How Dry I Am (Not Very)

…

The previous year had seen Link receive a promotion of sorts. The last airman who had been assigned to inventory their stores had been let go when Lieutenant Luke and Captain Alfonzo had discovered that he had been selling off their tools and replacement parts for free drinks at five different pubs across Hyrule Kingdom. Rumor around the Grand Sails had said that the captain had closed him in his own barrel of grog and thrown him off at the last port he had sailed to with the ship. Inventory was a fairly boring job which consisted of going through the airship's cargo hold and taking note of what supplies and equipment were aboard along with what was needed. The Grand Sails, being a galleon, held its cargo amidships on the top four of six decks and occasionally held more supplies in the brig when necessary. This made for a lot of space to cover as well as a lot of barrels and crates to check when the ship was full. Most airmen who had to carry those supplies seldom wanted to know what was in the holds, unless it was grog. Other airman preferred their spare time to relax. So Lieutenant Luke, Alfonzo's second-in-command who would eventually be given command of the Summer Breeze, recommended that Link take on the duty.

Link had been thrilled, mostly because it meant that he had been trusted with another duty. Link was too young to do a lot of the harder labor during the day; only on occasion would he be allowed to man the rigging or carry supplies aboard. Most of his duties had dealt with carrying items for either the captain or the second and helping ration the ship's food stores during long trips. Captain Alfonzo, along with the two seconds he had during Link's first five years of service, had taught Link how to read and write, and Link's handwriting was fine enough that he occasionally would be called on to draft or transcribe letters for the crew. Sometimes, he and Line had to crawl into the ship's structure to help with repairs that the other airmen could not perform. Or to retrieve things that other airmen had dropped behind a crate; they were much more reliable than a wad of tar on the end of a string.

Link had already taken inventory for the day when Lieutenant Luke's order from their Bold Island supply depot was filled. This made taking inventory and verifying the second's order simpler since all he had to do was add everything together.

Or it would have been if not for one issue.

"Wait," he said to the airman rolling a barrel across the deck. "Hold on a minute. What's in that barrel?"

"Grog," the airman grunted as he continued on.

"Wait wait wait," Link chanted, pattering up to the airman so he could step in his way. The airman, a large, muscular man wearing a tunic at least one size too small for him, had to grip both ends of the barrel to make it stop. "We've already got the grog we're supposed to have. Where's this barrel coming from?"

"It was on the supply cart," the airman told him, scratching at his thick beard.

"But that's too much."

He shrugged. "So you got an extra barrel," he told Link. "So what?"

"Well, has anyone told the depot?"

"Airman Link," one of the airmen behind Link's conversation partner, a man by the name of Hugh, spoke up, "you are the only one who cares about one extra batch of grog. And you don't even get a ration."

"Wha—I can't let this barrel on board until someone says otherwise!" Link whined. "I know you guys like grog, but did anyone at the depot charge for this extra one?"

"Forget it, Hugh," the man helping Hugh carry a large crate marked "spare parts: cleats" groaned from behind Hugh. "Just set the damn thing down." The deck shook when the crate hit, causing Link to cringe as he expected the deck boards to suddenly give way.

"I don't get the big deal," the grog-carrying airman said. "If it's such a problem, why don't you go down to the depot and tell them that they got your order wrong?"

"I need to stay here and take inventory," Link replied. "Just double-check with the guy holding your manifest."

"He went to visit the pub nearby. I'm not gonna look for him."

"Come on, Link!" Hugh shouted at him. "Just let the guy pass."

"Look, just set it off to the side," Link told him. "I'll tell the chief when he gets back up."

But the airman just crossed his arms. "Are you seriously busting my balls over an extra barrel of grog?"

"Just set it off to one side."

"Kinda smaaaall to be ordering me around, aren't you?"

"Come on, Airman, just set it to the side," Hugh told him.

"Please?" Link added, one hand indicating the open deck to the side of the foremast.

"Oh, so it's please now," the airman said as he turned the barrel up. He flagged down an airman approaching from behind Link. "Hey, you, let me see that crowbar." The other airman stopped and gave over a long piece of iron with two flat ends. "You see, kid, the depot doesn't like returns if the goods are contaminated." He jammed the crowbar into the lid of the barrel and popped it open. "See? It's contaminated."

Link stepped forward to look in the barrel. He could smell its alcoholic and citric contents, concentrated as they were until they would be mixed with water to form true grog. He did not know what either was supposed to look like; the liquid in the barrel, under an afternoon sky, looked clear and healthy.

"Link!" Hugh suddenly shouted.

Link felt himself pulled off his feet from the rear of his trousers. He cried out, and then he took in a quick breath as he saw himself heading straight into the barrel. His pen and clipboard dropped to the deck so he could wrap his fingers around the edge. But it was far too late as his head and shoulders were immersed into the drink. His nose flooded with the alcoholic drink, and he suddenly forced all of the air out of his lungs to keep his nose clear. Panic enveloped him. He opened his mouth to take in another breath. The alcohol burned his throat right away.

Then he found himself back on the deck, coughing out the grog's vileness as he lay on his side. He could not make out his surroundings too well. The airman that had thrown him in was being held by a pair of fellow airmen while Hugh hovered over him. A large hand patted his back, and Link coughed out more of the drink and took in another lungful of air.

"You okay, Link?" Hugh asked. Before Link could answer, he called to the other airmen, "Get him off the ship! His job's through here!"

Link remained quiet. He did not feel very well. The deck would not stop wobbling, and everything spontaneously had a twin. Hugh rolled him onto his back and gently smacked him on the cheek. "Hey, Link! Say something!" he shouted.

"I… think I'll just swim here, thank you," Link replied.

"Is he all right?" a passing airman asked.

"He just went pear-bobbing in a barrel of grog," Hugh said. He grabbed one of Link's arms and started hauling him to his feet. "Gimme a hand here."

"Wh-where we goin'?" Link slurred as he felt his eyes growing heavy.

"Confinement for drunken sailing," Hugh told him. "Hey! Bring that spare line here! We've got a soused one to haul up!"

"What, Link? Can't be; he's too small to get a ration!"

Hugh dropped Link to the deck. "Well, he just got himself a large dose of it. Come on, let's hang him up to dry."

Link had lost awareness before he could make out the next comment made to Hugh. He had no idea that his fellow airmen had hauled him onto the starboard shroud of the main mast and strapped him to it. In fact, no one had realized it until the ship had already set sail and Luke saw Link's small form tied to it from the bridge. The captain eventually heard the whole story and did not condemn any of the men for their actions.

But Link had a whopper of a hangover that night.