Chapter 1

“What’s your name!?” My body sprang to life at the harsh, scratchy voice of Uncle Harvey. I sat up in my chair and rubbed my eyes, trying to blink away the cozy dream world I had been torn from.    

            “Robert,” the lad mumbled.

            Harvey’s face tightened and his eyes became slits. “Any lad wanting to ride MY ship better not have a mouse stuck in his throat. What is your name!”

            Robert looked as though he’d never been asked the question before. His hands came together as he picked at a hang nail. I never understood why my uncle did this to every single one. He always tried to pry out what was underneath their outer shell and make it recoil helplessly.

            The lad was about sixteen, the minimum age for a crewman. His calloused hands, broad shoulders, and coarse beard made him look older, but I knew my uncle wasn’t impressed.

            As if reading my mind, he grabbed hold of the lad’s collar and jerked him closer. The rotted slab of oak Harvey called a table wobbled as the lad struggled against his grip. “You might eat well and carry your weight here, but there it’s different. The sea gives no mercy. Every man feels the cold and every man bleeds the same. On cold, lonely nights there’ll be no blankets to warm nor women to love. There’ll only be the sea and what it grants.”

            The lad looked horrified. Each word my uncle spat out through his sick, decaying teeth made him cringe. No doubt the smell of death was invigorating at 10 in the morning. Harvey drew back. A smile crept over his lips as he watched the lad’s eyes dart over the floor as though the answers were laid out in front of him.

            “Let’s try again,” Harvey began, “tell me your name.” The lad was still looking at the floor, but told him again, this time louder.

“And why do you want to go sailor?”

            Robert’s eyes lit up. “To be a man and not a boy, to see the horizon and beyond!” the lad chimed. The eagerness made it sound like he had been waiting for someone to ask. My uncle shot me a grin, gold teeth shining in the back of his mouth. You could see victory on his face and the devil gleaming in his cold, blue eyes.

            “Alright then, sign the roster and get to the ship.” There was silence. All I could hear was the scratching of the quill as Robert signed his name. After he had finished and left the room, Harvey walked over and squatted in front of me. He pulled my chair closer and looked me right in the eye.

            “I know you don’t like what I have to do here, but we need a crew,” he said.

I nodded. “But, why, why do you have to do that to each one?” I asked.

Harvey sighed and pulled at his sticky shirt. “Rob, that boy’s never seen a man drown or felt the waves in his life. The only way to get them ready is to break their backs, tare their flesh from their bones, and strip them of all their worth. You have to start with a fresh man if you want him to be the meanest b*****d he can be.” He paused and looked down at the floor.

It didn’t make much sense to me, but I’ve only sailed in the bay a couple of times with my dad. Sure, I know how to rig the sail, read the cattails, and dock, but I’ve never had my back tested against the waves. After Mum died, Dad stopped taking me out. A lot of things stopped actually, and a lot of things began. Dad started drinking and spending days at a time away from home. Sometimes I’d find him asleep in an ally or cussing at people walking by. Once, I found him in his room with a woman. I don’t know why, but I kept yelling and crying about him betraying mom, until he slapped me across the face. It didn’t hurt. The shock left the real mark. I didn’t know what to do any more, but Uncle Harvey changed everything. He gave Dad a job on his trading boat and life’s been steady ever since.

“Come help your pa with the boat will ya?” I nodded, but he was already out the door. I grabbed the roster and trotted outside after him.

The markets are always busy on Fridays. My dad says that having to push by everyone slows the whole day, but I love it. All the faces are different and their expressions tell their day. The smells of meat, vegetables, and fruit swirl around you until you just want to spin around with your nose in the air and take it all in. Butchers lay out their fattest chickens and children gather to drool and dream of its savory taste. I like the breads the most. There are all the different kinds laid out to choose from. Mom used to take me down on Sundays so I could pick one from the row. I’d always choose the shiniest one because you could tell its sweetness from how it gleamed in the sun. That doesn’t happen any more though. Dad says that bread is bread and that life should be spent on more important things. The way I see it there’s as much life in picking out bread as there is in sailing, but I never told him so.

By the time I was done looking around, Harvey was already halfway to the docks, growling and cussing at the people in his way. I ran to keep up with him. For 13, I’m pretty small, making it easy to weave around people and slide through crowds. In no time, I was at his side and tugged on his shirt to let him know. He grunted and murmured something about people being no smarter than the chickens they sell. I laughed and made sure to keep by his side.

When we reached the docks, I immediately noticed Suzy sitting on a post, swinging her legs. Her hair was neatly arranged in a half pony tail hanging down to her shoulders. I could tell she had just been at church from her white dress painted with blue flowers. White lacing outlined the neckline of the dress, reflecting the sunlight up into her face. She looked like some kind of queen as she watched the crew load supplies. Suzy might come from a high family, but she isn’t classy. She’s the kind of girl you can get in the mud with, but that you’d also comb your hair to look nice for.

