"Ha! Thassle be easyas takin drinks from babbies!"
Grizzle practically launches himself at the net.
"Well, at least one of you seems remotely capable. How about the rest?" asks Mister Plugg snootily.
Shikyo leaps into action
Shiko nimbly gets to the top.
Jack's stomach and head were still rather delicate so he ascended cautiously. Still he was no stranger to heights and was the third man up.
Alfonso rubs his hands together. "Let's give it a go, shall we?"
Alfonso takes a tentative step onto the rigging, but as soon as his feet leave the deck, he freezes. After several seconds of hanging onto the ropes for dear life (even as he sits mere inches from the deck), he manages to climb halfway up before freezing again. But seeing the icy glare of Master Scourge, he works up the courage to make it to the top.
Dieredon spits into his palms, rubs his hands together and starts his assent.
Dieredon makes it halfway to the top before slipping and falling to the deck below.
Dieredon nearly lands painfully but at the last second he finds a dangling rope. He grabs it and swings himself to safety, landing unhurt on the deck.
A few of the watching pirates clap and cheer, entertained by your last second death defiance.
But Master Scourge is completely unimpressed.
"I told you to climb. Now do it.
"Gerjab elf!" Grizzle yells from the top. "They'lla be rootin fer ya now!"
Well, here we go again...
Dieredon tries again...
Dieredon is having some difficulty getting started, then slips to the deck. He raises his hands towards Mister Scourge, then tries again.
After again having difficulty getting started, Dieredon makes it halfway up.
Now, for the rest of the way.
Again, he falls...
Fearing for his Elf compatriot, Alfonso offers some encouraging words. "Keep trying! I believe in you!"
Mad Jack had been worried about Dieredon falling and so had positioned himself accordingly. He got in position to catch the elf, but the rope swayed suddenly in the wind, pulling him off as well.
Treggor pushes the elf embarrassment out of the way and climbs with no issue.
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Dieredon falls again, but at the last moment grabs a loose rope and swings deftly to the deck.
Well, this is getting old.
He glances up at Mister Scourge, then sets to it again.
This time Dieredon climbs all the way to the crows nest to join the others. He raises his hands triumphantly from the top for the crowd.
Does not appear that working the rigging is the appropriate job for me as a pirate.
When the elf wobbled, Jack by instinct tried to grab him but the wind picked up! Rather than grabbing the elf , Jack was suddenly flailing his arms desperately trying to regain his balance.
Rather than showing fear at this dangerous situation, Jack chuckled madly simply let go. He did a back-flip and and landed with a textbook dismount.
He looked around briefly, no one seemed to appreciate his antics so with a shrug he nonchalantly Jack started back up. He'd spent his youth up and down the rigging, this should be easy. And so it was until another squall of wind hit them causing the boat to unexpectedly buck, near throwing Jack off again!
At the last moment he snaked out list left hand and caught the rigging by the skin of his teeth! He clung on for dear life until the brief squall passed and the ship's motion smoothed out.
Unperturbed he jauntily resumed the climb back up. Wise enough not to say anything out loud, he thought 'Well tha blew away tha cobwebs! Probably best nae do it again mind.'
Treggor shakes his head at the amateur and inexperienced sailors.
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Dieredon claps Mad Jack on the back.
Thanks for trying to snatch me there, Mad Jack. I am definitely more adept at dicing.
Jack replies companionably, "Nae t'waint your agility friend, ye look a wee bit off colour. Must be sommat you ate." 'He managed to keep a straight face while saying this, knowing full well he's tweaking the nose of their captor.
Grizzle has never laughed so hard in all the time he can remember, which is admittedly not much.
"Its really too bad, elf," He says, "Yer sharp eyes woulda been useful op here."
Mister Plugg whistles loudly, and then calls up the mainmast, "Everyone, get down. I've seen all I need."
Once everyone has descended, he tells the pressganged in his precise way, "I must have angered Besmara. I asked for pirates, and got circus performers. But I suppose I must make do."
He then points to Grizzle. "You, there, dwarf, shall be working the rigging today. As for the rest of you--our cook, Fishguts, needs an assistant. Does anyone here have any experience in a kitchen?"
"Ah, anye made me cloim alltha woy down? Thas jus coldarted. Bu can oi have ma stoof bac at soom point?"
"Ha!" Treggor scoffs at menial kitchen duty. Then he gives a side-eye to the dwarf, wondering who taught him to speak common.
As everyone else tries to climb the rigging, Alfonso tries to surreptitiously pull a fiber from one of the ropes, and a splinter of wood from the mast.
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I am more one for notes, figures and maps. A bit of a scholar, you might say. Although, I have cooked before.
"Your belongings?" Mister Plugg asks with a condescending chuckle. "You have no such thing. What belonged to you now belongs to the Captain. We are pirates, after all."
***
"I am more one for notes, figures and maps. A bit of a scholar, you might say. Although, I have cooked before."
Mister Plugg nods. "So be it. You shall report to Fishguts in the Kitchen."
The First Mate turns a withering gaze upon the rest of the press-ganged.
"Now as for the rest of you. You are swabs, and you will report to delicate mercies of Master Scourge here. A word of advice--do as you are told, and you might live long enough to be pirates. Carry on, Scourge."
With that the bald-headed First Mate goes off to the Captain's Cabin
Master Scourge grins as he taps his whip against his leg.
He points to Grizzle, "You! Over there with the rest of the riggers. Hope ya ain't got soft hands. You're working the rope today."
He points to Dieredon. "And, you, head off to the Kitchen. I expect a fine meal at the end of the day. And I'll hold ya personally responsible if I feel anything off."
"As for the rest of ya, swabbies! Time's to earn your name. Mops and buckets, boys. And that's just for starters. You're swabbin' the decks. Now, everyone, hop to it."
Master Scourge cracks his whip.
When Dieredon reports for duty at the kitchen he finds a large, some would say fat, man, weighing well over 200 pounds and standing only 5 feet tall. He exudes an air of neglect, perhaps even despair, from the bushy tufts of black hair behind his ears, to his rotting teeth, to the stains on his filthy apron.
"What's this then? You my helper?"
After a mere few minutes of work, bored and tired, Alfonso pulls out the rope fiber and splinter of wood, using them to cast a spell. An invisible worker materializes and takes over the mop for him, while Alfonso takes a much-needed break, leaning against the rail and breathing in the fresh sea air.
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Dieredon holds his hands to his sides.
I guess that I am. Dieredon's the name. I assume you are who Master Scourge calls, "Fishguts"?
Fishguts nods and takes a heavy pull on a bottle of rum just as a black chicken jumps from a counter to the man's shoulder.
"Yeah, that be me. Ambrose Kroop at your service. But folks here only ever call me Fishguts. It's a bit late in the day, and I've already started the evening meal. Here, have a seat and have a drink with me. Not much else to do."
Gladly, Ambrose.
Dieredon sits and takes the offered drink from the fat man.
Well, this will certainly not rival the reds of the Kyonin, but we shall see...
To new friends, eh?
He takes a pull on the rum.
That morning hard labor was what Jack needed to burn away the aftereffects of the night before. And as the effects wore off, he became more and more angry at their situation. That he had lost the Seaspray was beyond doubt and he took this out by scraping the holystones with a vengeance.
Later in the day Jack's initial anger boils off under the sweltering sun. Back in the groove, he manages easily what is required of him. It occurs to Jack that relations with Scourge and the other petty officers will make or break his time aboard. Jack bides his time till things have settled well into a routine before attempting to strike up a conversation with Master Scourge, "A grand lash, wielded t'with a steady hand. Are ye o' tha faith?" If he is Jack asks, "Grand, grand. I also follow tha savored sting. Perhaps there be enough ta organize a service now an then as be proper?"
Grizzle begins coiling the ropes.
Shikyo watches the others and once enough time has passed that Scourge might think him simple, he begins working diligently at his task to scrub the deck.
Anata no okāsan wa, fumeiyona inudesu. Watashi wa anata no namae ni shōben shimasu. he mutters to himself.
Alfonso wanders off from the mopping, letting the Unseen Servant continue in his stead, and looks for the captain to discuss his assignment.
"Excuse me, Captain? I'm a new arrival here, and while I realize I'm in no position to bargain, I feel I must make it known that my talents are being rather... underutilized at the moment. To be frank, you have me mopping the decks, when what this ship really needs is a bit of organization, and most of all, class. That's where I come in. I'm experienced with getting the most out of people, and I think I have a lot to offer you in terms of making this ship a much more pleasant place to live and work."
Once he returns to work, Alfonso finds that the Unseen Servant has done a fine job, and saved him a great deal of trouble.
Alfonso shirks his duty to sneak around the ship and find the captain. He manages to find the man, in a rare moment when he's not in his deck.
The Captain listens to him, strokes his beard and then steps in close to the half-elf.
"You caught me in a good mood, so just this once, I'll pretend ya didn't break rule number one by talking to me. Get back to work. Now. And if you ever dares to tell me how to run my ship -- I'll keelhaul ya. Savvy?"
The Captain then walks past him and bumps into the bard's shoulder. It felt like he'd been hit by a tree trunk.
***
Dieredon has a drink with Ambrose, but he notices that the rum is very strong. Much stronger than it should be, really, for a casual drink. It packs a wallop, but the elf manages well enough.
Ambrose takes a liking to the elf. He even regales him about how he got his name Fishguts.
He was a competitive eater in the low bars of Port Peril. As a young man, it was said that Kroop could eat more of anything, and faster, than anyone. Folks still talk about the night that Kroop devoured an entire bucket of boiled eggs in the Salty Swab by the docks.
