Read Online Jaded Tides (The Razor's Adventures Pirate Tales) by P.S. Bartlett - Free Book Online

shouted and proceeded to teach me the proper way to remove the skin without removing too much of the potato in the process.
    Within the first hour, I’d slugged it out with only one-fourth of the sack, and by the time I saw the silver beams of the full moon streaking their way through the distant portholes, my hands were raw and shriveled. “The whole sack you said?”
    “We’ve close to forty men to feed, lad; three times a day. Ye don’t want me tellin’ ‘em they ain’t getting’ their meals on account a’ yer tired of peelin’ now do ye?” he asked, looking down on me where I sat on the floor, covered in potato skins and frustration.
    “When this hunt is through, I’ll not care to see another one of these filthy things for as long as I live,” I grumbled as I continued on.
    Hawk let out another bellowing laugh and handed me a bottle of rum. “Here ye are, lad. Ye earned it.”
    I took a hard swig from that bottle which had been sucked tightly against Hawk’s filthy mouth, and passed it back to him as I swiped the excess from my lips with my sleeve. I had been aboard less than a day and had already crossed most of my personal boundaries. “Ye keep that coming, Hawk, and I’ll peel these blasted things all night.” I smiled up at him and went back to work.
     
    It was midnight before I’d finally finished. I’d dozed off from the rum and exhaustion, and Hawk nudged me with his boot.  He sent me on my way back to the surgery with a piece of bread and a cup of warm stew. I didn’t even remove my boots or my binding when I fell into my hammock and drifted off. Unfortunately, I was abruptly awakened by a horrible nightmare, clutching the sides of my bed, and I nearly wound up on the floor.
    “Jesus Christ,” I said aloud. The dream was still fresh in my mind, and I was left trembling and covered in sweat in its wake. The cabin was black as pitch, and I was dying of thirst. I climbed carefully from my swaying bed, and I lit the lone lantern. Then, I lifted the water pitcher to my lips without even pouring it into a cup.
    As my head cleared, I could still see the vivid images my mind had seen fit to torture me with; houses burning to the ground, people screaming, and blood…so much blood running through the streets like a river. I removed my head scarf and raked my nails repeatedly over my head trying to scratch the images out. I poured a handful of water and splashed it over my burning face and looked down at my hands. They were swollen, and my skin was stretched so tightly I could barely make a fist.
    My hands had taken a beating while sewing those damn sails, and I still bore the callouses and scars, but not being able to bend my fingers at all was torture. Now wide awake, I walked to the small desk in the far corner of the cabin to pen a journal entry, but I could barely hold the quill. It flopped about and slid from between my fingers until I tossed it aside in frustration. Tears started to well in my eyes, but I swiped them away fast. Crying was a weakness I’d refused myself from now on, and physical pain was no reason to start now. I took several deep breaths to push them down and then rested my head in my hands.
    “Hey, Ivan. Whatcha doin’?” I heard a whisper coming from the doorway. I spun around in my chair and saw Fin standing there.
    “Oh, Fin, come in.” I was grateful to have someone to talk to, even at whatever ungodly hour this was.
    “I saw the light. Ye missin’ yer sisters, I reckon?” he asked as he stepped inside.
    “Yes, that’s it. I…haven’t been away from them for a long time. I’m just worried, I suppose. I was going to keep a journal of the voyage—ye know? Something I could show them when we return, but my damn fingers won’t bend.” I laughed in an awkward chuckle and shrugged as I held my hands out to him for a look.
    “That’s too bad, mate. I’d write it fer ye, but I can’t write, ye see. Never learnt how.” Fin walked to the exam table and