Washed Up (59 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by TheRedUnderYourBed (View user info) at 2006-10-06 03:27:52 EDT
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Richard felt a dry, stinging thirst at the back of his throat, almost nauseating. Somehow, when he'd signed up for this, he'd managed to forget his debts long enough to get himself thoroughly sloshed on gin the night before leaving port. A few yards away, a bit of scraggly seaweed wrapped around some driftwood washed gently up against the shingle, as the wooziness hit him again. He reminded himself it would be less frowned upon to heave when they'd hit the open sea, and held it down for later.
"Orright, lads! Look lively! We have all this lovely cargo to shift so move those boots! Quick smart!" The first mate Robertson then addressed him briefly, in the same crude manner and hoarse voice. "Yes, you my dear dandy, Jones, was it not? One foot in front of the other, they call it walking! Now get to work!"
It was not quite yet dawn. There was a hint of breeze, expected to pick up to a good solid wind soon enough, if he was any judge of the weather. He set into a steady charge towards the storehouse, careful never to break into a trot. You run once, they expect it every time, and even the royal marines couldn't keep that up. Shortly, Richard found himself hauling a crate of limes up the gangplank and below decks. Most of the moments in between that and casting off were a blur, but that's what comes of mother's ruin and a half night's sleep.
Three days later, three days of heaving and hurling and falling over on deck, he managed to swallow a mouthful of ships biscuit without losing it again. Dunsley, a seasoned deckhand, laughed, but restrained himself from patting 'Richie' on the back. "It looks like there's a storm brewing toward the west. Y' ain't got your sea legs by now, feller, you'll be holed up for a while."
Twelve weeks of sailing and bad weather saw them in Kingston. He'd spent most of the voyage below decks, in a rank smell with even ranker company. Aside from the surrounds, it was much of a muchness for Richard, as he would have thrown everything up regardless. So much for the sobriety of Mister Jones.
At the docks, Richard noted that the little unloading to be done, was done by the local help; each one of them, to a man, half a shade short of coal. Robertson was especially mean to them, even gave one a clip around the ears. It was usual enough though, considering what Britain thought of the rest of the world. The officer class especially had no respect for folk any more exotic than Spaniards or French.
Richard spent most of the next week with Dunsley &co., hanging around taverns, coffee shops, and whorehouses, generally pissing up their pay. There had been a town fire a few years back, but the old hands seemed to know the place, all the same. Each day the ship sank lower into the water, weighted down with sugar sacks.
When it was time to set sail though, he bought out the rest of the contract. As far as he was concerned, aside from London - and he was most certainly not going back there - there weren't many more interesting places around than Jamaica. In London, he'd be robbed as soon as leaving the docks, for one, and with debts to pay, it was not worth the risk.
* * *
A few years later, one of the many ships to come to the port of Kingston contained a man by the name of Piers White. Now, being a slight and wiry sort of fellow, he had mostly made his living as a pick-pocket and small trader. The sort you wouldn't think out of place in a Nazareth in the west end of London, or a sly-grog shop in any given colony. 'Squeaky Pete', as those in the know called him, had been to a lot of foreign parts, and stolen most of the trinkets. A few years back he'd managed to get home to Mother England just in time to find a grudge to bear against Richard. Nothing based on any events or occurrences, mind, just a solemn dislike for the man. Richard had returned the sentiment ever since the man tried to break his nose.
A sturdy Irishman, strong and true, threw a scruffy bar-fly out an open door into the full daylight of the street. He yelled out into the dusty path, more for any unsavoury passers-by than the drunkard, who was already departing. "I told you to call it quits, ye bastard! We'll not have sods like you picking bloody fights, you mind! Don't come back here for your pleasure!" Queen's English had no place in an establishment like this.
Richard sauntered in past the brawn, looked once around the place, and promptly reached over the bar to pour himself a stiff drink; he knew the publican, who never minded him serving himself if the staff were busy. The place was mostly empty, aside from a few locals. There were few ships in harbour this week.
He recognised Piers, half drunk in a corner, and hoped he hadn't been spotted. A couple of Richard's friends were sitting around a barrel in the centre of the room, on half-barrel stools. Madge, the barmaid, vacated a seat to share another with the retired sea-captain Percy, and on the other stool a merchant, Pevensey. Richard managed to get from bar to stool without breaking stride.
Being the man that he was, Piers wouldn't hesitate to sell out our good man Richard Jones. Piers had his contacts with the debt-collectors; a few of them were on good terms with him. It served his interests entirely, as he'd get a cut of any money that was actually turned out of a man's pockets. That was decent business, and all above board, too.
Strangely enough though, Piers didn't see him. A change of air had done Richard all the better; he was now thicker in the arm, and decently dressed, having avoided financial trouble with a job as a storeman on Harbour street. He'd even saved some money, considering what might happen if someday his debts caught up with him. Richard was taking advantage of the man's lapse in concentration, for the moment.
A half hour later, the man still drunk in the corner, Richard marched stridently towards the rear door, where folk went for a piss out the back. Instead of exiting, however, he lunged on Piers and pinned him to the wall above his barrel stool. "Squeaky Pete, you bloody mongrel. What foul current washed your scurvy hide up here?"
Madge swooned, and Percy held her; Pevensey snickered. The brawn was nowhere to be seen. It was like catching a cockroach on the end of a knife.
Piers swallowed, hard. It didn't take long after that before he realised who was assailing him. It didn't take much longer to realise the brawn wasn't going to do anything about it, as he was flirting with a dark-skinned servant-girl, out in the street. "Have you anything to say for yourself, Mister White? I see you've come looking for your usual trouble. I've a right mind to turn you in for thievery. Now both hands up, you! Before I beat the living daylights out of ye!"
His left hand had been on his pint mug, the other in his pocket. Richard hadn't payed any attention to this before, but as Piers raised his arms, shaking with fear Richard noticed that the right hand was missing. He stammered and panted between words. "I'm - washed up, Richie, like you - said, sir. Baghdad, last year, on - the road - home from India. I got caught - robbing - a watch - dealer and I've - no way to - make a - proper - living. Me cousin owns a - plantation here though, and - offered me - room and board - for what little I can - do. As you see sir, I've no - courage or - strength left for - old quarrels, and I'd rather - leave sleeping dogs lie, if you'll - allow it, sir."
Richard dropped the man back on his stool, wandered over to his drink, and snapped at Piers before he could say anything more. "Don't be coming back here again, Mister White, you'll not be welcome. Now finish up, and be off with you by this evening. If I see your face in Kingston again, you rascal, I'll turn you over to Her Majesty's finest. Understood? No, don't answer, just piss off."
Piers swallowed his beer quickly and disappeared out the back door, staggering. It didn't look like he'd be around again; just another piece of human driftwood on a beach now.
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Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-06-05 12:35:50 EDT (#)
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