The space was almost as dimly lit as the passageway but as their eyes became accustomed to the dark they could see tiers of bunks, canvas stretched between wooden frames with what appeared to be rag-filled mattresses. Some were two tiers high and others in the rear on the room where there was more headroom, three. A few were occupied; makeshift curtains pulled to shade the sleeping occupant. Snores emanated from a few of the enclosed bunks and from one a low sobbing and the rhythmic thumping that was the unquestionable sounds of sex. Somebody was already taking his turn with one of the new girls it seemed. Cringing away from that bunk, Sosho closed in behind Dent and held him even tighter while turning her head and biting her lip. At least Festou also had the decency to look away and become quiet for a record moment or two.
"Most of these here bunks is already taken, your warriorship. It ain't the best crew quarters, it being so far up forward and all, and all the good ones near the rear here got somebody spoken for. But if you likes, sir, there's a couple way up front here, kind of out of the way, they is. Not much room and they be noisy and rough if'n we hit some real seas but you and the ladies may like it, sir."
"Festou."
"Yes sir?" he squeaked.
"It's Dent. My name is Dent. This is Nesho and this is Sosho."
"Yes, Dent sir, of course, Dent sir," he continued chattering. "Now as I was saying they used to keep me up here, being the ship's boy and smallest and all, but the Bo'sun wanted me back near him. Wants to make sure I ain't corkin' off, he says. Anyways, it's got the two bunks and a little locker. If ya needs more, maybe we can find some."
At the extreme forward end of the quarters there was a large obstruction, "Anchor locker, Dent sir," with a small passageway around one side. Turning that corner they could see they were indeed as far forward as they could possibly go. The two walls -- 'bulkheads' he reminded himself -- curved around together into the unmistakable shape of a ship's bow, or at least what it would look like from the inside. There was very little room, just enough for the four of them to stand. Festou climbed up on the locker and plopped down out of the way. Directly across from the locker were two bunks. The lower bunk appeared to be a little more than half again the size of the top and the top looked like it could be folded back against the wall allowing someone or a few someones the chance to sit upright on the lower.
Looking around, Dent pursed his lips and exhaled slowly. "Ah yes. Well we will be very cozy here for sure, but I think this will do nicely."
"Well, Dent sir, if'n you want your whores kin sleep down in quarters with the rest of them. Not very nice down there, though, and I can't say but there may be some trouble with the crew if they be down there if ya take my meaning sir."
"I think this will be fine, Festou. And Festou..."
"Yes Mr. Dent sir?"
"Nesho and Sosho are not whores. They belong to me and I don't appreciate them being call whores."
Twisting atop the locker until he was almost directly face to face with Nesho Festou looked her right in the eye and said, "You ain't no whore?"
Staring right back at him and keeping her face expressionless -- well almost; there was a hint of a smile that probably wouldn't take much to come to the surface -- she answered, "No, Festou, we aren't whores. We belong to master Dent alone."
"He don't get money when you fuck someone?" his face plainly incredulous.
"No we don't get money, Festou, but then we don't fuck anyone but Master Dent."
"No one else? Just him?"
"Just him," she agreed.
"Well I be damned! Never heard of such a thing. Maybe some of the slaves, ya know before they was took. But never after. Once the crew get done with them they fuck anyone, any time. Damn! That ain't gonna make you many friends on this ship here, Mr. Dent sir. Now I'm too young to fuck; can't see any fun in it anyhow. Now some of the crew, well they like to do 'things' with some of the younger boys but I never let 'em do dat with me. The Captain, he don't take lightly to anyone forcing himself on anyone in crew who don't want it, see, so they pretty much leaves me alone now."
"Well that's good to hear," reaching over Nesho fingered the torn and tattered shirt the little ship's boy was wearing. "We can fix this for you, if you like. Won't be good as new, of course, but certainly better than what you have now."
"Can ya?" he said looking down at his raggedy shirt. "I try best I can but they don't give me nothing but what others throw out." Glancing up suspiciously, "What ya want for it?"
"Nothing Festou. You've been very helpful to us so far and this is something we can do in return. Besides, if others see what we can do maybe they will want us to do it for them and then they will pay."
"Well I's can see where that may help ya," he said somewhat mollified. Then leaning over closer to her ear he whispered, "But is it straight with yer master? Will Mr. Dent Sir allow ya?"
Looking over at Dent, Nesho raised her eyebrow in a questioning manner. Trying hard to stifle a laugh he waved his hand like that of a parent indulging a favored child.
"You see," she said turning back to Festou, "that isn't a problem. Master Dent allows us considerable freedom so long as we keep within the bounds of propriety. Do you have a spare shirt?" When he shook his head no she reached into one of their packs and took out a wrinkled ball of cloth. Shaking it out, the ball suddenly became a shirt. "Wear this until we can mend yours. It's somewhat big, I admit, but it will do for a day or so."
Wiping his hands vigorously on his pants Festou reached for the shirt, his hand trembling like he was afraid it was about to bite him.
"Gods Mistress! I ain't never had nothing this fine afore! Take good care with it I will, you'll see, right good care!" Quickly he stripped off his tattered shirt and slipped on the wrinkled spare. Tucking it into his trousers it still looked like he could swim in it. The shirt was one of Dent's old ones, much too small for him and used mainly by Sosho when she had dirty work to do and didn't want to soil her own clothes.
"Mo... Master Dent, when do we eat?" Sosho spoke in almost a whine, "we haven't had anything since this morning and I am sooo hungry."
Frowning, Dent look over to the ship's boy. "I don't know. We probably missed the midday meal and we still need to find out where we need to go and when. You'll just have to hold on until we find out. Now isn't the time to be drawing attention to ourselves. Well, Festou, when are the meals and where do we need to go?"
Festou explained that morning meal was served between second watch, six bells and third watch second bell; midday from third watch six bells to fourth watch, second bell; and supper from fifth watch, sixth bell to sixth watch, second bell.
When asked to explain he expounded on the manner time was kept on board ship. Since only a very few on the ship had timepieces, they being extremely expensive. The sea air wreaked havoc with their delicate mechanisms, so time was told by the watch section and increment of the watch. The day was broken into six watches of four hours each starting at midnight. Each watch was then broken down again into eight bells sounding on the hour and half hour. Hence second watch, sixth bell, would be seven o'clock as they were used to it.
Normally it was shortened to just the two numbers, so if someone asked when asked when lunch was being served the answer would be 'third six' or eleventh hour. The bell was rung throughout the day from the pilot deck and could generally be heard everywhere on the ship. Dent remembered hearing the bells on the Pinya but had never heard the explanation of what they meant.
"Crew eats in the galley mess deck; that would be Mr. Dent Sir." As exasperating as it was this seemed to have become Dent's full name according to Festou. "Now slaves is usually feed only a eve meal and then in their quarters. Ain't never seen any eating on the mess deck afore. Don't normally want to have anything to do with crew, if ya know what I mean. Now officers, they eats in the wardroom; that be back in their quarters in the stern. Now if the mistresses don't want to eat in quarters I can probably bring 'um something here. I can usually sweet talk the cook if he be in a good mood."
Looking a bit thoughtful he continued, "Maybe if you be willing to do a bit of mending or other little things for him, it might help 'is mood a bit too."
Tousling his hair, Nesho grinned and said, "You are indeed a wonder, Festou, I'm sure we can work out something with this gentleman. Eating here would probably be much preferable to eating in 'quarters.' Find out what you can and let's see if we can come to an agreement." Faintly they heard a bell ring, four sets of two rings each.
"Eight bells," sighed Festou. "Gots to get up and see to the watch change. We'll be underway soon and I be required to make sure the watch has everything 'e needs. I'll see about grabbing ya something on my way back." With that he jumped off the locker and darted out of their tiny alcove.
When their little guide had finally left, Dent suddenly felt the strength drain out of every muscle and he slumped to the floor his back against the locker and his legs stretched out as far as they were able. Nesho folded the upper bunk against the wall and seeing a lanyard obviously placed there for that purpose, secured it. Doing this turned the lower bunk into a bench which she promptly sat on. Hesitating only for a few seconds, Sosho sat beside her.
"What are we to do, Mother?" she said softly her fingers playing with the pleats in her skirt.
"First, we must remember that there is no 'mother, ' or 'daughter, ' 'nephew, ' or 'cousin.' There is Master Dent, Nesho and Sosho. What we are to do is survive. Whatever it takes, we survive." To Dent she looked tired, very tired, but her eyes still held a look of steel determination as she surveyed their new living space and then her nephew.
"Secondly we need to get 'Master Dent' cleaned up. You do look very fierce covered with blood, my lad, but for what you need to do you need to look the part of a warrior and not some blood-soaked savage. Clean, cool and professional."
Guffawing -- he was too tired to laugh -- he grunted back, "Well if I can get cleaned up then I'll at least be one of three and if we get paid then maybe even make it two of three. Although blood soaked savage seems to work around here. Gods! I am so tired."
"Are you all right Dent?" she asked softly. "You killed men today. I've heard that changes people. Are you changed?"
Shaking his head, he leaned back and closed his eyes. "I don't feel any different. It still doesn't seem real. I saw them come at me and suddenly I was back at the academy on the training grounds. It was like I wasn't even involved." Opening his eyes he looked at her. "Everything has changed: I've changed, you've changed and even Sosho's changed. I feel like I'm falling and only if I keep running will I be able to stay upright. I'm sorry I couldn't stop this. I wanted to protect you and look where that got us."
"Silly man!" she said kicking his stretched out leg lightly. "Without you we would be dead, or worse by now. Never forget that. What you have done so far has been nothing less than a miracle, a true miracle. Now if you can, why don't you get out of that armor and go see if you can clean yourself up a bit? We'll see what we can do to clean this."
Struggling to his feet, he started to untie the cords holding the plate in place. Standing up and brushing his hands aside Nesho deftly untied them and helped lift the heavy body armor from his torso. Letting it fall to the deck he kissed her on the forehead and left looking for somewhere to get cleaned up.
.................TBC
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