VIII. Brotherhood
Autumn, 1596
A few months ago, that summer, I was a lost soul with neither family nor a lady. By mid autumn, I was a new person of sorts; reborn, with a new "family" of men I now considered as brothers. As part of the brotherhood, I found myself sharing the same activities as the other men: I drank ale regularly as if it were water. Card games and bets became a regular pastime for me as it was for them. I smoked when they smoked, and chewed when they chewed. As St. Ambrose once said, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do."
Once I started playing games such as Twenty-One, I always wanted to play. I could see why the other men would play so often, even if they lost a great deal of money. Even I hoped each time I played, I'd somehow get better at it... . After finishing yet another game (I refuse to admit who walked away with most of the money), a few of the men sat back down to smoke or chew.
"Phoenix" and I were periodically spitting from the chew he offered me earlier. As much as I originally didn't care for it, since it was an acquired taste, I decided if other men including him occasionally chewed, what was the harm?
"How do you manage to slide from the crow's nest so swiftly?" I've been wanting to ask this question for sometime. Since I built a rapport with him, I decided now was as good a time as any.
"That's another one of my own special tricks. I can't give too many away, lest everyone would copy me." But after a moment, he added. "But since you're one of the more fearless ones on board, I'll show you."
I followed "Phoenix" up to the crow's nest, where he demonstrated sliding down from a rope with such ease. I, however was seemingly burning my palms in the process.
"Argh! S—!" What? I suppose it was surprising hearing these words from my own mouth. But such words were heard so often around here—among others—that it gradually appeared no different than regular speech, hardly seeming vulgar or offensive anymore. (I was a sailor, after all.)
"Loosen your grip, Smithy. You'll slide faster with less burn."
I tried again, and cringed when I landed with a hard thud; but at least it was less painful this time. "D—it!"
"You'll get the gist of it, eventually." In time, I found he was right, but meanwhile it took more practice.
"You think you're quite the swordsman?" "Falcon" decidedly challenged me later on. "Press your luck." He was a fine swordsman himself, but he seemed impressed on how quickly I caught on. "How did you learn the craft so swiftly?"
"I couldn't tell you, Arch, really. I seem to learn as I go along." I added, "actually, this sword belonged to Newport. He gave it to me a short while ago."
"It took me some time to learn." He added, "you might be very well capable of becoming a formidable seaman, even a sea captain yourself one of these days, perhaps sooner than I... ."
His voice trailed off after mentioning "days," as if he were lost in thought. I wasn't certain if he was telling me this for encouragement, or thinking aloud to himself. I was trying to gage his thoughts. At the time, I decided to consider it a compliment. "I'm much obliged." I told him. He smiled back somewhat nervously.
Needless to say, I was enjoying my new life and finding my place amongst these men, though I also wondered about the old life I left behind. I hadn't found much about my siblings at this time. However, I still wrote to Danny, asking how he was, and even about Sarah, still feeling as if I hurt her. I wondered if I should write to her myself, wondering if it would upset her; even asking Danny. He wouldn't go into much detail, besides he was fine, life was as always, and would briefly tell me Sarah was alright, but she would probably need "time," before I came back into her life. Although that seemed like a reasonable answer, I still kept thinking about her... .
"John—up ahead!" Bart brought to my attention another ship above the horizon.
"A Galleon?"
"Nay, a Carrack—the telling features are the high stern and bow. Galleons, tend to have a long beak-head, which is what we have. Galleons have been replacing the Carracks after Sir John Hawkins noted a flaw in the latter's design, though the Spaniards and Portuguese may still use them."
"What flaw?"
"Well, the higher stern slows the vessel down. By having a lower stern, the Galleons are much faster and easier to maneuver... ."
When he paused, we both had a chuckle, knowing very well we were both thinking the same thing... .
I like to think Danny and I were still close, but Bart being older had another perspective on life and matched my carefree way of thinking. While Danny was cautious with new things, Bart was enthusiastic to face challenges, like I was. The more time I spent with him, the more similar we seemed. Even Arch couldn't connect with us on certain things, and at times I think that bothered him.
After we caught up to a defeated that foreign vessel, I shared a tankard of ale and pipe with Newport; a habit after many successful encounters. "I've never seen so much bloodshed in such a short time."
"You've 'ardly liv'd, lad."
"You sure we can't keep any of more of the loot from our adventures?"
"The job o' a sea dog is to give 'onor to the Queen—or even a king, if you will. We take our share and she obtains 'ers. But," he picked up a thick leathery substance from a bag and tore into it. "She won't miss these," he chuckled. He handed me a piece before he chewed on one himself. "Charqui," he said, before I could ask what it was. "'Tis dry meat. Drake, Raleigh an' I 'ave stolen this from our oth'r voyages. They get it from the Indians in the warmer parts of the new world."
"What kind of meat?" I chewed enjoying the taste, but not recognizing it as beef, pork, or chicken.
"'Llama.' An unusual creature, but tasty, is it not?"
I nodded. "You've seen one?"
"Aye. It looks like a bigger, taller sheep with a much longer neck, though the wool is more prized than sheep." I tried envisioning that in my mind. "I've seen lots o' things 'Sea Eyes.' You ask, an' I'll tell."
We talked for a bit more, until it was Newport's shift to take over for the night, and I went off to sleep. On my way, I spotted Percy, and intended to ignore him.
"You're awfully close with the Captain and Quartermaster these days—a rather cunning attempt to obtain favor that's otherwise unmerited."
"Hold your tongue!" I wasn't sure whether to be angry or merely laugh at the accusation. We just happen to become good friends.
"One must wonder if there are ulterior motives to obtaining these advantages with your vast improvements in such a short period—"
I didn't let him finish. I knew where this was going and let him have it, punching him right in the jaw. From there, I couldn't keep track of how many times we punched, kicked, tumbled, or how often Percy pulled my hair. But eventually some of the men must have overheard, as some men began jeering. "Hawk" and "Gryphon" broke us up.
"What the Bloody Hell?! Enough Men!" It was rare to see "Gryphon" this angry. Neither of us wanted to answer. "Listen well: there will be no more fighting aboard this ship! You two—this way!" He motioned for us to follow him.
I didn't know what was in store for us, but willingly or not, we were going to find out... .
