Story trade

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 and not a stranger.