Battle Scars
Disclaimer: I don't own King Kong
The captain of the Venture stood next to his first mate as the man steered the ship. The two seafaring men watched the ocean before them like a man took in a lover. Memorizing each dip and wave as they moved steadily onward across the surface of the water. Hidden beneath its depth was the power and capability to end a man's life within a blink of an eye. That didn't even take into account the hidden creatures lurking within its icy depths ready to kill, to survive long after man passed above them. The sea was to be respected and even feared on occasions but it also held a peace found nowhere else.
Both men had fought in the great war to end all wars. They had faced each other across the battlefield without ever meeting. The fighting had stolen their peace so both had retreated to the embrace of the sea. The solace of the waves far from the touch of man had slowly begun to heal the tattered pieces of their souls. Perhaps someday they would be whole, but until then they sailed.
The peace was broken. A man ran up to them, frantically yelling in broken English and his mother tongue in his hysteria. The two struggled to make sense of his jumble of words. Frustration grew in the three as the breakdown of communication continued.
"Beast in cage," Choy exclaimed.
"What do you mean?"
Choy, done trying to make them understand with his limited words, beckoned them to follow him below, "Come," He said as he lead them through the rows of empty cages. Cautiously following they all stopped in front of the furthest cage, tucked into the corner. It was an older cage they hardly ever used unless they had a large order and filled up the rest. It was inaccessible to everyone on the ship unless they moved the bigger cages away from in front of it.
A pile of filthy rags lay in the cage.
"I told you to clean the enclosures," The captain, Englehorn, sighed, "Not make up fairy stories."
"No stories, truth," The smaller man argued. The captain not liking his insubordinate tone gave him a verbal dressing down. He would not tolerate laziness or excuses for that behavior. But he would really not tolerate any type of mutiny on his ship. He was the captain and his crew would treat him as such. If he said to jump they had better jump, no questions asked.
The first mate left his captain to discipline his crewmember. Ben Hayes looked around the cages. Every other cage was spotlessly clean, up to Choy's typical standard. The man had been hard working since he was hired on. Helping Lumpy in the kitchen when he wasn't cleaning other parts of the ship. He had never complained about the messy backbreaking work he was called to do. Often a quiet pride showed on his face when he finished his job better than anyone expected. Did he not think he received enough recognition for his work; was that why he was slacking and making up tales now?
Hayes didn't think so. He was a pretty good judge of character. He moved closer to the cage in question. Straining his neck he could have sworn the rags were moving slightly. Only slightly like a leaf shuddering in the wind. Carefully he began the task of moving cages to make a path. The shuddering grew stronger the longer he worked. Something was breathing in that cage.
His hand had just closed around the cage door intending to open it wide when all hell broke loose. A wild yell full of pain and fear erupted with ear-piercing intensity. The door Hayes was moving to open swung with great force into him. A wild thing tore past him in a blur of rags and bony limbs. As quickly as it attacked it was gone. Melting into the shadows as if an apparition of the sea come to torment them.
"What the hell," Hayes gasped out, wide eyes trying to track the small body in the gloom.
"See, beast in cage," Choy exclaimed.
"That was no beast," Englehorn said irritably, "It is a stowaway."
Hayes spoke softly, "It's only a boy."
The first mate couldn't get the haunted blue eyes out of his mind. The pale ghost-like features had been overtaken by the eyes. Large eyes, so full of fear, it was easy to drown in their depth. He'd seen eyes like that before, in the civilians caught in the flame of war. Too young to see the horrors of battle, women, and children had tried to flee. Some were not fast enough to escape before the flames consumed them. This boy had not yet started the process of becoming a man. He was probably around twelve years old but in his feral starved state, his small gaunt body made him look closer to nine, making it hard to gauge his true age. He was a child, the Venture was no place for a child.
"Choy have Lumpy bring down some food," The captain ordered. They were a crew that specialized in catching wild things. One of the best ways to do so was with food. When hungry a creature would step into a trap just for a bite even against its better nature to be cautious and flee. Hunger was a powerful motivator for people too. They had been out to sea for a few days, but there was no telling how long ago he had stowed away onto the ship. The boy had to be getting desperate with hunger at this point. There was little he could have eaten if he had remained unknown for so long.
