wealthy enough to pay for two season of a chartered ship, which
gave them suspicions of what she was. 'Foreign aristocrat' was the
kindest of the theories.
Madeira smiled blithely and poked at the muck of mystery vegetable.
"If this is what passes for fine dining on the sea, then whatever slop
they typically feed you is a war crime."
"You get used to it. You'll even start to miss it when your back on
land, I guarantee."
"After two seasons of salt and acid, I probably wont be able to taste
anything else."
"That too."
The silence of the next few ticks was filled with the scrape of knifes
and forks and the grumbling of the cook in the kitchen on the far side
of the galley. Madeira was doing her best to carve out the withered
bit of yellow bone out of the center of her pork chop. Sawing away the
gristle she finally surfaced with a wide stained bone still stubbornly
clinging to bits of leathery meat and stuffed with black crumbling
bone marrow. She was studying it in the yellowish light of the
lanterns when Daniel looked up.
"It doesn't taste any better cold, ya know. What are you doing with that?"
"Nothing, just thinking." she smiled, putting the bone to the side.
"How has your day gone?"
That was all the prompting he needed to launch into the harrowing
story of how he narrowly escaped death by being attacked by a sea hawk
and falling from the rigging, only to save himself at the last chime
by somersaulting in the air and catching the byline with the tip of
his boot. Madeira was a good audience, meeting his dramatic pauses
with encouragement and his quick thinking and bravery with wide eyes.
Despite the fact that she already heard the story from the another
crewman, who claimed Daniel was probably hit by a low-flying seagull
and fell. But by the time anybody on the crew knew what had happened
the boy was screaming for help and tangled up in the rigging.
WC: 518
