Chapter 5

Passing through the berthing compartment Dent could feel the eyes following him as he moved along. Some were hostile, most seemed merely curious. This time he ignored the stares and continued on his way. Rounding the corner around the chain locker he momentarily wondered if he had taken a wrong turn somewhere and was lost.

The space was clean, really clean. It even seemed a little brighter because it was so clean. And tidy. He could see that everything had been stowed and where there wasn't room for the items, they were tied into neat little bundles and placed out of the way. His armor and weapons were hanging from hooks within easy reach. The top rack was folded up and a small lantern illuminated the two women on the lower bunk. Sosho was sitting cross-legged working a needle through a rag bundle that could have once been a shirt. Nesho was leaning back against the bulkhead, eyes closed.

Looking up, Sosho almost shouted, "There you are! Where have you been? We've been worried sick about you. You've been gone forever, just forever!"

Nesho opened her eyes and smiled slightly, "Quiet, child! I'm sure the Master had important business to take care of. He comes and goes at his whim and not ours."

Looking at Nesho he mumbled "Sorry," then at Sosho he grinned a little and teased, "So you were worried about me, were you? It's nice to know you care."

"Well, ah, well of course I care," she said a bit flustered. "I mean if you fall over the side or something, where does that leave us?" Then she said with an almost deadly sweet voice, "Besides, how could I not be concerned about my lord and master, the center of my universe, my only reason for being..."

"That's enough Sosho," said Nesho sharply. "Remember, the walls have ears."

"Yes, ma'am," she answered very softly, then looking up a Dent she mouthed the word sorry.

Still feeling a bit wicked Dent bent down and kissed her forehead, "Why of course you're forgiven, Little Bit. We must make allowances for the young, after all." Deftly he moved back just before she could stab him with the needle in her hand.

"Master, please," Nesho pleaded with her eyes.

"Of course," he sighed, slumped to the floor and leaned back against the locker. "Sorry."

Looking around the space he exclaimed, "You've done a remarkable job here! What fools are these sailors to not employ the woman's touch. This is almost livable now, maybe even more than almost!"

"They only want a woman's touch for one thing, the pigs!" Sosho hissed. "Festou showed us the captives' quarters while you were out. Oh Dent, it was horrible! The way they make them live, what they do to them. R-right there out in the open where anyone could see! They didn't care!" Tears started running down her cheeks, "and some of the girls, some even younger than me, one I know isn't more than thirteen... Oh gods, Dent!"

Struggling to get up, he squeezed himself in next to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulder pulling her head to his chest.

"There, there, sweet thing. We're not lost yet. You're not down there and nothing will happen to you while I'm here. Shush and rest yourself."

Looking up over her head, Dent met Nesho's eyes. He could see her eyes were brimming with tears, too, and her lips were trembling. Lifting his hand he stroked her cheek and then grasping the back of her neck pulled her into the embrace with them. All three gathered what comfort they could from each other's warmth.

Finally, with a big sniff, Sosho pushed away rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. "Anyway," she continued as if nothing had happened, "it's very bad down there. The food is bad, the air is bad, everything is bad. I think some of them have lost their minds and they may be the lucky ones. If I ever start to fail just remind me of the quarters. If that doesn't do it, nothing will."

"You won't fail," he said patting her hand. "You're strong, we're all strong; we'll get through this."

"Now," he said trying to change the subject, "how did you get this all done? This is amazing."

"Festou," Nesho chimed in. "The boy can get you almost anything if you ask correctly." She shook her head, "You'd think nobody ever said please or thank you to him before. He's like a puppy starved for affection and willing to please."

"Probably nobody has ever talked to him nicely." Dent thought for a moment, "It's good to make allies where we can, even the lowly of the low can be a help, especially if all it costs us is a little kindness. That his shirt you're working on?"

Sosho nodded her head. "I'm going to take in that old shirt of yours and give that to him also, if you don't mind, and he's already brought me two little mending jobs. Only a copper each, but it's a start."

"Wonderful!" he laughed, "I can see you are going to be very valuable property. Why, you are going to make me rich!" He harrumphed as she elbowed him in the ribs but her eyes were laughing even if her lips were frowning.

Festou arrived sometime during the eve watch informing Dent that the Captain would see him in his cabin at six-one (2030 hour) and to show him to the mess decks for the evening meal. He came carrying bread, meat, cheese, a couple of pieces of fruit and a jug of water for the women.

"Sorry I am Mistress," he kept saying to Nesho. "Don't allow no women on the mess decks, ma'am. Wouldn't think a fine lady like yourself would want to be down there anyway. Nasty doings down there sometimes."

"Den... ah, Master," Sosho said grabbing his sleeve, "do you think it's safe for you down there? Maybe you should stay with us?"

Shaking his head vigorously Festou practically vibrated as he cried, "No mistress, no! Mr. Dent Sir needs to eat with crew. He is crew!"

"He's right, you know," sighed Dent, "As much as I would prefer being here with you I must go and be seen on the decks." Turning to the boy he asked, "Will the mistresses be safe here while I'm out?"

"Should be Mr. Dent Sir. Most crew scared shitless of you they are. Never seen nobody that killed nine by hisself before. The rest either wouldn't bother them anyway or waiting to see what the Captain says. Now best we get going, Mr. Dent Sir."