A faint keening sound floated out from the shadows. It cut off abruptly as the adults' eyes turned to the sound. Hayes had started towards the sound only to stop in his tracks at the silence. It turned into soft sobs before that sound to was forcibly silenced. The boy was hiding; he did not want to be found.
"He's scared to death," Hayes mumbled to himself.
"Keep me updated," Captain Englehorn ordered curtly before leaving without another word. The man tried to appear hard and aloof but secretly he cared deeply. He had been hurt in the past and tried to wall off his heart from future hurts. He would not get involved in a wild child; he had a ship to run.
"Hey, kid," Hayes sat down on a crate, "We don't want to hurt you."
There was no answer. They sat in silence until the ship's grumpy cook entered the area. He held a steaming plate of his famous walnut biscuits and lumpy walnut stew. He looked around for the one he was ordered to feed special; his eyes only found the first mate.
"Well, where's the stowaway?" The man grumbled, "Don't know why we're feeding him. Snuck on board, thinks he don't have to pull his weight. But I gotta feed him special like he's the Queen of Sheba."
Hayes stood up towering over the cook, "He's just a scared boy."
"We was all scared boys once," The man shouldered passed his officer.
Hayes clenched his jaw in irritation, "He's wild."
"I've dealt with worse," Lumpy groused, holding out the filled plate into the shadows, "I ain't gonna feed you, so you better hurry up and take it."
Tentative footsteps grew closer as the boy's hunger overcame him. The men held their breath, not speaking or moving a muscle as he approached. He ghosted up to the food, like a wild animal. He kept just out of reach as hunger warred with his fear. He hunched his shoulders and kept his head bowed to make his body as small as he could, to make himself a smaller target if the strangers decided to attack.
The boy reached for the plate with his left hand only for the cook to grab him. He gnashed his teeth, biting the hand that fed him. Scurrying out of reach he hid in the shadows. Lumpy swore, shaking out his injured hand, mumbling under his breath what he wanted to do to the boy who attacked him. The boy whimpered in distress like a hurt animal.
Hayes glared at the cook who gave a sheepish shrug holding out his abused hand in defense of his angry words and action. "Skipper wants him caught."
Hayes sighed sending the cook back to the gallery with a wave of his hand. He understood the reasoning. It would not do any of them, including the boy, any good to have an unpredictable kid running wild in their hold. The kid needed to be caught. He needed help, food, and medical care if the dark bruises on his face were anything to go by. But Lumpy's hasty actions just proved to the untrusting kid how much he couldn't trust them.
He stooped down to gather the fallen food. The stew was so sticky that most of it stayed stuck inside the bowl so he placed the biscuits next to it. He could feel hungry eyes on him as he worked. He ignored the boy as he placed the once again filled plate on a nearby crate and left.
"How did it go?" Englehorn asked without taking his eyes from the ocean before them.
"Not good," Hayes sighed, taking over the wheel. He gave his report in a monotone voice to keep his emotions from overwhelming him. He looked out at the sea that was growing more and more choppy the longer they sailed.
The captain stood listening, thinking hard but not showing his thought on his stone face.
"I want him off my ship," Englehorn spoke softly but not without power. He was the captain here, his word was law. He did not have time to be a nursemaid. The life of a sailor was a dangerous one, he would not drag a boy into it. He'd seen too many boys die in the war.
"He's just a boy."
"What of it?" The captain asked, removing his cigarette in irritation.
"He needs help."
"So, we will help him off at the next port," The captain mentally planned out what supplies and money they could afford to part with, "I refuse to risk everything I have on a stowaway"
"We can't just abandon him," Hayes argued.
"That's enough, Ben," The captain's use of his first mate's first name showed how serious he was. "He will go at the next port. Even if we have to knock him out to get him off my ship."
