Grantville Gazette 37

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Captain's Ball

As the breezes died with the evening calm, the junk was anchored back where it had started, not far from the camp that had been their home. Dore had come back to wake Pam and help her get ready for the party. After some fussing, they stood on the narrow deck outside Pam's door, both dressed in fine Chinese silks. The clothes they had chosen were most likely designed for men, but they had made do, with pleasing results. Dore had found a long skirt which she belted with a sash and a simple tunic top, all in deep reds which suited her well. The tunic must have belonged to a large man as it had plenty of room for Dore's buxom figure. Pam, who was slight in comparison, wore a pair of knee-high black silk pants, a simple white shirt that buttoned at its collar-less neck and a cerulean blue silk jacket ornately embroidered with gold pheasants and cranes, with large gold buttons and teardrop-shaped clasps. She left the jacket open to show off the lovely pearl necklace from the treasure chest.

"Look, I'm wearing the Swedish colors!" she said to Dore. "The men will definitely approve. Plus, it's got birds!" She felt as if she were sixteen again and headed for the high school's spring dance.

"Really, Pam, these garments are far too fancy for me. I am embarrassed to be seen in them! Tomorrow I shall have to find something simple that can withstand the galley. It would be a shame to ruin such finery as this."

"Yeah, yeah, tomorrow, fine, but come on, tonight's a party! Live a little! I now know that you do know how." Pam gave her friend a sly, knowing grin which made Dore blush, took her by the elbow and guided her toward the ladder. At the bottom Dore told Pam to go ahead, she would check on her foolish husband before rejoining her.

On the main deck, the men had placed a long, low table near the second and largest of the three masts. It was covered from end to end with food, a collection of dried meats and fruits found in the galley, fresh fruits from shore and a row of very large fish they had barbecued with spices. The aroma was utterly delicious and drew Pam closer. She thought it might be a mix of garlic, Chinese five spice, cloves and black pepper. Is that sesame oil and a dash of rice wine splashed on, too? Heaven! Pam's mouth watered. The lads had been very creative, indeed; she thought even Dore would approve. It had been a very long time since she had smelled such potent seasonings, and she felt delightfully hungry.

Pers saw her and hurried over. He slowed when he noticed Pam's change of clothes and smiled approvingly. "You look very nice," he complimented her, despite his obvious shyness about speaking on such a subject.

"Why, thank you, Pers! You look very nice yourself!" He was dressed in a canary-yellow version of what Pam wore, but without the jacket. The pants were too short on the long-legged youth, riding well above the knees, but he still looked handsome in the exotic outfit. Pam took his arm and gave it an affectionate squeeze. She nodded toward the table "It looks like you fellows found the galley!"

Just then Dore joined them. Pers gave Dore, the indisputable ruler of all things to do with food, a nervous glance and hurriedly told them, "We wanted to give Frau Dore a night off from cooking. We men of the sea are not wholly without talent in that arena. I hope you like what we have prepared. We were very careful not to make a mess."

Dore scanned the table, sniffing warily at their offerings. After a long moment she smiled, finding the sailor's efforts to be to her satisfaction. After all, it was nice to have a night off, and now she need not feel guilty for it.

"It looks fine, Pers," she told the nervous youth. "You men have done a good job. I thank you."

With Dore's approval, Pers immediately brightened and led them to the place of honor, a line of five comfortable-looking chairs placed on a temporary platform raised three feet above the deck. Behind the stage, the clever sailors had hung a variety of flags and banners decorated with all kinds of fanciful motifs, to very festive effect. Pers ushered Pam into the middle seat, which was practically a throne; intertwining serpentine dragons of ebony with ruby eyes and ivory teeth framed a plush velvet cushion in scarlet and gold trim. Found amongst the cargo, it had been undoubtedly headed for some exotic sultan's palace.

The men were still going about their tasks under the watchful eye of the bosun, although many a glance was stolen in the direction of the food. Pam arrived a bit early, but no one seemed to care. She was delighted to see they had all managed to trade their island rags for new clothing from the hold. No two were dressed the same, and they looked more like a band of circus performers than a ship's crew. Pam was smiling at the bustling scene so widely her face began to hurt. She turned to Pers, who was apparently assigned to be their maitre d and asked, "You got any booze?" Pers smiled his sunniest smile and disappeared from her side in a Pers-sized gust of wind.

