Drowning… Ch 4

"What did I do?" Yvan asked himself.

"Nothin'. That you know of." A fellow shipmate called out. He had blonde hair, and one blue and one green eye. He was tying on of the masts in place down at the deck of the ship. "Cat is very --"

"Yvan! Get moppin'!" The Captain said, walking up to the main deck.

Yvan felt his face flush. He dropped his head and put the dirty mop in the wooden bucket, and the flopped the end of the mop onto the ever-moving deck. The water sloshed everywhere, including on the tops his now crusty boots/

"If I ever get out of here--"

"You won't. Believe me, we were all once in your position. Captain's not going to let you out of her sight."

Yvan nodded.

Suddenly he felt a weight being pushed onto his shoulders as he felt the reality of his situation. Emotion churned in his stomach, it rose up his throat until it weld up in his eyes.

"Anyways," said the different colored eye-man, completely ignoring Yvans mood change. "Cat doesn't like talking about her past if you get her to even divulge anything, she never tells a story the same way twice."

"huh" Yvan said, focusing on mopping before the captain came out and embarrassed him again.

"So do you like her?" the ship mate asked, leaning against the mast.

"Hm? Oh, no. I barely even know her." Yvan said, distracted.

Different Eye Mate clapped him on the back so hard that Yvan almost fell down. He felt a bruise blossom in the shape of a hand on his back.

"Oh, come on! Half of the crew likes her already. Her hips…" he trailed off, then cleared his throat. "Oh, I'm Shifty eyes, by the way."

Yvan felt his cheeks grow warm, and got back to working on mopping. He was almost done with the main deck. He felt blisters blooming on his palms and finger tips.

  He felt grimy and gritty from all the salt water he had soaked up from the sea and dirty and nasty from feeling nauseous all day.

Yvan felt the boat lurch, along with his stomach. He leaned over the side of the boat, and threw up what he had he eaten for breakfast.

Spitting out the bile that was left in his mouth, he tried to regain his breath while leaning on the side of the boat.

A voice came up from the stairway that went down to the hull of the boat, pulling Yvan from his reverie.

"Lunch is served! Get it while it's hot!"

The boat tipped back ward as the crew shoved and ran to the stairway. Even the Captains careful mask gave way to the excitement of lunch. She let the men, however, go before her, which Yvan thought was interesting, even though he figured the crew hadn't been taught any manners. Or they had forgotten them all.

Yvan focused on finishing his job, so when the Captain said something to him, he didn't notice until he almost cleaned her shoes—black boots with thick heels, polished, yvan noticed with curiousity.

Yvan looked up, and realized she was waiting for a response.

"Oh, Sorry." Yvan ducked his head, feeling a blush start to creep up his face. "What did you say?"

"Once you are done, you may join us for lunch." The Captain said in a bored voice.

Yvan was almost shocked. Why was she being nice to him? She didn't have to… but before he could respond, she was gone. She is one strange woman. Yvan thought.

Yvan rushed to finish the main deck so that he could eat... at least for a few minutes, that is. Before it all came back up.

"Done!" Yvan excitedly announced, then looked around proudly, but when seeing nobody there to congratulate him, his smile flickered and burned out completely. He looked at his pale and now cracked hands. He ground his teeth together and rubbed his hands gingerly to get some feeling back into his cold fingers.

Yvan tentatively walked down the hallway to the wall of sound that came from the kitchen.

"Sit down! Sit down! Join the party!" one of the pirates called out.

The kitchen was dark, dank, and stank of men who haven't bathed in months. There was 3 wooden tables that were nailed to the floor of the wooden kitchen. There were small stools to sit on, that looked beaten down and abused.

On the left there was a long counter with taller stools to sit on. Apparently this was the place to sit because there was quite a group of men, and Yvan caught a glimpse of captain's blond hair.

As Yvan looked around to find the person who called out to him, the cook – a portly, balding fellow – pushed a wooden bowl full of something liquid... ish... it wasn't stew and Yvan thought he saw something like an eye pop up. Yvans stomach dropped.

He didn't want to be rude, however, so he picked up the wooden spoon that came with the bowl, gingerly ladled up some "soup" and stared at the mass jiggling on the splintering spoon.

Yvans mouth suddenly felt bone dry. He looked over at the cook who gave him a wink and a smile.

"Eat up!"

Yvan tried to swallow, but couldn't. He put the spoon in his mouth, and the congealed mass automatically stuck to the roof of his mouth.

It was almost like the gelatin dessert that the servants used to serve him when they had balls or his birthday. His tongue probed the jelly like soup and tasted salt... some sort of meat.. He guessed some dried meat, probably beef. Some really salty plant, and something else...

The soup slid down his throat, and Yvan found that he... liked the soup. His eyes widened, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. The best thing was that his stomach settled and he suddenly didn't feel the boat constant rocking back and forth. It was as if his stomach had suddenly stiffened up and got used to the boat in less than a second.

"Woah."

"I think he's cured!" the cook cried.