The Voyage of the Pied Piper
Ch. 4
I had never had so much attention before in my life. It all happened in a blur. Right after I fought and the captain welcomed me aboard, everyone seemed to vie for my attention. Fin stepped up and took me to the doctor’s bay which is where I am now. It was dark and dingy with the air of cleanness you can only get from a place being constantly wiped clean. The doctor wrapped up my injured hand taking care not to put too much pressure on the wound. After a couple of minutes he excused himself. I sat in the small, cramped space until Fin showed up looking pleased with himself. Probably because he’s getting as much attention for being my friend as I am for killing my previous captain unarmed. Fin seemed at ease in the small doctor’s bay most likely because, being a pirate, he visited it often. Who knew pirates, known for such roughness and brutality, would have a doctor’s bay in their ship? Surely I cannot be the first to question this logic.
“Fin,” I started to ask.
“Yes, misser Clephin.” Fin replied.
“It’s Celvin--but why--”
“That’s what’s I say.”
“No, I know what my own name is, Fin. My name is Celvin.”
Kilt walked in at that moment making the cramped space feel even smaller.
“No, no, no, no, no. Me’s pretty sure it’s Clephin.”
“No--” I started to protest.
“Forget it.” Kilt said. “He’s just going to say it how he pronounces it. We should come up with a new name for you. You are part of the crew now.”
“I want’s to make up new name fer Clephin.” Fin interjects.
“Fine,” Kilt answers before I had a chance to protest. “What would you call him?”
It was painful sitting there watching Fin think up a name, not just because I got stabbed through my hand. What if he comes up with a stupid name like Puppy or Zits or Dumb-boy or something? I should have just gotten killed.
Fin finally sits back as if satisfied. “How ‘bouts Cain?”
I was about to protest any name that came out of his mouth, but this name stopped me short.
Kilt smiled.
“I like it,” Kilt said, “the boy who killed his more favored brother. Just like how you killed your previous captain.”
“I’s good, rig’?” Fin asks, grinning.
I smile back at both Kilt and Fin. “You know, for a guy who can’t pronounce Celvin, Cain is just an insult.”
For some reason, an infectious laugh took over my body. I giggled and gaped. It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed like this so, I just let it out. After an awkward pause when no one moved and I just sat there laughing, a string seemed to break between us and all the tension was gone. Then, it wasn’t just me laughing. We all laughed, loudly.
This place is feeling more like home.
***
I followed Kilt from the doctor’s bay as he showed me around the ship. On the deck he pointed out three entrances to below deck and one hidden entrance. He showed me where the dining hall was, where the gun powder was stored so it wouldn’t get wet, he even showed me the brig where they keep prisoners. Luckily, there weren’t any prisoners down there at the time.
“So,” Kilt said as I slowly walked around looking at the brig, “ready to catch some grub?”
My head shot up and at that minute my stomach growled loudly. I actually hadn’t eaten for three days straight. My old ship had been running out of supplies so, only the captain actually ate three meals a day while lowly deck hands like me ate once a week.
Kilt laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Leading me back to the dining hall I noticed what looked like a small door.
“Where does that go?”
Kilt glanced back. “Oh, that goes to our sleeping quarters. I’ll show you those after we eat.”
“Oh, okay.” I wasn’t ready to sleep yet, but after I eat, who knows.
We sat down at a long table with benches at both sides. Everyone around me pulled out a bowl from somewhere in their mass of clothing and shirts. I sat there wondering what I’m supposed to do. What looked like the cook started coming around ladling soup into everyone’s bowl.
“Great, more soup.” A growl came from the other side of the table farther down. Evidently, soup was a staple here.
Soon the cook came to me, and I didn’t have a bowl to offer him. Pausing, wondering why I didn’t offer my bowl, he eyed me.
“Soup not good ‘nough fer ye, boy?” he growled.
I shook my head vigorously. “No,” I squeaked out. “I--I’m new, I don’t have a--a bowl.”
The cooked eyed me once more and then pulled out a bowl from the folds of his shirt. Ladling some soup into it he handed it to me and moved on. I stared at the bowl of soup in front of me. I was so hungry, yet I had no spoon to eat it with.
Kilt sat down next to me. “You look like a sick puppy.” I glanced at him. He was digging through his shirt. “Here,” he said and handed me a spoon. Where does all this stuff come from?
I nod my thanks and start shoveling food into my face.
“Whoa, calm down there, boy. When was the last time you ate?” Kilt asked.
I didn’t stop eating, just held up three fingers. Kilt froze.
“You haven’t eaten for three months?” he boomed. Now I froze. I meant three days, but he took it as months. On a pirate ship I wonder if food goes scarce and you don’t eat for months. I shuddered. Joining a pirate ship might not have been the best idea.
Dinner went by quickly and after I finished my bowl, Kilt gave me the rest of his. He felt bad that I hadn’t eaten for three months and I wasn’t about to correct him. When I finally finished it was only Kilt and I left in the dining hall, even the cook was gone.
Kilt now led me back to the door that he pointed out before. We went inside and the small dark hallway was replaced with a wide open place with lanterns hanging on the support beams. Scattered amongst the lanterns where hammocks all the way up to the roof. Kilt pointed at one only two hammocks up.
“That one’s yours. Good night, Cain.” That was the first time Kilt called me anything other than ‘boy.’ In fact, it was the first time anyone called me by my new nickname. I watched as Kilt walked up to one of the support beams and climbed it almost all the way to the top to get to his hammock. I never knew Kilt was like a monkey.
It took me a couple of tries but I eventually got up to my hammock. Swinging there, several meters off the floor, I was slowly rocked to sleep by the swaying of the ship. On the Magistrate’s ship we had cramped bunks where they would fit two in each. Stretching out, I felt at ease. My last conscious thought was that the rope hanging over my head looked like a snake sound asleep.