He returned shortly with two elegant ceramic bowls garnished with fresh flowers, full of fruit juice and a very healthy shot of what tasted like rum. "I believe Herr Gerbald called them mai-tais. He says he will be your bartender tonight," Pers told them as they each took a careful sip. Even Dore smiled at the delicious taste and took another, bigger quaff. Pam looked at her friend and grinned. No teetotaling for the Christian soldier tonight. Looks like we won't have to play our usual game of "let's get Dore drunk." She's leading the charge for a change! This is definitely going to be fun! Pam thought with glee. She was fairly vibrating with excitement and drank again, deeply, with intense pleasure.

"Tell Gerbald he's a genius and to keep these coming," Pam said. "I intend to get loaded. Party on!" Pers had enough English by now to get the gist of her meaning and smiled with professional grace as he melted away. The kid has a future as a great waiter, he's a natural! Despite her proclamation, Pam tried to pace herself somewhat. She knew she was going to have to give a speech or two and wanted to be well-relaxed for that, but not to the point of word-slurring wasted. She could do that after the speeches were done.

The sun was setting and various torches and lanterns were being lit. The men assembled on the deck, ready to commence the official celebration. Someone had found a very large gong which Lind struck with a cloth hammer, the deep, vibrating tone signaling everyone to be quiet. By now Gerbald was sitting next to Dore, who was on Pam's left. The bosun and Lojtnant Lundkvist soon joined them, sitting to Pam's right.

The bosun stood and caught the crew's attention. "Good evening to you all. Here at last we find ourselves delivered from our isolation, aboard a ship that, while strange-looking, is a nimble and sound vessel worthy of the Swedish Navy!" He waited while a hearty cheer went up from the men, Pam and her retinue joining in. After a minute he silenced the men with a certain gesture, and continued. "And though some of us gathered here are not Swedes by birth, they have earned their place in our ranks through their great courage and dedication to our beloved princess! All hail Pam, Gerbald and Dore!" The cheers were louder this time, which Pam didn't think was possible. The attention made her face flush redly as usual, but she smiled and took another big gulp of cocktail to steady her nerves.

The bosun, once again cutting the cheers off with an effortless gesture, turned to the two Germans and the American, a woman from a country that didn't even exist in this world and probably wouldn't. "As far as we are concerned, you three are every bit as Swedish in your hearts as we are, and I welcome you as brothers and sisters. Hurrah!" The men went wild this time and the three of them found themselves urged to their feet to take their bows. Gerbald and Dore returned to their seats but the bosun beckoned for Pam to join him at the front of the stage.

"And now let's hear it for our fearless captain, Pam Miller! Three cheers!" Gerbald must have coached them in the English-style he'd gleaned from watching old movies, as "Hip-hip-hurray!" sounded across the deck. When the traditional cheer finished, the bosun, who was proving to be quite the expert master of ceremonies, gave Pam a courteous bow and asked her, "Please, Captain Pam, a few words for your men if you would." He stepped back then, leaving Pam in the figurative spotlight.

She smiled at all around her, not feeling as nervous as she usually did. She was comfortable here; these were her people, more than any she had ever known. There was nothing for her to be shy about. She spoke out loudly and clearly, "My beloved brothers and sisters, my dearest friends in all the world. You are the best of the best and it is my supreme honor to be chosen as your captain. I will work my hardest to earn your trust in me, and lead us on to victory. In Princess Kristina's name, I swear!"

She paused and another cheer went up, everyone clapping as loudly as they could. She felt as if she were a rock standing in a sea of love and each wave that washed over her filled her heart with perfect joy. Deep in her mind she took some of that feeling and put it away for safekeeping. She knew she would need it someday when the doubts returned. The love she felt tonight would be a talisman against the darkness that sometimes tried to steal her few joys. Maybe that won't happen so much anymore. Things have changed. I have changed.

With what she thought might be the sweetest smile she had ever worn, she raised her hands and shouted over the din, "Let the party begin! I order every man aboard to drink as much as they want. Let's raise some toasts!" She felt like a rock star.

There was a bustle about the deck and soon she saw that everybody was holding some kind of a cup. They still had quite a bit of their carefully-rationed rum left, almost an entire barrel, which she figured they would be finishing off this night. Gerbald told her they had also found a number of very large ceramic jugs filled with a palatable alcoholic beverage he thought must be rice wine stored in the ship's hold along with a collection of jugs and barrels containing strange-smelling and rather less reputable-looking liquors. We aren't going to run out of booze in any case, God bless us one and all! We'll be needing His mercy when the hangovers hit tomorrow!

The crowd was very quiet now, waiting for her lead. Pam held her cup aloft and in what she had been taught was the Swedish way and made a point of meeting the eye of every single person aboard. Once she had accomplished that feat she shouted. "Skal," and downed her cup in one swallow, quickly followed by everyone else. As soon as the cups were refilled, she began working through a long list of toasts, to the men, to their country, to their king and princess, to the lost men of the Redbird, and finally to their new ship. She paused then, looking a bit perplexed. She turned to the bosun who was beginning to list a little bit thanks to the quick succession of shots. There was little doubt that everyone was starting to feel pretty darn good.

