[maikafanawen]

The sick room was empty. It was the fourth morning after the battle and all of the patients who were going to recover had done so. The count aboard the fragile North Wind was now a slim sixty-two hands plus a captain where there had once been seventy-four. The fact that the North Wind was meant to have eighty men and now had but sixty-two was something Avershire found to be one of the heaviest problems weighing on his mind. Where being short eighteen men to reach the minimum didn't sound too awful, there is always more work than can usually be handled comfortably on the ocean to be able to afford any men.

'Avershire was a fool to set off with less than minimum in the first place,' Sedal thought solemnly. He rinsed his hands off in a barrel of sea water and wiped them on a rag which he tossed on the table. Orda was wiping down his instruments and placing them in the box where they would sit, wrapped in cloths until the next battle, which, Sedal prayed would come much later.

There came a knock to the surgeon's quarters and then the door opened and Avershire's tall frame ducked under the head board and entered the room where he stood with a hunch so as not to hit his head on the ceiling.

"Captain," Sedal acknowledge, saluting. (Orda did likewise.) "You have assigned my patients to their watches I assume. I trust also that their duties are not too demanding of them. If there's any hope of recovery and successful sailing of this vessel, you're going to need every hand able before you have them active."

Avershire nodded. "I understand. Talon has taken over his watch and I have the others doing more particular repairs such as punch holes for the grommets in sails and chiseling new pieces for the catapults. No climbing or back breaking at all." Sedal returned his attention to the box, as he waited for Avershire to get to the reason for coming down to see him. "But as you said, if there's going to be any hope of successful sailing, I'm going to need every hand able and active."

Sedal smiled faintly into the shadows cast over his face by the single lantern. "You're going to take my Orda from me then to mop your floors and clean with his nimble fingers the weapons and trinkets too delicate for a man's hands?" he nodded. "I will consent for his removal from my side, then, until I need him for what I've commissioned him for. But remember, he is irreplaceable to me, and a boy, Avershire, so be temperate with him!"

The captain gave the boy a reassuring smile before replying to the surgeon. "As temperate as a captain is allowed to be, Mr. Sedal. Come, Orda, and I'll 'commission' you to Mr. Ashton, the carpenter. He needs help with new planks to be put on the side of our ship. Not--" he said quickly to Sedal who looked up suddenly "--that Orda will be putting them there, just preparing them." The thirteen year old boy finished putting away the surgeon's tools and then followed the captain out of the room up to the deck to meet Mr. Ashton and join Talon's watch.

* * * * *

Morning watch: Second Mate Talon: 6 bells or 7:00 AM

Meri was loosing her patience, as usual, with Talon and his illogicalness. "Damnit Talon, someone else probably just picked it up and used it for some random lanyard," she shouted, referring to the rather short length of rope that had gone missing earlier that morning.

The gullible second mate insisted that it was an omen and referred to the stories where sea wights would use sailors' own rope to fashion a noose and hang the men who had betrayed one of their own crew. "It went from right beneath my nose, Meri. I would have seen if it was someone else."

Exasperated, Meri threw up her hands. "Fine, sea wights came and stole it and in a few hours one of us will be found hanging from that bloody spar and I'll just look at you, Mr. Talon, and say, well what can I say except that you were right and I was wrong. Now, I'll just go get some more rope!!" and she thundered across the deck to retrieve a section of the rough brown coils to replace the ones that had disappeared. On her way she passed Calnan, just come up from eating his breakfast, who had more than likely heard the discourse between the two mates; she made a point of avoiding his gaze.

Loliway vaulted down the steps and then disappeared down the trap door into the storage section of the hold between the set of sweepers and Pearlle's contraption and rummaged for some of the confiscated rope taken from the Pora Diy. There were plenty of supplies stashed down there enough to replace every mechanism on the North Wind twice over. Hopefully it would last them through the next two or three battles.

Back on the deck, Meri dropped the coils at Mr. Talon's feet and began to move away towards Mr. Packs. Talon stopped her, "Meri," he began, "this isn't your watch. Why don't you go get some breakfast with your messmates, eh? You've not eaten anything since dinner last night and maybe a cracker, left over from your pocket rations. Go on lassie." His age was the only sanction for him to call her lassie, or even Meri, as it were, but the first mate wasn't hungry, nor was she very tired.

"I can look after myself just fine, Mr. Talon," she turned again and walked towards the hand who was preparing some stays, saying, more to herself: "I'll be all right."

