Thursday, November 10, 2011

Towards the breeze

Life is driven by greed, and that desire causes people to act unlike themselves, trading their morals for varying acts of misdemeanor warranting varying degrees of consequence.

Of the many thefts, there will come a heist; of the many beatings, there will come a death; of the many lives affect, all will attempt to run.

And here I am, victim of my own greed, escapee from the consequences of my actions, stricken with the burden of my reward from an act of crime too far past to turn back.

"Tis a good day, Mr Cook!"

He is Francis Rivers, crew of the Merry Maker - a vessel I have taken my troubles to. The short excuse of a gentleman has become somewhat of a friend to me over the few days that I have been stuck at sea.

"That, you've been saying for the last two days, Mr Rivers... "

"... and it hasn't gotten any better! Haha!" Rivers cries, completing my sentence, sans my usual sarcasm.

"Haha!" reverberated the crew, listening intently to his foolery.

There should be around thirty of them, a motley crew cast together with the help of a dodgy tavern and the promise of booze and women - of which the former they have no lack of, judging from their lack or sense in gravity or oral hygiene.

And I have become a joke of sorts to them, me with my scent of the civilization that they chose to leave behind. I have become used to this, and the bantering ceases to a sometimes tolerable degree. But they soon pick up another part of myself to ridicule, and the fun goes on again.

That is, until they hear the voice of their captain.

"I fail to see the humor of this situation, gentlemen."

Silence, sniffles and gruff laughter turn coughs as they choke on their fear of the captain. Dressed as distinguished as a life at sea would allow him, Redford Severs helms the Merry Maker.

The name of the ship was his idea, though not one in the crew can convince me of the reason why. There is no hint of merry in the face of Severs, and his treatment of his crew do not tell me otherwise. I've seen fingers chopped off and skin scorched for as much as a look of discontent.

This man commanded discipline, and he will get it.

"Mr Cook, I will see you in my cabin," he said before the heavy oak doors close behind the giant of man.

This is the man who has taken me aboard his ship, and has in his best effort be civil. I follow him, glad to be rid of the company of idiots he calls a crew.

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