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It wasn't often Shipwreck City was hit by a nasty storm, but when it was, it could be a somewhat unnerving experience for those still new to the city. While the tall walls of the caldera shielded the city from the worst of the gales and almost all of the oceanic surges, a few, powerful gusts still managed to slip their way past the cliffs, their strength enough to make the cobbled-together hulls and structures quake. But that was all the precariously perched pillars of ships did, as the sailors who had pieced them together over the last couple of centuries had ensured they would hold fast for decades to come.
Mary's nose ever so slightly scrunched up as the glass in the gunport-turned-window rattled. She would have closed the lid to keep the sound at bay, but along with the starboard gunport behind her, it provided the only source of light in the galley. Normally, she would have had a lantern or two lit to provide more light, but there was currently a whale oil shortage in the city and she wanted to conserve what little she had left for when night fell. And she certainly wasn't going to use her olive oil in its stead; she needed that for her and her brother's hair.
With a soft sigh, she looked back down at the bowl of grapes she was readying for Tafari. They were his favorite fruit, but one that was quite hard to find in their fresh state; shipping them was a tricky and delicate task, as grapes were exceedingly easy to squish and went bad rather quickly. So when she saw some for sale in the Inner Market that morning, she was all to willing to pay the extra coin to get the best ones for her brother.
And, when the vendor had turned their back to help someone else, she slipped a couple of the second-best clusters into her basket for herself.
She plucked the final grape from the stem, but, instead of setting it in the bowl with the others, she popped it into her own mouth—a bit of quality control to ensure they would be good enough for her little brother. It was firm, denoting its freshness, and sweet with just a hint of tartness. And, as usual, bearing an annoying seed that she spat into the hearth. Then, with a nod of approval, she covered the bowl with a tea cloth before picking it up and crossing the galley to the stairs. Hiking her skirts up a few inches to make the ascent a touch easier, she went up a deck level.
Like all homes in Shipwreck City, theirs was fashioned out of part of a ship—specifically, the forecastle and galley of a third-rate warship built sometime the previous century. When they had first claimed the section as their home, their parents had modified the forecastle deck to be the living quarters while the galley remained mostly unchanged. It may not have been the biggest of homes in the city, but it was perfect for the siblings.
Once in the forecastle, she made her way to the forward-most part of the deck, where a wall had been built and a door added: Tafari's cabin. She lightly knocked on the door, but when she didn't hear any sounds from within, her brow rose.
"Tafari, love? I've brought ye a snack," she called, knocking a second time.
It was only then she heard a sound of acknowledgement. Amusedly shaking her head, she opened the door and stepped in. As it had been down in the galley, her brother had the gunports wide open, allowing for as much stormy-grey light to flood in as possible. In a makeshift bed next to the starboard gunport, his back pressed against the bulwark, was her brother. He had cocooned himself in an old, worn quilt and his eyes were glued to the thick book propped up against his thighs.
"Look at ye, all comfy-cozy-like," she said with a soft chuckle. "Still workin' your way through Edmund Gunter?"
The thirteen-year-old looked up, his eye wide and a grin on his lips. "It's a fffascinating read," he chirped. "I'mmm learning a lot fffrom it."
"I'm glad t' hear you're enjoyin' it." Smiling, she sat down on the edge of the bed and, reaching over, gently tugged the quilt off the top of his head. "But, why don't ye set it aside for a bit? As I said, I brought ye a snack."
Having to extract his arms from within the quilt, he carefully marked the page with a length of ribbon before closing the book. "Wwwhat did you bring?" he asked, head tilting curiously. He set the tome on the bed beside him.
Remaining silent, she held the bowl out to him. His curiosity turned to caution as he hesitantly took it from her, but that was thrown to the wind once he removed the cloth. "Grapes!" he cried, more than a little elated to see his favorite treat.
Mary let out a soft laugh, watching him pick up one of the berries and pop it into his mouth. As he chewed, a sound of joy left his throat only to be muted by his chewing. "I thought ye could do with a wee treat, what with all the studyin' ye've been doing."
His joy seemed to somewhat deflate at her words. He plucked the grape seed from his tongue and scraped it off on the inner rim of the bowl. "I just hope it's enough," he sighed.
Reaching over, she poked his nose. "It will be enough," she said. "You heard Mister Edwards: He said if ye can finish this book an' demonstrate just how well ye understand it, then he'll take ye on as his apprentice."
Picking up a second grape, he inspected it. "Aye, but there are three other lads that desire the affforesaid ppposition," he countered. Biting the grape in half, he tucked it against his cheek while using his other hand to carefully pick the seed from the meat of the berry. "And they aren't…aren't like mmme."
