WeTried Translations
Translator: ZERO_SUGAR
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Wind and a Cluster of Stars
Chapter 16
──────
Unexpected Guest, Redcoat
30. Unexpected Guest
April 22, 4:00 p.m.
"Then is there anything known about that animal?"
"The referral request the society sent us says it has very long claws and stiff fur..."
"It is not savage or a predator, is it?"
"No idea. If it is dangerous, they might pay more. For now, the location is listed as open ground by the coast."
"Hmm... put that on hold for now."
When I said to put it on hold, the guild clerk grumbled and shoved it back into his packed stack of parchment files.
He had probably sorted them by category so he could find things more easily.
Next came that military-related job.
-Creeeak
I stepped out of the Adventurers' Guild through the worn-out door, and the afternoon sunlight stabbed my eyes.
Maybe that squirrel-nest of a place just hated sunlight.
"Still, why did the army commission the maritime guild instead of the navy?" I asked.
Zenon looked just as puzzled.
"Normally both the navy and army have their own institutions,
and the Seafarers' Guild is just attached to the naval side...
So why would army people make a request there?"
"We will only know the details once we go."
...
4:30 p.m.
"Ah, that army request. A few people already said they wanted to take it.
The pay is pretty good. But none of them could make it work."
A young Seafarers' Guild clerk pulled out a green-tinted file folder and found the job in question.
"This was not commissioned by army headquarters or navy headquarters. It was filed by an individual army officer."
"What is it about?"
"Uh... strictly speaking, he is not just an ordinary soldier. The client is Lieutenant Shawn.
Including him, eleven line infantrymen under his command need to get to Saint George's."
"I do not follow. Headquarters delegated a mission to a mere lieutenant?
If the request is called 'Army Garrison Rotation Disruption,' and they need a rotation but headquarters has no backup plan...
At minimum, it should take a captain or a major to issue that kind of order."
Zenon knew too much in detail, and the young clerk looked at him like he was wondering what kind of man he really was.
"This happened two days ago already.
They were supposed to lead the unit and reach the British overseas mission in Saint George's three days ago, but they missed their ship."
"Ah, so that is why they handed it to the Seafarers' Guild? They must have gotten drunk out of their minds the night before.
If army headquarters finds out, losing their heads is guaranteed,
and the men whose terms are over and who should be returning will not stay quiet either."
"Zenon, there is a problem if we take this.
We are not a passenger ship. Is there really no other vessel?"
"There is no ship, that is why. Like I told you, the direct route via Lisbon to the layover stop, Cape Verde, does not open for another ten days.
And because they are already three days late, they cannot even transfer to the Saint George's route from Cape Verde.
Even if we leave right now, they still miss the Saint George's ship at Cape Verde.
I hear that one only runs weekly or something."
"So a slow route is too late, and buying a ship outright is too expensive."
"Exactly."
"What do we do, Captain? They look profitable, no question. I am sure they scraped this money together from transport fees and personal funds."
"Right, Captain! This is not a small amount."
"First we need to meet them and talk. They are not used to life on a ship.
By the way, Navigator, are you really fine with this?"
"With what?"
"Did we not contract you for short-haul sailing?"
"Ha ha, that was a verbal agreement, was it not? Well, that too, but I like things now.
I smoke when I want, drink when I want. The pay is decent too.
Most of all, I am not heartless enough to throw two immature young ladies out into the sea. Ha ha!"
One of those so-called immature young ladies pouted at that.
"Send word to them first. We need to meet them."
"Oh, you want to meet? The other navigators all said the stopovers were awkward.
They said they would have to stop here and buy this, stop there and handle that, too many problems..."
"Those are not our problems. Money is."
...
6:00 p.m.
As dusk settled in, a soldier entered a nearby inn.
A soldier would only come here for our business, so I waved to him.
The guild had sent someone to find the soldiers staying somewhere and pass along my message.
The officer in uniform and tricorn looked around from the entrance,
scanning dark corners and even the second-floor railing, then found us and hurried over to sit at our table.
"Are you the client?"
"Yes, that is right. Are you the Captain?"
The army officer's eyes were on Zenon.
"No. She is."
His gaze shifted to me.
His eyes widened a little, probably because I was young and female.
Still, he quickly wiped that expression away and continued.
"You heard the outline from the guild, I assume. I am Lieutenant Shawn.
I have eleven enlisted men under my command... and we missed our ship.
