WeTried Translations

Translator: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ Wind and a Cluster of Stars

Chapter 4

──────

My Story, The Way Back, Navigator

6. My Story

The fried fish was a mix of different fish, brined and then deep-fried.

Even at a glance, it was rich with oil: chunks of fatty sardine and clean white herring fried whole. When I tore the crisp skin, steam billowed out.

It was already past dinner and slipping into dusk. Outside the window, where raindrops gathered and swelled, streetlights flickered on one by one.

Were people happier, the ones who knew nothing of the sea and lived their lives on land?

A bitter feeling rose in me, like the day I attended Navigation School and realized my path lay on the sea.

...

"Just give it to him."

"But it is still the estate you've lived in all this time."

"It leaked and it was falling apart. You never even called it an estate. Just give it away. I don't want to be tormented over it anymore... I'm tired now."

Strangely, when I finally said out loud what I had been thinking for so long, I felt nothing at all.

Even if the estate passed to my uncle and became barely enough money to buy one Balsa, even if it crumbled and dirt covered the ruins...

...

"What are you thinking about?"

"I don't know. How do I put it... I was just thinking about the old days."

Ah. I would just stay like this until ten, like we had promised.

A little laziness felt fine once in a while.

It was my first time.

I sprawled over the table and played with fish bones.

"Do they have coffee here?"

As if she could read my mind, Amy ordered coffee.

...

A generous man at the trading post had given us a handful of dried apricots* to try, so everyone was tasting them.

*(Apricots grow well even in cold places. The apricots here were pitted, dried in a round shape, and flattened into coin-like dried fruit.)

The ship had left Dover and sailed for about an hour.

It would keep moving even while we slept, so by tomorrow we should reach London again.

"Captain, we're out of funds."

As she said it, Amy turned over our already pitiful little leather pouch and showed me the one silver coin left inside.

That was all.

I hated to admit it, but...

"I know."

It had come to this because we bought six or seven crates of Dover dried apricots at the trading post.

It was not expensive cargo, but it sold steadily, so I bought as much as our remaining money allowed.

"Once we get to London tomorrow, we can collect the commission. If we sell this too, we'll at least make a little."

"Still, it'd be better to have some reserve cash. This feels... kind of risky."

"I know that too. But this is the best we can do."

With nothing else to do, I sat by the hold and looked at the sky past the dark opening.

As apricots dried, the moisture left and gave them a chewy texture.

People who hated sour things would hate them, they were that sour, but there was sweetness beneath it.

"This is sour too, but if you keep chewing, it gets sweet."

"..."

"Our work is the same."

7. The Way Back

April 4, morning.

- Ding-ding ding-

On the calm dawn sea, in the middle of that deep quiet, I had been dozing at the bow when sudden bells and splashing water woke me.

"What is it?"

"It's an English Royal fleet."

One of the crew answered my question.

Cutting through mist fading under the rising sun, a formation of ships swept past ours.

Three or four armed frigates led the way, and behind them a stately two-deck ship of the line followed, showing off its heavy keel.

Above, sailors in red uniforms held muskets and looked down at us.

"Where are they headed, Zenon?"

As captain I should have spoken down to him, but he was already in his fifties, and with that sharp, uncommon presence, I found it hard to do.

"They're not going to war. Well... looks like privateering, or protection for trade routes."

"Over fifty guns, I think... I'd like to command a first-rate ship of the line someday."

"Once a ship goes over a hundred guns, it's not that useful."

"Why? Any warship beside that thing would be shaking in fear."

"Steering is the biggest problem. Too heavy and too slow. Even England has only a few first-rates. Most are seventy-four guns or less."

"Zenon... were you a soldier?"

"Well... once."

With wrinkled eyes, the middle-aged man watched the fleet disappear.

He looked like he was inspecting each ship one by one.

"Have one each for breakfast."

Before I noticed, Amy came over with a basket of bread and handed one to me first.

It looked like she had baked it this morning with some of yesterday's dried apricots, but the shape was so lumpy it looked odd.

"It tastes good."

Still, it was soft and very edible.

The crew got loaves that had spread out or puffed up oddly and snickered.

They had just been baked, and even so, baking in a small ship with a simple oven was hard in itself.

A bigger, wider ship would have a dedicated cook, but...

...

I drank from a water barrel in the storage area, came back out, and took in the cold sea wind.

After washing my hands in seawater, I stood at the bow and stared blankly at water shattering into spray.

Dark blue, deep seawater hit the bow, broke white, and shone.

"I can see London."

Countless ships crowded every dock, and the endless stream of vessels moving morning and night spread like brown stains along the horizon.

My first voyage had not been hard, but I still thought it was satisfying enough.

8. Navigator

April 4, morning.

"We're entering port!"

- Ding ding ding

As the dock drew closer, Amy moved in a rush.

She ran between port and starboard without stopping, straining to slip through the packed ships.

"If we get pinned, we just get crushed!"

Between massive carracks and galleons, she shouted herself hoarse and ran around to hold our place in an open gap.

At one point, she even pushed away the hull of a galleon pressed against starboard.

Her effort paid off, and in that morning chaos we still managed to settle in safely.

"You two."

At Zenon's chin signal, the sailors jumped out first, took the ropes, and wound them around the harbor's iron mooring posts.

Once the ship was firmly secured, we put down a gangplank and unloaded the dried apricots from Dover first.

It was only six or seven sacks, not much, but demand for this cargo never stopped, so it would become at least a little reliable cash.

"Good work, everyone. Go to the tavern called 'Fisherman and Barb' for now. I'll settle wages and cancel the contracts there. Zenon, please look after them. I'll come and pay."

After the crew carried the goods to the trading post, I sent them all to the tavern.

Sadly, I truly did not have a single spare coin, so I had no way to pay them on the spot.

That was why I hired only five sailors on a short-term contract for the round trip to Dover.

...

"Dried apricots always have demand."

"What price can you give me?"

"If you had more, I'd pay a bit better. No more than this? The quantity is too small."

If there was one lucky part, the trading post owner did not press too hard.

In the end, I made about a ten percent profit on them.

From a merchant's point of view, even adding ten percent to cheap goods was not much money.

With mid-priced or expensive goods, they would try to cut even one percent no matter what.

"Thank you."

"For what? Here, take it."

When two thin Venetian gold coins and six or seven silver coins dropped into my pouch, I finally felt like I could breathe.

As I walked through London's alleys paved with colorful stones, the familiar port noise and smell were more welcome than anything to someone just starting life at sea.

At the Merchants' Guild around a busy corner, I showed the certificate stamped by the Dover trading post and closed out the transaction for my first job.

Now the small leather pouch held three gold coins and a little more silver.

"Heading back to Dover? There are a few jobs around. If you want somewhere close, there's Helder or Antwerp too. People don't favor them these days, pay is low."

The guild clerk stroked his white beard as he spoke.

"Ah... thank you for the offer. But I still have something to finish first."

I needed to handle the crew's work first.

...

- Creak

When I opened the door to the harbor-side tavern, 'Fisherman and Barb,' loud chatter rushed out with the sharp scent of fruit wine and the thick sweet smell of rum.

Light cut through the dim interior, even in daytime, through the windows the tavern owner had opened for ventilation.

Warm steam from the always-boiling fireplace kettle, someone's low singing voice, and the high scratchy tone of a clumsy fiddle all mixed together and spilled through the not-so-large tavern.

Our crew sat around one table near the window.

"How's the food?"

"Food's so-so, but the drink is better. At least the beer here isn't watered down."

"Haha!"

Amy and I pulled nearby wooden chairs and sat close.

"I'll settle up now, standard wages. It's a short-term contract anyway."

Even without adding extra, the sailors would accept it.

This was not war, and not a long ocean crossing.

They had probably chosen this short run while waiting for a bigger ship, or one sailing farther.

After getting paid, three sailors left.

"I'm old. I don't want to die in the middle of the sea. That's all."

He was not truly an old man yet, but since older Zenon said it, there was not much to say.

He chose to stay under a captain who did not make long ocean voyages.

Well... for now.

As sailing master, he earned one and a half times a regular sailor's pay.

Amy, as mate, was paid monthly, so there was no need to worry yet.

Over lunch, I discussed the next sailing schedule with Zenon and one crewman.

"...up to there. I think it'll be fine, Captain?"

Watching bubbles rise in the ale glass, I lost track of time.

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