"Would you do me a favor. Festou?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Dent Sir, anything you like sir."

"Would you please stop calling me 'Mr. Dent Sir' and just call me Dent?"

"Sure, Mr. Dent Sir, anything you like." With that the ship's boy scampered out into the main berthing area.

Sighing with exasperation he noticed the women were trying with limited success to keep from laughing aloud. Grinning himself he just shrugged his shoulders and followed the scamp out.

The mess decks weren't quite as bad as Festou made them out to be. True it was dark, dirty, and smelly. The smell of unwashed bodies mixed with something that was definitely overripe maybe even rotten, but the food was good. Maybe he had diminished expectations or maybe it was the fact he hadn't eaten since breakfast, which seemed years ago, but the food was reasonably tasty and filling. They were served on trays that at least looked like they had been rinsed. The bread was still warm, the crust soft. The stew contents unknown but one could see there was a considerable amount of vegetable in addition to the meat.

Dent sat with Festou at an empty table and they remained alone throughout the meal. He recognized very few of the faces around them. He saw Dell once and nodded to him receiving a nod in return. He also saw Garth, the big fat sailor from the gangplank. Him he ignored although the same couldn't be said for Garth. The big man was constantly looking at Dent and muttering to his bench mates.

"You don't have to eat with me if you don't want to, you know," Dent muttered. "I don't think being seen with me would be the best thing for a while. I don't expect I'm well liked right now and that could rub off on you."

"Ha!" Festou exclaimed. "Don't need to be well=liked, you don't! They be afraid of you and that be better than being liked. They see me with you then maybe they leave me be for a bit too. Today be the first in a while I ain't been kicked or spit on for a long bit."

"Well then maybe us outcasts need to stick together." Sitting back Dent mused a little. "I want to thank you for everything you've done for my women. This has been very hard on them and the kindness you've shown has helped a lot."

"I likes the mistresses. They treat me like I was something other than bilge water. I ain't never had no shirt as fine as this." He fingered the sleeve of the overlarge shirt he was wearing. "If you don't mind me saying, Mr. Dent, I ain't never seen nobody treat his slaves like you treat the mistresses. It ain't natural where I come from. I can sees why they wants to do right by you.

"I don't get to see much from the ship and the bit they let me off in port but most slaves, women especially, gets treated like they was lower than dogs. That's why when my ma and pa died it was either ship's boy or slave. The Putram don't believe in charity, so I picked ship's boy." His face screwed up like he had tasted something bitter. "Best choice I guess. I been here two seasons and it ain't been nothing but 'Festou do this!' or 'Festou fetch that!' Ain't much difference between slave and ship's boy that I can see 'cepting maybe someday I can be a real part of the crew."

"Nesho and Sosho have been a part of my family as long as I've been alive." Dent didn't feel comfortable lying but he didn't see any reason to tell the whole truth. "You could say it's a point of family honor. They are in my care -- my responsibility -- and so I take care of them as best I can. Our customs concerning slaves and servants are a little different where we come from."

"I like yur way better," the lad said. "Just don't seem right the way some people gets treated."

"I agree. Well I'm done. Shall we go see what our ladies are up to?"

Festou showed him where to rinse his tray and where to put it so the galley crew could later finish the cleaning. On their way back the boy showed Dent parts of the ship he thought he might be interested in: the armory, laundry, the head and officers' quarters including the Captain's cabin.

As they came into the forward berthing compartment Dent was surprised to find Sosho and Nesho both sitting in the middle of the space surrounded by a group of about ten sailors. At first his heart started racing wondering if this was the beginning of the expected trouble but then he noticed the absence of worry in the women's faces and the reasonably respectful deference the sailors were paying to them. One in the group noticed him standing behind them and muttered something. Hastily the space between the women and the men increased and more than one look of consternation if not down right fear thrown his way. Nesho was peering intently at the hand of one of the sailors when she sensed something was different and looked up. Seeing Dent she smiled brightly.

"Master Dent!" she exclaimed. "These gentlemen were asking us about a bit of mending they might want done and this poor fellow seems to be having some pain in his hand. You don't mind if we look to them, do you?"

"Of course not," he smiled, the relief washing through his body. With his smile the tension seemed to abate considerably in the entire room. "We should help our new shipmates whenever we can."

"Evening, Warrior," said one older and grizzled sailor. "Word was yur doxies here could do some mending and might know how to ease the ache in one's old bones."

"Certainty they can," moving to stand just behind the women Dent reached down and affectionately squeezed Sosho's shoulder. "You will find that my Sosho here can not only do mending but is a fine seamstress in her own right. In fact there is very little she can't do when it comes to cloth." Sosho blushed, bit her lip and stared at the deck. Reaching over he brushed his aunt's luxurious hair with his hand. "And Nesho here knows more about herbal medicines than most so-called doctors. We'll be glad to look at whatever you have that might ail you and while we can't guarantee a cure most of the time she can find something to help."

"One thing, gentlemen," his face suddenly becoming serious, "I know that your customs differ from ours and we must make allowances, but I take exception to my ladies being called doxies. Call it a personal peeve if you will; it bothers me and I would appreciate it not being used at least in my presence."