WeTried Translations
Translator: ZERO_SUGAR
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◈ Wind and a Cluster of Stars
Chapter 22
──────
Taking Flight, Farewell
40. Taking Flight
May 5, 11:00 a.m.
When I got back to the ship, Lieutenant Shawn and his men were already there, which surprised me.
We were close to their destination now, so even if the trip had gone smoothly, they were probably getting restless.
The Redcoats were much more used to ship life by this point.
Some climbed the masts like marines, and some had developed a taste for rum.
After so long, this exotic port must have felt mysterious to them too.
They still leaned on the rail, watching the burning sugarcane fields and palm trees along the shore.
Zenon, somehow, had gotten himself a glass of very sweet sugarcane juice and a premium Havana cheroot.
That familiar ease of his, leaning on the mast and blowing smoke, the freedom of a senior officer in the sailors' eyes, and to the Redcoats, that tobacco that looked delicious, though to me it only smelled acrid, all of it made people look up to him.
Deckhand Colton hovered nearby for no real reason, clearly hoping Zenon might toss him even a single tobacco leaf.
Amy and I loaded fresh provisions.
The Black slaves brought empty casks to the loading pier, wooden barrels bound with iron hoops. They filled them with fresh water, sealed them, and rolled them over.
We also hauled over a whole cart full of soft bread, the kind that is hard to bake onboard.
Food was not very expensive, but water was.
Still, however expensive water might be, it cost four times what it did in London.
I guess that is what happens in hot regions where fresh water is scarce.
Zenon took a loaf from the bread basket and dipped it in sugar water before eating it.
No ordinary sailor could get away with that, so everyone was probably impressed by the sheer nerve of it.
The truth was, he was both navigator and boatswain, and I was the captain, so unless it became a serious problem, I let him handle himself.
Besides, if a teenage captain like me told a navigator in his fifties to stop drinking or smoking, it would definitely wound his pride.
In any case, he was not causing trouble.
-Clang clang
"We're setting sail!"
Red Tea raised anchor, cast off the mooring lines, and left the harbor.
The sailors had already patched the deck with similar planks fitted into place. They hammered the dented hull from inside with wooden mallets, pushed it back out, tarred it, then gave it a light coat of similar paint.
It did not look brand new, but it was good enough.
"The wind is fair now, so we should reach our destination in three days."
"Is that so..."
Even Lieutenant Shawn, who had asked me almost every day, seemed a little down now that we had left the stopover.
In his army uniform and tricorn, he rested his folded arms on the rail and watched the white surf breaking below.
He looked like a navy man already.
Marine uniforms are red too, so in a way he looked like a naval cadet.
-Myaong...
Before I knew it, the yellow cat had come over and called to him as he faced away.
He picked up the cat and looked back at the harbor receding behind us.
Praia was the southernmost island of that archipelago.
Soon the whole chain flattened against the horizon and vanished like black dust.
...
4:00 p.m.
Since we were close to land, gulls followed us now and then.
Their yellow-rimmed eyes flashed as they checked whether there was anything to eat onboard, then they swept past.
They did not touch the fish and fish meat laid out to dry.
Whether it was too tough or they were simply sick of it, I could not ask, so I did not know.
They did pick up dry bread scraps and ship's biscuit.
Even now, I could not tell whether they were trying to eat the cat or not.
The cat was just sitting calmly on the deck, watching people go by.
Then a gull quietly landed behind it and started pecking at its fur little by little.
A gull is not some tiny songbird that needs fur for a nest, so I doubted it was tearing at a cat for that reason.
Still, gulls are carnivores, and the cat was small, so maybe it looked edible.
Maybe for now. Once this cat grew bigger, it would probably hunt gulls whenever it could.
A little later, the cat, having survived that brush with death, was dancing with Lieutenant Shawn on the deck.
Shawn stayed seated, held the cat's front paws, and bounced them up and down as if they were waltzing.
The cat wore an expression that clearly said, "I'm incredibly annoyed right now, but you feed me plenty, so I'll put up with it."
-Splash
A loud splash came from the sea. I looked to port and saw spray falling back down.
-Splash-
Another burst of water followed, and a sleek marlin shot up.
"Whoa!"
Fast and agile, the marlin twisted once in midair, as if showing off its body sparkling in the sunlight.
"Amy! It's a marlin!"
I shouted toward Amy through the lower deck grating so she could see.
The marlin darted around, chasing fish.
Small schools like sardines fled for their lives in the blue water, trying to escape that absurdly fast predator.
They had no weapons, but they had a survival strategy.
They clustered tightly to confuse the predator's eyes.
Once they became one moving mass, the predator lost its point of focus.
It could not just rush in with its mouth open.
Well, whales are known to use that on purpose.
They simply swallow tightly packed schools in one bite with those huge mouths.
I heard at Navigation School that smart whales like sperm whales even tear nets and press their mouths to them, then suck in the trapped fish.
A brilliant method.
"Where, Captain?"
That marlin with the sharp pointed snout was a rare fish and quite impressive, so Amy came up carrying a frying pan just to see it.
-Splash
The marlin leaped again, scattering the school and making a loud crash to panic stragglers so it could catch them.
Then it happened.
The fish, sardine-like ones, stopped fleeing and started bursting out of the surface one by one, then all at once they began to fly.
At first they whipped their tail fins against the surface to build speed.
Then they spread their wide side fins and glided like birds.
"Wow!"
It was an incredible sight.
Hundreds of silver flying fish launched into the air to evade the predator.
Some shot over the rail and across Red Tea.
Others slammed into the hull and dropped back into the sea.
[I saw a flying fish for the first time! Flying fish are fish that can fly like birds.
Zenon said flying fish have little oil and their meat is dry.]
After around twenty seconds, flying fish began dropping onto the deck.
-Clang!
"Eek!"
One hit Amy on the head and smacked into her frying pan, making her shriek.
I laughed and started scooping fish into a wooden bucket.
The line infantry and sailors did the same, scrambling to collect the free catch.
The cat grabbed one flying fish in its mouth, but when more started falling around it, it panicked.
It dropped the one in its mouth, lunged for another, then grabbed the first one again...
Anyway, in that brief span, around fifty flying fish ended up on deck.
Dinner was ready in no time.
...
6:00 p.m.
I tasted flying fish for the first time.
They served it simply grilled after cleaning it.
I expected it to taste like sardines because it looked similar.
But sardines are rich and oily, while flying fish was lean and dry.
They looked alike, but the taste was different.
41. Farewell
May 9, 2:00 p.m.
On May 9, we arrived at Saint George's exactly as planned!
*(In this novel, Saint George's is used to make things easier to follow.
The same name also exists in a Caribbean city, and this place name is no longer used today, so it could cause confusion.
The original name is san jorger, San Jorge, which becomes Saint George's in English.
This Saint George's was later renamed and is now Elmina, a port city in present-day Ghana.)
From London, via Lisbon, with a stop at Cape Verde, it was a long voyage of sixteen full days.
Because of that, we stayed in cities as briefly as possible, took the shortest route, and reduced port calls so we could keep this schedule.
Of course, the navigator's role was huge. He checked the route carefully every day and responded properly to sea conditions, currents, wind strength, and wind direction.
Saint George's was beautiful.
The blue southern sea ran into the harbor and turned shallower, sparkling emerald.
In contrast, many buildings were whitewashed with lime, creating a striking color contrast.
The city looked beautiful, simple, and pastoral.
But as you moved toward the center, it shifted into walls and residential districts, showing clearly that this was a hub of trade and adventure.
Since it was a Portuguese city, you could also see Portuguese architecture and coastal batteries like the ones in Lisbon.
-Clang clang
Before I even rang the bell to signal anchoring, Lieutenant Shawn and the line infantry were already on the upper deck.
"It really was a long journey, wasn't it?"
"It was..."
Shawn was already emotional before he got off the ship.
"Lower the gangplank!"
Once we docked in an open space and lowered the gangplank, the line infantry and the lieutenant stepped down into the harbor.
That brought this job, almost half a month long, to an end, and I felt relief and a strange emptiness at the same time.
At the dock, where emerald water rippled, the Redcoats made one final check for uniform pieces and forgotten belongings.
Clothes, wallet, powder pouch, gun...
At the end, Lieutenant Shawn said goodbye to the yellow cat, Cabbage.
The clueless cat had no idea what was going on and just reached for the lieutenant's gold tassel.
Shawn hugged the cat once, then fed it one last piece of tender flattened meat.
"Take care."
He left the ship for the last time while the cat was distracted by food.
...
Even though Lieutenant Shawn had led them here, there was no way he knew Saint George's well.
So we sent a tavern errand runner to the legation with a message.
A tavern near the harbor was, unusually, built entirely of wood.
All kinds of tones, vermilion, brown, deep chestnut.
It was probably made from leftover pieces from the shipyard.
Still, its roof was higher than any building nearby, and vents under the roof let cool air flow through.
Those vents also let in just enough midday sunlight, giving the tavern natural light.
"What would you like to drink?"
Lieutenant Shawn treated the ship's officers at the tavern.
He also gave a small silver coin to a young errand runner and asked the child to carry word to the British legation.
"I'll have heavy rum."
Zenon ordered very strong rum without hesitation.
In this hot climate, rum made from sugarcane had to be at its best in flavor and aroma.
"I'll have light rum."
I followed the mood and ordered a milder rum.
Amy ordered beer, like the other soldiers.
"You've all worked hard. Honestly, I didn't think we'd arrive this exactly on time..."
"If pirates hadn't cut in on us, we'd have been even faster."
"Thanks to you, neither the soldiers nor I fell into danger. Thank you, all of you. Let's drink."
When the metal cups arrived, beads of moisture had already formed on them.
The Portuguese owner probably kept drinks in a cool cellar behind that little wooden side door.
The pewter cup felt cool in my hand.
More than half the tables were occupied, white men looking for cold drinks even in broad daylight, and Black men escaping the heat.
Their clothes were not very different from European dress, so they were probably slave drivers or overseers.
"How's ambergris?"
I heard fluent native speech and looked over. A group of merchants was deep in discussion at one table.
"No idea. Production swings too much in the first place."
A bearded merchant in his forties shook his head.
"At this point, I can't tell if I'm trading or gambling."
"Why?"
"If I don't invest in the workshop, production stops. If I do, sperm whales still don't give consistent output."
"Sounds rough."
"On top of that, extraction yield for ambrein is too low. Our technique isn't there. I'll pull out of this business soon."
"Shouldn't have gotten into it in the first place."
I sipped the sweet, cool rum and forgot the midday heat for a while.
Back in my homeland, Britain, we did not have weather this hot.
There, sugarcane was replaced by sugar beets that grew well even in cold weather.
I remembered peeling winter-chilled sugar beets with a knife and enjoying their sweetness.
Then white snow settling by the window, snowmen in the street, holly leaves, icicles...
"What are you thinking so hard about?" Amy asked, cheeks flushed pink.
"Nothing... just that."
The white, cold winter daydream blew away, and the dry wood colors and tropical flowers, those deep reds, reminded me I was in equatorial heat.
"Over there."
The errand runner pointed at us in clumsy English.
The runner had brought a soldier along.
I did not know military ranks well, but when Lieutenant Shawn stood and saluted him, I knew at once he was an officer and a superior.
"Are you Lieutenant Shawn?"
"Yes, Captain."
"And who are these people?"
The captain asked, glancing at us.
I answered quickly.
"Ah, I was glad to meet fellow Britons in a foreign land, so we're sharing a drink."
Shawn gave me a quick wink.
"Eleven men including me were ordered to rotate into legation duty. We arrived today."
"I received the report. You must be tired from the journey, so rest until five, then report to the legation."
"Yes, sir."
The captain looked over Shawn and the Redcoats once, then left the tavern.
...
"Thank you for your hard work."
Lieutenant Shawn signed the parchment I held out, confirming they had arrived safely.
Now I could take it back to London and receive half of the commission fee.
"You could transfer to the navy, Lieutenant."
"Maybe. I just got used to ship life, and now it's over. But for me, land is still better."
Red Tea's officers, the lieutenant, the corporal, and the rest of the Redcoats.
It was funny, really.
Red Tea and the Redcoats.
All of us dressed in red traded stories about the fun times, the battles, and the time the corporal beat a man senseless for stealing liquor.
"You should've seen it. I dropped a man the instant he tried to fire."
One soldier bragged about his shooting, and another started praising himself.
"You're bragging about shooting as a Redcoat? What about me? Pirates couldn't handle my bayonet."
As the stories went on, time flew until the appointed hour.
"We should go, gentlemen."
Lieutenant Shawn paid for the drinks and left the tavern, with the errand runner guiding the way.
As a final courtesy, I followed him to the legation.
...
4:40 p.m.
A harbor street heavy with the smell of the sea.
Trees with rough tropical trunks whipped in the ocean wind.
That wind ran cool through the alleys and spread the salty scent through the city.
In tightly packed residential blocks, people who looked European lived mixed together with Black residents.
Saint George's, this trade center of West Africa, was full of European-style buildings. If you forgot the sunlight for a moment, it could feel like some city in Iberia.
Under the burning equatorial sun, trees grew so richly green they almost looked black, and flowers I had never seen before showed off every color imaginable.
Even flowers on street corners gleamed yellow in the sunlight, and between cracked roof tiles, clusters of flowers bloomed in the color of blue sky.
Life overflowed everywhere, and everything shone under the sun.
"Here, here, this is... gongan? gogwan?"
"Legation."
"Ah, legation. Here legation."
After guiding us there, the errand runner disappeared around the alley at a quick trot.
The British legation in Saint George's was a white building with the British flag raised in the yard.
It was so surrounded by trees that it looked buried in a forest, and the iron fence seemed barely able to hold back that flood of greenery.
Around it, between tightly packed homes and large buildings that looked like other countries' legations, it rose on its own grounds.
When we arrived, a soldier from the legation opened the iron gate.
Inside, I could see more British soldiers.
Watching that, I could not help the bitter taste in my mouth.
Now that it was truly time to part, it felt like giving away something that had once been mine.
Those twelve men had filled the ship with their presence.
They had earned their keep, and more than that, they had made us feel secure.
Whether Shawn understood what I felt or not, he smiled and saluted me.
"This is the end, Captain."
"Stay well, Lieutenant."
"Next time we meet, I won't be a lieutenant anymore. Ha ha. Fair sailing."
With that, Lieutenant Shawn and the Redcoats entered the legation.
The white feather on his tricorn appeared and disappeared between the deep green hedges, then before long, it was gone.
Those sixteen days since London ended today.
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