Salt and Scum, Honor and Loyalty

Lao-Chen hated nights like this.

Captain Shang ordered him to keep watch when he couldn’t sleep. Whether or not the task was supposed to help the boy was anyone’s guess. The choppy ocean waves slapped the ship relentlessly, so up in the crow’s nest, he felt like a hammer swinging wildly at a nail.

Lao-Chen would usually look up and find constellations to keep himself busy. However, thick, matte clouds floated overhead, compounding his frustration. He was stuck gazing at the horizon, the water just a shade darker than the sky.

His boredom momentarily lifted when he heard a high-pitched whistling on the foredeck. He craned his neck to look and saw the warrior Gatsu swinging his sword in the darkness.

The man danced back and forth against the ship's motion, flourishing his blade as if an enemy stood against him. Lao-Chen watched intently; he could clearly see Gatsu’s movements even from his high vantage.

Eventually, Gatsu ceased his drills and looked up at the crow’s nest, catching Lao-Chen by surprise. The boy climbed carefully down and approached.

“Trouble sleeping again?” Gatsu asked, kneeling on the swaying deck. Lao-Chen said nothing.

The warrior wiped his blade and sheathed it. “I don’t blame you. These waves take time to get used to.”

Lao-Chen sat at the edge of the platform. “How long have you been sailing?” the boy asked.

Gatsu thought for a moment. “I think three years now. I wouldn’t say I’m used to it, though.” The boy thought he saw Gatsu smile to himself.

“You’re a warrior noble, aren’t you?” Lao-Chen asked. “What are you doing under a pirate captain?”

“Hm, I assumed it was common knowledge by now,” Gatsu replied. He leaned back as the ship climbed the next wave. “I used to be. After my lord died, no one wanted to hire me, so I turned to banditry.”

Gatsu continued as the boy listened intently, “My gang tried to rob Captain Shang, but his crew got the drop on us. Luckily for me, he felt I was good enough with my sword to join him. So here I am.”

Lao-Chen couldn’t stop himself from frowning. Gatsu raised a brow.

“What? You expected some sappy tale about honor or something?”

The boy shook his head in a panic. “No, I just thought . . . there was more than that.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, kid.” Gatsu shrugged. “That’s all there is to it.”

Lao-Chen stood, saying, “Don’t you feel some resentment? After all, he killed your friends.”

“Friends?” Gatsu gave him a piercing look. “Listen, kid: In this business, there are no friends—only business partners. As soon as you’re finished, you dump your partners with the nearest imperial, so you don’t have to deal with them again.”

The boy was taken aback, but he said nothing. Gatsu sighed and stood. “Sorry to ruin your fantasy, but that’s just the way—” He stopped, staring off over the ocean. “What is that?”

Lao-Chen looked to the horizon. Between the shifting waves, he saw a black shape rising and falling against the grey sky. “Is that a—” “It’s a ship,” Gatsu said. “Hit the gong.”

Lao-Chen scrambled to the rear of the quarterdeck, where a large, golden disc hung from a thick wooden stand. He grabbed the mallet affixed to it and struck the instrument, emitting a deep resonance that shook the floorboards beneath him.

The boy rushed back to the bow and looked again. The ship was the slightest bit bigger, continuously climbing the waves with red sails unfurled.

“They’ve got the wind,” the warrior said, “If we turn around now, we may be able to make for shallow waters.”

“There’s no need,” the menacing voice of Captain Shang resounded behind them.

Gatsu turned. “Are you joking? That’s an imperial frigate with at least eighty guns.”

“I’ve handled worse,” the captain replied proudly. He turned to his waiting, newly awakened crew. “Alright, seascum! Let’s show these dogs what we’re made of!”

The crew nearly sang their warcry as they manned their stations. Captain Shang moved toward Lao-Chen. Patting his shoulder, he said, “Well done, boy. Stick with Gatsu for this one.”

The boy looked at Gatsu. The man sighed before motioning for him to join.

“Keep close and don’t get in my way,” he said. “If we’re lucky, we’ll both make it out of this alive.” Lao-Chen nodded and followed Gatsu to the mast tie-downs.

The warrior untied the line alongside other men but held it tight. He motioned to Lao-Chen, and the boy grabbed the rope as well.

From the helm of the ship, the captain said, “You know how this goes, men. We keep moving and take potshots where we can.”

Lao-Chen watched as the ship neared. Soon enough, the swirling waves couldn’t hide the massive galleon.

The captain turned the ship slightly. In a few more moments, the broadside would be facing the other ship. The boy watched Gatsu from behind, flexed and unmoving.

“Ready the cannons!” The sound of clanking wood and solid iron echoed across the ship as the frigate came even closer.

“Fire broadsides!” The night lit with gunpowder as explosions shook the deck beneath Lao-Chen. He fought to hold on as the ship jerked in a sharp turn.

“Open sails!” the captain ordered.

The crew let out the sails as fast as they could, unfurling great black sheets that caught the wind as the ship wheeled over the waves. Lao-Chen’s hands were burned from the rope sliding through them, but he willed himself through it.

They held the rope again as the sails found their maximum thrust. The pirates maneuvered back around the front of the imperial galley. The foredeck had been torn apart, and many people were bleeding onto the dark wood.

“Port side, prepare to fire!”

Once again, the rattling of iron and creaking of planks. After a moment, the order was given and guns flashed with a bang that echoed across the water.

The crew cheered as more shots met their marks. The boy looked back to see the captain’s furious smile at an early victory.

As the pirates continued onward, a few cannon shots sounded from the imperial ship. Lao-Chen looked to see projectiles rip into the deck ahead of him. A chain swung through the air and tore the mast and sails he was holding onto. Wood debris flew as the trunk fell forward onto the other mast.

“Return fire! Ready for boarding!” Captain Shang spat out the orders in a hurry. Lao-Chen felt the ship’s movement slow to a crawl, and he saw Gatsu rush below deck with a lantern.

Following him, the boy watched the warrior stuff rations and supplies into a sack.

“What are you doing?” Lao-Chen asked, to which Gatsu fervently turned, near to drawing his sword.

He recognized the boy and calmed momentarily. “What’s it look like? I’m getting the hell out of here. If you were smart you’d do the same.”

“You’re just gonna abandon ship?”

“Yeah,” the man said. “It’s not my ship. Why should I give a damn what happens to it?”

The boy stiffened. “You’re not gonna fight? Like a warrior?”

“Of course not. I don’t have any stake here. What did I tell you earlier? You take what you can get from these people and then you leave. That’s how this business works.”

“So you’re a coward,” Lao-Chen said. “You have no honor.”

“Honor?” The man almost laughed. “You think there’s honor in murder and plundering? You think these scumbags do what they do for honor? You must be dumber than I thought.”

“At least they’re willing to die for something they care about.”

“They’re willing to die for a captain who doesn’t give a shit about them,” Gatsu said. “That’s not honor, it’s indoctrination.”

“You were willing to die for your lord, once, weren’t you?” Lao-Chen asked.

The warrior paused. Then he shook his head.

“I don’t have time for this. I’m leaving.” He made for the stairwell, but Lao-Chen blocked his path.

“Kid,” Gatsu hissed, “Don’t make me kill you.”

He shoved his way past the boy, who followed him up the quarterdeck to the lifeboats. The battle raged on as the two ships grew nearer, still trading cannon fire.

Gatsu threw the sack into one of the lifeboats and began operating the crane.

Without looking back at Lao-Chen, he said, “If you’re trying to guilt-trip me, it’s not going to work.”

The boy said nothing. Gatsu sighed and turned around, saying, “Look, I’m telling you—Look out!”

Lao-Chen turned to witness the imperial galley crashing into the ship’s hull, tearing it apart and knocking him off his feet like an earthquake. The boy tumbled to the railing and broke through, falling to the water below.

He felt the impact of the waves on his back before losing consciousness.

— — — — —

Lao-Chen awoke to the afternoon daylight shining on his face. He sat up to find himself confined below decks, with the sun’s rays peeking through the ceiling grate. He felt the swaying rhythm of the sea and iron bars on his back.

“You’re awake.” Across the cell, Gatsu sat in the shade. “You should be grateful. If it wasn’t for me, you would’ve drowned.”

Lao-Chen rubbed the back of his head. “What happened to the pirates?”

“The ship sank,” Gatsu said. “Surprisingly enough, the men—”

“Are alive and well,” Captain Shang stepped into the chamber on the other side of the bars. “At least the ones who didn’t die are.”

He gestured in a presentational manner. “Do you like your new quarters, Gatsu? We won them from the imperials. No thanks to you, of course, but that’s one less galleon for the commander-in-chief.”

The captain crouched beside Lao-Chen. “I know you got caught in the middle of this, my boy,” he said, “but I still need you to prove something.”

Lao-Chen looked up at him. The captain’s voice dropped to a low whisper.

“Kill this traitor, and you will be free to join us once again.”

The boy’s eyes widened, but he said nothing. Captain Shang pulled back, smiled, and bowed to the pair before leaving.

The silence was nauseating. Even the rolling waves and pounding boots above were deafened. Lao-Chen pressed himself further onto the bars, and Gatsu remained content in the growing shade.

As the sky turned dark, the boy’s stomach growled. He tried to ignore the growing feeling that he was being abandoned.

“Just for your information,” Gatsu said, “He does intend to starve you so you’ll kill me faster.”

With that statement, the warrior turned over to sleep. Lao-Chen laid down as well, looking up to the night sky. It was clear unlike the last, but he couldn’t make out the constellations from the endless lights.

He sighed. His nights were only beginning.

— — — — —

Two sleepless nights, and Lao-Chen laid paralyzed in the brig. His breaths were shallow and raspy, and the sunlight blinded him.

“You’re either incredibly resilient,” Gatsu said, his voice weary, “or you’re just weak-willed.”

Lao-Chen mustered the strength to say, “I don’t . . . want to . . . kill you . . .”

The man scoffed. “That’s funny. I’d have killed you two days ago if it would do me any good.”

“You’re . . . lying . . .”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Then why would . . . you save me . . ?”

Gatsu said nothing. He scoffed again, saying, “There’s a lot you don’t know about, kid. Just consider that a blessing that won’t be happening again.”

Blessing, Lao-Chen thought. He needed to get off this ship. Gatsu could help him.

“How are we gonna get out of here?” he said weakly.

The warrior’s eyes lit up.

Author's note: Unfortunately, I did not finish this story before it was due to be submitted to the contest. Thanks to other events, it will not be finished anytime soon. Thank you for reading this story, as far as it came; I hope you enjoyed it.