Devoted to The Tide

CHAPTER FIVE

PERSEUS

It felt good to be on the top deck for once. Finally feeling useful as I held a sword in my hands. Actually feeling the sunshine on my skin. It was a good change of pace after the week I spent hand washing clothes for several hours a day. A whole week on this ship already and the only thing I’ve learned was how fresh water and salt water affect the quality of the fabric. Ridiculous.

I sparred with the veteran sailors. The ones who really knew how to fight too. One by one, I fought them off like it was natural. Mainly because it was. I wasn’t sure where this gift had come from given that nobody had taught me growing up. I just spent a lot of time going to sparring matches in the arenas throughout Vasgatan and I found it entertaining enough to commit it to memory. I used to practice in the woods behind my house with many shrubs and trees as opponents.

I could feel Charlie’s eyes on me as she watched me spar. The audience never bothered me, but now that I knew she was watching me intently, I felt the pressure of making sure I put on quite a performance. She hated that I was on this crew. Just out of pure spite or maybe because I remind her too much of my father. But I was determined to prove myself that I was worthy to be here.

Taking another swing at the veteran who went by the name Bishop, my sword clanged on impact with his sword. I meticulously meanuvered myself in a fashion where I was difficult to strike. My blade however, would sparkle in the sun every time it went over my head. It was like a dance. And my dance partner was the blade. Again, it clings to contact, enough force on him to push Bishop backwards. This was the time to swing yet again with more force, knocking his weapon straight out of his hands. It slides across the wooden flooring of the deck, leaving both of us impressed. “Aye! You really know how to use that thing!” Bishop exclaims, reaching down to pick back up his sword. “You’re still tense in your blows. Loosen up to place more force if you want to make a lethal move.” He instructs. I nod, wiping the sweat off my brow. Glancing over at Charlie who still watched from afar, her expression remained unreadable. “Again.” Bishop says.

…

This went on for three days. Charlie hasn’t spoken to me, she would just watch my training. I wondered on day two if she was watching all of us novices train in sword play, but it seemed she was only attentive if it was me. To me, I took this as a good sign. I thought to myself as I stirred up the same stew we’ve had for the last week and a half that was placed in front of me. Bishop came over and sat beside me, already reeking of ale. I paid no mind to his company, however, he caught my glances that I kept stealing at Charlie, who once again sat beside Caspian.

“She likes ye ya know.” Bishop hiccups. I looked at him, surprised to my core, caught off guard by his words. “What? She can’t stand me. I’m sure she’d enjoy it if you actually swung just right and cut my head off.” He chuckles, digging into his own bowl of mysterious stew. “Aye, you might be right. But then she would cut me head off too if I so much as gave ye a scrape on the nose.” I toyed with my spoon, trying to figure out if what he was saying was true or not. “How do you know that?” He takes a bite and glances over at Charlie, who still sat there watching the lot of men eating and conversing. “After ye told me what ye said to her- about your old man… its a miracle ye still alive. If she hated ye as much as you believe she do, you’d be dead already.” I shook my head, dismissive of the conversation. “Nah, you’re full of it.” “I ain’t! You think I didn't notice her watching ye train? Aye, you may be a stranger spawn to someone she once cared about, but that's all of more reason to hold onto ye. She’s a tough ol’ nut but she still got emotions like the rest of us. You’re Vlad’s son. She wouldn’t let nothin’ kill ya because she'd rather bein’ the one doin’ it.” I watched Charlie sip on her wine cup as Bishop spoke, feeding into my delusions. “Caspian is Vlad’s blood too. She doesn’t need me.” I say, my voice rasp. Bishop takes a bite of his stew, nodding as he chewed. “Aye. But ill prove it to ya tomorrow. Just watch. Ill give you a wee cut on the face, and she will be intervene.” “Yeah? Alright then. Let’s bet on it.” I take a swig from my cup, finishing it off and turn to him to shake on it. Bishop chuckles in amusement and turns to me as well. “Aye then. I cut ya face and win the spar, and she intervenes, you polish me boots for the rest of the week.” Bishop says, his voice hoarse and a bit slurred from the encouragement of the alcohol. “Alright. And if she doesn’t intervene, then you put a good word in for me. Be my wingman to get her to like me.” He laughs. “Ahh, she don’t do lovey dovey things like that lad-“ “Not like that. I mean, like me as a person. I want to get on her good side.” He thinks for a moment as he chews on the chunks of his stew. “Aye. Deal. I'll leave a good word for ye. If she don’t intervene.” “Deal.”

The next morning, Bishop and I trained from sunrise to midday, waiting for Charlie to come out and watch like she had been for the last three days. Not like she had much of a routine. Especially since it took until sunset for her to actually come out. There she was, watching from a higher deck from the Captain’s Quarters. She peered from afar, watching us train on the main deck. Bishop nodded to me as we both were in a fighting stance. I nod back, swinging my sword at him. But instead of my calculated dance I did to win, I tensed up purposely, giving Bishop a clear shot to swing. His blade scratched over my face. It all happened so fast, I hadn’t felt the piercing sting that came afterward. I fell down to the ground, a bit more dramatically than I wanted. But it was enough to where I saw Charlie move from her spot, beeling right toward us.

“What the hell, Bishop- you’re supposed to be sparring, not actually cut up the few men I have left.” Charlie snaps as she approaches us. Bishop glanced at me, giving me a small smile. I couldn’t help but smile at myself as I pushed myself back up. “Apologies, Captain.” He says, hard to remain serious for the both of us. Charlie grips onto my chin and pulls it toward her with force, pulling my face close to hers. Close enough to where I got a good look at her ocean blue eyes. I gazed into them as she looked at the cut across my face, almost like a mother would look at her kid’s wound after she told her kid to quit fooling around. “You’re fine. Go clean it up. Bishop, go help the others with their swordsmanship.” She commanded. I sheath my sword into my belt, and I looked back at Bishop as I walked away from him. He laughed to himself and kicked his foot out, waving his boot to tease me about our deal.

I walked inside a small utility room on the ship, and peered at the makeshift sink that was connected to a fresh water supply. I ran the water for a couple seconds, splashing a bit on my face to rinse it off. I watched the blood stain the water as it dripped from my face. “Cas was right. You are a knave.” Charlie says, peering from behind me. “Water ain’t gonna clean it. Here.” She hands me a small bottle of clear liquid, placing it in the palm of my hand. “What is it?” “Vodka. Imported from Tabitha. Use it to clean your cut.” I didn't know how to feel about her treating me like this. Especially after days of her avoiding me, and now she’s worried about a small little cut on my face that Bishop and I purposefully left. I opened up the bottle, and poured a bit on my face, forcing me to wince in pain. “Gods be good- let me do it.” She hisses. She forcefully sits me down on a stool and snatches the bottle and cloth from my hands. She quietly pours a bit of the vodka on the cloth and dabs it on my face. She takes her time, and is surprisingly gentle. I couldn’t help but steal glances from her, observing the detail of her clothing up close and personal. I could smell the pine and hickory scent that she gave off. I could see the detail of her natural curls. And I could see the faded scars on her arms. From battle no doubt. “Why are you doing this?” I ask, breaking the silence. But she continued to let the silence linger as she dabbed the alcohol soaked cloth on my head. “Captain?” “I can’t afford my crew members getting infections from a measly sparring match.” She says, her voice low and even. “Do you clean up all of your men’s wounds?” “If I can help, then yes. Think what you want of me, Perseus Thorn, but I actually care about my crew mates.” I fell quiet after that, unsure how to respond. As she finished up she then set the cloth aside, observing her work. “There. You don’t need stitches so you’ll heal up just fine.” I stand to my feet again, watching her rinse the cloth and screw the cap of the bottle back on. “Captain… I want to apologize for how I spoke to you the other day. I was insensitive and-“ “Bishop will need your help training the lads. You seem to know what you’re doing with a sword so you’ll be fit to train the others. Now go.” I bit my tongue from speaking anything else, and turned to leave the room. “Yes, Captain.”