Storyline/Of Sea And Superiority

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Of Sea And Superiority

Chapter One

"...in the belly of the whale..."

The well known quoted phrase made the Master smirk. Against the galley walls danced silhouettes of shady forms from the dim light of the oil lamp.

"Ironic, that," Giovanni jested in the quiet of his mind. He considered himself a well-read and religious man with a copy of the huge black leather bound good book up in his cabin. The last prophet he had been reading was of Jonah. Now as he sat deep within his ship he wondered at the timing of his choice of readings.

"Damn!" the single word echoed as he cried out when forgetting that stretching his long legs up onto the rough oak table was not a particularly pleasant way to relax since the foundering of his ship.

He gently eased his left leg down to the wooden floor, cradled in the palms of his hands and was glad for the first time that none of his crew could see the handling. He knew they would never have allowed him any peace over such self indulgent coddling. Couldn't blame them either since seeing as how the Commander was known to have relentlessly ridden a few of the greener sailors over just as nasty a wound.

It could not be broken. He could still put weight on the limb and it didn't give out when walked upon. After rolling up the rough linen pant leg until the blood-crusty skin shown, Giovanni bent over double to inspect how the healing went.

"Hmmmm," he murmurred, not liking the coloring he was seeing around the edges. But then, he was no physician. The only healer aboard was, of course, missing. That medical man was too soft to come out the good end of that harrying weather, Giovanni considered, narrowing his eyes as he raised up. The chair groaned as he settled back against the rungs.

Opened wooden boxes of varying sizes sat jumbled here and there where Giovanni had dropped them. They should be as far from top as possible from curious eyes. Up and down the stairs after many laborious hours had tired the strong man out. Hope was that his injured leg had not been kept from healing by all the exertion. No matter, it must be done. The open vanilla colored pages of the large log book shown the current inventory after he had jotted the counts down, such as was the paltry amount left. But enough of a cache remained to continue barter with the locals to get his ship seaworthy. He was being optimistic perhaps but he had found good luck to be the lady with him most often.

Speaking of afore-said lady, how well the inhabitants that met with the Commander had treated him was shown in the clothing and the returns of so many items of the crates swept overboard by the fingers of the enraged sea. Not even being bidden to give more so they had anyway. Giovanni's lips turned upward into a smile as he examined the weave of the clothing set given to him by a very generous citizen of Egypt. Not too bad workmanship, his practiced eye in trade told him. A bit on the rough side but so was he. Sailing waters as these was not for the cityman. Taut muscles proved so on not only himself but all his men.

"Ahhh, now, will the warm treatment continue, I wonder?" Giovanni asked aloud. His beard was getting overly longer than the shorter whiskers he liked to keep, his fingers felt as he stroked the coarse black hair of his chin.

For most of a fortnight he had rested in his bunk after the long riding of his steed to meet and haul his retrieved belongings. Being on horseback mostly hid the limp in his gait. It would heal. These things always did. Normally he would have continued the rapport he had built with the people here but he was exhausted and feverish. Rest. He still needed much more of it.

Reining his musings back to the most urgent brought the painful sorrow of the loss of crew out from the dark depths where he had pushed them to the front portion of his emotions. Tears were quickly wiped on the light brown sleeve. He would have risen to pace as he thought but he needn't start swearing again, too. So he stayed sat and leaned forward carefully until his elbows touched the table. His fists curled under his chin and his eyes closed.

His men, friends some were, very close friends... Not to go there all gloomy again, Giovanni wrestled his sorrow into submission so he could think with the most logic. If there were survivors, and he expected there to be, they could have washed on land and wandered anywhere. If the locals had found crates so would his men and he had seen some of the crew heave cargo into the small boats where they themselves had crawled. Hope was that maybe the waters would not crush so small a vessel. Camp equipment they carried in abundance.

The Commander's green eyes opened and his fists pounded the table with force. He would put it to these Egyptians. Look for his men! He was not so naive that he did not expect that precious metals had not been spirited away with the hands that were gone. So they would find reward to compensate their search, let us hope.