Story_Update

Trade Request

Vincent took a deep breath and peered toward the sleeping silver haired boy, the sew was a cruel mistress and there was little room for mercy in her cold heart. This had been one of the first lessons he had learned as a cabin boy so many years ago. Slowly the giant of a man released the drawn in breath, yes one could tell he had been around the word in more ways that one.

His skin had been baked a dark brown color by the sun of the pacific and his body had been chiseled by the cold artic winds of the atlantic. Both oceans had taken there toll upon him, both oceans had molded him into the man he was today. The life of a merchant marine was one of danger, cheap drink and lose women in places such as Boston, Hong Kong and Baltimore.

“The doctor should have been here by now.” He said crossing his arms and pacing toward a small chine cabinet that occupied a small corner of the small office/living quarters he called home on these long sea vogues from one corner of the queens empire to the other. Slowly he reached into his pocket and within a matter of seconds he had fished out a long brass key, a wise seaman always kept his personal stock of drink under lock and key along with his weapons and coins.

Without giving it a second thought he pushed the key into the holder and gave it a quick turn to the right, a loud click could be hard as the lock gave way. The wooden door quickly swung upon its brass hinges revealing the well stocked liquor cabinet of seasoned seaman. A few seconds passed before he made his move, he needed something to calm his nerves and to restore his strength. Might as well save a draft for the lad too.

After a unknown amount of time he selected a small bottle that held a brownish liquid.  Quickly he wrapped his strong fingers around the neck of the bottle as he lifted it from the shelf and held it up to the light provided by the four door lantern that swung to the calming rhythm of the rocking of the sea.   Yes this would do just fine, Kings Ford rum the best rum the small island nation of Jamaica ever produced. He had picked this little bit up during a wintering in Port Royal.

 Slowly he unscrewed the metal cap from the bottle, once the bottle cap was removed he upturned the bottle and took a deep long sip from the bottle. The brownish liquid filled the inside of his mouth, once it was swallowed a sudden burning feeling filled his throat as if he had swallowed a hot coal.

“Bloody hell, that stuff is cracking.” He said quickly screwing the top back on it. And placing it back into the cabinet. Once the bottle had been returned to its original place he closed door once more and locked it with the proper key. No sooner had he pocketed the key did a loud groan of a man in pain fill the confines of the cabin.

The man raised his eyebrows and slowly he spun around, almost on instinct his eyes fell toward the young silvery hair boy that lay resting upon his bed. His French vanilla colored cheeks seemed to tinted red with a harsh fever and small beads of sweat could be seen dotting his forehead. His breathing too was hard and labors like each one required a good bit of willpower to be drawn in and released in the rhythmic cycle of life.

Taking measured steps the man covered the short distance between the cocktail cabinet and the bed in a mere half a minute. Soon the tall gruff man could be seen kneeling down by the bedside and with a practiced hand he swept away some of the lose locks. A look of worry crossed his face as he reached down and fished out a small rag that had been soaking in sea water.  Once the rag had been rung out, he budded it up and patted the sweat from his forehead.

“There there my little angle, everything is going to be okay, we’ve already called the doctor, I should say the ships the doctor and he’s going to help you my little one. Hes going to help you.” He said moving the damp rag all over his forehead and before moving toward his neck and then his chest. Anything to help ease the burning skin.
“Help me,” He said looking up and shivering as the looked around in the manner a scared child would upon waking up in a strange place and in a strange bed. “I gotta find my captain, my shipmates and my… I can’t be here resting! I don’t need to see a doctor! I hate doctors!” He cried catching a second wind as he shot up like a man who had hot oil tossed upon him. He peered toward  the man and drew a deep breath.

“Calm down Jackie,” Said Vincent reaching over and placing a loving hand upon his shoulder and gently pushing him down into the warm folds of the bed sheets and soft bag of goose feathers called a pillow. Once his head was resting upon the pillow and his breathing seemed to return to a semi normal state the older one finally allowed himself to ease.

“Captains orders final,” He said thinking he should bring the boy up on the latest going ones, “It seems you’ve come down with a scourge of sea, are captain whom is a saint among men has entrusted your care into my hands. You’ve been out for a good day or so in that time your body had been wrecked by a ungodly fever. Thankfully it seems the fever is on the retreat and all is well.” There was a strong fatherly tone to the mans voice, like he was speaking to a son or close nephew.

Jack or Jackie took a deep breath as his head came into contact with the soft pillow. It was rare for one to feel there own fever but he swore he could, his dreams had been of wicked things, demonic things these last few days, devils the likes never seen before and creatures only wildest of occultist could have possible dreamed up had tormented him and tortured him so.

“Please listen to me,” He said forcing in a deep breath. “There demons and goblins of the highest order waiting for me in the shadows, you don’t understand because  you can’t see them but I know there here, waiting for to just close my eye so they may pounce upon me and steal my soul and chance of salivation.” He quickly added his voice reaching a near panic now.

“Calm yourself little one, there shall be no such demons and fallen angles in are presents, they are far to concerned about ongoing chest battle between the forces of heaven and hell than a ill young tailor. I’m sure your soul will bring only a pence compared to the golden  Sovereign a soul of a prince or king will bring on the black markets of hell.” He said with a touch of grim sea humor as he leaned forward and pulled the folds of the sheets up and gentle tucked them around his shaking frame.

“Promise me? Promise me your not going to leave me? Promise me that Vincent? On ye honor yes?” babbled on Jackie as he felt the sheets being lifted up and being wrapped around his shaking frame. Despite the feeling of faint fright that filled his mind the young man quickly found himself being lulled into a gentle sleep as the warmth of the bed sheets and thick cotton comfortable.

“Oh my honor young one,” He said leaning over and in a sure sigh of father affection he bent over and gently kissed his forehead, a touch of heat graced the bow of his lips as the lips made contact with the warm forehead. It seemed the fever was going to dig in her heels and keep a noticeable present till she saw it fit to move on.

And it seemed a promise of guardianship was all the young man needed for soon his light sleep became a heavy one. A sure sign that the boys body was doing everything in its power to fight the infliction. Now if only the ships doctor turned up.

~***~

The ships doctor did  indeed turn up, and over a course of a hour and a half he toiled away at brewing and mixing the herbs and spices that would greatly aid in the healing process. With the eyes of a hawk Vincent watched the doctor at work, the young man however seemed not to mind the watchful eye of the elder one as he freely answered any question he proposed regarding the selection of herbs or ground roots used to make the healing potion.


Once the potion had been finished and instructions on its usage had been written down in great detail and also explained to Vincent the doctor took his leave and returned to his regular duties, that being doing little or nothing.  The effects of the potion took some time, but as the hours melted into the days and the days melted into weeks the boy felt his strength return to him and soon he could even walk around the ship with the aid of a walking stick.

But it seemed so many days in bed had made the boy restless and his tongue was quick to shoot off acidy remark’s to his fellow shipmates. His temper too seemed to increase and his once modest and reserve behavior gave way to a series of little brattish nips to his care taker. And so one faithful evening four days from making port of call out of Liverpool the brat broke the dyke and the flood waters came pouring out.

~***~

“I trust you know why I’ve called you here?” Said Vincent from behind his desk.  His tone of voice was low and direct and going by his body langue’s there was little chance of talking him down from his stance. It seemed young Jackie was doomed for in away he was cornered. The door to the cabin had been locked and fastened and a belt sat upon the desk, oddly enough the tool of torture was sat evenly between them.

“….” Jackie could not respond to the elders question. But he did know the reason, and it weighted heavily upon his heart. There was little he could do change now, but yet he still refused to give in and kept a firm stiff upper lip through the tool at hand did send shivers up his spine.

“I will ask you once more, do you know why you have requested your presence hear young man?” Said Vincent rising from his chair and pushing it back. The wooden legs of the chair made a loud screeching sound as they where dragged upon the wooden floorboards of the ship.


“Because I’ve been a brat?” Came the weak response from Jackie a little shaken now as the harsh sound of the wooden legs being moved across the floor reached his ears. A sudden chill traveled down his spine, a felling akin to somebody pouring a goblet of ice water down your back.

“Very much so I’m afraid, and there only one way to cure a brat.” He said reaching over and picking the belt up. Quickly with the skilled wrist of a seasoned sailor he looped it over and without saying another word he placed his strong hands upon the boys shoulder. Part of him was sad that it had come to this but part of him reminded him that this was his duty as father, or as close to a father as this boy would ever know.

Jackie said nothing as he rose from his seat, maybe it was