"We're tired of eating dried, salted fish. That's all." The man, evidently not happy at having been appointed spokesman for the crew, twisted his long hair between two fingers.
"Ah. So mutiny has never entered into the discussions?"
"Gods, captain, of course not! You're a much better captain than Chin Gwai ever was, honest! It's just that we've been eating that stuff for weeks now and our lips are all cracked and our noses are drying out. How can you stand that stuff?"
"All right, I admit it. I hate it as well." Wen grinned at the man in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion. "But I'm a cheap bastard, you know. We captured all that fish, and I didn't want to let it go to waste or throw it overboard. My mother would come back and haunt me, you see." And what my grandfathers would do—have been doing—you really don't want to know about, he added silently.
"I understand, captain, really I do. But can't you think of something to do about this? What I wouldn't do for a dish of mu shu pork right now. Even ma-po dofu..."
"Perhaps you're right. Perhaps it is time we paid a visit to one of the coastal villages." Wen clapped his arm around the man's shoulder. "We'll do something. And you were right to come to me, you know, rather than doing anything rash like, oh, putting me overboard in a small boat. I just want you to know that." In his heart, Wen frowned; trading was not the way to raise money. He was beginning to wonder if perhaps there wasn't something in him that was enjoying the sea-going life just a little bit too much, and that becoming rich had perhaps slipped from his list of priorities more than a filial, obedient son should have allowed.
The village looked a lot like all the other villages Wen had seen along the coast, save that this one had a decent-sized temple on a hill overlooking the houses, and a native settlement on the coast right next door. I'd like to think it's more prosperous than those other places, Wen thought as he hopped from Jade Maiden's side-rail into the surf and began walking up the beach. Yin Fengzi followed him, but two feet above the surface of the water; she'd said something about not wanting to get her feet wet.
"Hello?" He stopped by the overturned fishing boats. "Anyone about?" He turned to Fengzi. "Odd. You'd think they were afraid or something."
"Can't imagine why."
"Surely they're visited by traders. Aren't they?"
"Who knows? But these are interesting times, Wen. Perhaps they've concluded that the odds are much more in favor of an attack from the sea than of a really good deal."
Wen nodded. "Perhaps you're right. They just want convincing, then." Raising his head, he shouted, "Who wants to sell some pork?"
After a pause, a voice floated down the hill from the temple. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I need some provisions!" Wen called back. "Who has some fresh pork for sale? And maybe some pickled vegetables?"
"No more salty food!" someone shouted from the Maiden.
After another pause, during which Wen was sure he heard the soughing of voices engaged in gentle argument, someone called out, "How much you willing to pay?"
"Let's talk! I don't have the voice for all this shouting!" If I'd known you were all going to be hiding, Wen thought, I'd have had Foghorn do my negotiating for me.
Some more anxious arguing, and then Wen saw the temple gate open and a man emerge. The man looked over his shoulder several times as he made his cautious way down the slope, but he kept on coming. By the time the man had reached the boats, Wen could see several dozens of heads peering over the wall surrounding the temple.
"Hello," he said. "My name is Wen Xia."
No comments:
Post a Comment