Uncle Harvey greeted Suzie as he passed, but I remained behind a stack of crates. She looked around nonchalantly, pretending to stretch her neck instead of searching for me. Something smelled really bad in the crates. It was like apples and hog fat combined into some mutant funk. I figured that I’d better make my move. I ran up to her and tugged at her shinny, leather shoe until it fell into my hands.

“Hey! Thief!” she cried. I stuck out my tongue and bolted to the boat. My heart was pounding in my head. The sounds of the sea washed away all of my thoughts. I flashed a look backwards to see if she was following me. She was gaining fast. I pumped my legs harder, making a thumping sound each time I came down on the deck. I looked back again and suddenly, the side of my face erupted in pain. Searing rays shot out from my ear and a ringing hum burst through my head. My body rippled against a hard surface, sending crushing waves of pain out from my chest and face. It felt like a wall had completely stopped my motion. All my bones crumpled against its might. I moaned and stumbled backwards, blinded by tears, and fell onto the hard wood planks of the deck.

My father loomed over me, blotting out the sun with his immense form. His hollow black eyes stared down at me, devoid of emotion. His slick black hair was pushed back and tied neatly in a pony tail. There wasn’t a speck of beard stubble or dirt on his face. If there was anything my father cared about, it was cleanliness. Cleanliness and honor, he said, that’s what makes a man. It would be hard to believe if you saw him on one of his bad days in the gutter, but on a good day he stood tall, shoulders out, head tilted in a humble pose, and face stone cold.

“Scott, give her the shoe,” he said in a staid, military voice. I scrambled to my feet. By now, Suzie was panting and her cheeks were flushed from running. I handed her the shoe.  

“Thank you very much Mr. Harvey,” she said, “and little Mr. Harvey.” I smiled uneasily. Suzy bent down to put on her shoe, and then my dad saw it, a little tear in her stockings. My insides froze, bracing for what was coming next.

 “Scott, why can’t you think!? Suzie was just at church and now we have to buy her new stockings!” I searched for words, but there were none. I stood there, staring at the rip.

“Have you ever put that brain to use! Have you ever learned from your mistakes!”   

There was nothing to do but look at the ground. If there was one thing I did learn, it was never to talk when he did. Even if he was screaming in your face, you mustn’t say anything.

I didn’t dare look at Suzie for fear of breaking into tears. I could see her feet though, and her toes wiggled anxiously. My dad ordered me to walk Suzie home and then to work on the boat. He stared at me, and then stalked away looking the same way he did when he entered—back straight, pony tail perfectly resting on his spine, and head down humbly. I turned to Suzie, but she had already spun around and left the dock.

 

Threatening storm clouds stretched out on the horizon. The air was cold and moist. I looked to the ship. Waves made it rock against the dock. Each time it came down, the hull rubbed against the wood, making a horrible creak. The sun cast a dying light on the ship, until it was totally consumed by a cloud.

I sighed at the turn of the day, and walked up the rungs of the wooden plank leading to the ship.

The deck was a faded, dull brown. There were red tinges in the wood, probably from blood. I thought I remembered Harvey telling me that a lot of his blood was in the boat, so it must be that. I moved to the hatch leading to the cockpit, making sure not to bump into anyone at work. Crewmen were moving bags of sand from the dock to the cockpit. I didn’t understand; if you’re going on the water to get away from land, why take it with you?

A wave suddenly pushed the boat to one side. I braced myself against a sail rope. I quickly descended the stairs, jumping two from the bottom, and searched each room until I found the right one. The sign on the top of the door read “Cleaning.” I grabbed a mop and bucket from inside and ran back up the stairs.

There wasn’t much work to do, cleaning up a few messes here, polishing the wood there. Mostly, I just tried to look like I was working so I wasn’t bothered.

It wasn’t long until I felt rain trickling down my neck. I looked up into the face of a dark, grey mountain hovering over the land and sea. Its belly rumbled, hungry for fear.

The men were moving faster, practically throwing the bags of sand and other supplies onto the ship. Rain water streamed down the mast and dripped from the sails. Water clung to the ropes like small flowers on a tree, so beautiful that touching them would only ruin the scene.

Wind began to fill the sails. A group of men rushed to pull them down. I scanned the boat for my father. He wasn’t in sight. Everyone was preoccupied, giving me the opportunity to slip into the cockpit and put away the cleaning materials. I crept back up the stairs, making sure not to make a sound. I don’t think it would have mattered, the storm could roar better than any sailor on the ship.

On the dock, a young sailor dressed in baggy, tattered clothes dropped a bag of sand, spilling it everywhere. This was my chance. I leapt from my hiding place and squeezed through a group of men getting off the ship. People were crowded around the bag, scolding the boy and raking the sand into piles. There was a flash of glass in the pile of sand, but I didn’t turn back to look. No one took notice of a small boy walking on his merry way. Coolly, I sauntered off the dock into the road and when I was sure no one was looking, I dashed into the safety of an alley.     

Reviews

[Melissa]

I like the story so far. I like the sailing aspect.