Our term is up, and we must rotate with the soldiers stationed at the mission...
If headquarters learns this, we will be in serious trouble. We did drink, in fact..."
"Why are you not mentioning promotion?"
"Uh... well... the truth is, this will cause major trouble for my promotion too... that is why I posted the request.
I asked the guild to keep it confidential."
He looked anxious.
Time was still ticking even now.
"We have to reach Saint George's by May 9."
"Uh... but how can you set it to exactly May 9?
Ships can be fast or slow..."
Amy cut in, and Lieutenant Shawn's expression twisted.
"That is why we added five extra days. No matter what, we must get there by the 14th."
"Navigator, can we make it by then?"
"A fluyt is not a slow ship, so we can make it well enough.
Let me see... roughly half a month, about fifteen days.
We cannot leave this instant, but if we leave tomorrow morning...
Today is the 22nd, so yes, we can line it up.
Once we account for city resupply and other prep time."
"That schedule originally included two days waiting for a ship in Cape Verde. And now we are three days later already.
I know the regular Cape Verde line is delayed too. But is this really possible?"
"If nothing unusual happens, reaching there is no problem.
The issue is whether your people can live properly on board, since they are neither sailors nor marines."
"My promotion is on the line. And if the soldiers arrive late, the garrison men there will not sit quietly."
"Fine then. But there is a condition. I am the captain of this ship, and you must follow my orders.
You are an outsider when it comes to ships, and that is necessary for safety and accident prevention."
"Yes, yes, we will do that."
Sweat was already beading down Lieutenant Shawn's face.
Anyone would be burning up inside in his position.
"Then can we really make the deadline?"
He asked Zenon the same thing several times, and only after getting a firm answer did his face brighten.
"Good. Amy, go to the Adventurers' Guild and take that animal job.
And on your way back, buy hammocks to match the headcount.
Zenon, please contract Lieutenant Shawn's request.
Also make a departure plan for tomorrow morning with him and report back."
Soon Zenon and the lieutenant, along with Amy and the cat, left the tavern after getting their orders.
I stayed behind and took a moment to organize my thoughts about cargo loading and the trading we would do before reaching the destination.
Then I stopped by a general store and bought small items that the natives might like.
Just as Zenon said, childish colorful bead strings, adventurer daggers, hair ornaments, things like that. I bought four boxes in total and stored them in the hold.
I also bought only one-third of the usual amount of whiskey and filled the rest accordingly.
If it were up to me, since we were going far anyway, I would have loaded a ton of specialty goods.
But I could not because of speed.
We would receive the advance payment soon.
31. Redcoat
April 23, 6:10 a.m.
I woke in Red Tea's captain's cabin, made one round of the ship, and came out.
Dawn had barely broken, yet I could already see Lieutenant Shawn arriving at the promised harbor.
Last evening, I had cleared empty sections in the hold
and hung hammocks for the number of soldiers,
emptied a tiny closet full of cleaning tools, moved those elsewhere, and made a cabin for the lieutenant.
I gave the crew a rough briefing and told them to avoid clashes with the soldiers.
We also had to load more food and water.
"Hey-"
Zenon leaned on the stern rail and waved, and Lieutenant Shawn, standing on the floating dock below, waved back.
Behind him, two neat lines of red uniforms stood in formation.
"My god, they are not just regular troops. Redcoats! Line infantry!"
[Musket infantry that dominated the 18th and 19th centuries. Redcoats were specifically British troops among them.]
"For heaven's sake, they got blackout drunk and missed their ship, and now they are doing drill posture? Antoni, lower the gangplank!"
Soon Lieutenant Shawn and the Redcoats under him boarded.
I thought they were just army clerks or administrative staff.
They were mission garrison troops.
...
I already knew they would be disappointed by the ship.
The moment they looked around and realized it was not that big, and that they would sleep in hammocks.
Still, they knew they had no choice.
Besides, they all understood what would happen if they were even later.
Line infantry were famous for harsh discipline, so if they arrived late, they would probably get beaten half to death.
This was my first close look at them, and their uniforms were striking.
Everything was so perfectly unified.
Now that his mind was at ease, Lieutenant Shawn puffed himself up in front of his men.
"Unbelievable, and he is cannon fodder."
Zenon sneered at him, but Shawn really did look impressive enough to strut.
As an officer, the lieutenant wore a ceremonial saber with gold trim, plus a tricorn with shiny gold ornament.
