Two Pipes

Gadfly needed to rest. The captain said he would need a written permission for that. Serenica obliged. She had to keep a close eye on the boatswain, since he showed some signs of being delirious.

"I saw things down under," he said as he was lying in his hammock. "Things you wouldn't believe."

"Things that belong to the dead?"

Serenica was holding his wrist, feeling his heartbeat to make sure his circulation was functioning correctly.

"Aye," Gadfly said and fell asleep.

Serenica shook her head and went to her little cabin.

As she was arranging the papers she had written about the condition of the crew, spilling ink every time the ship thrusted and rocked in the throes of the storm, she heard a knock.

She opened the door for the Admiral.

"Shouldn't you be keeping up with the rigging or something?" she asked.

He sat in the available chair, folding his legs like he often did, dug out his pipe and started smoking.

Serenica had no tobacco left. She would have loved to join him.

"The crew can manage," the man said, blowing an accidental smoke ring. "Look at that. It's very thick. I don't know how to consciously form them."

Serenica admitted that the ring was rather impressive. Her teeth were hurting at the sight of the smoke; they were craving to be marinated in it and she had no way of doing that unless she could be humble and ask.

"Truthfully, the boys have a hard time doing everything without the maritime expertise of our boatswain," the Admiral said. "I can only do so much without him. Be prepared for a lengthy voyage."

"The further we get from Neul, the better for me," Serenica said. "I have nightmares about Kinley. Could you possibly give me a small loan in the form of tobacco? I will pay you back immediately when I can buy some for myself."

"I have been on this boat since the beginning," the man said. "I have no need to force you to pay me back. I can buy ten crates of the best cuts of the North. However..."

Serenica perked up instantly. She kind of hated how she would have done anything to get more of the sweet dried brown leaves.

"I have a favor I could ask you. In exchange I could supply you with tobacco until, say, the whole Kinley business is over."

"Name your terms," Serenica said.

"The boys are my people, and I care for them. Most of them have a problem with booze, though," the Admiral said, rolling his eyes.

"It's apparently integral to piracy," Serenica said, writing down something about alcoholism.

At that moment the ship rocked suddenly. Serenica nearly fell over even as she was sitting still. The Admiral didn't seem to mind. He maintained a perfect balance, as always.

"It's integral to life on the high seas in general," he said. "You should see the men of the proud navy, drinking their pay and sometimes requesting it to be paid in grog straight away."

"I can imagine," Serenica said, regaining her composure. The papers were now unreadable due to ink stains. She was annoyed. It could have been useful to have notes about each man.

She would have to do it once the storm was over.

"What I need you to do will require quite a lot of work," the Admiral said, pointed at her pipe, which was hanging from the pocket of her shirt, and dug out a little bag that smelled like dates and raisins and a smoker's thick, slimy cough. "May I?"

Serenica felt her insides turn in a pleasant manner. The warmth of the polite gesture filled her. For a moment, she thought she had finally arrived - she thought she was home.

"You are a true gentleman," she said. "Yes, you may."

With his nimble fingers that brought to mind a painter, not a pirate, the Admiral began to pack Serenica's pipe. He did it the exact way it was supposed to be done, with loose, airy balls of tobacco at first, and tighter, more compact pinches on the top, stomping down on them with a little metallic tool he apparently kept in his pocket.

"I would appreciate it if no one died of binge drinking before we get our next big catch," the Admiral said, finished cleaning off the rims of the pipe and gave it back to Serenica. "Heike has the tendency to get seizures whenever he tries to stop drinking too abruptly. He might need a hair of the dog, a few sips before he quits, but for the rest, there is simply no reason for them to get smashed enough to choke on vomit and die young."

"I assume you'd also have to pay their widows and orphans," Serenica said, putting the pipe between her jaws.

"You are correct." The man lit her tobacco, and for a moment there was more smoke than clean air in the cabin. "It's damn expensive. Not to mention the heartache and constant worrying."

"You want me to make sure it won't be alcoholism that kills them? I can do it," Serenica said.

The tobacco was some quality stuff. It was probably infused with some kind of a brown hard liquor, but the clean basic taste was still there, abusing her tongue, giving her the nicest mellow buzz. Everything felt sharp. She felt sharp and clever. Of course she could help.

"I don't want anything else to kill them, either," the man laughed. "But not losing them to the bottle would be a good start."

"All right," Serenica said and moved the pipe to the corner of her mouth. "Is there any specific triggers? When do they usually drink the most?"

"Heike drinks whenever, but the rest are at danger when we make port or have something to mourn or celebrate. It's really rather annoying. When I have just accomplished something, I have to be a parent to grown men so that they survive their joy."

"We have a deal," Serenica said. "You could ask me all sorts of things in exchange for this stuff. This is some prime tobacco."

"I must be going. I don't want anyone to hang themselves in the rigging," the man said and began to clean his pipe into the little vase Serenica had adopted. It was an ashtray now, nothing more, even though the ornate hand-painted orchids on its sides suggested otherwise.

Serenica thought it was the best ashtray she had ever defiled.

"Here, let me do it for you," she said and took the pipe from her friend to clean it herself.

"I don't envy you," the Admiral said.

Serenica finished scraping his pipe and gave it back.

"Why is that?" she asked.

"To keep a sailor from drinking himself to death is moving a boulder. To keep a pirate from doing that... You're essentially asking the earth itself to move to cover a mountain."