On the deck of the good ship Stevedore’ Delight, the crew buzzed with excitement. After months at sea, their captain would finally reveal himself! The elusive and illustrious Captain, master of the eighth sea, keeper of bounteous secrets, pillager of pillars! This was the day, exactly halfway through the voyage, when the good Captain would strut out from his quarters, the oaken doors sweeping gently over the floorboards with a gentle hum, the glow of red lanterns-the Captain’s own peculiar lighting necessity, rumored to remind him of his lost Love from long, long ago-filling the below decks with an ominous crimson hue, skittering about as the lights swayed with the sea’s ebb, casting shadows askew in direct contrast with the Captain’s steady footsteps, pounding hard and firm, reverberating the wood, almost mechanical in nature.
The crew was ordered to remain above decks while the solo procession began, instructions barked to the score of men by Samity, the portly First Mate of the ship, rumored to be the Captain himself since his was the face that dominated the command chain throughout most voyages. Samity sat by the stairs leading belowdecks in a steel rocking chair, his own heavy breathing and gentle swaying in step entirely with the tidal motions caressing the ship across the Sea of Madness. To the naked eye, it was almost as if the chair did not rock at all, only remaining in place as the world around it shifted, the sole clue to break this mystery being Samity’s belabored exhalations. Samity had this impression on people: as he doggedly stayed on top of the world, the processes and people around him could not deter him, bending to his will in an ubiquitous game of chicken.
Samity brought a whistle to lips, blowing mightily and releasing a shrill into the salted air. The buzzing on deck ceased briefly as all the men stared at him in curious excitement. “Captain on Deck!” yelled Samity, “line up!” A flurry of rustling legs and carefully dropped equipment preceded the lines of men in rapt salute, two columns facing each other across the deck, their eyes focused straight ahead, an occasional rapscallion glancing quickly towards the stairs.
Samity turned his body, the rhythm of his rocking disrupted as he peered down the short staircase. “Ready to meet your men, Cap’n?” he whispered. The Captain nodded his head. Samity turned to his crew. “Men, greet your Cap’n.”
A roar erupted on deck, cheers and clapping from the men, the sea below mimicking their motions as its waves increased their roll. The Captain slowly climbed the stairs, his tri corner hat, elaborately sequined in glittery silvers and reds, peeked above the railing. The cheering subsided slightly as the Captain continued his climb, the hat leading to a floral pattern bandana warpped around robotic fur and a long dog’s snout. The cheering stopped as the Captain’s deep red eyes, platinum teeth, and green coat became visible, his metallic paws emerging from overly ruffled sleeves. The crew and the sea became silent and still as the Captain took his first step on deck, the pleather pants and platform shoes planted firmly on the wood.
Near the back of the column, the furthest crew member spoke out of the corner of his mouth, “The Captain looks pretty gay, even for a pirate.”
Captain Abito turned to the noise, his robotic ears picking up the slight frequency, and snarled. He strutted over to the group, his gait steady and hard, slightly feminine despite its mechanical nature. With a flourish he withdrew his pistols from their holsters at his belt, both guns painted with glitter and light pastel colors. He shot them both in the air and roared to his men, “Time to party.”
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment