⛵ ⛵ ⛵ ⛵...(Toor ay ???)...
“Sometimes ye have ta go back ta move forward!” He said absently.
“What th' fock is goin’ oan here?!” Ickied thought to himself, “It's as if th' whole crew is detached, aloof an' elusive! Didn’t th' Keptin ask fur new toor suggestions months ago?"
. . . . . . . . . . . .
[In a small village, east Zanzibar…]
The middle-aged Arab woman carefully wetted a rag and wiped the sweat off of the Jinn’s forehead. Already a fever was building and his eyes would open for an instant and then close.
“He has the fever…” She said to her brother in soft Arabic, “An infection is developing in his arm.”
“I’m afraid you are right Amal, I see the streaks of death spreading up his forearm…” He answered with great concern, “Amal, he is certainly a Sultan! We must try to save such an important man!”
“Yes…we must try.” She replied as she turned to him with sad eyes, “You know what must be done.”
“Yes. I will make the preparations…”
[In the lower berth of the Silverton…]
Petty Officers Nomaly and Ishyculture sat on their bunks counting their coppers while Junior Petty Officer Ill-lumbergh came up and joined them.
“Coontin’ yer good fortunes Sairrrs?!” He said as he too sat down on a bunk, his hands holding a coffee mug.
“Noot much ta counts! Liconi village was a short-lived affair!” Nomaly replied, scooping her coppers up in a pile.
“Aye, we barely landed an’ we was jack-dawed!” Ishyculture added.
“Right, a lot of trooble with th' fockin' Franks! But it looks like that's under control. Say, what da ye think will happen ta th' cheil they called th' 'Chief'?"
“Ahh don’t knows, shark bait mebbe..." Ishyculture said, scratching her head as she got up, “Well, Ahh’m up fur early watch, see ye blokes later."
“Keep a sharp eye!” Nomaly said jokingly as she grouped her coppers into two columns.
Ill-Lumbergh scooted over to the vacant spot on her bunk. What was it about her that drew him? Was it her auburn hair? The piercing blue eyes? Or perhaps her natural beauty mark? He couldn’t say, but whatever it was, it attracted him like a powerful magnet.
“So, where ur ye froms anyway...Sairrr?" He probed carefully.
Nomaly looked up, as if she noticed for the first time that he was sitting on her bunk. She tilted her head slightly before answering…
“Och here, there an' everywhere..." She replied, eyeing him curiously.
“Aye, same with me. Da ye have fowk anywheres?"
She watched him carefully as she dropped her coppers into the cleavage of her tunic...
“Ye ask a lot of questions sailur..."
A fire swept through him like a raging storm! His breath quickened and he looked into her eyes. For a moment, she met his gaze and she too felt an energy between them. Uncomfortable, she quickly got up and set-off for the corridor. Her shapely rear swaying gently as she walked.
He took it all in... like a starving man in a Glasgow deli.
⛵ ⛵ ⛵ ⛵
"Och hoow a puckle hunnert days at brine will drive a man! Back-breaking work, warfare an' an endless brine! It can do th' strangest things ta th' crew! Turn a gentle man bold an' twist a braw salin' lass inta a hungry moggie! Ahh've got ta keep mah eye oan those two!" 😏 -Keptin
Toor suggestions so far:
Diego Garcia Islain, India Ocean
"Three toor sugestions? Blye me, but Ahh needs fife fur a vote! Test not yoor Keptin!"
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Confused? Ascared? Seasick? Need a private chat with the Captain?" - firstname.lastname@example.org
Pictures from: www.freeimages.com, www.pexels.com, pixabay.com, steemit.com an’ www.google.com/maps. Data loosely interpretted froms: Wikipedia, an' sometimes finely crafted reit from th' author's extensiff personal experience an' such.