***
Grizzle does well on his duty. His hands are a little raw, but he's had worse.
***
"I don't bend over for the Whore Goddess, boy." He then spits at the floor at Mad Dog's feet. Some of the thick, grey spittle manages to get on his boots.
"Missed a spot," Scourge says as he walks away.
***
Shikyomaru works diligently.
***
Jack fumes inwardly, 'One day you shall view that as a mistake little scourge... I shall have to think of some suitable poetic end, hung by his own whip or some such.'
The galling thing was he just had to take it, the man was more than his match in his current state.
After his work is done, Grizzle looks around drunkenly, trying to find out all he can about the ship.
The work came back to Treggor like he'd been doing it yesterday. Years on a ship will do that for you. But after a good deal of effort and unwelcome input from Scourge, he decided to take a break and make some conversation with the bosun.
"It seems ta me ye run a tight ship, Master Scourge. Why, before I was first mate on me old ship, we had a mean dog like yerself, put not less'n a hundred lashes on me back. I still carry the scars o' that man. But ol' Treggor got 'is turn. Me ol' bosun, he be callin' the deep sea 'is home now. With 'is very own whip 'round his neck I saw 'im off. Ol' Treggor always get his turn, yes sir. Well matey, I'd best be back to work. Wouldn't want to be earnin' any more scars, would I be?"
"It seems ta me ye run a tight ship, Master Scourge. Why, before I was first mate on me old ship, we had a mean dog like yerself, put not less'n a hundred lashes on me back. I still carry the scars o' that man. But ol' Treggor got 'is turn. Me ol' bosun, he be callin' the deep sea 'is home now. With 'is very own whip 'round his neck I saw 'im off. Ol' Treggor always get his turn, yes sir. Well matey, I'd best be back to work. Wouldn't want to be earnin' any more scars, would I be?"
There's definitely fear in Master Scourge's eyes for a moment. But men react differently to fear. And in this case, Treggor is sure of one thing this day. He's made an enemy.
Still Scourge backs down, moving away from Treggor and the others. But suddenly he turns to him, and with a little shake in his voice, but also a hint of steel, he says, "Things can change fast on a ship, swabbie -- I'll grant ya that."
And then he walks off, stewing. And likely plotting.
After his work is done, Grizzle looks around drunkenly, trying to find out all he can about the ship.
While looking around, Grizzle notices a box of tools left carelessly left unattended. A spare hammer is just sitting there.
No one seems to be around...
He takes the hammer, stowing it somewhere unmentionable (or wherever else is handy).
As dusk approaches, the press-ganged are gathered along with the rest of the crew for something they hear referred to as “the bloody hour”. Some are excited, others have a sick look on their face. Scourge is there giving a foul eye to all the press-ganged, but especially Treggor. Before long, the Captain makes an appearance.
“I hear from Mister Plugg that our new crew has mostly done well. And that’s good to hear. But sadly, lads and lasses, we had one notable exception. Mister Plugg! Bring out the condemned!”
Mister Plugg exits the Captain’s cabin almost carrying a man who’s been beaten half to death. The press-ganged vaguely recognize him as one of the crew seen walking about the ship. He is given to other crew members who begin tying him up to a chain.
Mister Plugg then says in an official voice, “Jakes Magpie, you have been found guilty of stealing from the Ship’s Quartermaster – which is as good as stealing from the Captain himself. Do you deny these charges?”
Jakes lowers his head and looks defeated as he says, “No.”
”Then by the authority granted to me by the honorable Captain Barnabas Harrigan, I sentence you to be keelhauled.”
Jakes looks up utterly horrified. “No! Wait! You promised me mercy if I confessed!”
Mister Plugg smiles cruelly as he says, “This is mercy, Mister Magpie. Thieves are supposed to be keelhauled twice.” Plugg snaps his fingers and then watches as Master Scourge begins turning a metal crank, this crank yanks Jakes off the ship. There’s a heavy splash and a scream that is quickly drowned out with a gurgle.
Master Scourge takes great pleasure in turning the crank and gives each of the press-ganged a crooked, cruel smile. He stares at Treggor for particularly long before continuing his task.
After an agonizingly long time, Jakes is finally pulled out of the water. His flesh has been ripped to shreds and hangs off his body in bloody tatters. He is quite clearly dead.
At this point the Captain calls out, “And let that be a lesson to all of ya. Steal from this ship and you steal from me. But ya work hard, and do what you’re told, well ya get a shot at glory and a share of the booty. But try’n cheat me? And you’re shark food.”
The captain kicks what’s left of Jakes Magpie into the water in an impressive feat of strength.
“Rum rations and chow, Fishguts! This crew has an appetite.” The Captain and Mister Plugg retire to the captain’s cabin, as Fishguts begins handing out bowls of fish stew alongside Dieredon.
Alfonso eyes the rum warily. "What, uh... Anyone know what year this vintage is?"