Hayes gripped the ship railing with both hands, just breathing in the salty air. He breathed heavily out his nose trying to control his rising emotions. He wanted to hit something so bad. He wanted to beat up the person that hurt the boy until his knuckles bled. He was angry at his own captain for his seemingly apathetic view on the hurt boy hiding in their cages. He needed help, not the boot. Hayes agreed that the Venture was not the best place to raise a child but they couldn't just leave him alone in an unforgiving world either.
Hayes grabbed an apple before heading back down below deck. Whatever the future held for the boy he needed help now. Hayes intended to help him whether he wanted it or not.
There was no food left in the bowl and no boy to be seen. Hayes sat back down on the crate and began talking into the silent room. He rolled the apple between his hands.
"We don't want to hurt you, but it's not safe down here by yourself. You need help," The only sound was the creaking of cages as the ship sailed in the choppy waves.
"The captain is not a bad man," Hayes defended softly, "He was my enemy across the battlefield. But even though he tried to kill my side as hard as I tried to kill his; he still treats me better than my own country. Are you American?" Still, no answer was forthcoming.
"I fought for 191 days," Hayes admitted, "I lead my men across the Rhine. We were the first Americans to land in France, but still, my country hates me for the color of my skin."
Steps creaked on the wooden floor, "Is that why you won't come out?"
The boy tentative stepped out of the shadows, giving a slight shake of his head. His light-colored filthy locks fell over his eyes at the motion. He held his right arm tight against himself as he held his left behind his back, hiding something. Hayes held out the bruised apple to the bruised boy. Meeting the glare with an encouraging look.
He brought his left hand out in front of him. The small hand held the knife up threateningly, "Don't." He had clearly taken Lumpy's small whittling knife in the scuffle. The captain would not be happy that their stowaway was now armed, not to mention how Lumpy would feel when he went to carve a face into a cabbage or potato and found his knife missing.
Hayes held the apple out with one hand while he lifted the other up in a signal of surrender. Moving slowly he set it down in front of him on the crate before he backed away out of reach of the boy. Giving him some space, so he wouldn't feel he had to do anything reckless.
The boy moved closer, keeping the knife up. His untrusting eyes shifted quickly down before he scurried further away out of reach once more. Hayes looked down to see the apple gone. He hadn't even seen the fast little hand grab it. No wonder Lumpy had lost his knife. The kid was a natural pickpocket.
"My name is Ben Hayes," Hayes spoke softly. He watched the boy gobble down the apple, core and all. The knife was held tightly down at his side in his right hand as he ate. He stood at the edge of shadow. One step back he would be swallowed by the darkness, but if he stepped forward he would be moving into the light and closer to Hayes. "What's your name?"
The boy froze from licking the juice from his fingers. He licked his lips nervously at the kind look in the older man's eyes, "Jimmy." It was so soft Hayes wasn't sure he'd really spoken. The boy retreated back into the darkness.
The next few days followed the same pattern. Hayes would bring down food, setting it down before retreating back to wait. The skittish boy would emerge from the shadows to eat. He would listen to the man's tales of war and the sea. His eyes filled with wonder as the questions he wished to ask built up but he never dared to ask. He never spoke again. But he spent longer in the light. Never coming close enough to touch but never retreating entirely from the first mate.
Lumpy was an ornery bastard angrily banging around the kitchen complaining about the bite and the loss of his best knife. The cook had not yet taken matters into his own hands because of the word of his superiors but it wouldn't last much longer. The captain was backing his first mate's play for the moment but he too was running low on patience. He wanted the situation dealt with. He did not want an armed feral child on the loose on his ship any longer. He told Hayes that morning to handle it or he would with chloroform.
Hayes was running out of time. He wanted Jimmy's trust but he wanted him safe more.
"I have something to show you, Jimmy," Hayes held out a chain with two metal tags hanging from it, "These are my dog tags from the war."