"Herr Bosun, what is this ship's name?" her voice had grown just a tad thicker but still could be heard clearly all across the deck.

The bosun stepped over to her and scratched the back of his head as if it would help him think. "Truth to tell, Captain, I have no idea. I think that's it painted there on her aft, but none of us can read it!" Then he laughed and everyone joined in, the raucous sound echoing all around the bay.

Once the hilarity had subsided, he said, in as serious a tone as he could muster, "Captain Pam, she's your ship so you must name her," and gave her a slightly wobbling but deferential bow.

Her mind a sudden blank, Pam turned to Gerbald and Dore for help. Those two had been drinking almost double time and were already about two sheets to the wind and starting to let out the third. They both broke into fits of laughter when they saw Pam looking at them so seriously. That almost made Pam start laughing, too, but she kept in control.

"This is serious, you guys, we need a name, and we need it quick!"

"How about The Hungry Dodo?" Gerbald offered, trying hard to keep a straight face. His goofy hat was tilted nearly sideways on his head and Pam figured the only reason it hadn't fallen off was because of the longtime bond of affection they shared. The hat, in combination with the incongruous fuchsia silk blouse he wore, really did make him look like something out of a Dr. Seuss cartoon and Pam struggled to keep a straight face.

"No, no . . ." she told him. "Dodos aren't exactly symbols of good fortune, not yet anyway." She turned to Dore, whose perpetually rosy cheeks blazed like fire engine lights on the way to a three-alarm fire.

Seeing that it was her turn, Dore sat up nearly straight and said "How about Chinese Chopsticks?" with sincere earnestness, except it came out sounding more like "Shineeze Shopstigs." She waited expectantly for Pam's certain approval, her big, blue eyes as wide and glassy as a stuffed toy's.

Pam had to look away from the two of them before she lost it. Meanwhile Pers had come onstage bearing yet another round of drinks (someone should tell him to stop . . . well, maybe later) and her face lit up; an idea was coming.

"Pers! The other day, when we were taking the dodos back to the forest . . . what was it that you called them?"

"Ummm, 'stupid creatures'?" he blurted out, too late realizing that wasn't likely what she was looking for. He looked embarrassed by his candor.

Pam had to laugh then, but stayed in control. Everyone was still waiting on her decision. "No, no, something about them being lucky, or something." Pam started to chew on her pinkie's sometimes-abused nail. Pers, who quite sensibly hadn't been drinking at all, having been sentenced to take the night's watch after the party, thought hard for a moment and then raised his hand hesitantly. "Do you mean when I called them the 'second chance birds'?" he asked in a hopeful tone.

"That's it!" Pam suddenly rushed over to hug him. If not for his quick reflexes and fast feet, she would have knocked him and the small drink staging table he had set up right off the stage. After a good squeezing of surprisingly bear-like strength, no doubt augmented by the high octane content of her blood, she let go of the scarlet-cheeked Pers and turned to those assembled.

"The Second Chance Bird." She worded it in English as Pers had. "That's what we'll call her!"

Pers quickly translated this into Swedish and another great cheer went up. Pam took the fresh cup Pers held out to her and raised it. "Here's to the Second Chance Bird! God bless her and all who sail on her!"

Pam thought the sound of the cheering had grown a bit hoarse, but they bellowed away at full volume once again anyway. Feeling her duties had now been performed, she gave everyone a deep-almost too deep-bow, managed somehow not to pitch headfirst over the side of the stage and returned to her seat amidst thunderous applause. She was smiling so hard and so wide that her face would have hurt had she been able to feel it.

The lojtnant, who was seated beside her and who rarely said anything beyond that which was required by the diligent prosecution of his duties, turned to Pam and, addressing her in the most genuine and admiring tones, said: "Captain Pam . . . you sure know how to party!" Pam raised her cup to his and they knocked them together with a sloshing clunk, drank them down and in unison signaled for more.

Off the hosting hook, Pam began to relax and really enjoy the festivities. It was hard to believe these jolly fellows were the same intent and nearly-dour men who toiled so hard in silence throughout the day. They have been through a sea change, she thought and then started laughing. The lojtnant asked her what she was laughing about and she tried to explain but just got more and more mixed up until they were both snorting with laughter, him still clueless as to the phrase's meaning. Gerbald pitched in, trying to help and soon they were all laughing so hard they could barely speak and weren't even sure why.

