The Italian inquisition
The salty spray from the ocean stings my eyes as I sit folded over the side of the large ship. My eyes puffy and my face, a pale shade of green, I squint, trying to ignore the burning sensation I now feel shooting across my dark brown orbs. My ears filled with the singing of my Italian comrades:
Il ritimo de mio cuare, The rhythm of my heart,
la batte come un tamburo Is beating like a drum
la con le parole ti amo with the words I love you
rololare fuori la mia lingua rolling off my tongue
oh mai, si aggirano I oh, never will I roam,
perch io so il mio posto e a casa for I know my place is home,
dove l'oceano incontra il cielo where the ocean meets the sky,
saro a vela I'll be sailing
With all of them drinking and singing merrily, none of my crew members were quick to rush to my aid, except for a passing stranger who smacked me playfully on the back which only brought another rush of dizziness. After a while, I pull myself up from my pitiful position. Rocking on my heels and stumbling, I was positive that no one could tell me apart from the men in their drunken stupor. Through all of the commotion, I managed to find a barrel to plop down on and began to caress my stomach gently. I was just about over my sickness when the captain himself—our capitano.- burst through his cabin door and let out a hearty laugh. I wasn't surprised to see that he too, was drunk. He stumbled his way over to me of all the people on this nave. This ship. He ruffled my dark curly hair and leaned on the bars next to me. He let out another bellowing laugh.
" Ciao, mio fratello." My brother. He called everyone on the ship his "brothers."
" Ciao Capitano…" Smelling the strong scent of wine on his breath, I tried inching away slowly the smell was bringing the nausea back. Bastardo. In the distance I saw a white bird suddenly take flight. I grew jealous.
" Oui, why aren't you having fun like the rest of us?" He asked lazily. His words slurring as he spoke. I witnessed a woman race by, her face was twisted, followed closely by two big, burly men. It was unwanted company. Was that his definition of fun? Another one of the crew answered for me,
" Ah, He's just a boy… he don' know how ta' have fun! He would rather be back in school!" The whole ship erupted in laughter. I couldn't agree more. The men tipped their bottles and hats to me and then burst into loud roars of laughter again. The man who spoke drifted over to my area where the Captain still stood lucidly. He raised his Lemoncello once again.
"Here's to ya boy…" He stated mockingly. The others followed his mockery—including the Captain himself and then tilted the bottle to empty the rest of its contents. That was the only time they were ever silent. That night I was shaken from my slumber by the sounds of screaming men and the captain barking out orders. I didn't dare move. The ship tilted dangerously to the side and back again. I curled up into a ball and closed my eyes to ease my weak stomach. Men yelled in panicked tones and ran through the bunks. One stood at the foot of my bed before someone stopped him.
"No, don't wake the boy, we don't need him. We need maschi. Men." The footsteps drew away from my bed. I listened until the noise up top faded, and so did my conscious state. I woke up the next morning to silence—dead silence. After getting dressed, I made my way upstairs to the top to find utter chaos. Barrels of apples and rice were overturned, Masts split down the middle, the Spanish flag tattered, and men being treated for fatal wounds. I looked over to my right where men were speaking in secrecy. To my left, our Captain stood, speaking slowly to another crew member. I only caught a few words of both
"… terrible storm…low on supplies…twelve…crew…dead…and the navigator…."
…kill him…it's all his fault… He knows nothing… about the sea…"
My breath hitched and my chest tightened. Two sets of questions filled my head. How could a storm kill so many? The navigator? Why did we have a navigator? Didn't the Captain know how to steer a ship? Didn't he know where we were headed? It was then that I remembered, they were all drunk last night. The storm probably hit before they had time to react…and as for the Captain… Why would these men want to kill our Captain? The same man who called them his brothers? The same man they sang and drank with the day before, and now they want him dead? I, myself, never liked him but-
"Mio Fratellos!" My brothers! He suddenly shouted.
Men argue in a corner.
"Do not worry about food!"
Maggots are hastily picked out of the rice barrel
"The storm was not nearly as bad as one expected it to be!"
A lifeless body is thrown overboard.
"Our navigator is no longer in service, but I will lead us to new land!"
Men try desperately to reattach the broken steering wheel of the ship.
As I noticed these things, suddenly mutiny—mutiny of our Captain, Christopher Columbus, didn't seem as irrational…
WEEEEEEEEELLLLLL! That's the end of Chappy one! hope ya liked it! It's been floating around in my mind for like—ever! I'll get back as soon as possible!