The metal glinted in the low light. Like a moth to the flame, the boy stepped closer. He reached out for them; his curiosity overruling his caution. Just as his little fingers reached for the tags Hayes grabbed his arm stopping his hasty retreat. The hand that held the knife came up. The boy usually held that arm limp against his side. He rarely used it but he had wanted to see the tags so bad he had switched the knife to it. This left him at a disadvantage. Hayes grabbed that arm as well, gripping it tighter until the boy dropped the knife.
The boy screamed. The desperate and animalistic tone rang in the man's ears as the boy writhed in his grasp. Twisting and clawing at his dark arm with blunt and dirty nails.
"Calm down, Jimmy," Hayes commanded not sure if letting the wild thing loose was a smart thing to do. It was like catching a tiger by the tail, once you had him you were stuck more than the tiger. The boy went limp in his grasp as he passed out from the pain.
Hayes scrambled to lay down the boy now that he was no longer fighting him. He pushed down the guilt of causing him more pain. Jimmy clutched his arm tight to his side even in unconsciousness. Moving slowly Hayes sat down beside him. Slowly and carefully he pulled the injured arm away and towards himself. It was hot through the boy's tattered sleeve. So thin it would be just skin stretched over bone if it wasn't for the massive amounts of swelling. The bone felt off, uneven somehow. Running his fingers along its length he felt two breaks in the bone that needed to be set if the arm was to heal right.
Hefting the slight weight into his arms he headed up to the deck. He put his black hat on the boy's head to protect his light hair and complexion from the unforgiving rays. After so long in the dark, the light was going to hurt his eyes when he woke up.
"Used the chloroform then?" Lumpy asked as he eyed the still figure in his arms.
"No, he passed out from pain," Hayes said, "His arm is broken in two places."
"Set him down on the table," Lumpy ordered. Not only was he the ship cook and barber he was also the closest thing they had to a doctor, "Choy! Get me something to splint his arm with."
Hayes carefully laid his precious cargo onto the wooden surface. He ran a hand through the dirty hair as the boy became increasingly restless. His pale features were broken up by the slowly healing bruises and streaks of scarlet along his cheekbones as the heat ravished his body. Fever-bright eyes blinked open. Jimmy took in the world around him in a daze. He didn't fight them. The boy refused to look at him, his eyes held in a thousand-yard stare. It was the look a man got that had seen too much. He'd seen it in his fellow solider when they had finally given up. The din of battle was too much, so they just shut down. They no longer cared if they lived or died.
"Damn, I wish he would've stayed out a little longer. Hold him still," Lumpy warned, "This is gonna hurt like hell."
Jimmy screamed until his voice gave out. Once his right arm was splinted he curled into himself, hiding from the world. Hiding from them, the men that had hurt him. He was too hurt and tired to fight their hands as they inspected his body for more injuries. They found an abundance of bruises but no other breaks. Some bastard had used the boy as their own personal punching bag but the boy was strong and resilient. His body would heal. His heart was another matter. It had seen so much darkness and pain that it might never fully heal.
They let Jimmy lay there on the table for some time. People came in and out of the kitchen. Sometimes speaking to him but mostly speaking about him over his head. He couldn't build up enough effort to care as the world rocked around him in time to the waves. He was passed caring so he remained quiet and still, ignoring everything happening around him.
"Come here, son," Ben said softly, "Let me help get you to a real bed."
The boy folded himself into the big man's arms. Burying himself away from the cruel world in the safety of the embrace. All the pain, all the fear, everything he'd felt and had done to him was out of his control. He just wanted somebody to care. He wanted somebody to be his safe harbor in the storms of life. With a sob, he finally let go. Hayes carried Jimmy to his own cabin, laying him into his own bunk. The boy latched onto his hand, refusing to let go even in sleep.
Hayes carefully placed the chain of his dog tags around the sleeping boy's neck. Jimmy had fought his own war. He didn't know where the boy came from but it couldn't have been any place good. No matter what tomorrow would bring Hayes intended to help Jimmy. He wanted to see him grow up to become a strong man. The kid deserved some recognition for the battles he'd fought. The battles he'd won. As long as Jimmy was still alive, he'd won them. He had passed through the heart of darkness and into the light of day.