Pers looked on, frowning with a mother-ish kind of concern, wondering how he was going to get them all to bed and praying no enemies would come across them in such a debilitated state.

During their exploration of the Second Chance Bird's many holds and storage rooms, the men had found musical instruments and were now bringing them out. Pam saw something slightly resembling a violin but round-bodied and with only two strings, what might be a hammer dulcimer, some long-necked apparatus that could be distant kin to a guitar, oddly-shaped drums, cymbals and other unidentifiable noise makers. Apparently the junk had once boasted a small orchestra, very likely for the entertainment of its august owners and their distinguished customers. Many of the Swedes could play an instrument. It was a seaman's tradition, but their own fragile pieces had been lost with the wreck except for a tin flute or two.

The men started warming up with the foreign instruments, creating a cacophony that would make an alley full of amorous cats cover their ears with their paws. After a few minutes, this transformed into something resembling a tune. Soon enough they were playing a rollicking sea shanty that Pam could recognize as one she had heard many times on the voyage around Africa, a real foot-tapper made somehow thrilling by the unusual sounds forming its melodies and harmonies. Now that the band was in full swing, the five luminaries managed to get down from the stage without falling. Anyone who wasn't playing music was dancing. The Second Chance Bird was a floating party, the long suffering crew indulging at long last in the comforts of civilization.

Pam clapped as she watched Dore and Gerbald spinning about in some kind of folk dance. Suddenly Dore grabbed Gerbald by the scruff of his neck and dragged him into a passionate kiss. Gerbald's eyes went wide for a moment, but sensing there was nothing to do but enjoy this shocking public display of affection from his wife, embraced her and kissed her back. When they finally parted, both looked as embarrassed as kids caught necking in the library. The men raised a ribald, but also encouraging cheer. Pam felt like the queen of the May, surrounded by a bunch of men, some of whom were not bad looking at all, no sir, all eyes on her and appreciative of her charms in a delightfully non-threatening way. Ahh, what fine gentlemen, she thought as she took turns whirling about the deck with one fine fellow after another. Another good thing about time travel! In this century they still make them like they used to.

The party wound down as the hour grew late and the revelers finally grew tired, or in some cases, completely incapacitated. It was well past midnight and Pam thought she should probably have passed out by now herself, but she had somehow fed on the positive energy around her. She felt stupendously drunk, but also calmly aware. She saw the bosun, who she had been talking with just a moment or three before, was now curled up under the mainmast like a big gray tabby cat and finally had to admit the party was over.

Head held high but beginning to feel drowsy, Pam allowed the attentive and long-suffering Pers to escort her to her cabin. She walked with the careful, mincing steps of the intoxicated, carefully stepping over the snoring sailors who hadn't made it to their bunks below decks. As she slowly climbed the stairs with Pers literally bringing up her rear, Pam chuckled to herself that it was the only teenager in the group who had got stuck with taking care of all the drunk adults. What a fine example we are setting for today's youth. Pam thought with pride. Someday I hope Pers has children of his own to put him to bed when he gets shitfaced.

Pers guided her to her bunk and gently aimed her so that when she fell her head was near the pillow and most of her body off the floor. He picked up her dangling legs and placed them on the bed, then located a light blanket which he covered her with. Even a balmy night like this could get chilly before dawn.

Pam was still awake, or semi-conscious at least. She reached up to take Pers' hand and squeezed it softly. "Yer a goo'boy, Perzzz." she mumbled, eyes mostly closed, her face the very portrait of pickled contentedness.

Pers smiled down at her and gave her hand a squeeze back, which he doubted she could feel. "I didn't know my real mother very well," he told her as he very gently lifted her head and slid the pillow under it. "I was so young when I left . . . but I do know one thing: You are a lot more fun than she was. Sleep well, dear Pam." He stroked her hair lightly and turned for the door. Before he closed it behind him he could hear the gentle breathing of the fast asleep.

A little while later Pam opened her eyes again, awakened by noises nearby. Listening carefully she heard muffled thuds and giggles coming from the cabin beneath hers. Gerbald and Dore's cabin. Dear Gawd! She grabbed a couple of pillows and crammed them over her ears to shut out the far too intimate sounds emanating from below. It must be like their second honeymoon. No, it was probably their first honeymoon. Pam looked up at the cabin's ceiling, softly lit by dim starlight reflected off the waves and through the open windows. Yes, she was happy for her friends and yes, maybe just a tiny bit jealous. To distract herself she reviewed the day's triumphs. Memory became mixed with dream as the waves rocked her back to sleep and the last clear thought she had before drifting off again was, I'm Pam Miller, pirate captain! Who'd have ever thunk it?