Her brow rose and her lips somewhat pursed. "And just what is that supposed t' mean, young man?"
As he chewed the grape, he gestured at himself. "Like mmme, Mmmary. An invalid."
"Tafari, you are not an invalid," she said, her tone firm and ever so slightly scolding. "You may have some peculiarities about ye thanks t' the accident, but ye are very much a capable young lad."
"That's not wwwhat Thommmas said," he grumbled, sinking down into the quilt somewhat in an attempt to keep the words under his breath. It was in vain, however, and despite the wind causing the hull to groan and the window pane to rattle, she heard him loud and clear.
"Thomas?" she repeated, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Do ye mean that Kauth lad?"
He cringed somewhat, but nodded.
"The one who's also vyin' for that apprentice position?"
He nodded once more, sinking further into the depths of the blanket.
Lips still pursed, Mary turned fully towards her brother and, taking his hands in her own, looked him in the eye. "Listen t' me, Tafari," she said, voice soft, but bearing the full weight of her status as his big sister. "Whatever that lad tells ye is a lie. A dirty, rotten lie that he hopes will worm its way into your noggin an' fill ye with enough self-doubt, it'll make ye give up tryin' to win the position. He knows it's the only way he'll be able t' get the spot, because you are so very much smarter than him."
Tafari swallowed hard, his brows furrowed. "But…wwwhat ifff he's right? Wwwhat ifff I wwwon't be able t' steer ships safely because o' mmmy armmm an' one eye?"
She gave his hands a gentle squeeze; she hated how that lad had managed to make her brother feel inadequate. Yes, he now had a stutter, one eye, and an occasional arm tremor thanks to the accident, but he was strong and he was very much capable of doing anything he could put his mind to. And most people, thankfully, saw him as such.
But the few who couldn't look past those differences…? Ooh, how they made her blood absolutely boil! If she were just a few years older, she would certainly be giving them a piece of her mind…As it was, however, she was just barely fifteen, and far from threatening—especially when the few people who did treat her brother ill were lads the same age as her.
"Plenty o' sailors have only one eye an' one arm," she reminded him. "Those big ships ye want t' be the sailin' master on? They usually have two men mannin' the wheel anyway because o' how big their rudders are." Her thumbs comfortingly stroked the back of his hands; she could feel his right one quivering against her palm. "But that doesn't matter, because your arm is a perfectly good arm. Just because it shakes sometimes doesn't mean it's useless. Or need I remind you how you're the one carrying around the heavy baskets o' wet laundry for me?"
A small smile came to his lips, though a bit of uncertainty remained in his gaze. "…Do you really think I have a chance at getting the ppposition?" he asked, the words somewhat timid.
"Not only do I think you have a chance, I think you'll win it," she said. "Do you honestly think Mister Edwards—Shipwreck City's best navigator—would even allow ye t' work towards this position if he didn't think ye had what it takes?" She felt the anger within her begin to calm as her brother's smile brightened—genuinely brightened.
"…I suppose that's true," he said, a little more confidence in his voice.
She wagged her finger at him, a theatrical look of scolding coming to her face. "Nuh-uh. Fix that sentence, lad."
"I know that's true." Though he rolled his eyes at her, he also laughed.
"There we go." Grinning broadly, she reached over and ruffled his hair. As she did such, the wooden beads on the end of his dozens of small braids clicked and clacked together like tiny castanets. "I'll leave ye t' get back to your readin' now. Signora Colombo will be over in a few hours t' keep an eye on you while I'm at work an' she said she'll bring over some stew for ye." As she spoke, she pulled the quilt atop his head once more, ensuring optimum comfort.
He frowned. "You have t' wwwork tonight?" he questioned. "But it's stormmming out—no one's going t' wwwant to be out drinking."
She laughed softly as she stood. "'Fari, love, this is the best weather for people t' go drinking an' gambling. They have nothing else better t' do." Brushing off the front of her dress, she breathed a small, content sigh. "If any are left, I'll see if I can bring back a loaf or two o' the olive bread we like."
Once more, he perked. "Really?"
"Only if there are some left," she emphasized, beginning to walk over to the door. Once in the doorway, though, she paused and turned to look at him. "Oh, and Tafari?"
"Aye?"
"Next time that Kauth lad tries t' tell you you're anythin' less than a capable young lad? Show him just how hard ye can punch with that 'useless' arm o' yours. You've my full permission. Savvy?"
His grin broadened and he nodded heartily. "Savvy!"