There were feathers on the tricorn too.
You could tell he had taken care to tilt it just enough.
Gold and silver fringes on the shoulders and sleeves looked extravagant.
And of course, silver buttons he would sooner die than use as musket shot.
I had heard British dragoons cared a lot about appearance,
but these men seemed just as serious.
Regular infantry were plainer, but still cared about presentation in their own way.
Black shakos, and those famous, or infamous, wool redcoats.
Most of all, they carried the famous Brown Bess muskets with long barrels and socket bayonets.
Honestly, if I could command and move with men like these, it would feel very reassuring.
...
"Let me introduce myself properly. I am Army Lieutenant Shawn Davis Green, of the 9th Regiment of Foot."
Lieutenant Shawn, early twenties, clearly proud of his well-kept brown hair, lowered his voice and offered a stylish handshake.
He greeted us on behalf of the soldiers.
First me as captain, then Zenon, then Amy.
His handshake with Amy seemed oddly long.
I gave them a brief explanation.
We would call at Lisbon, and depending on circumstances maybe at another city too,
but unless something very unusual happened, we could arrive within the deadline.
I also stressed once again that they had to follow my orders on this ship.
If they treated sailors carelessly, started fights, or caused other problems, nothing good would come of it.
Soon Lieutenant Shawn ordered dismissal, and everyone scattered to whatever spot felt comfortable.
...
11:00 a.m.
A fair wind rose and the ship started gaining decent speed.
We loosened the knot line and checked with the sandglass, and we were making over 8 knots.
Spray slapped the hull, sails swelled wide, and as the ship pushed forward,
every soldier looked relieved.
Curious about life at sea, Lieutenant Shawn paced around with his hands clasped behind his back, as if studying how a ship moved.
The rest of the Redcoats, though, mostly began suffering from seasickness.
Their complexions looked awful.
For them, collapsing from mere seasickness was probably humiliating,
so they were obviously trying to force themselves to hold it in.
"Blegh!"
One finally started vomiting, and soon the rest followed in a full chain reaction.
Before long, they were drained and sprawled across the deck like red trash,
and some hung their arms over the rail like red starfish washed ashore and half melted in the sun.
"Pathetic. Seasickness and they are done."
Zenon clicked his tongue at the sight.
Then he went down to storage, brought up a small cask of rum, cut up green limes with a dagger, squeezed the juice in,
and passed it out in cups to the collapsed men.
Even dizzy and nauseous, they drank alcohol just fine.
The lime smelled fresh, and rum was made from sugarcane, so it probably went down easy.
But one glance at the cups showed it was not light rum but dark heavy rum, very strong stuff.
That was emergency stock, over 60 percent alcohol,
and after giving it to men with empty stomachs, their pale faces turned shockingly red in an instant and they collapsed again.
Hmm... earlier they were down from weakness and dizziness, but now it was closer to full blackout.
Only Lieutenant Shawn looked fine the whole time.
Out of curiosity, he tasted what Zenon handed him in a small cup and shook his head.
"Redcoats are no slouches with liquor. But we cannot beat sailors."
"They will feel a bit better after they sleep this off."
"Hopeless weaklings..."
"Miss Amy."
"Yeees-"
"No need to cook lunch for these fellows."
...
12:10 p.m., lunch.
As the guest representative, Lieutenant Shawn shared the table with me.
Unlike the crew, I ate separately as captain, a slightly better meal.
I would have been fine with whatever, but Amy insisted a captain should look different
and keep proper face.
Lunch was fried cod fillet, pickled cabbage, sauerkraut, and cheap but drinkable wine.
The cook and Amy were probably wracking their brains over long-term meal planning and storage.
"Excellent cooking."
Lieutenant Shawn cut into the fried cod neatly and lifted it with his fork as he began speaking.
The ship was cramped and lacked many comforts, but the weather was good now,
and we were dining in the captain's cabin, the best room on board.
Amy's cooking skill helped a lot too.
The main dish, fried cod, was especially good.
You soaked salted cod in water to pull out the salt and soften it, then used it in different dishes.
This one was simply pan-fried in oil, and its clean flavor stood out.
Served warm, it tasted twice as good, rich and complete with nothing lacking.
"If I could keep eating like this, I would not mind becoming a sailor myself."
He gently swirled the wine in his cup as he continued.
Where had that pale, sweating man from yesterday gone?
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried