Rosebud Posted January 23, 2016 Posted January 23, 2016 The lazy days were passed with conversation and dice aboard the deck of the Ricki Tiki. Since the loss of her captain and the frantic exertion of the cargo being offloaded, nothing much had occurred for over a week. They were paid in a late, but timely manner and most of the crew had disappeared into the cheap bars and saloons scattered around the ports outskirts. John Hamilton was one of the few that had remained aboard. A sailor since childhood he knew no other life. After a night of drinking and the soft, but short company of a floozy, he returned to the ship and settled in to see what would happen. Days had passed; quietly warm with a gentle breeze that arrived at eight bells each morning. As he lay propped against the water barrel listening to the creaking timbers of the ship he heard heels on the gangway. At first a dull thud, they turning higher pitched as the person making them neared the top. The man who appeared was dressed well, with a hint of common birth. Tall and straight with blistering grey eyes he stopped and surveyed the deck. John struggled to his feet and stood at attention. This was the same man from before. The same man who had ordered him into the rancid waters of the Port Royal bay to retrieve those two cases of booze. The same man that had given him one of the bottles and five others to the rest of the crew. His re-arrival could mean only one thing…he was the new captain. John dreaded new captains. He never knew what type he was going to get. Some were fair, others had a chip and still others never acknowledged his presence. This one seemed a mix of all of them. Being the nearest to him the man came directly to John after a sharp look skyward toward the rigging. John followed his glance but saw nothing askew. As the man approached he stopped in from of John and asked. “What’s your name sailor?” “John Hamilton sir” he replied saluting. “Mister Hamilton, I’d like the mooring lines doubled and slacked a bit, please see to it. Then meet me in my quarters.” “Aye aye…captain…?” the last word didn’t come out as he had liked. What he had meant as a statement sounded more like a question. “Aye captain…Captain Randolf Dupree” he paused, then added “Inform the crew…First mate Hamilton.” John dropped his salute and smiled. First mate, a third more pay and less shat work. He instantly set about loosening the lines. They were a touch tight and the sky was darkening overhead. Then he hurried below to meet with his new captain. That evening as the night grew old and the morning came barely awake, a storm blew through Port Royal.
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