* * * * *

Morning watch: Second Mate Talon: 6 bells or 7:00 AM

Avershire was alerted at 7 AM from his bed--the only one aboard the North Wind, where he had dozed after moving Orda to his new job--by one of the cabin boys. He ate a quick, simple breakfast of bread and thick honey with two cups of coffee. Then he summoned Pearlle and began to review the maps and charts of their course, taking note of nearing shoals and tiny islands where Doran might have his ships' base.

"Our target needs to be his armada's berth," Avershire reviewed. "If we can monitor the income and outcome of his ships, get an estimate of how many there are, we can at least get the slightest idea of what we're up against."

"You make it sound as though you're expecting a whole navy!" Pearlle observed.

"You're not?"

Pearlle shook his head. "No, on the contrary, I'm not at all. I wouldn't guess that Doran has more than fifteen ships to his name, let alone to his disposal. He has been inactive all these years, he has to keep his men paid, his fortune is not infamous you know and ships are not easy to come by unless one has the needed timber, details, canvas, and most importantly, the skill."

"Well, how many shipwrights do you think he has?" asked the captain.

Pearlle shook his head slowly, "I wouldn’t guess more than three; shipwrights are rare enough in Gondor on account of all the knowledge they've got to accumulate."

"You forget, Master Pearlle," Avershire said respectfully, "that the sea-faring ways are all the corsairs have. Shipwrights may be more common than you perceive."

* * * * *

Morning watch: Second Mate Talon: 7 bells or 7:30 AM

Devon was pouring sweat. Not solely from the docile morning sun, but from the effort of pushing the mop across the deck. It was the only thing Talon could find for him that didn't require a steady hand. He pushed the soaking rags on the end of the staff over the wood and pulled it back and dipped it again in the bucket. He refused to let it frustrate him, but soon he began to pant and his left arm itched from the sweat that agitated the bandages on his shoulder; he was constantly setting down his mop to scratch at it.

Meri turned her face away from him, where she stood, holding tight a pair of stays while Packs tied them off up the mast a ways. She wasn't to blame for Devon's agony and frustration, she told herself. It wasn't her fault in the least. It was a hard life out here on the high seas and men had to make tough decisions under the pressure of battle. She shook her head and shifted her stance, trying to push away the thoughts.

"Why don't you rest a moment." Meri turned compulsively at Avershire's voice. He had approached Devon who was drenched in sweat and obviously exhausted, and laid a hand on his right shoulder, taking the mop from him. "Mr. Sedal says that my hands need to be able before their active. And Pearlle says you're an educated young man. Why don't you come help us down in the stateroom. We can use another pair of 'observers'. You'd be much more useful down there I think anyways." Devon's face was tight, and strained. It was too obvious that his pain was great: his physical and his emotional pain. Meri turned away again as Packs shimmied down the mast.

"Definitely a two-handed job," the hand said gaily. "I nearly died nigh on six times! I needed one hand to secure the line and the other to catch my balance every go. What a man does with only one arm I've not a clue." He removed a flask from a treasured pocket in his pants and took a sip and then offered it to Meri.

"No thank you Mr. Packs," she said. Her expression was serious and distant. What a man does with only one arm… Guilt began to consume her. It was foolish, her sensible side told her. Devon probably wouldn't be any better off if she had helped him.

Meri replayed what had happened in her mind. Calnan had called her over, pausing to fight back a corsair that threatened his unconscious friend. There was no doubt in his eyes that she would help Devon. She had looked at the young man, his brown hair soaked in his own blood, his fair, young face pale and frozen. And she refused to give aid. What if she had interfered? She would have wrapped his arm tight, in a more secure fashion than Calnan's blotting job had been, and sent him over to the North Wind at once on Calnan's back, with her sword as their guard.

Her heart was heavy as the shame grew. So much blood might have been saved. The nerves may not have been exposed or damaged in the air, those that weren't severed by the dagger. She looked again as Devon disappeared down the steps in front of Avershire. It had all ready happened, she can't change it now.

"Miss Loliway?" Packs said, moving so he could see her face. He lowered his voice, concern etched in his thin features. "All right there Meri?" She didn't answer. "Talon's right, you need to get something to eat. You've got to take your watch in an half hour anyways." She didn't move. "Go on," he said softly, coaxing. "Something small at the very least, and some water."

Meri cursed Packs' and Talon's worry and kindness. Everything this morning seemed to judge guilt upon her. She was going crazy, she decided. She needed food. Food, and all her craziness would subside.

Loliway made for the mess room, adopting her usual, confident stride as she crossed the semi-mopped deck.